#man.. its the way dean just sits beside sam watching over him with concern for how many hours entire world be damned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dragonfly92 · 1 year ago

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Bobby Singer's daughter Chapter Three

At a motel seeing as the three of them arrived late there was only one room available, so Sam allowed Sarah to have the other bed, they was both sound asleep Dean laying on his stomach and Sarah laying on her side facing away from the door, when the door to the motel open Dean grabbed his gun that was underneath the pillow, but when he turns around it's just Sam and he says "Morning sunshines."

Sarah grumbled in her sleep she slowly woke up looking over at Dean who was awake and she turned her head around to see that it was just Sam, Dean asks still half asleep "What time is it?" Sam puts the coffees on the table along with the newspaper and closes the door and says "Uh, it's about five forty-five." Sarah says "In the morning?" They both sit up, Sarah heads to the bathroom still half asleep whilst she does that Dean looks over to his brother and asks him "Hey did you get any sleep?" Sam who was clearly lying says "Yeah I caught a few hours." Sarah had come out of the bathroom and says "Well that's a lie I woke up at 3am and you was watching a George Foreman commercial."

Sarah picks up her two coffees and hands one to Dean who thanks her and then she sits down on the edge of her bed, Sam jokingly says "Hey what can I say some riveting TV." They both gave him a look and of course Sarah asks Sam "When was the last time you had some proper sleep?" Sam sits down beside Sarah, Dean who is sitting on his bed looks in the direction of his brother and says "It's a huge concern if you aren't getting any sleep." Sarah looks to Sam and says "You know he's not wrong, you still having dreams about Jess?"

She puts a hand on his shoulder, to comfort him and he says "Look I understand you're both worried about me I get it but it's not just about Jess, it's everything I just forgot you know? This Job just gets to me." Sarah leans her head on his shoulder and Dean says "You can't let it in, you can't bring that home like that." Sam looks over at Dean and asks him "So what? All this it...never keeps you up at night?" Dean shakes his head, so Sam continues "Never? You're never afraid neither of you?"

Sarah shakes her head and says "Not really I mean you've meet my dad, plus I know I'm in safe hands, I use to be afraid but that was when I was a little girl, now it's apart of my life." Dean says "No, not really." But before the conversation goes any further Dean's phone rings he answers it and the person on the other side says "Dean, its, uh Jerry Panowski. You and your dad helped me out a few years ago."

Dean finally remembered who it was and says "Oh right yeah, Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing, that isn't back is it?" Jerry says "No, no thank god no, but there's something else and I think it's a whole lot worse." Dean asks him "What is it?" Jerry asks Dean "Can we talk in person?" Dean just looks over at Sarah and Sam, who was confused, of course he said he would.

They arrive at the hangar and Jerry was waiting for them, once he saw Dean he says "Thanks for making the quick trip down here, I should be doing you guys and girl a favor, not the other way round. Dean and your dad really helped me out." Sam says "Yeah he told us, It was a poltergeist?" A random worker shouts out "Poltergeist? Man, I love that movie." Jerry was quick to responded, "Hey nobody's talking to you, keep walking. Damn right it was a poltergeist, it practically tore the whole house apart, Tell you something if it wasn't for you and your dad I probably wouldn't be alive."

He then looks over at Sam and says "Your dad said you were at college, is that right?" Sam says "Yeah I was, I'm taking some time off." Jerry then notices Sarah and says "Oh I'm sorry we haven't been introduced." Dean says "Oh right yeah sorry this is our friend Sarah." They shake hands and then continue on walking, he went back to talking to Sam and says "Well, he was proud of you, I could tell because he talked about you all the time."

They walked into Jerry's office as he had something that they'd want to hear, he says "I listened to this, and it sounded right up your alley." He puts a CD into the drive and he says "Normally I wouldn't have access to this, it's the cockpit voice recorder, for united britannia flight 2485, it was one of ours." He presses play and it starts "MAYDAY! MAYDAY! Repeat, this is the Britannia flight 2485 ----immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message---maybe experiencing some mechanical failure."

Suddenly there was this loud whooshing noise and then Jerry stopped the recording, and he said "Took off here, crashed about two hundred miles, south now they're saying mechanical failure cabin depressurised somehow nobody knows why, Over a hundred people on board, only seven got out alive pilot was one of our own his name is Chuck Lambert and he's a good friend of mine, Chuck is well...uh broken up about this, thinking it was his fault." Sarah asks "You obviously don't think it's his fault do you?" Jerry looks over at her and says "No, I don't." Then Sam says "Jerry we're gonna need passenger manifests, um... a list of survivors." Jerry simply says "Alright."

Then Dean asks "And, Uh, anyway we can take a look at the wreckage?" Jerry looks at Dean and he says "The stuff won't be a problem to get ahold of but the wreckage that's another story lady and gents, the NTSB has it locked down in evidence warehouse, no way i've got clearance." Dean frowns and then he says "No Problem."

Whilst Dean was getting IDs done, Sarah and Sam was waiting outside, It didn't take long but he eventually returned and Sarah says "You took a long time?" Dean holds up three IDS and says "You can't rush perfection." He hands each of them their ID and Sam says "Homeland Security?" Sarah says "Well that's something new, but you do realise we could get in some serious trouble if we get caught, Dean."

He says "Yeah, well it's something new you know? People haven't a thousand times." They get back into the car in their usually spots Dean in the driver's seat, Sam is in the front passenger sit and Sarah in the back sitting behind Dean and once the doors was closed, Sam asks "Alright, so what have we got? Well that's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder."

Dean just says "Yeah." Sam says "Well Listen to this." He presses the play button and its had been edited to pull out a scratchy voice which says "No Survivors." Sarah asks "Okay, what does it mean no survivors, there is 7 survivors." Sam says "You got me." Dean says "So, what you thinking? Haunted flight?" Sarah says "Well there's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like Phantom travelers."

Dean was a little impressed but didn't want to show it so he simply says "Mhmm." Then Sarah continues and says "Or remember 401?" Dean says "Right, the one that crashed the airline salvaged some of it's parts, put it in other planes then the spirit of the co-pilot and pilot haunted those flights." Sam says "Right." Dean simply says "Yeah." Sam says "Maybe we got a similar deal." Sarah asks "Alright so no survivors which one do we talk to first?" Sam says "Third on the list Max Jaffrey." Dean asks him confused "Why him?" Sam who is looking at the list of names says "Well, for one, he's from around here and second, if anyone saw something then it would be him."

The four of them was sitting at a table, Dean says "Uh, huh and that's what terrified you? That's what you are afraid off?" Max who feeling a little uncomfortable says "I don't want to talk about this anymore." Dean of course not paying attention to what Max said he continues and says "See, I think maybe you did see something up there, we need to know." Max looks over at Dean and says "No, No i was...delusional, seeing things."

Dean looks over at Sarah and Sam, and says "He was seeing things." Sarah looks at Max and calmly speaks to Max and says to him "Max it's okay, then just tell us what you think you saw, please." Max looks at Sarah who is smiling a little, which causes him to smile a little, unaware Dean wasn't exactly happy with the little flirting that was happening, but he pushed his feelings aside, He says "There was---this man and he had these uhm eyes, they was black eyes and I saw him--I thought I saw him---." Dean asks "What?"

Max continues and says "He erm opened the emergency exit on the plane, but that's impossible, right I mean I looked up and there's something like two tonnes of pressure on the door." Dean says "Yeah." Then Sam asks Max a question, "This man did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?" Max looks away from Sarah and then looks over at Sam with a confused expression on his face and says "What are you nuts?" Sam tilted his head confused and Max says "He was a passenger, he was sitting right in front of me."

They had arrived at Mr Phelps house, he was the victim that had been possessed by the demon and they was speaking to his wife who understandable was in tears, they was sitting around a table, whilst Sam was holding a picture of Mr Phelps and asks his wife, "Is this your late husband?" She looks over at him and says "Yes, that's my George." Dean asks "And you said he was a...dentist." To which Mrs Phelps says "Mm-Mm, he was headed to a convention in Denver, Do you know he was petrified of flying? For him to go like that..."

Sarah was sitting by her and put her hand on her shoulder and asks her "So how long was you two married for?" Mrs Phelps looks over at Sarah and says "Thirteen Years." Sarah then asks "In all those years, you ever notice any changes in your husband?" Of course Mrs Phelps was confused and she said "Well..um he had acid reflux if that's what you meant." They just looked at each other confused.

Sam and Dean went inside of a store, they thought it would best to play the part, whilst they was doing that Sarah had already got her outfit and was waiting by the car leaning against the passenger door, a few minutes later both of the guys came out of the store, wearing suits of course Dean wasn't exactly happy with what he was wearing, once they both got to Sarah he says "Man, I look like one of the blue brothers." That causes both Sam and Sarah to laugh a little, Sam says "No you don't, you look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance." Sarah says "It suits you, well both of you." He looks up and Sarah and he smiles, notices what she's wearing thinking she looks good, they all get in the impala and drives to the warehouse.

After a little while they finally arrived at the warehouse, showed the security guard their IDs, he let them inside and started looking around the wreckage of the plane, whilst doing that Dean pulls out a device and earbuds which he puts one in his ears, Sam looks over at him confused and asks him, "What's that?" Dean looking over at his brother and says "It's an EMF meter, It reads electromagnetic Frequencies." Sam looks over at Dean and he says "Yeah I obviously know EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted up walkman?" Dean says trying to impress Sam, "Cause that is what I made it out of, it's homemade." Dean grinning whilst saying that, but he's grin would soon disappear when Sam says "Yeah, I can see that."

Sarah is looking around the wreckage, Dean joins her and she notices something on the door so he puts his EMF reader towards the yellow powder and it sets off the reader, Sarah gets a sample of the mystery yellow powder, after they was finished the warehouse, started walking out of the warehouse, but then all of a sudden alarms start going off, that causes the three of them to start running and when Sarah notices the fence covered with barbed wire, she was rethinking her outfit of choice, but thankfully Dean noticed took off his jacket and threw it over and like a true gentleman he helped her over of course she thanked him and he grabbed his jacket saying "Well this monkey suits do come in handy."

The three of them had gone back to see Jerry and he took the powder and put it under a microscope and took a look and he says "Huh, this stuff is sulfur." The three of them looks over at Jerry confused until Sam asks "You sure." To which Jerry looks to Sam and says "Look for yourself." Whilst he did that, one of the workers shouted "You effin piece of crap."

That caught all of their attention and Jerry says "If Gents and Lady please excuse me I have an Idiot to fire." He left the room, Dean closes the door and walks to Sam and says "Hmm, you know, there's not too many things that leave behind sulfuric residue." Sarah who is leaning against the table says "Demonic Possession?" Dean says "It would explain how a mortal man with enough strength, to open up a emergency hatch."

Sam who has turned around says "If the guy was possessed, then it's possible." Dean asks "This goes way beyond floating over a bed, or vomiting pea soup, I mean it's one thing posses a person, but to use them to take an entire plane." Sarah looks over at and asks "So I'm gonna take a guess and say you never heard of a thing that could do that?" He looks back at her and he simply says "Never."

Dean, Sam and Sarah had gone back to the motel, they all changed out of their FBI outfits into some comfortable clothes, they started doing some research on Demons, Sarah was sitting on one bed whilst Dean was sitting on the other and Sam was sitting at the table, Sarah had papers beside her and had her laptop on her lap, Sam says "So, every religion in every world culture, has the concepts of demons and demonic possessions, right? I mean christian, native american, Hindu, you name it." Dean looks up from John's Journal and says "Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this." Sarah looks up from her laptop and says "Well, that's not exactly true, You see according to Japanese beliefs, certain disasters both natural and man-made, once causes earthquakes, another causes diseases, and this one causes Plane crashes."

Dean gets up from his bed and asks "Alright, so what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count." Sam asks "Yeah, you know, who knows how many planes this thing has taken down before this one?" All Dean does is snort and that confuses both Sarah and Sam, she gets up from her bed and looks over at Dean and asks, "What?" He looks over at the both of them and he says "I don't know, guys this doesn't sound like our usually gig, I mean demons they don't want anything just death and destruction for it's own sake, this is big I just wish Dad was here." Sam looks over at his big brother and says "Yeah, I wish he was too but dude, we can't just walk away from this."

But before Dean could reply his phone went off and he answers it, "Hello?" It's Jerry on the other line and he says "Dean, it's Jerry." Dean replies with "Oh, Hey Jerry." Jerry says "My Pilot friend, Chuck Lambert is dead." It took Dean a moment to realise what he said, "Wait Jerry...what happened?" Jerry repeats, "He and his buddy went up in a small twin about an hour ago, plane went down." Dean concerned asks Jerry "Where'd this happen?" Whilst Dean was talking to Jerry, both Sarah and Sam was sitting on the other bed with concerned looks on their faces, whilst Dean was pacing back and forth in front of them and Jerry says "About sixty miles west of here, near Nazareth."

When Dean was finished with his phone call he hung up, Sarah gets up from the bed and says "Let me guess another Plane accident?" Dean looks over to the both of them and says "Yeah let's go." Of course both of Sarah and Sam was unsure of where they would be going so Sam asks "Where we going?" Dean looks over to them and simply says "Nazareth." When they arrive at Nazareth, there is black smoke which is visible in the distance, In Jerry's office he's looking through a microscope and once he was done Sarah asks him "Let me guess sulfur?" He simply looks over to her and shakes her head, to which Dean says "Well, that is just great. Alright that's what two plane crashes that have involved Chuck Lambert, so it sounds like this demon is after him?"

Sam says "With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case wouldn't that be good news?" Both Dean and Sarah look over at Sam, "What's the bad news?" Sarah says "Well Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes in flight, but you guys won't believe this but so did the 2485 Britannia." Of course that confuses Jerry and he looks at the three of them and he asks "Forty minutes, wait what does that mean?" Dean says "It's biblical numerology, You know Noah's ark it rained for forty days, the number means death."

Sam stands beside Sarah and says "I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade all crashing at exactly forty minutes in." She looks up and asks "I'm guessing no survivors?" Sam looks down to her and says "No, not until right now, at least not until 2485, for some reason you guys remember what it said on the EVP?" Dean looks over at Sam and says "No Survivors." Sarah says "So wait it's going after the survivors, so it wants to finish the job."

By the time they got back onto the road it was nighttime, Sam was on the phone and says "Really? Well thank you for taking our survey, and if you do plan to fly don't forget to think of your friends at Britannia Airlines, thanks." He hung up the phone and says "Alright that takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway, they're not flying anytime soon." Dean who is of course in the driver's seat asks "So our wild card is Amanda Walker." Sarah says "Right, her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm, it's her first night back at the job."

Unfortunately Amanda didn't believe a word says from Dean so it was going to have to be Plan B, which turns out Dean wasn't exactly thrilled about, but he knew that he couldn't just walk away without finishing the job, or just letting Sarah and Sam do it without him, so it took a deep breath and the three of them got onto the plane that Amanda was on, when the plane took off, Dean wasn't exactly relaxed so seeing as Sarah was sitting beside him and Sam was sitting beside her, she took his hand which he appreciated and he smiled a little, which caused her to smile back at him, then he started humming metallica of course getting weird look off of Sam who asks "Dude, you humming Metallica?" He looks over at Sam whilst still holding Sarah's hand, "It calms me down."

Sarah points out the obvious and says "We've got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever is being possessed, and on top of that do a full exorcism." Well it was just their luck but it turns out Amanda isn't possessed which rules her out, but of course it was annoying but they luck was about to change when EMF meter spikes, which causes Dean to look up with a stunned expression on his face and Sarah asks "Hey what's the matter?" He simply says the word "Christo." That causes the co-pilot to slowly turn his head around and instead of his normal eye colour, it was pure black which confirmed Dean's worse fears, the co-pilot is the one that is possessed.

The three of them got up from their seats, of course Dean had let go of Sarah's hand which for some reason she was a little upset about, but she had to focus on the task at hand, so she pushed it to the back of her mind and the three of them headed to Amanda who was in the back, she looks at them asking "I hope the flight isn't too bumpy for you." Dean looks over at Amanda and says "Yeah, about that actually we need to talk." Understandable Amanda looks at Dean with a confused expression on her face, she asks "um, Okay what can I do for you?" Whilst they explain everything to her Sarah closes the curtain so that they've privacy, after a few minutes she was convinced and says "Okay, the co-pilot we need you to bring him back here." Amanda asks "why? What does he have to do with it?"

Sarah looks over to Amanda and says "Unfortunately we don't have enough time, to explain it you've got to just trust us on this one." At first Amanda is hesitant at first and then she asks "How am I supposed to get the co-pilot back here?" Sarah looks to Amanda and says "Tell him anything to convince him to come back here, just please give it a try." She eventually agrees and goes to get the co-pilot after coming up with an excuse, whilst she was busy doing that the three of them got ready.

It took sometime but they managed to get the demon out of the co-pilot but it went through the vents into the whole plane which didn't exactly help with Dean's phobia of flying, thankfully it wasn't for long as Sam managed to get back John's Journal and finish the exorcism, once the plane landed safely, everyone got off and headed inside the airport where there was Paramedics, FBI and FAA waiting, the co-pilot was in a wheelchair with a blanket over and a oxygen mask, being question by a FAA Agent, whilst Amanda is being question by FBI agent who asks "Anything else?" Amanda looks to the Agent and says "No that's all."

She sees the three of them and mouths "Thank You." Which they all nodded their heads, Sarah says "Come on we should get going." Whilst both Sarah and Dean starts walking they look over but noticed that Sam isn't walking, they both look over at Sam confused until Sarah says "Hey Sam, you okay?" Sam looks over at the both of them and says "He knew about Jess's death and how she died." Dean looks over to his brother and says "Sam, these things they read minds, They all lie? That's all it was." But of course Sam wasn't convinced but he didn't want to cause an argument, Sarah was concerned for Sam, the three of them got into the car and left the airport car park.

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boykingdom · 4 years ago

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Dean doesn’t have to drive far before he finds Cas. He’d had a hunch Cas might be waiting for him no matter the direction he went, but still he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees the slump of Cas’ shoulders among the trees.

He doesn’t have to walk far, either, once he’s pulled the Impala into the grass beside the road and let the metal door shut behind him with a creak. He’s in the forest after a few paces—it’s a pretty forest, all green and overgrown, the tan of Cas’ coat standing out purely for its dullness. Cas’ back is to him and he’s looking down at something, hands in his pockets, but the rigidity with which he holds himself gives away his awareness of Dean’s presence. Cas won’t turn toward him but will angle his head so Dean can see the sharp line of his cheekbone, like he’s any sort of thing that would need ears to gauge how close Dean is.

Dean has half a mind to hesitate, to stop and take a deep breath and collect his thoughts or something, but he’s so fucking tired of not being near Cas and of schooling how much he gives away to Cas in every conversation that he walks up so their shoulders are inches apart and he doesn’t think twice about it. He looks down to take in what Cas is looking at and finds a small pond with a few muddy-gray fish scooting their bellies across the silt. Dean thinks Cas might be gearing up for a speech about the fish and creation and humanity, something nice and cinematic to bookend their journey, but instead Cas says, “Hello, Dean.”

That works, too. At least Dean knows how to respond to that one. “Heya, Cas.”

They’re silent for a second.

“Sam?” says Cas.

“Went off to the Roadhouse. Wanted to see Bobby and Ellen and Jo,” says Dean. “But you knew that already.”

“Mm. I did.”

They both watch the fish drift. One comes close enough to the surface to form gentle ripples in the water.

Then Dean is smiling, because he can see Cas out of the corner of his eye, see the way he shifts and fidgets and is so clearly also looking at Dean out of the corner of his own eye. It occurs to Dean that Cas is nervous—that after everything they’ve been through, after the end of the world, after Cas’ big sacrifice, this angel of the Lord is nervous to speak to his best friend of twelve years. Dean can’t help but take the opportunity to tease him.

“What, did you think we’d never talk about it?”

A pause. Cas half-grumbles, “I thought I’d have a few decades to prepare something to say.”

And then Dean is laughing and laughing and bent over double with it because this whole thing is so fucking absurd and he’s so happy to be standing here next to Cas, weird and awkward Cas who pulled him out of Hell and told Dean he was in love with him just months ago. Cas who he thought he had lost forever. Dean laughs so hard he cries and then he—he cries, and cries, and he’s not laughing anymore. It happens fast and hard. Cas finally turns to him, eyes wide and hands suspended in front of him like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Dean’s sniveling and holding his jacket sleeve under his nose so his face doesn’t get all snotty but he probably looks fucking gross anyway, the way the tears won’t stop coming. Cas says, “Dean?” all worried and concerned. Dean practically falls forward into him, wraps his arms around Cas’ waist to clutch at the back of his coat and shakes when Cas immediately holds him in return.

“I missed you so bad,” Dean sobs into Cas’ shoulder. “I missed you so bad. I thought I would never see you again. I missed you so bad.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Cas hugs him tighter, leaving no spaces between their bodies. His voice breaks a little when he says, “I missed you, too.”

They stand like that for a moment. The forest buzzes around them, twiddling with birds and squirrels and insects. Dean breathes Cas in, feels him warm and safe and real in his arms. It’s a small piece of Earth here in Heaven. Unlike any other time before, Dean lets himself lean into it, touch Cas without Death looming over their shoulders. It feels good.

Dean does calm down after a few minutes, and as much as he would love to freeze time and stay suspended in that moment, he knows he can have even more if he gives it one last push. He pulls away, Cas’ hands sliding off his coat, lingering. “Sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed despite himself.

“Don’t be,” says Cas, in a way a that shows he really means it. Dean clears his throat and looks at him. Cas looks back. The whole thing is so achingly familiar, so akin to how they were when they first met. Even when Cas was alien and unknowable and potentially a threat, Dean always had to stifle the breathless thrill of having Cas’ attention. He doesn’t stifle it now.

He hasn’t quite internalized all the things Cas said to him, but he can see Cas was telling the truth about one thing—he is clearly so happy to be standing at the edge of this pond with Dean. Nothing in his gaze is asking for something more.

And as much as Cas would argue differently, Dean isn’t as good as him. He was never content just wanting. He had long ago accepted that he could never have Cas, sure, had recognized that he would spend the rest of his life with a horrible ache in his chest, that he would white-knuckle the wheel of the Impala to keep himself from touching. But he couldn’t find peace with it. Love rotted in him like a body at the bottom of a well. He spent a long time thinking it would kill him and kill Cas too, that it was a weapon to be used against them both, that the heat of his gaze would actually burn Cas if he looked long enough. He still has to choke down those half-formed thoughts when he looks at Cas now and can see in his eyes that he loves Dean without reservation, that despite everything he doesn’t think of Dean’s love as a death sentence. That he wants him.

Dean’s mind was made up the second Bobby had mentioned Cas’ name on the porch. It took him too long to untangle that part of himself that couldn’t separate loving men from danger, but he did untangle it, in the end.

“I know I can do it,” Dean says, both to Cas and to himself, “but I think it might be hard.”

Cas’ brow flickers in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he answers, gesturing lamely at the two of them, at the space between them. He swallows, steels himself, thinks of all the words he spent the nights since Cas died murmuring into his pillow, deliriously drunk. “I don’t know— I don’t know how to be this to someone— to you. I’ve never— and you’re—”

He’s getting frustrated, is upset that after thinking so long and hard about this moment for so many years he somehow still doesn’t know how to explain to Cas how much he means to him, how much he wants him, how hard it is to beat down his self-hatred and accept that he might just deserve Cas, too. But Christ, he wants to try.

“Dean?” Cas says. Dean can see in his expression the flowering bud of hope. He is so beautiful.

“I love you too,” Dean says, because it’s the best explanation he can give. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. Cas blinks; his mouth drops open. “God, Cas, you have to know that. Of course I love you too.”

“You mean...?” Cas can’t finish the question. He’s looking at Dean like a man finding faith, finding Heaven. Dean feels so overwhelmed and so happy for the two of them and surely he’s still red from crying before, but again he feels himself burning.

“I’ve been yours,” he chokes out. “You can have me. Please.”

Cas kisses Dean. It happens so fast that Dean feels it coming rather than sees it, feels Cas’ hands on his face, feels himself be tugged forward. Cas’ hands are shaking and Dean’s are too when he grips the front of Cas’ shirt and the back of his neck, eyes closed tight, learning the shape of his mouth. It’s hard and a little desperate and not at all artful, and Dean’s whole self feels a bit like an open wound but Cas is healing him, like he always has, like he has since the beginning.

Dean pulls away for air but doesn’t pull far, keeping his forehead pressed to Cas’ and his eyes shut. Cas’ thumb strokes his cheekbone. “Dean,” Cas says, and Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath. The way Cas says his name doesn’t scare him anymore.

Dean opens his eyes. He smiles. “Hi,” he says.

Cas smiles back.

They’re sitting in the Impala, Dean’s hand on Cas’ thigh, when Cas asks, “What do you want to do now?”

Dean pauses, thinks. The answer to what do you want has been Cas for so long, but he never let himself think far enough to decide what he would do if he ever got him. He’s safe, Cas is safe, Sam is safe. Realistically, he shouldn’t want for anything.

He looks out the Impala’s windshield, smooths the hand not holding Cas over the steering wheel. He knows that he loves this car with everything he is—that for a long time it was the only home he had. He also knows that he’s tired of the road. Desire has always come too easily to Dean.

“I think I’ll build us a house,” he answers, and immediately he knows it’s the right thing to do. They can pick a spot wherever Cas wants—Dean’s not picky. It’ll be something solid, something with walls that he built with trees he cut himself. Something that reflects the home he already built for Cas, the one that lives between his ribs.

Cas’ eyes light up. “I like that plan,” he says. “I want that, too.”

Years ago, Cas had sat in Dean’s passenger seat and asked him if he would rather have peace or freedom. Dean never got the chance to answer him.

Dean leans across the seat and kisses Cas again, open-mouthed, slow. He does it for him now and for the version of himself who mourned the distance between them. It’s answer enough.

#spn #supernatural #deancas #destiel #15x20 coda #i know the finale happened so long ago and also isn't real but i had to try my hand #i'll reblog this when the europeans wake up 🏃‍♀️#my fanfiction

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deanstead · 4 years ago

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With Brothers Like These

Pairing: Dean Winchester x WinchesterSister!Reader x Sam Winchester

Request by anon: I was wondering if you could do another one where she is assaulted at a bar and the brothers have to rescue her. Lots of fluff, hurt/comfort, and angst!

Word Count: 1,683

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, angst, fluff, mentions of injury/hurt

A/N: Please take note of the warnings before you continue to read! Back with Winchester Sister! I know this is not a new trope but I still hope you guys like it! Please hit me up and let me know what you guys think! Hope there’s no mistakes haha. Thanks for the request! Winchester requests are open, as are taglists!

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A successful hunt only ended one way – with the three of you at the nearest local bar.

Dean wasn’t even paying attention anymore, making eyes at a woman that was standing at the bar. You shook your head but smiled. “You’re relieved from your older brother duties.”

“Best sister ever.” Dean announced, grinning, patting your head affectionately before getting up from the table. “Go crazy, kids.”

“I’m your only sister!” You shot back but Dean was already halfway to the bar.

Sam shook his head, smiling, exchanging a look with you.

“Sam, you should hit the floor too.” You said absentmindedly, looking at your drink.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Don’t I get a ‘best brother ever’ for sitting here with you?”

You laughed, pulling the drink closer to you and taking a gulp.

“I’m going to get some air. I’ll be back in a bit.” You told Sam. The crowd in the bar was growing and you were starting to get a little claustrophobic from the musky smell that was filling the air.

“You okay?” Sam asked, looking up from the papers in front of him, probably already looking for the next case.

You nodded, smiling, dragging back your chair and pushing open the door of the bar.

You took a deep breath as the cool air hit your face. That was much better. You wandered slightly further into the parking lot, looking up at the sky. It was a nice clear night, it was quiet and the stars twinkling in the sky reminded you of a night many years ago, lying in the grass with your brothers.

You were so engrossed in looking at the sky, you didn’t hear the rustle of movement behind you until you felt yourself grabbed by rough hands, a man’s arm hooked around your neck, dragging you a few feet backwards into an alley that was right next to the parking lot of the bar.

What the hell?

You felt your back hit the wall and grunted at the impact, snapping your head up to look at what had grabbed you.

Except it wasn’t what, it was who.

The man towering over you looked about Dean’s age but he leered at you and you remembered where you had seen him. He’d already been staring at you at the bar.

“What the hell is this?” You snarled, trying to squirm out of his grasp but he barely budged. But you were a damn Winchester. You pulled your knee upwards in a quick motion, hitting him square in the groin as you screamed, “Dean! Sam!”

He groaned, but pulled his arm backwards and smacked you across your face, almost like a knee-jerk reaction, before he bent over again.

You hit the floor with a thud, winded from the unexpected strike, wincing as you felt your elbow scrape along the tarmac ground.

“Oh, a feisty one.” A voice that didn’t come from the guy bent over in front of you.

You felt your stomach drop. You were already at a disadvantage with this guy, and if he had friends…

Instinctively, you scrambled up, trying to push yourself towards the lit parking lot. In dismay, you felt hands grab your ankles and pull you backwards. Losing your balance, you fell forward with a thud, feeling your chin smack the tarmac.

“Dean! Sam!” You yelled again, not even sure if it was helpful. You were a distance away from the door of the bar and even if you had been out front, all your brothers would hear inside would probably be the pounding of the loud music.

The hands pulled you further in, their strong hands turning you back around to the front.

“It’s only fun when they’re feisty.” One of the men said, grabbing both your arms and pinning them above you as one of the new arrivals climbed on top of you.

Your breathing got shallower as you realised the situation you were in but before you could scream again, he crashed his lips against yours and you felt his hands move down your body. He pulled his lips away then, smirking down at you.

Your body felt like it had frozen on its own. You had no idea what to do, you’d been trained to hunt monsters, but you found herself frozen. Your mind was blank and you could feel your will shutting down.

Until you heard a gunshot rip through the air.

“Y/N!”

Sammy.

“Get your filthy hands off her!” Dean roared, pouncing for the guy that was atop you. The rest of them had scattered the moment they had heard the gunshot.

You felt hands grab you and you squirmed, trying to fight it. No, you couldn’t... you wouldn’t let yourself be taken again.

“No!” You screamed this time, your voice finally finding its way past your lips.

“Y/N! It’s me! It’s Sam!”

You spun your head around and it was. It was Sam, looking back at you with those familiar hazel eyes. “Sammy…”

“I got you.” Sam said, pulling you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you.

You closed your eyes, feeling the safety of your brother’s embrace. “Y/N, wait for me here.” Sam whispered after a while. You looked up in alarm.

Sam shook his head, “It’s okay, I’m just going to get Dean, okay?”

You nodded as Sam shot himself up. “Dean!” He ran to your oldest brother. “Okay, Dean, enough. Let’s get out of here.”

Even from where you were, you could hear Dean’s low growl. “I’m going to kill them!” Dean roared.

“Dean!” Sam yelled again.

Dean hesitated for a moment, the internal struggle between wanting to kill them or run back to you evident on his face. With another look from Sam, Dean chose the latter, spinning around and heading straight for you.

Your head snapped up at the sound of footsteps but you felt the relief flood your system when you saw who it was.

“Hey sweetheart, come here.” Dean pulled you to your feet smashing you against his side. You didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned your injuries but he didn’t say anything.

Sam threw open the front door of the Impala. On any other day, you’d have made a joke about him sitting in the back with his long legs but you could barely get through the fog in your brain. Your hands were shaking so you stuffed them into your pockets, biting the inside of your cheek.

---

Dean pulled up at the motel, glancing sideways at you.

You hadn’t said a word the whole way back, maintaining the silence even as Sam opened the door to the motel room you shared.

“I just need to wash up.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady before you went straight for the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You flipped open the tap at the sink, watching water pour out of the faucet before you sank to the floor and let it go, the tears now pouring out of your eyes as well.

You didn’t know how long you had been in there before there were a few raps on the door. “Y/N, we’re coming in, okay?”

You didn’t respond but they opened the door anyway.

“Sweetheart, come here.” Dean whispered, getting to his knees in front of you and enveloping you into his arms.

That only made it harder for you to hold it in and a sob escaped your lips. Sam squatted next to you, putting his arms around you as well.

“I’m sorry…” You sobbed, “I froze, I shouldn’t have… you taught me….”

“No, no you look at me.” Dean said, pulling away slightly, his hands still on your shoulders. “None of this is on you, do you hear me?”

Your eyes moved from Dean to Sam.

“Come on.” Sam said, wiping away the tears that were rolling down your face.

Your brothers gently helped you up and you followed them out of the bathroom, sitting down on the bed.

“Let me see.” Dean muttered, bending down to look at the scrape on your chin. “I should have killed them.” He growled.

“Dean.” Sam warned before turning back to you. “I’m just going to…”

“Sam, I know. I’ve had worse.” You said, clenching your teeth slightly as Sam cleaned the scraped on your elbows.

You were quiet for a while. “I shouldn’t have frozen.”

Sam looked up. “Y/N.”

“How’d you know?” You asked.

Sam shrugged, “Just a feeling.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “A feeling?”

Dean and Sam just gave small smiles as Dean pushed your hair back slightly so he could clean the scrapes on your face.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asked, his green eyes watching you. “I should have stayed with you.”

Sam shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let you go outside alone.”

“Look, we can do this all day because I shouldn’t have frozen, I should never have let them get that close to me.” You said, looking at your brothers. Your brothers who would literally brave hell for you.

On any other day, you’d roll your eyes and ask them to skip the chick flick moment but you still felt a little vulnerable and stupid, mostly.

Sam looked up as he finished cleaning the scrapes on your arms at the same time as Dean’s eyes flicked to yours. “Y/N?”

You smiled back at them, Dean’s bright green eyes looking you over to Sam’s hazel ones looking at you with concern.

“I just feel like an idiot, mostly.” You confessed.

Dean sighed as Sam moved in closer. “Hey, you’re our little sister. You’re allowed to show us a little vulnerability.” Sam said.

“From time to time.” Dean teased.

You smiled weakly and Dean put a reassuring arm around your shoulders. “Seriously, it’s okay to lean on us. It’s not weak.”

“No matter what Dad might have told you.” Sam added.

“Besides, we’re your older brothers, we’re supposed to protect you.” Dean spoke again, his jaw clenching a little.

You smiled. “You know what?” You paused as Sam and Dean studied you. “You are the best brothers ever.”

---

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clairenatural · 4 years ago

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Suptober 2020, Day 10: Sweet rides. Destiel (and background Saileen), honestly just 2k of state fair fluff

The Kansas State Fair rolls through a few months after their final boss battle with God himself. In the spirit of trying to heal and taking some time to just breathe, they all pile into the impala and drive the three hours to Hutchinson. All five of them, after Sam bounds into the kitchen one morning to excitedly announce that Eileen wants to come, and Dean can’t remember the last time his car (or his heart) was fuller.

Sam spends the first hour of the trip awkwardly turned around in the passenger seat, contorting his long torso to be able to sign with Eileen, until eventually Dean pulls over and makes him switch with Castiel (who probably should have been in the front in the first place). He watches his brother and his girlfriend start trying to teach Jack the ASL alphabet but keeps his own hands resolutely constrained to the steering wheel—if he gave them free reign he knows they’ll do something drastic, like reach out for the angel riding shotgun.

Still, the ride is nice. It’s the early Kansas fall, when the air is turning crisp but the sun is still warm, and the giddy relief of seeing Castiel smile without some cosmic threat looming over them still hasn’t worn off. By the time they pull into the fairgrounds it’s afternoon, and Dean is laughing along with the rest of them. They step into the hustle and bustle of the fair, and Jack’s face lights up in a way it hasn’t since before the weight of killing God was shoved onto his shoulders. Sam and Eileen split off pretty immediately, and they’re so happy Dean can’t even pretend to be exasperated. He’ll make fun of Sam later—right now he just watches them run away, giggling like teenagers, with a fond expression that could border on pining if Dean Winchester was the type to pine.

Then it’s just him, and Cas, and this half-angel kid who’s simultaneously all-powerful and a toddler. Jack, one of the most powerful beings in the universe, quintessential in the defeat of God, who still approaches cotton candy with a childlike wonder fitting for his three years of life. They discover that Jack likes cotton candy but loves rollercoasters. Dean, who discovered he hates rollercoasters a few decades ago, sits this one out—content to watch Jack drag Cas from ride to ride while he sits on a bench and eats corn dogs. When they finally stop for a breather it’s the tail end of the afternoon and Dean greets them with lemonade and funnel cake, and they watch the fair go by while eating the kind of fried food you can only find at state fairs. Cas is dismayed at the deep-fried Oreos. Dean eats three. It makes him feel sick—turns out even his stomach has limits—but it makes both Cas and Jack laugh, which makes it worth it.

Overall, it’s the perfect day, which might be why Dean’s immediately suspicious when Sam and Eileen show up some time later with matching mischievous smiles. They sit down at their picnic table and Sam leans in to slide something into Dean’s pocket, adding a whispered “thank me later” into his ear, before clearing his throat and turning his attention to Jack. “Hey, uh, Jack,” he starts, and Dean’s suspicions grow. “Eileen and I spent most of today playing games—you wanna show us the rides? Maybe,” he nods towards Dean in the least subtle way possible, “give these two a break?”

Jack looks between them for a moment before something seems to dawn on him and he smiles, which Dean does not like at all. “Yes,” he replies, simply, and starts to stand. “The best one is that way.” He points to the exact opposite end of the fair. Dean groans internally. Damn kids.

Cas watches them go with a look of contentment Dean isn’t sure he’s seen on the angel before, and he peeks at what Sam had slid into his pocket��two tickets for the massive Ferris wheel. Dean sighs and looks at Cas, then to the wheel. The afternoon is well on its way into evening now, and the low sun has the metal structure backlit and glowing. He looks back at Cas, who’s watching his odd reaction, confused. “Dean?” he questions.

Dean thinks about how much shit he’ll get from Sam (and Eileen) if he doesn’t go for it. He thinks about having to go another day, or even another hour, without holding Castiel’s hand. He thinks about how there’s nothing really stopping him—not anymore, not with the world safe and Cas not going anywhere anytime soon.

He makes a decision.

I’m in love with you. Please ride the Ferris wheel with me as the sun sets, he thinks.

“There are, uh. Some sweet rides here, huh?” he says instead. Castiel frowns at him, brow furrowed, and Dean wants to be enveloped by the earth like some cliché in a tween movie.

“You’ve spent most of the day avoiding them at all costs,” he points out and, yeah, that was not Dean’s best line. “I had to ride the, uh. The ‘Space Roller,’” he points at a giant spinning structure, “Twice.” Cas grimaces at the memory, and Dean frowns in sympathy. It was the only time he’s ever seen the angel nauseous.

“Jack had a good time, though,” Dean replies, because bringing up Jack is always a foolproof way to make Castiel smile again. Cas smiles in the way he always does when he thinks about his son, and it’s adorable but also off track, so—

“Ride the wheel with me,” Dean blurts out, before Cas can respond to his comment about Jack and before he can lose his nerve. Cas looks startled, either by the abrupt subject change or the two tickets that Dean slapped onto the table with his statement. “Sam—I mean, Sam and Eileen didn’t—” Castiel’s expression has changed to bemused confusion, so Dean stops talking and starts again. “Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Sam had extra tickets. I just thought it would be nice, you know. If you wanted.”

The smile he gets in return simultaneously puts him at ease and sets his heart racing. “I’d like that,” Cas says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, and he’s already standing and gathering their trash by the time Dean’s brain catches up.

There’s a couple in front of them in line for the Ferris wheel. They’re holding hands. Dean forces his into fists in his pockets. Not yet, he tells himself. Soon.

Unfortunately, the cabin they eventually climb into starts rocking dangerously the moment it’s lifted off the ground, and Dean immediately decides this was a Bad Idea. They get halfway up the wheel before they lurch to a stop and dean makes a noise that is definitely not a whimper as he waits for the swaying to stop.

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, deeply concerned in the way he always is about Dean. Dean shrugs, not letting go of the lap bar.

“Yeah, you know. I just, uh. Got this thing about heights. It’s fine. I’m fine.” He sees Castiel’s face shift out of the corner of his eye and realizes he’s smiling. Dean is having a near-death experience and the angel next to him is smiling.

“Dean Winchester, a man who fought God, is afraid of heights?”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles. “This thing is not structurally sound.” He tries to crane his neck outside the basket to examine the metalwork, but the movement makes the entire thing rock. He retreats, holding onto the lap bar for dear life, and sneaks a glance at Castiel. “Man, how are you not freaked out by this?”

“I suppose I’m used to falling,” Cas replies, as easy as ever, and it slows Dean’s brain down enough to look at him again. He’s still smiling, but there’s something else there. Something sadder.

“Cas—” Dean starts, but is abruptly cut off by the wheel kicking into gear again, squeaking as it pulls them over the crest of the wheel before stopping once more.

The sun is setting over the fair, casting everything below in shades of orange and gold. There’s the faint sound of children laughing and fair music drifting up from the ground, and the expanse of Kansas is visible beyond the fair’s borders. It’s breathtaking, really. It’s the part where, if this was a rom-com, Dean would make his move.

Instead, he’s clinging to the lap bar of the Ferris wheel car, and Castiel is doing his very best not to laugh in the seat beside him. Dean groans, squeezes his eyes shut, and considers disowning Sam.

“Dean,” he hears Cas say, mirth in his voice but also unmistakable softness, and then a warm hand is covering his own on the bar in front of them. “Look at me.”

He does, forcing his eyes open, and—oh. Cas has moved closer, and his blue eyes are lit up by the last rays of daylight, and suddenly Dean’s heart is racing for an entirely different reason. “Uh. Hi,” he says, because his brain seems to have shorted out, but the corner of Cas’ eyes crinkle into a smile and it’s beautiful.

Castiel’s hand is still warm on top of his own, grounding him even as they’re far off the ground. He’s looking at Dean like he’s the most precious thing in the known universe, and Dean realizes that now, actually, is when he would make a move.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies.

And Dean kisses him.

Dean barely registers that Cas is kissing him back—Cas is kissing him back??—when he absently takes both hands off the lap bar to pull Castiel closer, which means the entire car rocks again. Dean makes an undignified noise and pulls back to re-steady himself, and his cheeks are burning but Cas is laughing so that means it’s probably okay.

“When we get back to solid ground I’m kissing you for real,” Dean promises as the wheel squeaks back into movement again. Cas hums in agreement and presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek, and Dean can feel his smile. They hold hands on the bar of the carriage as the wheel turns them back down to earth.

Dean makes good on his promise as soon as they touch down, dragging Castiel behind a nearby tree and pulling him into a real kiss—solid, like the ground they’re standing on. Solid like the foundation they’ve been building for the past decade, of trust and love and family.

When they finally make it back to the picnic table, they look far too disheveled to blame it all on the ride. Sam looks up from the sundae he’s sharing with the other two, grins down at Dean and Cas holding hands, and winks at his brother. Dean rolls his eyes, blushing, but he squeezes Castiel’s hand and pulls him closer.

When they pile back into the Impala later, joined by the army of stuffed animals they’d managed to accumulate (Sam and Dean in an informal competition to see who could win the most for Eileen and Cas, Cas and Eileen irritated at the insinuation that they couldn’t win toys themselves and walking away with even more, Jack being innocently and gleefully good at every fair game he tries), it’s with a peace and contentment that the family hasn’t felt in years. Sam and Eileen immediately fall asleep in the backseat, curled up together, and Jack is watching the Kansas landscape pass by the window with a soft smile. He’s holding a stuffed panda.

They don’t speak much, not wanting to wake up the sleeping couple or disturb the quiet peace they’d created, but Dean and Cas hold hands across the bench seat, and every few miles the angel will pick up their hands to press a kiss to Dean’s fingers. Dean feels like he’s flying, like he’s standing on top of the Empire State building, like he’s reached the peak of Mount Everest. For once in his life, he’s not afraid of the height.

#suptober20 #destiel #destiel fluff #my words

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supraveng · 4 years ago

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Moving On - part 4

Summary: You are moving on from your past and starting a new life with your future as a Winchester

Characters: Reader x Sam Winchester, Dean x Cas, John x Mary, Joy Winchester

Warnings: fluffy Winchesters, swearing

Moving On part 3

@iamwarrenspeace @mythandmagik @lieswithoutfairytales @bbmommy0902 @hailmary-yramliah @jessyballet @paryl @tcc-gizmachine @vicmc624

The next two weeks in DC were a blur of meetings and packing up the personal belongings you had accumulated over the past 4 years, most belonging to Joy. By the time you were heading to the airport and saying goodbye to your life, you were feeling a bit overwhelmed. It reminded you of your escape from NY but this time with a bit more excitement of the unknown.

Settling in on the plane heading for your new home, you had brought everything you could think of to keep Joy occupied on the 3 hour flight. By the time you touched down and made your way through the airport to baggage claim, your daughter had become a deadweight that you were now carrying along with your other items, you couldn’t imagine never having the support you currently have from Sam.

Then you thought about trying to make this same trek with her if you were further along in your pregnancy and knew you couldn’t do this alone, you consider yourself a strong independent woman, but not nearly strong enough to be a single mother, those women were warriors that you could only aspire to.

Baggage claim was a madhouse and just as you are about to reach out and grab Joy’s car seat, someone moves around you and grabs it right out in front of you. You were too tired for this, and you looked up to yell at the culprit only to see the beautiful hazel eyes of the man you love.

“I thought I told you that you didn’t need to pick us up” you whispered, hoping to not wake your daughter.

He leaned in for a quick kiss, “I know, but I’ve missed my girls, and this way I get an hour just the two of us before getting to my parents house for dinner.”

“Well, I could definitely eat, but I thought you would be in court all day, so I really am surprised to see you” you snuggled into him as best you could before he started to take bags off your shoulders.

“Let me get this stuff, and you hold on to the precious cargo” he smiled down at Joy, rubbing her back and placing a kiss on her forehead before leading you out of the airport.

By the time all your things were loaded in the car, your daughter was waking up and squealing when she saw Sam. He listened and responded to her the entire way down the highway and only stopped when we reached the Winchester home.

"Babe, I thought we'd be going to your apartment, I could use a shower and nap before dinner with your family" you tell him as you lean over and pull him into a kiss. Whenever you two were apart for any length of time you were always very touchy feely that first day, but even more so when it's been weeks apart.

"Didn't I tell you, I didn't renew my lease, I've been staying here for the time being until we get our own place" he mentions as he exits the car.

"I vaguely remember you mentioned your lease but I thought we had a few more months'' you try your best to smile. You were really hoping for a quiet night in with Sam, but it looks like that's going to be postponed for who knows how long.

Before you even made it to the door, Mary was coming out with a huge smile on her face and pulling you into a hug, “we’ve missed you around here, well I probably missed you the most, there are too many men around here” she whispered before releasing you.

“Nana!” was heard from inside the car as you saw your daughter try to unbuckle and reach her grandmother as soon as possible. You were about to go to her when Mary stepped up, “please let me, I need snuggles with my Joy”.

“By all means, but she slept most of the flight, so she’s going to be full of energy” hoping to warn Mary but by the look on her face, she doesn’t mind at all. The two are running toward the house as you help Sam with your bags from the trunk.

You always loved the Winchester home, large but still inviting, spacious but still cozy, and the fact that every member of the family; immediate and extended; welcomed you with open arms from the beginning was the best feeling.

Growing up in foster care, you never had a home, not for more than a month or two at a time. Then being on your own since you were 15, you never expected to be here now, but it was as if all the years of struggling and trying to find yourself had been worth it to get here.

Becoming a Winchester was something you never knew you always wanted and desperately needed. You can hear Mary and Joy chatting in the kitchen as you make your way upstairs hoping for a bit of relaxation before you become completely exhausted. Sam pulls you into a warm hug before you’re even completely in the room.

Calming any nerves with a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the apartment, I’ve been working so much trying to catch up so that we could have a nice weekend together as a family now that you are officially moved to Kansas that it completely slipped my mind. What can I do to make it up to you?” looking up at him you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“There’s nothing to make up for, but if you were offering a back rub before my nap, I would greatly accept.” as you reach up and kiss me softly before making your way to the bed to remove your shoes.

“Well, if you insist, but I’m almost certain my world famous backrubs is what got you pregnant the first time” he chuckles as turns towards you.

“Good thing we don’t have that to worry about” and you kiss him again. Snuggling as close as you could to Sam, you fell asleep almost instantly, his arms being your safe place, your home.

Waking up with a chill, you realized you were now alone and the absence of Sam made the room feel like a freezer. Quickly getting up and showered, you made your way downstairs to find your family.

You smiled watching Joy, curled up in Dean’s lap watching Scooby Doo, both laughing at the same spots, those two had such a great bond.

"There she is, how was your nap?" Mary asked as she entered the living room from the kitchen with Sam following behind.

"Wonderful, thank you. I promise to not disappear on you again" you told her as she pulled you into another hug.

"No need to apologize for allowing me more time with my granddaughter" as she moved towards the sofa and handed Joy a drink.

"Dinner will be ready as soon as John gets home, so I didn't think she needed a snack right now"

"thank you, but I was planning on cooking for y'all tonight" you told her as you and Sam joined them, while Joy and Dean shushed us for interrupting their show.

"Don't worry about that sweety, John is picking up dinner on the way here, we're just happy to have you two back in town"

The Winchesters were always so inviting, you had dreamed of a family like this when you were growing up and now you finally had it.

By the time John had come in with dinner, the tv had been turned off and you were helping your daughter clean up as Castiel came in and greeted you both.

"Unca Cas! I sit wit you" Joy squealed as she ran and hugged his legs.

"I've missed you too, and as long as it's ok with your mom" He crouched down to her eye level before she was throwing her arms around his neck.

"Don't you want to sit with your favorite uncle?" Dean asked as he patted the seat beside him. Joy laughed as she climbed into the seat between them "luv yu unca bean" and blew him a kiss.

"So, Y/N, we are so glad you two are back for a visit, how long do we get to keep you this time?" John asked as you all started eating.

"Well, about this visit, its um" looking at Sam for some help as he just shrugged with that cute smirk on his face. "Sorry, I'm not sure how to say this and I didn't really have a plan but, this isn't a visit" you looked around and everyone seemed a little confused. "We have officially become Kansas residents as of today"

"Oh, that's fantastic!" Mary told you as everyone seemed a bit shocked.

"Were you able to transfer to a local office?" John asked.

"No, actually, I resigned but they call it retiring so they have the option to hire you back when they need the help, but I don't think that will be a concern for many years if ever" you state trying to reassure Sam that this is it for you, for your family to be together.

"I'm happy for you, sweetheart, but that seems a bit sudden. Is something going on?" Dean seemed to be concerned by your sudden change.

Finally Sam spoke up, "yes Dean, something is going on" he smiled down at you. "Y/N wants to move the wedding up and become a Winchester as soon as possible."

You smirk at him and look back at the family, they seem happy but a bit confused. "Sam and I have a little surprise" you tell them as he squeezes your hand "we are expecting"

There was a unified gasp from the table before everyone was congratulating you.

Once the celebration was over it was time to put your daughter to bed, but with a house full of her favorite people you figured you wouldn't be able to do it tonight even if you wanted to. While Mary opted for handling bath time, the rest of you settled down on the patio, the men opting for whiskey to end the night while you stuck with a cup of tea.

"Might I suggest the name Dean, if it's a boy?" Dean told you with a smirk on his face.

"Really?" you asked "you don't want to use the name for your own kids?" Dean looked a little shocked but shook his head almost defeated.

"Come on Dean, you and Cas would make amazing parents, you never thought about it?" you questioned.

"We discussed it but I'm not sure kids are a realistic idea with as much as we work and travel all the time" he shrugged looking defeated.

Noticing Dean give Sam a pointed look, you realize you may have overstepped and decided to drop the subject. “Well, as your sister-in-law, I support any decision you make for your family. You need to do what's right for you"

The morning was a whirlwind of finding what you needed amongst the bags you had packed and boxes you shipped, but ultimately you were able to get yourself and Joy looking presentable for breakfast with the family. By the time you make it downstairs, John is kissing Mary goodbye and heading towards the door. “Papa wait!” Joy runs full speed and hugs John's legs. “Oh sweetie, I’ll be home tomorrow and we can have a whole day together, how does that sound?” he asks as he leans down to give her a goodbye hug. “Yay, I wan pancakes” as she runs to the kitchen to find her Nana.

“You are working on Saturday? That’s awful” you tell him as he pulls you in for a hug also. “Small little hiccup, I’m hoping to make it back tonight but just in case, I will see you all tomorrow” he waves and is out the door. “So mom, do you think you can keep an eye on your granddaughter for a few hours? I have something I want to show Y/N, and maybe grab lunch in town”

Within the hour the two of you are driving through Lawrence and he’s pointing out all his favorite places growing up before he stops in front of a beautiful two story house on the north end of town.

“So what do you think?” he asks as he opens the car door for you

“It’s beautiful, but what are we doing here?” you ask.

“Well, I was looking around and found this place, and thought we could have the wedding in the backyard” he tells you with a small grin.

“This is perfect, I wanted something small and intimate, but this is just someone’s house. Why would they rent it to us for our wedding?” you question as you walk around the house to the backyard.

“Well, that was the catch, we can’t rent it, so I bought it” he responds with a look between hope and apprehension.

“You bought a house?” you were shocked to say the least. You weren’t sure if you should be upset that he made such a big decision, but Sam was always one to surprise you.

“Yes, for us, technically it’s not ours until we sign the final closing paperwork on Monday but we need a place of our own and what better way to start our family than in our own home” he pulls you into a hug and you can only respond with a huge smile

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #mary winchester #dean x castiel #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural crossover

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glitteryflufflepuff2003 · 3 years ago

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Please stay

(Reader, Dean, Sam, Jack & Cas)

Summary: After radio silence from the boys, Y/N pays a visit to the bunker and is greeted by an unexpected gift.

Word count: 1299

Key: Y/N = Your Name, Y/N/N = Your Nickname

A/N: This is just a cute little idea that I thought would be a nice fic... probably crap but oh well 🤷

This has been reposted by myself from my personal account where I accidentally posted it the first time 🤦

As always: feedback is ✨ G O L D E N ✨

“Y/N!” She could see Jack grinning from ear to ear as she descended the stairs into the bunker.

“Hey kid, how are you? Are the boys taking good care of my favourite?” Y/N chuckled as she embraced the younger man. It has been nearly 4 months since she had last seen any of the bunker’s occupants and their radio silence had begun to concern her.

“Your favourite?” Dean’s voice boomed out across the room, “I thought that title was reserved for me?”

Y/N pulled away from Jack go look the older Winchester in the eyes. “You’re a grown man now - apparently,” she added with a wink at Jack, “you should know you don’t need to be my favourite because I love you anyway. Besides, the kid’s cuter that you ever were, Deano.”

Dean feigned a look of hurt before a wonderfully bright smile broke out across his face. He took Y/N’s hand, twirling her once before wrapping her in his arms; Dean’s scent intoxicated her senses, its familiarity reminding her that she was home at last.

Y/N could have stayed like that, wrapped in Dean’s arms and presence, all day but there were things to be done and people to check up on.

“So where’s Feathers and Bookworm?” She asked scanning the room for the missing men, hoping they hadn’t left before her unplanned arrival. Just then an unpleasant smell drifted past Y/N’s nose; she inhaled, wrinkling her nose as concern rose in her voice. “Dean… is something burning?” As the words sank in, Dean’s eyes flew open as fear set in.

“You better not be burning my bacon, Cas!” He yelled as he sprinted off towards the kitchen, leaving Jack and Y/N clutching their stomachs, eyes streaming, as they burst into uncontrollable laughter.

It took several minutes and a call for help from Dean before they were able to calm themselves enough to make their way to the kitchen. As they rounded the corner to the kitchen, still chuckling to themselves, their eyes landed on a great, unholy mess. Opened bacon packets littered the counters; half-cooked and over-cooked rashes of bacon were piled high on a plate; and Dean fluttered back and forth around the room, grumbling to himself as Cas sat in the corner, a dejected expression upon his face.

“What happened? Where’s Sam?” Jack asked, seemingly as confused as Y/N was about the scene before them.

“I leave you two alone from one minute - ONE MINUTE,” Dean rants, obviously angered by the events which had unfolded in his absence, “and Sam runs off to chat up some girl while you attempt to set the whole place on fire! I thought you knew how to cook bacon, Cas? And I swear down, if you tell me you only watched someone do it on the laptop, so help me Chuck, I will punch something.” Cas glanced and Jack and Y/N sheepishly before averting his eyes back to the ground.

The angel mumbled timidly, “The people on the cooking shows made it seem so easy, I really thought I could do it this time.”

“Dammit, Cas!”

“Hey! That’s enough.” Y/N took charge, stopping World War 3 before it could even begin, “Jack, darling, could you go sit with Cas and make sure he’s okay while I help old sour puss over there?” She smiled softly as she nodded for his to take care of the shaken angel.

Jack smiled “Yes, mum!” Y/N wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly but she wasn’t about to complain, the boys were her only family and knowing they felt the same towards her only warmed her heart. The sound of metal tongs hitting the tiled floor snapped Y/N out of her sentimental daze.

Within 15 minutes the kitchen had been put back together, the arguing had ended, apologies had been made and Sam had returned. Dinner consisted of an ‘all-you-can-eat’ bacon platter free-for-all… and a salad for Sam, which Dean thoroughly protested against but lost.

After dinner, Y/N took her bags to her old room in the bunker. It had shocked her that not a single thing had moved from where it had been when she left. As she sat on the end of the bed, taking in her surroundings, something caught her eye. A small, velvet jewellery box sat at the back of her desk. It was evident that it had been sitting there for a while, the box was covered in a thin layer of dust.

This wasn’t there when I left, she thought as she grabbed the object with a shaking hand.

Slowly, she opened the box, praying that this wasn’t a cursed object… again. Inside was a small metal keyring and a silver chain with a pendant attached. Y/N pulled out the necklace first, instantly recognising the pattern engraved into the pendant, she had gifted a matching necklace to Dean the year before Jack was born. She turned it in her hand to find a short message engraved into the back, ‘Happy Birthday, Princess’.

Tears welled in her eyes at the sentiment behind the gift. She thought he had forgotten, thought that he didn’t care enough to know he had missed her birthday. She should have known better; she should have known Dean Winchester would never forget his princess’ big day.

The keyring had almost been forgotten about until the light glistened across the surface, highlighting the inscription. Y/N placed the necklace back into the box to retrieve the other trinket. She moved it before her eyes, reading the words engraved into the metal, ‘Thank you for being the mother I never thought I’d have’.

The flood gates broke then as Y/N’s tears began to stream down her face. With shaking hands, she clasped the necklace around her neck and pocketed the keyring. She turned, tossing the box back onto the desk before she made her way down the hallway in search of the boys.

“Hey! Where is everyone?” Y/N bellowed through the halls, hoping to find someone before she became lost in the maze of the bunker.

“In here, Y/N/N!” Sam’s voice could be heard from five doors down. Y/N quickened her pace, rounding the doorframe into the ‘Dean Cave’.

“You two,” She jabbed her finger at Dean and Jack who jumped at her stern tone, “here now.” They dashed to her, barely taking a second to cross the room. She stared unblinking at them both for a moment before the tears began to stream once again. Y/N grabbed both men pulling them in for a loving embrace.

“Thank you.” She smiled softly as the boys let out a sigh of relief, returning the hug. “Right!” Y/N released the two and backed away, wiping the tears from her eyes, “Shut up and bugger off.” She chuckled, shewing them away as she took a seat next to Cas.

As the movie began, Jack plopped down next to Y/N, offering her popcorn and other snacks. It didn’t take long before Jack had drifted off, snuggling up to Y/N.

“He hasn’t slept in days, that’s the most stress free I’ve seen him all month.” Dean nodded towards the brunette laid in the crook of her arm.

“This kid has so much going on around him, I’m not surprised he’s zonked out.” She sat stroking his hair gently, watching the tension slowly drain from his face.

Jack stirred, snuggling impossibly closer as he whispered, “Y/N?”

“Yes, love?”

“Please stay for a while? I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’ll stay as long as I can, sweetheart.” She smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his head.

“Thank you.” He hummed before he drifted back off to sleep.

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this please reblog it so that more people can enjoy this.

If you want to be tagged in future fics please pop into my asks, leave a message saying you would like to be added to a tag-list and I will answer when it is done!

My requests are also open so if you have any requests/suggestions/ideas please send them in!

Tag-list:

~ empty ~

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #fluff #cute family imagine #reader #the bunker #spn #dean #cas #sam #jack

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dollfaceeeeee · 3 years ago

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There is something different about it.

The inescapable rush of water as it surges into your lungs, about the same second as your car hits the surface of the water; like a meteor shooting across space, an endless force before colliding straight into the atmosphere of an unlucky planet.

Your heart beats differently under that pressure, under that surge of adrenaline, and you want to live but everything is going down, down, down so fast and the clock is ticking by so slowly and your limbs are floating like you’re in some forgotten rocket ship somewhere.

My brain tries to connect to my arms, trying to force them into action, to unlatch my seatbelt and find a way out of the car but my lungs are barely holding on, and everything is so tired, and why can’t I just give in already?

Deep down, I know who ran me off the road, and I was just the unlucky bastard that decided to fight my boyfriend on yet another stupid thing in the middle of the night.

Stupid, stupid girl.

He will come looking for me, I know that, and he won’t stop until he finds me, so I have to live.

Emily, you have to live, damn it.

Reaching down, holding my breath, I try desperately to unclip the seatbelt tucked heavily across my chest, but it won’t budge, not an inch, and I realize with horror as the water begins to grow darker and darker around me as I surge into the depths below.

My ears begin to ring, and I know it’s a bad sign; my heartbeat pulsing in my head as I tug desperately at the seatbelt, before trying to yank the hunting knife tucked neatly into my belt out from its’ hiding place.

I watch as bubbles escape from my lips and float to the surface, and I wish, for a split second, it could be that easy for me, too, but I know it can’t.

Bringing the knife up, I begin to cut at the seatbelt, watching as it gratefully tears through it with ease, but I can already feel my breath floating away; the life slipping out of my fingers as my timer ticks down.

Just as I get the final pieces of the seatbelt off, I feel the exhaustion instantly kick in, and my body falls limp, my eyes sliding closed as I try to process the mistakes I’ve made so far.

Jesus, where to start?

I fell in love with another hunter, for one, the only one my father warned me about since day one.

Bobby Singer was always a man of his word, but his daughter, me, Emily Singer, never listened to him.

Falling in love with Dean was my first mistake.

My second one is thinking that the first one is a mistake at all.

Sighing, I can feel my mind fighting me to move, to break through the hold of the car and swim to shore, but I just can’t, I can’t do it.

I’m so tired of fighting.

What’s the point anymore?

I can feel myself drifting, my body beginning to feel weightless, at ease under the crushing weight of the water, and I know Dean won’t find me down here, and Sam won’t either.

I’m going to die down here.

But would that be so bad?

Sighing, I feel the last of my breath drag out of me, and something inside me shuts off, just for a second.

All I see is Dean.

Dean’s green eyes sparkling under the water, his hair like static around his head as he reaches for me desperately, pain laced in his features, and I almost want to reach for him, but I can’t.

I can’t move.

Just then, from somewhere far away, there’s an odd crashing sound directly in my left ear before there’s hands on me, tugging on me rather roughly, holding me so tight I’m sure the remaining breath in my lungs has surely dissipated.

Until my head collides with the surface.

There’s so many noises and motions I don’t know what to comprehend; splashing, breathing in my ear, gentle lips against my temple, my back hitting something hard and warm, calloused hands rubbing my shoulders, wide knees supporting my small head, and the smell of grease and gunpowder that I can only imagine belongs to Baby.

“Come on, sweetheart, you gotta give me something here. Please. Breathe, come on, damn it. Breathe.”

Heavy hands press against my chest, calloused and rough through the fabric of my soaked T-shirt, but I know that voice.

I’d know that voice anywhere.

I can hear the pain in his words almost as clearly as I can hear the water dripping off his skin, and feel his hot breath fanning against my face as he leans down to give me mouth to mouth.

As always, the fresh taste of spearmint and beer saturates the back of my throat, but I can’t bring myself to move, or to force my aching lungs back into motion.

I’m not so sure they ever will again.

“I need you to do one god damn thing for me, for once, Emily. Christ, I just need...I need you to come back to me. You can’t die on me now, not here, not after...”

His hands move more forcefully, pushing the water up into my throat before it’s spitting out from my lips like a fountain, and my lungs explode into motion to alleviate the threat of the water coating them.

Everything around me begins to shake, throbbing in an aching pattern of uncontrollable shivers, and I realize with horror that it’s my body that’s behaving this way, as the feel of the cold water slowly settles over my skin for the first time.

Hands pull me upright into a sitting position until my back is against something hot and firm and dripping wet, but he still attempts to warm me anyway; his hands rubbing circles across my arms, trying to bring some warmth to my frozen body.

“Em, baby, you can hear me, right? Are you in pain? I’m going to take you to the hospital as soon as I can get you warm, but I need to know if you’re alright. You weren’t breathing for a while there. You scared the shit out of me.”

I’m not so sure I can speak, or I can catch my breath long enough to say anything, but my mind runs a mile a minute as I try to process what he’s saying.

Am I okay?

Nothing feels like it hurts, not necessarily, besides my lungs; they feel like they’re on fire right now, but my body seems to be in correct working order, and I move my legs and arms slightly just to be sure.

Luckily, everything seems to be fine, there.

Attempting to push wet strands of hair from my face, I just try to control my breathing as I nod in assurance, staring out at the dark spiraling river of water laid out in front of us.

My favorite car, my dad’s car, is under there.

“Okay, good, that’s good. Alright, I’ll call Sam on the way, let him know I found you. Do you think you can stand on your own? You’re shaking pretty bad, and I’m not so sure you’re even aware of that.”

“I..I know,” I mumble, my teeth slamming together painfully before I twist around to look at him.

Green eyes, bright as Autumn apples, stare back at me under a layer of long, dark eyelashes, and he looks taken back for a moment with the movement before his hands reach up to cup my cheeks.

Blazing heat spirals out from his fingertips, and I relish in it for a moment, before his lips are on mine, breathing into me the same strong scent of beer and spearmint that I stick to memory, concealing it somewhere in the back of my mind, in a safe place, just in case.

His lips are soft, and his hand tangles in my hair for a moment before he pulls back slightly to lean his forehead against mine, his body now rocking uncontrollably.

“I thought..I thought you were gone. Seeing you under the water, floating like that, pale as a ghost and your eyes closed, I thought I was too late, and the water was so damn cold. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, that I wasn’t there to protect you. Once Cass got word of Michael’s plans, you were already gone, and you weren’t answering your cell, and..Sam and I got a bad feeling..”

Shaking my head, I reach forward tentatively to lace my fingers through his, and I watch as his mouth curls into a relieved smile before I find myself doing the same.

“I’m r...really sorry,” I say through my teeth, trying to force myself to relax, but I can’t; the soft breeze blowing straight through my drenched clothes and wet hair.

Dean reaches up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear, nodding slowly, making bubbles of water shake from his hair, before he presses a tentative kiss against my forehead; his hot breath fanning against my cool skin.

“I know, Em, I know. And I’m going to kill that son of a bitch once I know you’re alright. Do you think you can stand?”

I’m sure I can, but as I pull myself to my feet, everything around me shifts and I wilt back into Dean’s outstretched arms, my body much more exhausted than I anticipated.

I laugh loosely at the action, but Dean doesn’t join in; his arms reaching under me to lift me and pull me in against his chest, his eyebrows furrowed together over his eyes as he climbs the soft incline to Baby.

She’s running, purring gently from the road, and Dean unlatches the passenger door before sliding me inside; reaching over me to turn on the heat before grabbing the blanket from the back seat, the one that belongs to Sam.

“Dean, I’m..I’m fine,” I state stubbornly, but he ignores me as he tucks the blanket around me tightly and gives me a quick kiss on the lips once again.

“Shut up for once, will you? Let me take care of you.”

His gaze is piercing, flowing over me with relief and concern that mixes together in a dizzying array, and I know he’s fighting back the urge to break down.

I wasn’t sure if he loved me before, but I am now, and I reach up to run my fingers against his cheek; his eyes closing at the action as he takes a deep breath.

“You know I love you, right, Dean?”

Dean smiles, his eyes staying shut before he grabs my hand and presses his lips against my palm gingerly, almost as if he’s afraid I might break.

Once his eyes open again, I’m scared to ever look away from them again, afraid he could slip away from me almost as easily as he could have minutes ago, and deep down, I’m sure he feels the same.

I love him so much it’s going to kill me.

“Me too, baby,” he says softly, winking at me, “me, too.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural family

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supernaturaldesires · 4 years ago

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A Wild Night

Having the opportunity for a night of fun with Dean and Sam Winchester, you would be a fool to say no. But do you really know what you’re in for?

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader x Soulless!Sam (no wincest)

Warnings: dub-con/drunken rough sex, threesome, penetration, oral (male and female receiving), deepthroating, bondage/use of ropes, anal

Word Count: 2,594

The club music pounded through your head as you swayed towards the bar, giddy from the several cocktails you had enjoyed with your friend. Her boyfriend had swung by to pick her up, but you were enjoying yourself too much to leave and assured her you would be fine as she left. Clutching onto the edge of the bar-top, you steadied yourself as you wobbled a little on your high heels. You peered around the corner of the bar, hoping to catch the eye of a bartender.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself there, doll,” came a smooth voice from beside you. Even sitting down, you could tell the blonde-haired stranger was tall, and his emerald eyes bore into you as though they were looking directly into your soul. And God damn, he was hot.

“No one is enjoying life unless they go a little wild every now and then,” you giggled in return. Your attention was diverted by one of the bartenders coming over to take your order. “I’ll have another long island iced tea please, my good man,” you sang drunkenly.

The handsome stranger beside you smirked. “Put it on my tab, mate,” he said. Before you could argue, he added: “And we’ll have three shots of tequila alongside it.” The bartender disappeared before you could say a word.

“Three shots?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t appear to be sitting with anyone.

“One is for my brother,” the man said, his intense eyes back on you. “He’ll be back in a moment. The other one, my dear, is for you.”

“Excuse me, sir,” you said in mock-offense. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

A coy smile appeared on his face. “I thought you wanted to go wild,” he teased. Then he leaned forward until you could feel his breath on your ear. “And if you call me ‘Sir’ again, I’ll show you a night more wild than your dreams.”

A delicious chill ran down your spine at his words. Before you could respond, the bartender returned with your cocktail and three shots. You picked up your cocktail and turned to the man who had bought it for you. “Thanks for the drink, um?”

“Dean,” he said, a wicked glint dancing in his eye. Another even taller man sat in the empty seat to your other side. “That’s Sam.”

You nodded to the new arrival, also very attractive in his own right, though there was something deliciously dangerous about the steeliness of his eyes. Whereas Dean had been more flirtatious, Sam appeared to be completely unashamed of dragging his eyes slowly over your body as if he was mentally undressing you. And honestly, it lit a fire within your belly.

Dean handed two of the shots to you and his brother before picking up the third one for himself. “So, Y/N,” he began coolly. “Just how wild do you want to get tonight?”

You smirked at him with a cheeky look in your eye. “I thought I’d see where the night takes me, handsome.” The three of you clinked your shot glasses together before knocking them back. You winced a little at the delightful burning sensation, and as you re-opened your eyes you could have sworn that for a split second, Dean’s eyes had flicked to black. But when you looked again, they were the same dazzling green they originally were. Maybe you were starting to reach your peak a little, but you never left a drink unfinished.

As you sipped your long island iced tea, Dean held the conversation with you, while Sam appeared to be the quieter one. He just sat there watching you, occasionally his eyes flickering to your drink, checking how much you had left. As you sucked the last drop down, you certainly felt a little woozy, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“I think that’s me done,” you slurred, a hiccup emphasising the end of your sentence.

Dean rose from his seat, placing his hand firmly on the small of your back. “What do you say we get out of here, then? I’ve got a motel room a couple of blocks down.”

“Mhmm,” was all you could manage as he guided you out of the busy club.

When Dean led you inside the motel room, you were a little surprised to see the still-silent Sam follow you both into the room. You’d assumed he was bored from the lack of any contribution to yours and Dean’s conversations, but figured he was just the quiet, broody type. “Mm, two handsome men all to myself?” You giggled, losing your balance and falling onto your butt on the bed. “Lucky me.”

Dean approached you, a dark chuckle grumbling in his throat. “Lucky you indeed. And lucky us for finding our plaything for the night.” His fingers wrapped around your jaw as he leaned down for a bruising kiss, pushing you backwards to lay you flat on the bed. “Are you going to be a good little slut for me and my brother?”

You’d had your drunken hook-ups before, but nothing like this. Never a threesome. But you’d be lying if you’d said it hadn’t been a fantasy for some time now. And to have the opportunity with two drop-dead gorgeous men?

“Yes, Sir,” you purred, accentuating the title. The corner of Dean’s lips tugged into a coy grin. His free hand slid down to your thighs, groping them before yanking your dress up and exposing your lacy black thong.

“Well, look what we have here, Sammy,” Dean boasted, licking his lips as his fingers shoved the fabric aside and rubbed your wet folds. “She’s already so wet for us.” You mewled in response to his touch, slowly grinding your hips to create some movement.

You heard Sam grumble from the other side of the room, out of view. “Hurry up, Dean, you know foreplay bores me.”

Dean gripped your thighs and pushed you up the bed until your head was hanging off the other side. “Well there’s a perfectly good mouth there to keep you entertained while I have my fun.”

You squealed as you felt Dean’s fingers return to your cunt, this time pushing past your entrance. You heard Sam’s footsteps first as he rounded the bed, coming into view. He still maintained that cold, dark look in his eyes as he stared down at you. Shoving his jeans and boxers down, you felt a shiver of fear and excitement at the length that sprung free from its confinement. He was longer than anyone you’d been with and you were anxious as to whether you could take him.

Your internal debate was cut short as Dean rammed three fingers knuckle-deep inside you. The scream that escaped you gave Sam the perfect opportunity to thrust his length into your mouth and down your throat.

“You’ll want to focus for this, sweetheart,” Dean hummed as he twisted his fingers inside you, making you squirm. “My brother has a tendency to break the toys that bore him.” As if to prove his point, Sam began thrusting down your throat, as Dean’s hand tightened around your neck, holding you in place.

“Thankfully this bitch’s mouth has a better use than drunken babbling,” Sam sneered, watching you through calculating eyes. The way he looked at you ignited a masochistic pleasure inside you. You knew you had a degradation kink, you had even convinced an ex to try to dominate you in the bedroom, but he wasn’t a natural dominant so it just didn’t give you what you needed. This, however. You could see in Sam’s eyes that he didn’t give a shit about you. And you loved it. Your mind swimming with the alcohol, you let Sam continue to abuse your throat.

Dean seemed to notice you weren’t attempting to struggle so eventually released your neck, focusing on pummelling his digits into you, making you moan crudely on his brother’s cock. It was when he wrapped his lips around your clit that you really lost it, your body bucking and writhing like you were possessed. Your screams muffled around Sam’s large member as the orgasm hit you like a freight train. But as soon as you began to cum, Dean’s fingers left you, grinding your orgasm to a cold and abrupt halt.

“Oh dear, sweetheart,” Dean tutted, grabbing your throat as Sam ripped his cock out of your mouth. The green-eyed man pulled you up by the neck until you were face-to-face with him, his nose with millimetres from yours. “Did you ask for permission to cum, you little slut?” You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to make your eyes focus on Dean, but right now you were seeing duplicates of him as your vision blurred. A shake of the head was the best you could manage. Dean gripped your waist with one hand and flipped you over so that you were laying on your belly on the bed. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them together behind your back. “Perhaps I need to explain your role here, little one,” he whispered into your ear with a dangerous edge. “You are here for our pleasure alone. We will use you as we please and you will be grateful for it. If you behave yourself, and if we don’t grow tired of you, we’ll consider rewarding you.”

You felt the harsh burn of rope wrapping around your wrists, hearing Sam scoff at the same time. “Speak for yourself,” he grunted, fisting your hair and dragging your face towards his cock again. “I’m just here to get my dick wet.” When you didn’t take the cue to open your mouth, Sam pinched your nose until you inhaled in a panic, and at that point drove his member back past your lips.

Dean chuckled. “That’s true. Sammy here isn’t quite as concerned about rewarding good behaviour. That’s just my thing, I guess.” As he spoke, you felt his fingers skim passed your wet flesh again, making you squirm. “But trust me, it’ll be in your favour to make sure you give both of us a good time, sweetheart.” A sharp spank collided with your ass-cheek then, making you moan onto Sam’s cock. Sam fisted your hair tighter, pulling your face flush into his crotch, forcing his cock painfully deep down your throat.

“Hm look at these two pretty holes here,” Dean’s sing-song voice echoed through your brain. Using your pussy juices, Dean lubricated your asshole, teasing your puckered entrance. Still held in place on Sam’s cock, you were starting to lose oxygen. “Where to start, hm?” You felt the nudge of his thick cock at your slit, which he then alternated between your two holes, not quite pushing in. White spots began to appear in your vision. “Eenie, meenie, minie...” Sam released your hair, sending you reeling backwards just as Dean thrusted himself into your asshole, fully seating himself. “Mo.” A cracked scream fell from your lips as your upper body crumbled onto the bed. Dean grabbed the rope binding your wrists together and yanked you up to your knees.

Sam stood back with a cruel smile, fisting his huge erection as he watched his brother rail into you. He leaned forward then, gripping your jaw with his free hand and making you look at him. “Do you whore yourself out to every man that buys you drinks?” Unable to shake your head, you could only grunt in response. “I do love a nice tight pussy to ruin.” Sam rounded the bed, standing beside Dean and gesturing for him to make space. Dean wrapped one arm around your waist, the other around your chest, and with ease lifted you off the bed, pulling you flush against his body and causing his cock to sink deep into your tight ass. You let out a whimper from the sheer force that you were being stretched. Sam took a seat on the edge of the bed in front of you, grabbing your thighs and pulled you towards him until the tip of his cock was nestled into your slit.

Fear momentarily rose within you in anticipation, but before you had a chance to act upon it, Dean pushed you down. A pained cry escaped you as your walls stretched around Sam’s enormous length, splitting you open as both of your holes were stuffed by the brothers. The pain almost became too much until pleasure edged its way through your body. Sam lay back onto the bed, holding himself up on his elbows, and in delicious synchronisation the two brothers pumped into you at an exhilarating pace.

Your mind was beyond comprehension by this point. Between the alcohol and the adrenaline, you felt yourself going limp between the two men.

“I think we’re losing her, Dean,” Sam muttered, though his voice lacked any sympathy. He pulled at your nipples, tweaking them painfully and making you cry out. The sudden sensation made your walls contract around the brothers, earning a delighted groan from both of them. “Fuck, just when I thought she couldn’t get any tighter.” Relishing in his new trick, Sam played with your nipples endlessly, and just as he was beginning to lose a reaction from you, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, pinching your supple flesh with his teeth.

You could feel your body raging towards a climax. “Please,” you gasped. “Can I cum?”

Dean’s teeth grazed your earlobe from behind. “Hm, what do you think, Sam?” He mused. “Has our little whore earned it yet?”

Sam grunted as he continued to buck up into you at a relentless pace. Then a cruel smile crept onto his face. “I have an idea,” he said slowly, purposely drawing out his answer. You cried out restlessly, desperately trying to hold back your orgasm. “For every time she cums tonight, that’s how many times she has to make us cum until she can leave this room. Each.”

Dean hummed in your ear. “Creative, Sammy, I like it. What do you think, Y/N? You’ve heard your terms - if you agree to them, you can cum now.”

Whether you agreed or not was irrelevant - you couldn’t keep control any longer. You screamed as your body spasmed between the brothers, bucking and writhing at the pleasure.

You woke up in the morning groggy and with a pounding headache. Your wrists stung from rope burns, your nipples felt raw and your holes ached from the abuse of last night.

“Ah, she’s awake!” Dean’s voice came from behind you. You turned over in the bed to face him and saw him slouched in a chair next to you. He clasped his hands together and leaned forwards. “I was worried for a moment we’d need to find a new toy,” he said in mock-sympathy. “That you wouldn’t be able to hold up your end of last night’s bargain.”

It took you a moment to filter through the blurry memories and remember the agreement you’d made. As soon as you did, your eyes widened - you felt so rough, so raw, so completely spent. “H-how many times did I...” Your voice was so hoarse that you couldn’t finish your sentence.

“Five, sweetheart,” Dean said with a cold smile. “That’s five times you need to return the favour to both me and Sam. You’re not leaving this room until you’ve paid your dues.” His eyes flickered up and suddenly you felt the bed dip behind you and rough hands grab your waist. “And it looks like Sammy is ready to collect.”

Dean tags: @akshi8278, @maniacproffesor

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #demon!dean #Sam Winchester #soulless!sam #demon!dean x reader x soulless!sam #a wild night

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years ago

Text

Be Alright - 1/2

Description: Steve goes through a bad breakup, but a sweet voice and a friendly smile helps him realize he can begin again, and that he definitely should.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 7,980 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bartender!Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Angst. Curse words. Mentions of drinking to numb the pain, sorta. Sad Steebie, then a resolved Steebie. Mentions of cheating, and the crappy feels that come after.

Requested: Nah, but it is for @cxptain 1k followers prompt challenge! And the prompt will be in Part 2! Anywho aaaaah!! Congrats to you lovely, you deserve every one of those followers and yet so so many more! Here’s to many, many more to come for you! And I can’t wait to watch as your lovely blog as it grows and grows! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Lovely page divider by writeyourmindaway

This is set in the Post Endgame, Everyone Lives AU. Endgame happened about 2 years before the beginning of this story, but no one died during Endgame, and Steve stayed in the future. However, he did still hand the mantle of Captain over to Sam. Also, this part is based off the Dean Lewis song of the same name, Be Alright. So, hope you enjoy!

Steve stood there, completely frozen in his spot in the middle of her kitchen. He’d only arrived moments ago, but he could already feel the shift in the air. He could already sense the impending destruction coming at him, at full force. And deep down he knew in the next few moments, everything would change. The next words out of her mouth would ruin everything, would shatter him completely.

He continued to stare at the floor between him and the woman he loves, the one he knows he will have to stop loving after tonight. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, he just does. And he isn’t ready to face the incoming heartache.

After a final deep breath in, he slowly slides his eyes up and sees her face is unchanged. It wasn’t just a trick of his mind, this isn’t just a joke, he’s not having a nightmare. All the emotions he’d noticed the moment he entered this kitchen are still very much there. Just under the surface, there is no way to mistake them. Her eyes are sad, so damn sad, and he knows that if they could, they’d be drowning in the unshed tears.

His eyes lock on hers for only a moment, before she can’t keep the contact any longer. She turns her head away from him, she’s trying to hide whatever is pooling in her eyes now. She’s trying to find the strength to voice the things screaming at her, in her mind. On instinct—or just from muscle memory, he can’t be sure—he reaches out for her hand to comfort her. A move he’s done time and time again. And the moment he takes her smaller one in his own, he almost retracts from how cold she feels. No longer is her skin warm and comforting, now it’s cold and unknown.

But he doesn’t even get the chance to pull away, because before he can, she does it for him once again. This was his second attempt to touch her, and she wasn’t having any part of either tries. She wanted no contact right now, be it from touch or eyes.

Steve would give anything to hear her thoughts in this moment. He wonders what is running through her mind. Why she can’t look at him. Why he can’t touch her.

He doesn’t have to wonder, silently, for long though.

“I made a dumb mistake,” she finally whispers, and he can’t miss the tremble in her voice—Or how her body is starting to resemble that now as well. But he can’t give it much more thought, when she turns her regret-filled, watery eyes to meet his, finally. Her voice breaking slightly on her next words, “those cigarettes weren’t, Bucky’s. They were my friend’s.”

His brows furrow, what’s so bad about that? It only takes him a second more for it to all click. The way her voice quivered on the word ‘friend’. He couldn’t have heard that right. She couldn’t mean what he thinks she means.

Without even realizing what he’s doing, he reaches out and cups her cheek. He doesn’t know why he does it, maybe so he could keep her eyes on him long enough to find the answers he wants in them. To find the truth he begs internally is there. That he heard her wrong, that he’s overthinking this all. He desperately wants to find in her eyes, that this isn’t what he thinks it is.

But he is crushed when he does see the truth, because it’s not the truth he wanted. It’s the truth that he had in fact heard right. That he wasn’t imagining anything. Yes, they’d had issues in their relationship. Yes, he was away a lot and he knew it killed her. That she hated how often he was away on missions. How she felt neglected and alone. They’d have many long nights arguing over these exact things. But he never thought it would end like this. Not once did he see this outcome coming.

Her next words tell him she is moving on. He didn’t even know they’d gotten this bad. He didn’t even realize they were in a place where she could move on from him. But clearly they had.

“I kissed him yesterday—well, actually he, he kissed me,” she turns her face away from his grasp, and his arm falls limp beside him. A tear rolls down her cheek, and she quickly swipes it away as her shaky voice adds, “but I didn’t stop him. I kissed him back.”

He feels it as the colour drains from his face, the deep claws of betrayal clasping onto his heart in a deadly grip. He takes a small step back, as if her words were a physical blow. He shakes his head as everything sinks in, but he can’t shake how her admission has made him feel. He knows he should walk away, but he is frozen in his spot once again. He wants to stay and fix this, but he knows from the look in her eye that there is no fixing this now. There is no going back.

He looks at her for a moment more, this woman he loves, this woman he wanted to spend his life with. Yeah, they had a lot of really bad moments, but they also had a bunch of really nice ones too. With one more deep, shuddering breath in, he turns on his heel without a word and walks out of her place. The door slamming in finality, as if it were the period at the end of a sentence, the end of their relationship.

“You alright there, big guy?” A sweet voice inquires softly in the loud space around him, but even with all the background noise, he couldn’t miss the concern playing in every word.

He glances up from his glass, the one he’d just been staring into for God knows how long. Long enough at least for the ice cubes to have all melted now, and the drink to have turned warm in his clutches. He knows he can’t actually get drunk, but there is something so therapeutic about sitting alone in a bar, with a drink in your hand. Where you are surrounded by lots of people, music, merriment and cheer. Where there is someone resting their eyes on the bar top near the end, and groups of friends piled into booths or around pool tables. Everyone going about their lives, with no notice of him or his troubles. He feels unnoticed, anonymous, and that’s exactly what he needs to feel right now.

He’s never been to this establishment before, walked by it hundreds of times on his route to his girlfriends place. And in this moment, he can’t understand why he’s never stepped foot in this pub. He’s eyes drift around the room quickly, everyone is enjoying themselves, everyone is keeping to themselves. Not a single person even paying him a moment's notice. As if he was just a random stranger, and not the man out of time. He likes it here, he decides.

His eyes finally slip over to the bearer of the sweet voice, and if Steve hadn’t just had a bomb dropped in the middle of his life. If he hadn’t just walked out the door of his girlfr—ex girlfriends apartment, he’d probably have felt his heart flutter at the beautiful creature before him. He probably would have drowned in the beautiful hues of her eyes, or begged to hear her soothing voice once more, or melted at the soft up-tilt at the corners of her lips, or blushed at her unwavering attention—which was solely placed on him at the moment, and no one else.

But he is numb right now. He is broken, and shattered, and above all else, hurt. He is sitting alone in this bar, wishing he could get drunk on the booze in his glass, and ignoring his phone that has been vibrating endlessly from its current place, face down on the bar top where it’s been sitting ignored for the last hour. Message after message, and a bunch of missed calls, but all from his friends. Not from her trying to reach out to tell him it was all a sick joke, or that she wants to try to fix things. But he knows for a fact that none of these messages or calls are from her. They couldn’t be now.

Because he’s been in this bar for 2 hours at this point, and he’d already reread a bunch of their messages. He’d already looked back at all the ones she’d sent, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. He knew he shouldn’t have, he knew it wasn’t right, but this was all just fucking with his head. Causing him to make bad decisions.

Bad decisions like reliving a bunch of their moments through pictures, the ones he’d slowly gone through and deleted of her. Of them. Every little piece of her that was saved and held so safely, so lovingly, in this little brick of metal and plastic. He knows he shouldn’t have looked at the photos before he deleted them, but his gluttonous mind told him he had to see it all just once more. He’d gone down memory lane for a solid hour, before he had finally deleted every photo, and then, just before deleting her contact info from his phone, he’d blocked her number.

It wasn’t so much to prevent her from contacting him, it was more to prevent him from getting his hopes up every time his phone made a sound. Every time it vibrated with an incoming text, or rang with a phone call. He knows his silly mind and hurt heart would skip a beat every time his phone made even the smallest of sounds. And just the thought of that alone was maddening, was enough to drive him insane. So blocking her meant he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was not her. It could not be her anymore.

“I’ll be alright,” he answers, the words feeling like a lie at the moment, but he knows they’ll be true one day. Some day. He takes a sip of his drink, his nose crinkling just a little at the instant reminder that his drink is now warm. As he sets the glass back down, he finishes his words off more truthfully, “soon enough.”

A soft giggle plays in the thick air around him, effortlessly cutting away some of its weight. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. But do you want me to get you a new drink or maybe some fresh ice?”

She’d clearly seen the disgusted look he’d sported just after sipping his now warm drink.

He is just about to shake his head, he can’t get drunk anyways, so there is really no point in his wasting his money on booze that’s essentially just for show. But before he can even begin to move his head, she beats him to it by gently taking the glass with the offending drink and dumping it in the sink between them, just under the bar top. “Ya know what? Let’s just get you a new one, my treat.”

Now he does shake his head, “that’s not necessary, really. But thank you.”

And she just outright ignores him, making and then placing a fresh drink before him. And then she leans in, her elbows resting on the bar as she gives him a small look. One that is both serious and yet so so cheeky, and he honestly doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Just between you and me, booze is never necessary,” she shakes her head softly, “but it does help sometimes.” She gives him a small half smile, as she pushes off the bar to stand back up, before knocking her knuckles on the top as if to get his full attention. But little does she know, she already has it. “I hope it’s able to help you tonight, big guy,” she says, not unkindly, not as if he needed the booze to actually help him. More sweetly, hopefully even, as if she prays this final drink will be the last moment in his bad times, and once it’s finished all his worries will just disappear, like the booze in his glass.

And he hopes so too.

Bucky’s voice pulls his attention back from his phone, where he’d once again been going over their texts. Still trying desperately to find where it all went wrong. He’d deleted everything else about her off his phone, but 2 months ago, when his thumb had hovered over the delete button for their text conversation for the first time, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready to delete that final piece of her. Probably due to the small hope in him that they could still fix this, that this was just a hurdle they had to work themselves through.

Deleting photos is one thing, you can just take new ones. You can find most of the photos, the important ones anyway, scattered throughout social media, if you really wanted them back. But deleting the text thread, that was so final. There was no going back from that. There was no getting all those little moments back. No way to remember and relive those Good Mornings and Sweet Dreams. No way to laugh over the silly conversations over her boss embarrassing himself, or the hilarious chats they had over Tony’s daily antics. There was no way to replay the sweet words typed to cheer the other up, or remind the other of their undying love.

He almost wants to laugh sardonically at that last thought. ‘Undying love’ his America’s ass, it was clearly anything but that.

"I know you loved her, but it's over now, pal,” Bucky says gently, but Steve can’t miss the finality in his friends words. He had spent the last 2 months since he walked out of her apartment moping around the tower. All his friends had been trying to cheer him up, trying to help him through it, help him move on from it, but he just wasn’t ready yet. “It’s never easy to walk away, but you gotta let her go. It’ll be okay soon, you’ll see.”

Steve just nods numbly as he clutches the phone tightly in his hand, a momentary thought that if he tightens his hold even just a fraction more, the phone will be crushed. Broken beyond repair. And maybe that would be for the best? Then their texts would just be gone, and he wouldn’t have to be the one to delete them. He wouldn’t have to put forth the effort to finally click delete, like he’s tried and failed multiple times to do over the last 2 months.

“It's gonna hurt for a bit of time,” Sam adds softly, as if handling a wild animal that could snap and kill him at any moment, if he even so much as makes a single wrong move. And maybe that’s smart on Sam's part, maybe Steve is a wild animal right now. He doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want to hurt anymore. He doesn’t want to be coddled anymore, he doesn’t want to be the reason his friends feel like they have to walk on eggshells around him anymore. But heartbreak does insane things to a person. Sam gives Steve a small, pensive smile as if assessing him for a moment. He seems to find whatever he was searching for, Steve guesses, as he motions to the half empty drink in front of Steve. The very one Bucky had doused with Asgardian Mead right after they had been delivered to their table. “So bottoms up, let's just forget tonight. You'll find another one, one day, man, and you'll be just fine. But you gotta let her go first."

Steve nods once more, as he forces his phone into his jeans pocket, feeling the warm metal slide along his thigh as it goes. He raises the drink up to his lips and drains the remains, before he’s even put the glass back down on the table, Bucky’s hand is in the air, calling the bartender over with another round.

He is starting to feel the mead now, it’s starting to fill him with a fuzzy warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time. His mind is becoming more muddled and hazy, but in all the best ways. He takes a deep breath in, relishing the blankness the liquor is painting his mind now. It’s a welcome reprieve after the 2 months he’s just had.

“Here ya are, guys,” the bartender says as she places down three fresh drinks.

And Steve furrows his brows at the familiar sweet voice. His eyes snap up from the table and land on that same bartender he’d talked to, two months back. He hadn’t seen her once since they’d arrived here an hour ago, and he figures she must work the later shift. As the first time he was here, by himself, she hadn’t been the original one to help him. Her inquiry into his state had been their first interaction, he hadn’t even noticed that night, in his hurt and heartbroken little bubble, when she’d relieved the male bartender. The original one who’d been supplying his drinks for the first 2 hours of his first visit.

And now, once again, he hadn’t even noticed her relieve the male bartender. Hadn’t even noticed her enter the pub. Hadn’t even noticed her approach their table. How he hadn’t, he has no idea. His eyes take her in, more fully this time than the last. She’s beautiful. How had he missed that before?

Her eyes drift over to his, as if she can feel him looking. A flash of confusion in her eyes is followed very closely by what he thinks is recognition, and then the small uptick of the corners of her lips follows them both. “How ya holding up, big guy?”

And yep, it was in fact recognition he’d thought he saw.

Steve feels the involuntary smile pulling on the edges of his lips, and he does nothing to stop it from happening. He hasn’t smiled, even a small one, in months, and he can’t bring himself to kill this one now. It’s nothing to write home about, but it’s a small step in the right direction. “I’ll be alright, soon enough,” he replies, the words sounding just a little better this time around. Just a little less like a lie, just a little more truthful, hopeful even.

Her smile grows just a tad bigger at his words, and a small, soft voice in the back of his mind informs him that she’s even more beautiful when she smiles.

“That’s really good to hear, you don’t suit the frown,” she says honestly, as their eyes stay locked for just a second more, before she breaks the contact to glance around the table to his two best friends. “If you guys need anything else, just holler,” then she gives him a final glance, paired with a small nod before she heads back over to the bar. And if Steve said he didn’t watch her make her way back over to the other side of the pub, he’d be a liar.

“Now I understand why he was so insistent on coming here tonight,” Sam mutters under his breath to Bucky, fully aware Steve also has super soldier hearing and would catch every word.

And he had, as he now rolls them over in his mind a few times, and honestly, he’d just wanted to come back here because he’d liked the atmosphere. He’d liked that no one gawked at him, or bothered him. Everyone here had just seemed in their own little worlds, much like he’d been—Or at least that’s the excuse his mind had conjured up for his true reasonings behind not wanting to go anywhere else, for his first time out in 2 months.

But maybe that wasn’t the real reason at all. Maybe he hadn’t even realized the true drive to return to this little obscure pub, tucked away between a flower shop and a thrift store.

Steve finally drags his eyes away from the beautiful bartender and back to his friends, not missing the looks they are both sending him now. He just stays silent, refusing to say a single word. Refusing to fill in the blanks around the interaction he’d just had with the beautiful bartender.

“So,” Bucky says slowly, after a few silent moments, about to voice the question that’d just been lingering in the air around them. Clearly his curiosity couldn’t handle waiting any longer for the answer to come on it’s own. “You gonna share who the pretty dame is, Punk, or?” he trails off there, and Steve watches as one corner of his best pals lips slowly tilts up in an interested but cheeky smirk, growing with every passing second that Steve doesn’t reply.

He fights his own smile entirely this time, as he pulls his phone from his pocket, while he answers flatly, vaguely, “the bartender.” Steve is a little shit, and he is completely aware of that fact.

Bucky sighs exasperatedly, that wasn’t the answer he’d wanted, Steve guesses, “I meant, what’s her name, ya cheeky bugger.”

Steve snorts as he stares intently at the screen of his phone, he knows his next reply isn’t going to satisfy his friends curiosity anymore than his last one did. He shrugs, nonchalantly, as his eyes drift back to her behind the bar, “dunno, never actually got her name.”

Bucky groans into his glass at his lips, but the chuckle that follows it shows he wasn’t really that upset. And Sam playfully mutters something Steve couldn’t quite hear. Or maybe he just didn’t care to listen hard enough to actually hear him.

“You planning on finding out her name?” Sam asks after a moment, his voice is much louder this time.

Steve finally turns back to his friends. “Yeah, maybe one day,” he replies, taking a sip of his drink and instantly noticing Bucky had already added the mead to it. When had he done that? Beats Steve. Was he complaining? Not in the slightest. “When I’m ready,” he adds as his eyes drop down to his phone’s screen once more, and with a deep stabilizing inhale and a resolved exhale, he finally clicks ‘delete.’

It’s time to start actually letting her go now.

His heart pumps in his ears, not much louder or faster than usual, but he can hear it so clearly in the early morning silence. It’s his first run through the park in months, he’d been away on basically back to back missions for the last 6. Throwing himself head first into whatever and wherever he was needed. He’d just got off a 4 week undercover mission in Italy, and had finally decided it was time for a break. It was time to just be home for a bit and settle back into normal everyday life.

When he’d first started accepting and requesting missions 6 months ago, it had been for the distraction. It had been to put his brain power to a better use, instead of sitting around and mopping about his breakup. He’d needed missions to keep him out of the dark places in his head, to keep him away from the ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’.

But after a couple months, he no longer felt like he needed the distraction anymore. He felt like he was through the worst of it, but he feared that was only because he was still out there, still working away and doing his part to help the world. So he’d just continued on, taking any and every mission presented to him. His friends had started to worry he was pushing himself too much, that he was forcing himself to keep going too hard. And yeah, they were probably right, he probably was.

But his fear of coming home, only to instantly have all those deep emotions he’d been trying to, and successfully, escaping, kept him going. His fears that the second he stopped, they’d all come flooding back. That he’d find himself nowhere near as healed and moved on as he’d truly thought he was while away.

But even super soldiers needed a break sometimes. So after these last 4 weeks of pretending to be someone else entirely, he decided it was time to drop all the personas and just be Steve Rogers for a while.

The first few days back, he waited impatiently for the emotions and heartache to come. He waited for his mind to drift to those dark places once again. But after a week of being home, neither of those things ever happened. He still felt like he had out there in the world, working away every day. And the realization that he had actually let her go now, was a glorious one indeed.

So glorious that his friends believed a celebration was in order. Though they pretended that wasn’t the reason behind it at all, that it was just a ‘welcome home’ party for Steve. One that for some reason wasn’t even mentioned when he’d actually come home, but instead a week later. And yes, everyone had been present in the tower for the last week, so that wasn’t the excuse. And no, no one had brought this up once over the last week. It had only been decided on this morning by Tony, and he’d used the exact words ‘a welcome back party for Cap’. Steve believed the welcome back part was referring more to his mental state, than his physical one, but he’d let them have their party. And he’d enjoy it too, having missed them all immensely over the last few mon—

He felt it before he heard it, the impact of something small slamming into him, followed by a sound of someone's breath leaving their lungs with force, “ooof.”

His arms luckily worked faster than his brain, and managed to catch whoever Steve had just ran right into. His eyes taking just a few seconds longer to get the memo, before they dropped down to inspect the poor person he had just about barrelled down, but their head was still clasped delicately but firmly to his chest so he couldn’t make out if they were actually okay or not.

The smaller form quickly extracts themselves from the embrace, untangling their arms from around him, where they’d clearly also reacted hastily to prevent their swift meeting with the ground. And as they are pulling back, a sweet voice meets his ears and causes him to perk up. “I’m so sorry, are you alright? I was not paying any attention to where I was—“

His eyes widen for just a second, not long enough to be noticeable to anyone but him, before he quickly catches and corrects it. Of all people to slam into, it had to be her.

No, not her, her. Her, as in the beautiful bartender. And Steve can’t help it as his eyes take her in once again, more thoroughly this time, taking in new details of her face that he hadn’t even noticed the last two times he’s seen her. In his defence though, he had a lot going on back then, and the pub wasn’t exactly brightly lit. At least nowhere near as bright as this open and airy spot in the park is, what with the glorious summer morning sun lighting up the world around them both.

His heart flutters just a little, when he sees the shock morph into recognition, then finally into something he can only believe is happiness. Fondness even.

“I’ll be alright,” he says as a small cheeky grin plays on his lips, he is well aware he’s basically only ever said the same few words to her, but he likes how they have changed a little each time he’s said them, “soon enough.”

Her smile now matches the sun shining down on them both, and the soft voice from before, the one at the back of his mind, is a little louder this time, as it informs him that she is stunning when she smiles like that.

“And this time, I actually believe you, big guy,” she nods, and he can’t miss her smile shifting into a grin. A cheeky as hell one, and Steve decides he likes that smile best. If he’s honest, it suits her best, at least from what he can tell. She playfully rubs at her head as if it was hurting her, “but for real, what are you made of, freaking lead?”

He chuckles deep in his chest, shaking his head, “some days, I definitely think I am.”

She giggles at that, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. It’s something that he feels like he could never get sick of hearing, no matter how many times he does. Then, the next place his mind goes is that he desperately wants to hear it again.

However, all those thoughts fly out of his head when what just happened finally clicks fully in, and he instantly wants to kick himself for not asking this yet. “Are you alright though? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His eyes roam over her, not to ogle, but just to assess that she is in fact okay. As if he could actually tell just by looking, the schmuck.

She nods, “oh yes, I’m okay. Not the first time I’ve distractedly walked into someone. And it definitely won’t be the last,” she chuckles softly at that.

Steve signs in relief, glad he hadn’t hurt her, then something in him pushes his next words out, as if he were the most confident man on the planet, “are you heading somewhere right now? Could I buy you a coffee, to make up for the whole running into you thing?”

A light pink dusts her cheeks, as she glances down at the ground shyly, “I would love nothing more then to say yes to that offer, but I’m actually just heading to the pub to deal with a few last minute issues. And I’m already running rather late.” She glances back up at him, a small frown marring her features in a way that makes Steve want to do everything in his power to bring back her sunshine.

He doesn’t though, and instead just nods, as disappointment seeps through him, but he hides it as best he can behind a small understanding smile. “That’s alright, another time then.”

She chews on her lower lip for a second, and he can’t miss the internal battle clear as the day in her eyes. Like she wants to just say ‘fuck it’ and go to coffee with him, but she knows she has somewhere else to be. With a small sigh, she nods, “another time for sure.” She glances down at her watch, and a small groan leaves her lips, before she looks back up at him. “I’m so sorry, I really have to go, but it was so nice seeing you again, big guy.” She goes to walk passed him, but halts and glances up at him once more, “come visit me one night soon?”

He smiles down at her, a small nod of his head, “of course.”

Her smile grows bright and brilliant once again before she heads off towards the pub. Steve glances over his shoulder to watch her leave, and just as he is about to focus back on his morning run, he swears he hears her mutter “stupid Tony Stark.”

But he couldn’t have heard that right, right?

He shakes his head and then starts running in the opposite direction, on his way back to the tower. Already planning his next visit to the pub, his next chance to see the beautiful bartender, that seems to be slowly infiltrating his mind. In all the best ways.

He stands stunned on the sidewalk, staring up at the outside of the establishment Tony had booked for his ‘welcome back’ party. The very same establishment he’d been planning all day to visit, the first evening he has off this week. Was this just a coincidence? Had Tony just booked this place by complete fluke?

One glance at the man in question, then to his two best friends, tells him this was no mistake. This was all planned perfectly, in their minds. He sighs as he shakes his head to himself, he isn’t sure what the entire night's plan is, and he hopes it won’t be too embarrassing. But with his group of friends, it probably will be.

Tony is the first to move towards the door, all the avengers having stood on the sidewalk for a moment to allow their pub choice to really sink in. To all watch his reaction to their party venue for the night. And it hits him then, that his entire team now clearly knows of the beautiful bartender. He glances at Sam and Bucky, both looking a little bashful and he knows they spilled the beans.

Probably not on purpose though, because they did work with spies. And talking to Nat could turn into an interrogation real quick. Without her victim even realizing it. If she got even a hint of you hiding something, she would expertly have you telling her all your dirty secrets before you even noticed it.

And Clint, well, you never really knew where he was at any given moment, so he overheard way more than he should. But never gave too much indication that he knew anything, most times. Spies—Steve chuckles as he starts to follow his friends into the pub—ya couldn’t keep a damn thing away from them.

And as for Tony, Steve is positive he had Friday inform him whenever a couple team members were having a deep conversation. Steve is also positive that Tony has specific trigger words for Friday to listen out for, and inform him the second one is uttered aloud. Things like: Date, Kiss, Mistake, Mad, Pissed, or Tell me—and honestly, probably hundreds more. Just small words that could be a part of a much more risqué conversation. Because Tony seemed to also just know everything about everyone. He always had some form of blackmail at his disposal.

Just as he is about to head through the door, a familiar sweet voice hits his ears.

“Hello, Mr. Stark, Welcome to The Black Swan,” the lovely voice pauses as the rest of them make it through the door. The group probably looking rather intimidating, all huddled in the entrance of the pub. “Is this your whole party?”

“It is,” Tony replies as he looks around the quaint pub in curiosity.

Steve’s eyes finally land on her, as hers quickly assess all the party members, and when they skim right past him, he is almost sad for it. That is, until she double takes, and shock fills her face. She corrects it quickly, and gives him a small hesitant smile before shifting her eyes back to Tony. “The party room is all set up for you guys, if you’ll just follow me.”

He follows behind dutifully, as she leads them through the scarcely occupied pub, and to a set of double doors that he’d never noticed before. Not that he’d been here often, nor was he too caring of his full surroundings those first two visits. She pushes open the doors, motioning for the group to enter the room, as she states, “make yourself at home, everyone. Kelly and Michael will be your tenders tonight, and they’ll come in to take your orders in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” the group says or mutters collectively, in response as they make their way into the small banquet room.

As he passes by her, he sends her a smile, and she returns it, though it’s nowhere near as bright as earlier in the park. It almost looks uncomfortable. Forced even. And he wants to question if she’s alright this time, but she nods and walks off before he can even utter a sound. He watches her go, once again, before he shakes his head, making a note to track her down later, and privately see if she is okay.

His eyes move to the room, as he is the last one to enter, and it’s not a banquet hall at all, it’s more of a lounge. Inviting and plush black leather couches and chairs are set up in the middle of the room. A few tables around and between them, plus near the edges of the room, with soft lighting overhead. Old black and white photos and prints scattered across the walls, showcasing the pub and its guests throughout the years.

Steve decides he rather likes this room, likes the atmosphere just as much as the rest of the pub. It’s inviting, and casual, and airy, and, and friendly; all things he appreciates, and is sure has entirely to do with the beautiful bartender. Or at least, he believes it has to do with her at least.

“Well, you all heard the woman, make yourselves comfortable,” Tony chirps as he heads over to one of the big black chairs and plops himself down unceremoniously. Which causes Steve to chuckle through a head shake as he heads over to get seated with the others.

“Is she the owner?” Bucky pipes up after everyone has settled. The question to anyone else’s ears would just sound nonchalant and unimportant. Like it was just a random question that popped into his head just now. But the look in Bucky’s eyes, as he’d stared Steve down while asking, tells him it very much wasn’t a random question, but instead a well played and quickly planned attack.

“Little miss?” Tony clarifies, tilting his head towards the door, and Bucky gives him a nod in confirmation, then he answers a second later. “Yeah, she is. Sweet girl,” he notes, “had a wonderful chat with her this morning. I was intrigued, she isn’t that old, yet she fully owns this place all on her own.” His eyes catch Steve’s, “we just talked business for a bit. I enjoy learning how others amassed their empires, even the small ones.”

And yep, Steve is fully aware, from the cheeky look in Tony’s eyes, that he knows the entire story behind his small, and few, interactions with the beautiful barten—bar owner, he corrects. Tony wasn’t curious about how she acquired the pub at a young age, he was just digging for information for his own personal gains. Maybe he just wanted to know enough about her so he could run a background check or something.

Or maybe it was for entirely different reasons, Steve can’t be sure at the moment. But what he is sure of, is that Tony will let him know the exact reasons behind his lengthy talk with her, soon enough.

The night goes well, minus the lack of a beautiful bar owner, but that’s just a Steve problem. As he glances around the room at his friends, his family, all at different stages of intoxication, him and Bucky included, he smiles. He really did miss them all, just as he’d missed nights like this. Ones where he felt like himself, like at this very moment he had not a single care in the world. Like he hadn’t just gone through a breakup, the end of his 2 year relationship with a woman he thought he’d grow old with.

He missed being able to just have a fun and relaxed evening with his friends, not having to hide any part of him away and plaster on a fake smile to play the part of a well adjusted man. Instead, his smile was real, and he wasn’t hiding a damn thing.

Bucky had smuggled more mead into the pub with them, so Steve was feeling the effects of it right about now. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to be a little less sober than he normally was. Tipsy, as Sam always called it.

His eyes adjust to the pool table before him, after a few drinks, a few team members had decided a game of pool was in order. So the ones who wanted to partake, had left the sanctum of the lounge and ventured into the main part of the pub to take over one of the pool tables. Right now, Sam and Bucky were up against Nat and Clint, and the game was getting a little intense. Both sides wanting to win it all, for the bragging rights and the meagre funds they’d all placed down in the beginning. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was more then they’d all walked in the joint with.

Steve was standing off to the side, his mead spiked drink in hand, watching the intense battle as it played out. Every so often, his eyes would drift to the bar, seeking out a familiar form, but they’d never find the one they were looking for. He checked his watch, seeing it was nearing 11, and he is pretty sure, if his memory is accurate—which it usually is, that she normally started her shifts around that time. At least from the hazy memories in his mind, he is pretty sure that’s correct. He’d never really been looking at the time, both his other visits here. Though he’d spent a lot of those two times staring at his phone’s screen. Not at the time, but he could just remember it on the edges of his memories. Peeking just above where his eyes were focused on, both those nights.

And yeah, he’s pretty sure both times he’d seen her for the first time those two evenings, was just after 11. Almost completely positive about it, actually.

His eyes check his watch once more, seeing it’s just passed 11, and then they flick up to the bar once again. And yep, there she is, in all her radiant and relaxed glory, he notes quickly in his mind. And before he can think better of it, he’s making his way towards the bar, unconsciously seeking out her presence. As if he just needs to be closer to her, he just needs some small piece of her attention. Maybe it’s the booze, or maybe it’s something more. He doesn’t dig deeper into the true reasons behind it, and instead just allows his body to make the calls all on it’s own. He isn’t complaining with the direction it’s taking him currently, anyways.

He takes a seat in an open spot at the bar, placing his drink down in front of him as he does. She is busy making someone else’s drink at the moment, so he just waits patiently for her to notice him. Realize he is sitting here now, and come over to him on her own.

That doesn’t take long, once she finishes off the drink she glances down, as if again being able to sense his eyes on her, and makes her way towards him. Stopping once she is directly across the bar top from him.

“Hey, big guy,” she sends him a small smile, the nickname she’s always used for him making him return the gesture, “need a refill?”

He glances momentarily down at his drink, before gently shaking his head, “no. I’m okay for now.”

She nods, and before she can take her leave, he pipes up, “so, you own the place?”

Her eyes leave him, and travel around the space fondly, “I do.” Then they find his again, as she leans on the bar top, just like his first time here. And when her voice comes out, it’s just above a whisper, keeping her words between them, and only them, “so, you’re an Avenger?”

Steve grins, as her earlier reactions make more sense to him now. She obviously hadn’t realized who he was the first two visits, not till he showed up with the whole team of world saving superheroes, and looking like the only one who’d fit the original Captains descriptions.

“I am,” he nods, taking a sip of his drink but not taking his eyes off her. He doesn’t want to miss a damn thing.

She nods, the cheeky look back on her face. The exact one he is really starting to enjoy more and more, everytime he sees it, “and their Captain at that.”

“I was,” he corrects. “Gave that title over to Sam a few years back. Wanted to step back a bit, maybe finally have a life of my own.”

“And how did that go for you?” She asks, intrigued, “Did you get the life you wanted?”

He thinks the innocent question over, not missing the small, yet deep undertones within it. Or at least what his mind takes as a deeper underlying meankng, just due to all he’s personally been through since handing the mantle of the Captain over to Sam. He hums, answering truthfully, “at first, it went well. I thought I’d found it in the beginning, but I’m realizing more and more that I hadn’t actually found it. Not truly, at least. Not in the way I’d thought.”

She hums in understanding, nodding her head softly, and then she looks him dead in the eye, “so, what are you going to do about that then, big guy?”

He thinks the question over for a moment again, he’s never told her about his ex, or why he’d ended up in this pub 8 months back, but the twinkle in her eye tells him she’d figured it out. Or at least figured out the basics. That she understands that his words truly meant he thought he had found a life with his ex, but then he hadn’t in the end. And now he needs to figure out where to go from that. Where he wants his own life to go. No more living it for someone else, he needs to live it for himself. For Steve Rogers, the scrappy little kid from Brooklyn.

He gives her a small smile, taking a sip of his drink before he answers, “I’m going to try again.”

She smiles brightly at him, “that’s a wonderful idea, Steve. You deserve the world, and don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t.”

He nods, trying to hide how much he loved hearing his name fall so effortlessly from her lips. “I won’t. Promise.”

She nods, pleased with his answer, then glances down the bar before turning back to him as she pushes off the top, “well, duty calls.” She gestures to his glass, “need a refill before I go?”

Steve shakes his head softly, “no, I think this is my last one for the night.” For awhile, he actually means.

She nods once more, a small happy smile on her lips, before she ventures off to help someone else, and Steve gets up to head back over to the pool tables. To his friends.

But all throughout the rest of the night, he finds himself still glancing back at the beautiful bar owner, as she floats around happily in her own little world. In her element. In the space she’d built entirely by herself. For herself. Something Steve knows he needs to do for himself, as well, he needs to build the world around him that he wants. The life he deserves, entirely on his own and just for him. Not for anyone else.

And as Steve glances at her once more, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so breathtaking in his life—No, scratch that. He is positive he never has. He knows for a fact, that he hasn’t. Not yet, at least.

And as the night draws to an end and Steve heads back to his house, walking part way with his friends, he finally realizes that he will in fact Be Alright. Completely and entirely, Soon Enough.

Part 2:Soon Enough - will be up in a few days!

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

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118 @just-ladyme @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @bratstopmom @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers @ab-baybay @scentedsongrebel @captainchrisstan @kelbabyblue @fckdeusername @murdermornings @dreamlesswonder86 @intricate-melody @fiannaofficial @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @nomadics-stuff @hufflepuffvs

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #au fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #long post #long read #angst #dean lewis #be alright #part 1 #of 2 #steve rogers au #steves pov #steve rogers pov

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deans-baby-momma · 4 years ago

Text

Past Haunts- A Revisit

A/N: Let’s take a look inside the Winchester/Quentin household and see how everyone is getting along. Also look for the 2nd author’s note after this story.

It's been six months today. Six months since my daughter and I were getting ready for work and school when a simple knock on the front door changed everything. Changed it all, for the better.

To be able to watch from the sidelines as Whitney got to finally know the man who was her father; to finally experience having a male figure in her life was indescribable.

Those two were like two peas in a pod, though. Similar likes, the same dislikes, an identical warped sense of humor. Once Dean had gotten over- no, that isn't the right wording-since Dean had come to terms with Sam being locked in a cage in Hell, he had jumped right into being a parent, a daddy. And he was killing it!

I hadn't expected to find him in the kitchen every morning, cooking breakfast for us before sending us both off with a kiss and I definitely never dreamed of coming home to a clean house, mowed lawn and that pesky back porch light repaired but during the first whole week of loving with us, Dean had picked up the slack. I was amazed and very grateful.

Dean and I have slept in the same bed every night since his return but have yet to put a label on what we are. Although, Whitney happily tells anyone and everyone that her parents are together, I'm just unsure. And yes, we've had sex but then again what woman in her right mind could look at him, cuddle up to him and NOT want to have sex with him?

He had gotten a job at a local garage after the first month of being 'home' and had quickly impressed the boss with his knowledge of older vehicles. It seemed as though the mechanics nowadays depended on the little computers installed in the newer models to alert them to whatever was wrong, so when older vehicles came across their rack, these young boys were stumped.

During the week after Thanksgiving, the city of Fairfax Indiana got its first snowfall. Everything looked so clean and fresh with the white blanket covering all the blemishes and eyesores around town. And that's the day we found out Dean Winchester doesn't like the cold.

"It's just-" Dean grumbled as he drank his coffee at the head of the table. "-so ridiculous. You have to wear extra layers, watch out for other idiots on the road. Watch where you step. And it's just so cold." He finishes his groaning with a full body shiver.

"Dad you sound like a whiny brat," Whitney banters as she eats her eggs and bacon. "It's wonderful! Everything looks so bright and shiny."

"I need sun and warmth, missy," Dean shoots back with a wink. He suddenly sits up straight and looks at me. "Babe, how many days of school until our little girl is on holiday?"

Whitney hmphs at being called a little girl, even though she knows Dean only does it to get a rise out of her. The smirk on his face tells me that is exactly the response he expected.

"Uh, nine. I think."

"Eight and a half," Whitney corrects me, standing up to take her plate to the sink. "And the half day is going to be mostly watching movies and not much else."

I look at Dean to see his mind whirling. I could tell he was trying to work something out in his head. I raise an eyebrow in question but only get a smile in response. I shake my head at his antics and stand up to go finish getting ready for work.

Christmas in Florida is distinctly opposite of Christmas in the North. For one, there is no snow for the lights to mirror. The lights are pretty but seem so dull without the reflection. And instead of coats and gloves and hats, people are in swimsuits and shorts, tank tops and flip-flops. A total 180 from what I'm used to in mid-December. I ponder the difference between the two as I lounge on the long beach chair beside Dean's as we watch Whitney frolic in the cool water.

Dean hasn't fully embraced the warmer temperatures as he is still in jeans and his usually two-shirt ensemble. The only thing missing is the heavy work boots he usually dons; his feet are bare. The sunglasses on his face does little to hide the freckles that have made an appearance the darker his skin tans. I've laid in bed recently, counting the cute little misshapen dots. He is all smiles and happy. I love him so much!

When Dean had first suggested taking a trip down south for Christmas break I was astonished, Whitney was ecstatic. In her 13 year existence, this is the first full-fledged vacation we have ever taken so she was excited and enthusiastic about the chance to take a trip. And when she found out the destination, I didn't think she would survive the 17-hour trip without spending the whole time exploding with glee. Whitney and I spent my whole payday on a new wardrobe for the both of us, getting weird and bizarre looks from other shoppers as we tried to find t-shirts and shorts, bathing suits and sunscreen; during December in Indiana those items were few and far between. I also took a secret trip to the courthouse, getting the paperwork to officially make Whitney a Winchester. All it needs is information and signatures from both parents. I plan to surprise Dean with them Christmas morning.

So far, this vacation has been fantastic. We have spent time as a family doing little things, like walking along the beach at sunset searching for seashells, playing mini-golf, spending the day in our hotel room watching old movies and cartoons when the weather took a turn for the worse. It has been a dream come true, something I had never in a million years thought would ever happen.

Spending time with him and our daughter in what I dubbed as the most magical place on Earth. So what if we're not at Disney World, to me this is the most fascinating time and place; a week spent with my daughter and her father, the love of my life. Life couldn't get any better than this.

I am shaken from my daydreams as I hear Dean growl and begin throwing fictitious daggers with his eyes in the direction of the pool. I turn my head to see a group of teenage boys all surrounding Whitney, who is all smiles at the attention.

"Calm down honey," I cajole. "We knew this would eventually happen. We can't expect her to be a nun."

"Those boys are too old for her," he defends. "They see an innocent, young girl like her and there's only one thing on their mind." He goes to get up and I reach over to place my hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Give it a minute," I tell him. "I've taught Whitney to take care of herself."

As Dean and I sit there I keep our daughter in my peripheral, just in case one of us needs to step in. Suddenly, Whitney yells out "Jerk!" and slaps the boy who looks to be the protagonist of the crew. I smile as I watch her climb out of the pool and walk toward us. She sits at my feet and wraps her towel around her shoulders.

"You okay darlin'?" her dad asks, his eyes still trained on the gang of boys. They just don't know how many different ways Dean Winchester could murder them and make them all disappear.

"Y-yea," she answers but I can tell she's lying. "They just said some things that weren't nice."

Dean finally turned his eyes toward his daughter, the dangerous glint replaced by concern. "Baby girl, I can go have a talk with them, if you-"

"No Dean!" she says, standing up. "I don't need my father taking up for me. I'm not a baby!" As Whitney storms out of the pool area, Dean looks at me, at a loss.

"What did I do?"

I stand up and wrap the sarong around my bikini-clad body. "Just let me go talk to her, okay?" I have an idea what is going on and I know having her dad there I'd never get Whitney to open up. I lean down and kiss him and head in the direction our daughter had stomped off.

In the room, Whitney has thrown herself across her bed and is crying into the pillow.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I ask gently because if my suspicions were true, anything could cause her to fly off the handle.

"I don't know," she whines. "I was feeling okay and then all of a sudden, it's like my energy zapped. So I was just floating in the pool, hoping the ache would go away and then those boys came up and started talking to me. And I liked it," she explains as she sits up on the bed. "But then Kyle said something about me being pure and innocent when I told them how old I was and I just lost it. And then I jumped down Dad's throat and he probably hates me now!" She begins crying again and I join her on the bed, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and she places her head on my shoulder.

"Oh baby," I console. "I think it's becoming that time. You're getting ready to start your first period."

She jerks her head up and looks at me. "Really?"

"Yea, we need to go get you some pads and Midol. You're going to start bleeding anytime."

"God, did I just ruin our first vacation?"

"No!" I claim. "You didn't ruin vacation at all, baby. Now, let's get cleaned up and run down the street to the store."

"Moooom! I can't leave the room! What if it starts before we get back?" I chuckle at her wide-eyed expression.

"Okay, okay." I reach over and grab my phone texting Dean to come up to the room. I roll my eyes as I remember the discussion he and I had almost 2 years ago. Never in a million years did I think I would actually be asking this of him but I can't leave my baby.

The look on his face was comical as I whispered my request. He looked terrified and afflicted at the thought of having to buy feminine products. I take screenshots of exactly what he needs to buy and send him on his way, but not before he insists that I remember promising him he would never have to do this particular task.

The rest of the vacation goes off without a hitch. Whitney does begin her first period and requests to spend the rest of our time in Florida in the hotel room, only going out to eat. Dean and I trust her enough to leave her in the room while we go out, exploring not only the beach but the little town we are in.

Christmas morning comes and Whitney wakes us up with squeals of delight at the massive amount of presents placed under the decorated fake palm tree in our room.

Dean and I sit on the sofa, drinking coffee and enjoying the look of awe on our daughter's face as she opens her presents. Once finished, she winks at her dad and goes to her bag where she pulls a box from inside. Handing it to him, Whitney steps back as Dean slides off to the floor, getting on one knee.

My hand slaps over my mouth as he clears his throat. I have no idea what he says because my inner voice is chanting 'Oh my god! This can't be happening!' Finally my ears take over and I hear him ask, "Becks, will you marry me?" I nod through the tears and watch as he slips the ring onto my finger. He climbs back onto the couch and wraps his arms around me, only moving one around Whitney when she dog-piles on top of us in excitement.

None of us know though, that when we return to Indiana the past is going to come back to haunt us, in the form of Sam Winchester back from Hell.

A/N2: Another announcement! Another story! Remember how I promised a sequel to this story? A look into the years these two spent apart? Well I began it and then life happened (along with a stroke) so I just now am finishing it up. Look for Wounded Hearts to begin in March!!! I’m excited to share it with you. I will keep those of you that were on the PH taglist unless you tell me different. Love to you all.

@vickiq9761 @81mysteriouslyme @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology @hoboal87 @squirrelnotsam @spnbaby-67 @sandlee44 @natura1phenomenon @drakelover78 @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @larajadeschmidt13 @tftumblin @blacktithe7 @lilulo-12 @adoptdontshoppets @cpag7 @markofdean79 @supraveng @deanwanddamons @mogaruke @death-unbecomes-you @vicariouslythruspn @atc74 @delightfullykrispypeach @sea040561

#past haunts #dean winchester #rebecca quentin #whitney quentin winchester #dean x rebecca #a look inside #a sequel is coming #wounded hearts #stay tuned #After School Special #season4 #episode 13 #spn 4x13

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the-wounded-healer05 · 3 years ago

Text

Please stay

(Reader, Dean, Sam, Jack & Cas)

Summary: After radio silence from the boys, Y/N pays a visit to the bunker and is greeted by an unexpected gift.

Word count: 1299

Key: Y/N = Your Name, Y/N/N = Your Nickname

A/N: This is just a cute little idea that I thought would be a nice fic... probably crap but oh well 🤷

“Y/N!” She could see Jack grinning from ear to ear as she descended the stairs into the bunker.

“Your favourite?” Dean’s voice boomed out across the room, “I thought that title was reserved for me?”

Y/N could have stayed like that, wrapped in Dean’s arms and presence, all day but there were things to be done and people to check up on.

“What happened? Where’s Sam?” Jack asked, seemingly as confused as Y/N was about the scene before them.

The angel mumbled timidly, “The people on the cooking shows made it seem so easy, I really thought I could do it this time.”

“Dammit, Cas!”

This wasn’t there when I left, she thought as she grabbed the object with a shaking hand.

“Hey! Where is everyone?” Y/N bellowed through the halls, hoping to find someone before she became lost in the maze of the bunker.

“In here, Y/N/N!” Sam’s voice could be heard from five doors down. Y/N quickened her pace, rounding the doorframe into the ‘Dean Cave’.

As the movie began, Jack plopped down next to Y/N, offering her popcorn and other snacks. It didn’t take long before Jack had drifted off, snuggling up to Y/N.

“He hasn’t slept in days, that’s the most stress free I’ve seen him all month.” Dean nodded towards the brunette laid in the crook of her arm.

“This kid has so much going on around him, I’m not surprised he’s zonked out.” She sat stroking his hair gently, watching the tension slowly drain from his face.

Jack stirred, snuggling impossibly closer as he whispered, “Y/N?”

“Yes, love?”

“Please stay for a while? I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’ll stay as long as I can, sweetheart.” She smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his head.

“Thank you.” He hummed before he drifted back off to sleep.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #fluff #cute family imagine #reader #the bunker

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corancoranthemagicalman · 4 years ago

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4, 11, or 42 with destiel? I'm thinking intently about Them

Okay so here’s the thing.

I thought, “oh wow 4 (An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose) will be so interesting!!! I’ve got the perfect scene in mind!!

Wait. Wait I kind of want to establish what sort of mindset Dean is in for this to happen. Okay, let me establish the scene and the mindset. Well, I don’t wanna vaguely reference this thing so let me just—

15k later here is your accidental brush of the lips followed by a pause and going back for another. If you well and truly do not want to read this whole thing (and I shan’t blame you) if you skip to the second line break, you’ll have the scene. Like, it probably could have stood on its own but this happened.

Read it On AO3 (or skip to the good stuff undercut)

50 Kisses Prompt List 💕💕

The motel room was quiet. Dean was grateful to be miles away from Florida. The Midwest roads were more familiar. Baby took every inch of road greedily, happily, without cars burning rubber all around her. Steepling his hands on the table in front of him, Dean felt his leg bounce with anxious energy. The small, clay dolphin stared back at him with beady eyes.

He looked up when the bathroom door opened, Cas stepping out without a word. His freshly washed hair clung to his skin. The wound on his shoulder was bright red and raw, but healing. Dean pressed his lips together.

“I can patch that for you.” He nodded to Cas’ shoulder. It was probably the first thing Dean had said to Cas directly ever since they had left Marissa’s apartment two days ago.

Cas paused in his trek toward the bed that held his duffle bag and a sleeping Jack. He inhaled slowly, grabbing the bandages before moving to sit at the table beside Dean. Their knees were a hair’s breadth from knocking against one another. Wordlessly, he handed Dean the gauze and ointment before shifting to place his shoulder between them.

Dean took the ointment, squelching some of it into his palm. He exhaled shakily, slathering it gently over Cas’ wound. Cas barely winced and yet the muscle of his arm felt tense beneath Dean’s hand.

When Dean began to wrap his shoulder, Cas spoke. “Dean,” he called in that gentle, charged way of his. He didn’t continue until Dean could tear his gaze away from the angry wound, look into those blue eyes. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Dean pushed, reaching for the scissors so that he could cut and secure the wrap. “That’s what we do. Save people. Hunt things.”

“Dean,” Cas whispered, putting his hand to Dean’s wrist and halting his movements. “You saved my life. Jack’s life.” He sighed. “I don’t care that you think this a thankless occupation. I thank you.”

“Cas,” his name felt ripped from Dean’s throat. It felt desperate. Just as desperate as he had felt in that fucking dungeon months ago. A lifetime ago. Where Dean was speechless but begging Cas not to go. Not to say that. Not to bring them both past the point of no return by acknowledging this.

But it was there. The elephant was named. It was stampeding in Dean’s chest and rioting. Thundering and booming in his ears and sending lightning through his veins. They were here and Dean couldn’t ignore it. Or he could—he could—but he had been ignoring it. Ignoring it by pretending it didn’t mean anything. By saying that there was no elephant and thinking that Cas would just be here.

Cas’ gaze flickered over Dean’s face like a waning candle. He was looking for something. Dean wished he knew what the hell Cas was searching for. He would give it to him. He’d give Cas anything he wanted—

He knew what Cas wanted. Cas fucking told him what he wanted.

Whatever he was searching for, he didn’t find. Or maybe he found what he was expecting. Nothing new. Nothing new from Dean who just refused to acknowledge his best friend’s love confession. His dying love confession.

“We appreciate it, Dean.” He said finally. “Not only all the people you save, but Jack and I. We appreciate you, Dean.”

“I know how you feel, Cas.” Dean spoke sharply, perhaps a bit callously. Cas didn’t flinch though. He looked goddamn resigned.

Cas sighed, “I know you do.” He smiled sadly. An echo of that night. “I told you.” Looking at his hands in his lap, Cas huffed a laugh under his breath. He pulled his shoulder away from Dean, straightening in his seat. “Regardless, you know what I think of you. You know that I…”

Dean swallowed heavily. “Yeah, Cas. I know.” Dean reached for the supplies on the table, fingers attempting to catch the gauze tape in his grip. Instead, the tape rolled, threatening to fall off the table’s edge. Dean reached forward thoughtlessly, not realizing he was leaning into Cas’ space until he was there and then—

Soft.

Cas’ lips were soft even with a barely-there brush of their lips. Dean pulled back, the tape forgotten as it clattered to the floor. Quiet enough that it didn’t wake a sleeping Jack, but loud in Dean’s ears. Cas looked at Dean with wide eyes, crystal blue attempting to peer into Dean’s soul.

Dean rested his palm on the table, his forearm brushing against Cas’ bare skin. Inhaling sharply, Dean leaned in again, this time with purpose, tilting his head and brushing his nose along Cas’ cheek.

A sharp inhale from Cas as his eyes fluttered shut. Dean could almost feel it against his own eyes. Something like a butterfly kiss. Parting his lips slowly, Dean tilted his chin until he could feel Cas’ lips beneath his again. Dean’s lips pressed into a firm line, a reassuring pressure against Cas. Cas gasped, shuttering and opening his mouth for Dean to press in deeper.

Taking the plunge, Dean held Cas’ face in his hands, fingers clutching at Cas’ cheeks as Cas, in turn, grasped at his wrists and held him in place. Dean returned Cas’ gasp, inhaling the breath from Cas’ mouth. He could feel his mouth quiver and his body shake where he held himself against Cas.

When they pulled apart—however long it was—Dean held his forehead to Cas’. A lump formed in his throat, closing off his attempt at words. “Cas—”

The pad of Cas’ right thumb swiped at Dean’s cheek, taking him by surprise. He sucked in a shaking breath, opening his eyes to watch as Cas gently swabbed at his cheek. Those damnable tears—the tears Dean couldn’t get out of his head for months—were present in Cas’ eyes. They made his gaze look like an ethereal, shimmering pool.

Dean had seen those tears every time he closed his eyes. Every nightmare he had. But in all of that terror he had experienced in that moment, he had forgotten what Cas was saying. That Cas said he was happy. That the Empty—the Shadow—whatever the hell it was—only took Cas when he was happy.

And now here he was. Happy. Happy enough to cry about it, but without the looming threat of a deal or a god or anything that could take him away from Dean.

“You can’t leave,” Dean whispered, voice scraping a raw path up his throat. “You can’t, Cas. I won’t survive it again.”

“I swear that I will never willingly leave your side,” Cas sighed, fluttering his eyes shut and leaning to press another sweet and slow kiss to Dean’s lips. When he drew back, Dean felt life breathe back into him again. Inhaled it, gobbled it, choked on it until his tears came anew. “I promise, Dean.”

Dean choked on a wet laugh, stealing another soft kiss that Cas was there and offering. “I want you to stay.” He whispered his confession into Cas’ mouth, opening the kiss further, deepening it further. Tame, but reaching. “Please stay.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” Cas sighed, fingers raking through the short hairs against Dean’s neck with one hand and his right hand clutching in an achingly familiar way against Dean’s shoulder. Dean steadied himself by gripping at Cas’ waist, holding him to the edge of his seat and meeting him halfway.

“God, I love you,” Dean laughed, ducking his head and peering at Cas from beneath his lashes. “I love you.” He said again. Because he could. Because he could stare at this elephant and call it by its name, parade it about and drape it in bright colors with pride.

Cas smiled and it reached his eyes. Dried up his happy tears and flashed his gums. “I know,” he spoke in that gentle rasp of his, like the purr of Baby’s engine.

Dean laughed again, quiet and mindful of Jack. “Oh, you’re such a bastard,” he swallowed Cas’ low chuckle, felt it in his chest, and hungrily asked for more. Cas hummed into his open mouth, a satisfied noise that Dean hoped to hear every day for the rest of his goddamn life.

Ramble On drew them away, Dean’s phone lighting up on the table and alerting him to a call. He sighed, pressed a tight-lipped kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth for good measure before answering his phone.

“Hey, Sammy.” He rasped, his voice low and gravel-filled. Dean cleared his throat between his words and Sam’s.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” Sam asked softly, his little brother’s concern near palpable.

Dean cleared his throat again for good measure, flickering his gaze to Cas. “Nah, I was up. What’s up?”

Sam gave a relieved-sounding sigh. “Finally finished the leg up to the rendezvous. Garth was pretty excited. I think it’s going to work out.”

Leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes, Dean ran a hand over his face. “Good. That’s good,” he answered, and he meant it. He felt fingers intertwine with his own and looked to Cas in surprise. Almost naturally, Dean squeezed his grip on Cas’ hand.

“Marissa’s walking better,” Sam informed Dean. “Alpha healing worked out pretty well. Sometimes I forget how good of a shot you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean huffed, but couldn’t keep his lips from quirking into a smile.

Sam laughed on the other end of the line and Dean could imagine his eyes crinkling with that puppy dog look of his. “Nothing, old man,” he said affectionately. "D’you guys wanna meet up in Sioux Falls? We could visit Jody and the girls.”

“Sounds good to me,” letting out a sigh, Dean turned to face Cas fully. “Claire and Jack can catch up. I’m sure you and the book club have got a new chapter to gush over.”

Dean could see Sam’s rolling eyes at the remark, but Sam let it slide. “And what are you gonna do?”

Dean grinned, pulling Cas’ hand up to his face, just pressing his lips on Cas’ knuckles for a moment. “I could go for a midnight cruise.”

Cas’ eyes sparked, smile warming like caramel under the soft motel lights. He squeezed Dean’s hand in return.

“Alright. I’m checking into a motel for the night. I’ll call you guys in the morning when I’m on the road.”

“See ya then,” Dean signed off, removing the phone from his ear to hang up. He swiped the red button before turning to face Cas. “I know you and the kid usually share a bed but—” he started.

Cas chuckled under his breath. “I think I might be persuaded.” He teased, dominating eyebrow arching on his forehead in silent challenge.

“I can be very persuasive,” Dean retorted, leaning again to press another soft, earth-shattering kiss to the lips of an angel.

#ask c #requests #jitter-bugss #IT JUST KEPT GETTING LONGER I AM SO SO SORRY #I WAS LIKE IMMA DABBLE SOME BASIC PLOT AND BS IT #BUT THEN THE PLOT DIDNT BS IT???M #and I didnt even have a full case in here either #like I STILL skipped to the good bits #well dang #I fully assed it #spn #spn fics #ask game

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 4 years ago

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The Pact - Part 7

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic. Incantation used in this chapter was taken from SuperWiki.

WC: 6.8K

Series Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Characters: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased), Pamela Barnes

Series Warnings: 18+ only, mild language, violence, implied smut

“I think Dad and Crowley want to sacrifice your child to Eve.”

The bedroom chamber was so quiet, you could hear the distant sounds of children playing in the gardens rising up through the open window. Despite the gleeful sounds that played softly in the background, you felt as if the wind had been knocked free from your chest and felt your stomach drop.

Looking between the Lords Winchester, you could see that Sam and Dean were also struggling with what had been revealed. You wanted to speak, had every intention to do so, but there was no air to propel any words forth.

“I--I don’t even know how to comprehend that, Dean. Why--What would make you think that our father could even entertain an idea like that?”

“Something I overheard… Look, Sammy, I don’t know what the Hell dad and Crowley are planning. I just know what I heard.”

“Which was?” Sam asked with exasperation.

“The only reason Crowley aided us with reinforcements, was because he’d made a deal.”

“Crowley, the King of Hell, make a deal? C’mon man, that’s just a Monday morning for him. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because, part of this deal was Crowley promised Eve a new life. One created from the blood of her enemies.”

“Wh--Why? Why would she want that? She’s got all of Purgatory at her side. She has the ability to create whatever kind of life she wants!”

“Not a human life,” Dean shrugged in response. “But, I did over hear this from one of his demons, so take it with a grain of salt, wouldya?”

“Our father is a lot of things, but a monster that could sacrifice his own flesh and blood?”

“Sounds more like my father, than yours,” you replied softly. “Crowley would sacrifice anyone if it meant cementing his crown.”

“Even you?” Dean asked.

“Yes, even me.”

“Well, I guess I know who I’ll be nominating as father of the year,” Dean quipped and let his half smile fade as he made eye contact with Sam.

Sam pursed his lips tightly and sighed. “We need answers. Speculating what our father’s are up to won’t help anyone.”

“And how do you plan on getting that assurance, husband? Crowley won’t show here unless summoned. The King, if this is what is planned, won’t tell you. So, how--”

Sam grabbed your shoulder and gently turned you to face him. You did your best to stay stoic, but couldn’t help but so cracks beneath the surface. “I promise you, I will find out one way or the other. That’s the pact, right? We work together to uncover their plan--”

“Yeah, and don’t go making any babies until then,” Dean mumbled, and smiley shyly when you and Sam both looked at him with a quiet disdain.

Yet, Dean’s words fell heavy on both you and Sam. Knowing how you had spent the night before, a quick glance between you two left a cold, numbing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sam could almost read your mind, and gave your shoulder a loving squeeze.

“We will get answers. But Dean’s right. Until we do, we will keep up appearances, but take no chances in creating a child.”

All you could do was nod slightly in response and present your husband with a demure smile.

Dean cleared his throat to break up the moment. “I hate to pull your husband away, (Y/N) but I think he and I have some things to figure out before I have to leave for the Front again.”

“Wait,” Sam released you and quickly turned towards his brother. “What do you mean, go back? I thought you were home!”

“Just for a few days little brother. With Crowley’s reinforcements arriving, and the damage the rift storm caused, I can’t leave the Winchester Guard unprotected. Besides, we are actually making some headway having those black-eyed bitches with us. I hate to say it, but they are helping. I just don’t trust they won’t try and possess a few of our men if given the chance.”

Sam nodded in reluctant agreement. “I get it. It’s just, I could use you here.”

“I know, man. I do. But…”

“The greater good,” Sam replied with a half-defeated smile. “I guess we should go then, see what we can learn together while you’re here.”

“And don’t forget, plan a celebration…” Dean’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on you, but you were unsure of what he meant.

“A celebration?”

“Yes, my father thinks we should have a large celebration, open the gates to the castle and allow the people of Lawrence to rejoice with us.”

“What’s the occasion?” you asked, not liking the sound of the King’s latest decree.

Sam signed and ran a hand through his long hair. “Our marriage and Dean’s return.”

“I see…” You hated the idea, but thought there was some way to use this to your collective advantage. “Well, one way or another we will make it work for us.”

Sam’s smile grew wide across his face, creating the cavernous dimples you had quickly come to love. “Yes, that’s exactly what we will do.”

Despite Dean’s presence, Sam pulled you into a loving embrace and held you tightly. Though your head was happily buried in Sam’s broad chest, you could feel Dean’s eyes watching you again. You understood his hesitancy in you, and your motives, but you wouldn’t let it ruin what you were building with your husband.

When you pulled back from the embrace, Sam turned back towards Dean and slapped his shoulder with one, large hand. “So, what do you say we go do a little digging.”

Dean didn’t respond, but instead watched his little brother move towards the door to leave. He didn’t budge from his spot, or take his eyes off Sam.

“Hey, you uh, you forgetting something?” Dean asked, arms crossed over his chest and watching Sam curiously.

Sam frowned in response and shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“Well then you must be a witch yourself little brother. Because last I remember, you had yourself a shattered hip that barely let you learn to walk again. Now you’re basically sprinting out the door with no cane, no limp…”

Sam’s face fell instantly and lost color. then passed a nervous glance to you. Able to read his expression, you shrugged in return. ‘Should we tell him?’ ‘I guess… ‘

Sam sighed and snorted an anxious laugh. “Well, I’m not a witch but I am married to one. We got stuck in the rift storm, out in the Elven Woods. Found an old cottage and (Y/N) here worked her magic. Literally. I was able to walk with no pain, no limp… for days.”

“Days? That rift storm was weeks ago. You still look fine to me.”

“Last night, I applied a heavier dose of the ointment. Let it heat by the fire,” you paused and blushed at the memory of what happened after, “and this morning, he’s better than ever.”

“You let her work her hoodoo on you? Sammy, what were you thinking? She’s--”

“Listen here, Dean Winchester,” you interrupted, unable to hold your tongue any longer, “I understand your suspicions of me, I’ve lived with that stigma all my life just because of who my father is. But I grew up to have a mind of my own, and yes, I was taught witchcraft by the most powerful witch in all of Lawrence and beyond. Rowena MacLeod may have shown me the way of magic, but I learned a few things on my own, as well. Including love, compassion, and commitment to those in my favor. Your brother and I had a rocky start, yet we have come to a mutual understanding. If you can’t respect HIS choices in that, then I beg you to reconsider. Your brother is a wonderful man, and has been just as disrespected by his father, as I have been by mine. And if you truly believe, even for a moment, that I am capable of hurting him, well then, frankly, you’re a horses’ ass.”

Your impassioned speech fell heavy in the room for a few moments. From the corner of your eye, you could see Sam smirking. Dean’s expression, however, was more shocked than anything.

“Well alright then,” Dean finally said, “I suppose I could be wrong. Hell, hope I am.”

You straightened your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. “You are wrong, Lord Winchester. Just you wait, you’ll see who’s side I’m on.”

Dean nodded and looked towards Sam. “Come on Sammy, let’s go see what Dad has really got cooking up with the King of Hell.”

Shortly after they left the room, you sat down on the plush bed and sank back into the pillows. A flurry of thoughts and concerns raced through your mind, but as you tucked your arm over your head, hand beneath the pillow, you felt something hard and cool to the touch. Sitting up, you removed the pillows to see the vial that had once been around your neck to be stuck between the large, carved wooden headboard and the down mattress of Sam’s bed.

A sigh of relief released from your lips; it was so audible you were afraid someone heard you out in the corridor. You clutched the vial to your chest and began to laugh softly. Slipping the cord back around your neck, you let the small bottle fall to your chest, then tucked it beneath your dress. Feeling its weight against your skin gave you more than just relief, it gave you an idea. Unsure if the pieces would fit together, you knew you had to find out. The one person who could answer your questions, was the same woman who taught you how to concoct potions in the first place.

Rowena.

By the time the sun had hit the midday sky, you were reaching the entrance to the Elven Woods, and clutched at the old leather satchel slung over one shoulder. It was the first time you had ventured back to them since Sam had brought you there the day after the ceremony. ‘The day he tried to kill me,’ you thought. Shaking off the feeling of Sam’s blade against you, you took the first step through the archway to the woods.

As you made your way down the bumpy terrain, you came out to the majestic oak that grew at the fork in the path. It was just as radiant as you had remembered. The sunlight streamed down through its twisted maze of leaves and branches. You could feel its energy calling to you as it did to many magical folk in Lawrence. Somehow the magic you infused into the cream was able to break through the castle’s powerful warding. But the ritual you wanted to perform now, needed this extra boost of power.

Pressing your hand against the rough bark of the trunk, you closed your eyes and felt the power that lived within its core. Focusing your mind towards that force, you began to feel it seep into your veins. When you finally opened your eyes, you felt a surge of magic like you’d never experienced and watched as the glow around your hand began to fade. It left you even more convinced that you were doing the right thing. Stepping back from the tree, you bowed your head in thanks, and continued down the right path that would lead you to the small cottage you’d found refuge in before.

It didn’t take long before you could see the familiar shape of the roof peeking out through the trees. You took a last glance up at the sky, unsure if another rift storm would be lurking. Blue skies still reigned above, and you walked the last hundred steps towards the old place.

You pushed in the door, and was immediately hit by the smell of the dried herbs lining the walls. It was warm and welcoming, and you began to find a love for the vibration you felt standing within its structure. Carefully lifting off the satchel you carried on your shoulder, you laid it down on the long wooden table and unpacked its contents.

Other than the noise you made setting up an altar, there wasn’t a sound to be heard. Summoning another witch wasn’t exactly difficult, though it did require a certain amount of concentration. Grateful for the quiet, you lit the candles and began to break up the herbs and bones as the Grimoire had instructed. Holding your hands over the cauldron, you sprinkled in the last ingredient, conjured Rowena’s face in your mind and repeated the incantation.

Upon finishing, a burst of purple light and blue smoke erupted from the old ceramic bowl, engulfing you in its haze. Waving your hands to help it clear, you began to smile the moment you saw a hint of Rowena’s bright red hair emerging through a small clearing in the fog.

“This best be important, dear. I was right in the middle of convincing the Prince of Wales that I was his long lost sister. That man’s money could’ve set me up for life…”

“I’m sorry, grandm--Rowena… but it is important.”

“You know, dearie, there are messengers to deliver important news. Did your father not teach you anythin’?”

Her words conveyed annoyance, but her expression gave you pause to think that maybe she wasn’t as bothered as she wanted you to believe. Rowena’s half smile, pulled into true grin as she surveyed your altar in front of her.

“Impressive. Seems as though you had a good teacher,” she replied smugly, and slowly made her way round to the side you stood on. “So tell me, why did you need to call on grannie?”

“I heard some things. Some details of the pact my father made with the King.”

“Oh?” Rowena’s curiosity was transparent, and as much as you respected her, you knew deep down you couldn’t trust her. “Do tell.”

“I… can’t. I have no reassurance that it’s true, though I do plan on protecting myself if it turns out to be a fact. What I need from you, is to tell me more about this…” you paused and withdrew the vial from beneath your dress.

Rowena took a small step forward and examined the bottle. A devilish smile unfurled on her petite face as her eyes came up to meet yours.

“Well, now, what do we have here?” Her eyes lit up as her painted fingertips carefully toyed with the glass.

“It’s a love potion. I made it before we came here, in case I needed to protect myself from Lord Winchester.”

“Smart girl, though, poison and hex bags work better in my experience,” she shrugged and let it fall gently back to your chest. “Are you and Samuel getting along? Has he tried to hurt you?”

“Yes. we are getting along now, but he did try to kill me.”

“Yet, here you stand,” her smile grew even wider, “Clever girl… did you have to use that on him?”

“No, and don’t think I will. But…” you trailed off and turned back towards the altar. Pressing your hands against the wood of the table for support, you leaned forward and found the courage to tell her what you wanted to do with it.

“But…?”

“If what I learned is true, I may need to use it on the King.”

“The King? Oh, please tell me you don’t mean your father…”

“Rowena, please. Of course not. I mean King Winchester. I am afraid the only sure fired way I can divert is his plans--”

“Is to make him fall in love with you?”

You nodded softly, and released your grip on the table. “I don’t want to. The idea of it gives me a sick feeling. But, if it's my last option, then I will do what I must.”

“Fair enough, dear. But where do I fit into this grand scheme of yours?”

“I took the spell from one of your books. I need to know the effects, if there is a curse attached, if I can break it if needed. I only mean to distract the King, not to become his bride next.”

“I don’t know, the King is at least easy on the eyes…”

“Please, don’t even suggest it. I was completely against this whole arrangement, but I have found a kindred spirit in Samuel. I’m sure part of my father’s intention was to have me tortured by this marriage, but really, he only did me a favor.”

“Don’t say that too loudly, you know that son of mine is always lurking. Knowing he did you a service, he may just snatch it right back from you.”

“I know, and it's why I hope I can trust you with this.” You paused and took Rowena’s hand, hoping that you could appeal to the side of her that felt fondness for you, and hatred for her son. “He’s your son… my father. We should be rooting for him, but at what cost? Look at what he’s already taken from both of us. You’re at his beck and call, and he had me marry his enemies, knowing they wanted me to burn solely for having the same blood run through my veins.”

Rowena seemed to be studying you, but you ignored her scrutiny. She stood quiet, contemplating the circumstances, then finally nodded. “You’re not wrong, my dear. My son is, to say the least, a vengeful little man. He’ll take any chance he can to destroy your happiness.”

“I know, that’s why I need to be proactive. So can you… will you, keep this to yourself?”

“Can I keep your motivations quiet? Yes, of course. But I cannot and will not help you with whatever plan you are conjuring. At some point, you have to be your own witch, dear. Can’t rely on dear old Rowena for everything.”

You thought you heard her wrong, but when she took a step back and made a demur shrug with her expression, you knew you hadn’t.

“I’m your granddaughter, and you refuse to help me? We’re family!”

“Oh, sweet child, what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothin’. Family is what you make it. Our bloodlines are poisonous, why do you think I sold Fergus off as a child? He was a rotten little twat. I needed to escape, or be put to death.”

Shaking your head slowly in disbelief, you turned back towards the altar. You could feel anger begin to boil under the surface, and for the first time in your life, felt the same hatred towards Rowena that you carried for your father.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But, I have to look out for myself. Think maybe it’s best if I disappear for a while. Go explore the world a bit. I do wish you luck,” she paused and gave a little smirk when she looked over your altar again. “Seems as if you know what you’re doin’.”

Before you could respond, Rowena mumbled a few words, and was gone. All that she left behind was a swirling mist of violet smoke, and her words ringing in your ears.

‘...what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothing. Family is what you make it.’

“That’s probably the best thing you’ve ever taught me, grandmother.”

You emerged from the Elven Woods just as the sun was reaching late afternoon. Despite its brilliance, you were left with a chill that ran through your bones. A feeling of certain dread that loomed on the horizon. Stepping across the threshold into the gardens, you took a moment to breathe, and lifted your face towards the warmth of the sun. Losing track of time, you weren’t sure how long you stood that way, just clearing your mind and letting its light wash over the darkness you felt in your gut.

“Y/N? My Lady… are you alright?”

The older, gravely voice of the Winchester’s Maester brought you out of your unintended meditation. When you lowered your eyes, blinking away the bright spots behind them, you saw Bobby standing there, looking concerned and a bit puzzled.

“Bobby… yes, I’m... “ you tried to say the word fine, but it wouldn’t seem to work. “...breathing.”

“Need a moment, did ya?” Bobby replied, slowly closing the distance left between you. “You look a bit pale, feeling alright?”

“Yes… well… no. But it’s not an ailment I’m afraid. No herbs or teas to fix this ache.”

“And what kinda ache is that, may I ask?” His tone had shifted from curious to suspicious.

You knew he was a trusted part of Samuel’s family; you had experienced that first hand when he allowed you use of his apothecary. But could you trust him with conspiring against his King in the manner of which you were considering?

“Revelation,” you said, and sighed softly. “Maester Singer… I know Samuel trusts you, so I am hoping I can as well.”

Bobby considered it for a moment, and nodded. “You can, long as you aren’t looking to hurt my boy.”

“Never. I have grown quite fond of Samuel, and hurting him is something I would never consider. Not anymore.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page here. So, spill, what’s got you lookin’ like you just walked over your own grave?”

“Revelations… things I’ve heard. An unspeakable betrayal from those I thought were my family.”

“Well, considering who your dad is, can’t really say you should be surprised.”

“Not just him, Rowena, too. I asked her for help, and she threw me to the wolves.”

“Again--”

“Yes, I understand,” you interrupted and flashed him a look of annoyance.

“Alright, so if they can’t help ya, maybe I can. What is it exactly you need help with?”

“I need answers… I need to know if these things are true.”

“You can ask me. If I know, I’ll give ya an honest answer.”

Taking a moment to think before answering, you passed him a demur smile, and took a few steps around him, before turning back to face him. “I want too, Bobby. I do. But I fear asking puts you in a precarious position. I don’t want to do that to you. Samuel adores you, and frankly, I adore him. So, no, I cannot ask you.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, his brow furrowed in thought. “I may know someone who could help. A friend of mine is back in town. She’s been known to see what us mere mortals can’t.”

“Is she a Dreamwalker?” you asked, a burst of excitement creeping into your tone, despite your sense of being overwhelmed.

“No. But, she’s the best damned psychic I’ve ever known. People around here know her best as ‘The Oracle’. She travels ‘round helpin’ folks however she can. If you need answers, I am pretty sure she can get them for ya.”

“You would do that? For me?”

“You’re family, ain’t ya?”

For the first time in a while that day, you smiled a genuine smile. “Yes, I am. So, where do we find this friend of yours?”

The journey to find the Maester’s friend didn’t take nearly as long as you thought it would. You didn’t want to be gone too long, or Sam may question where you went. Telling him your plans without all the answers felt dangerous somehow, but taking too long to divulge your thoughts could be just as dangerous. Rowena wasn’t exactly trustworthy, and who knew what she was liable to do with what you’ve already told her. Her agreement to keep it to herself didn’t exactly instill a sense of confidence in you.

Bobby seemed to sense your urgency, and had the horse drawn cart rumbling down the old dirt lane. But once he hit an offbeat path, overgrown with wildflowers and ferns, he eased up on the reins.

“Almost there, Y/N. When we get there, I’ll make the introductions, but then I’ll wait outside. Been thinkin’ on what you said before, about not wanting to put me in the middle, and I do appreciate that. I may not always agree with John, but I did pledge my loyalty to his family. Sam and Dean, they’re just as much my boys as they are John’s. Hell, sometimes I think even more.”

He paused, and gave a quick glance your way. When you didn’t respond, he looked back towards the path ahead. “I’d give my life to protect both those boys. That includes protection from John, not that it would come to that. I know he’s rough around the edges, but--”

“But, he’s their father. I understand that, Bobby. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is destroy Samuel’s father. Despite their troubles, I couldn’t do that to my husband.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I can see that you are on his side, Y/N. It's why I’m helpin’ ya. I know John’s up to something, and my place in his court puts me at odds with how to handle it. So, if you need some answers, the least I can do is help you get to them.”

As Bobby guided the carriage round a bend in the path, you felt a surge of energy before the small house even came into view. When you saw it, you knew that was where he was taking you. You were so transfixed on the house, you barely noticed Bobby slowing down and calling the horse to a halt. It wasn’t until he set the reins around the hook and climbed down, did you realize that you were completely stopped.

You carefully stepped down, and waited for Bobby to join you before taking the short walk to the old, wooden door. Enamored by the energy pulsating from the house, you were both excited and nervous to step inside.

Looking to Bobby, and swallowing thickly, you raised your brows and sighed, “Here goes nothing.”

The door opened before Bobby could knock. A tall, dark haired woman, dressed in a simple black dress with a plunging neckline stood before you. Her eyes were clouded white, but her smile beamed from ear to ear.

“Bobby, I always love when you drop by,” she greeted and reached out for the Maester’s hand to pull him into a hug.

“Pamela, beautiful as always.” He hugged her briefly and stood to the side. “This is Lady Y/N. She’s--”

“The wife of Lord Samuel. Oh, I know who she is. C’mon Bobby, I may be blind, the whole psychic helps with that,” Pamela laughed, and patted his shoulder before turning to you. “Now, let me get a look at you.”

Pamela reached out for your hand, and when you gently placed yours in it, she guided you inside.

“Alright ladies, I’ll be out here guarding Old Gus if ya need me.”

“Not joining us today, Bobby?” Pamela asked, slightly disappointed.

“Not today. Today, Y/N needs some answers and whatever revelations she receives, are for her ears only.”

“I see,” she said, and turned her attention back to you. “Well then, Lady Winchester, let’s see what the spirits have to tell you.”

Pamela closed the door slowly behind you as you stepped further into her home, you drew in a deep breath of mixed herbs, candles, and sage. It was comforting and yet rejuvenated your energy, just as the old Oak did in the Elven Woods.

“Please, have a seat.” Pamela motioned towards an worn, but cozy looking wooden chair, lined with plush red velvet. As she took her place directly at the round table, you slipped into the chair directly across from her and placed your palms flat on the table.

“The energy in this place is inexplicably strong,” you mused, taking in more of the room. Candles were lit all around, some on table tops, some sitting atop tall iron candle holders. Over the table hung an iron chandelier, with more candles lazily flickering in a light breeze; yet you noticed no open windows. In the center of the small, round table, stood an iridescent purple crystal set in a sterling silver bowl filled with water. Admiring your surroundings, you settled into your seat with a sense of peace.

Pamela reached her hands towards the middle, palm up. You placed yours in hers once again, and could immediately feel the vibrations coming through her. When you looked up at her, meeting her clouded white eyes, a slight smile appeared on her face.

“You’re a very powerful witch,” she said, then wrapped her fingers a bit tighter. “Taught, yes, but also born with the gift of magic.”

“My grandmother, Rowena. She’s a well known witch also born with innate magic. I suppose it comes from her.”

“I know of Rowena MacLeod. She’s… something alright. But your magic comes from a white witch. Your mother I believe.” She grew quiet, tuning in on your frequency, then nodded in confirmation. “Yes, your mother was a white witch. She’s passed, yes?”

“Y-Yes… I never knew my mother,” you replied softly, a twisted feeling bubbling in your gut.

“Okay, close your eyes, Y/N. Focus your mind’s eye towards the crystal in the middle of the table.”

You did as told and waited for Pamela to begin. You could hear her breathing begin to slow, and nearly feel the rush of air she exhaled through her nose.

“Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita. Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita."

Pamela repeated the chant a few more times, her will stronger each time. After the final pass, you opened your eyes and felt a cool air blew through the room, flickering the candles and casting erratic shadows to dance on the walls.

“I call upon you, spirit, show yourself. I call upon you, spirit, show yourself!”

From beyond Pamela’s shoulder, a pale blue mist began to swirl slowly, eventually taking the loose shape of a woman. It floated towards Pamela, and seemed to ensconce her with its light.

“Yes, I can hear you,” Pamela replied to a silent question. “Your name… to whom am I speaking…” She paused, awaiting a response. It felt as if time stretched on, but only a mere few seconds truly had. “Emmeline, yes, I understand. I give you permission.”

Though she had no external sight, Pamela’s gaze met yours for a moment, before she closed them tightly. When they opened again, gone were the clouded white orbs, and replaced by bright hazel eyes. You gasped at the change, then stared into them as if you knew them somehow.

“Y/N,” Pamela spoke, but it was no longer her raspy tone; this voice was soft and gentle., “My daughter… you’ve grown up so beautiful.”

The whole change that unfolded before you, left you breathless. You reacted without thinking and tried to pull your hands away, but the spirit inhabiting Pamela’s body wouldn’t let go.

“Y/N, please....” the voice pleaded, “stay.”

You allowed her to hold your hands, and tried to think of what to say. But for all your questions, not only about her, but about how to handle the King, went out the window. All your mind could decipher was that despite all your magical knowledge and understanding, you were sitting and communicating with the spirit of your deceased mother.

“How,” you whispered, “how is this possible? How do I know…”

“My sweet girl, you were born during a Harvest Moon, and I loved you from the moment I saw your face. Despite how you came to be…”

Recoiling slightly, you slowly shook your head. “I--I… I don’t know what that means. I have so many questions…”

“I don’t have long. Breaking through the veil isn’t easy, so I will try to answer what I can for you, child.”

Suddenly, everything you had come there seeking in the first place went out the window. Your blank mind began to grasp at the information you needed, but all you could think was that you were sitting across from a woman you longed to know your whole life.

“I don’t know where to begin. My father would never speak of you. Grandmother, either. They would ignore me, or change the subject. Why? Why wouldn’t they tell me about you?”

The spirit didn’t reply. Instead she let go of your hand and raised Pamela’s fingers to rest upon the center of your forehead. Instantly you were hit with a surge of energy that felt like lightning racing through your body. Gasping for air, your vision went dark, and a series of images played out in your mind’s eye. Fragments of your mother’s memories poured into your knowing as the pictures flashed before you.

Seeing her in her natural state was breathtaking. Emmeline had been a uniquely beautiful woman; her hair the color of spun gold, deep dimples--much like Samuel’s--when she smiled. You could see some resemblances of yourself in her, and it helped to settle the feeling of uncertainty you had rising in your gut. Seeing your mother, in her own body, practicing witchcraft at her own altar… the room filling with black smoke and taking over her body… Crowley entering the chambers and having his goons smash her altar to bits.

Another flash… Crowley and her mother, now possessed by one of his minions, in bed together laughing maniacally at the despicable things they did and were planning to do. Another… her mother’s body, very pregnant, still possessed, but now she could hear her mother’s consciousness screaming to be let free, for the demon to leave her and her child alone.

The images were coming faster now - death and destruction following Crowley and Emmeline’s body while she was carrying you inside her. Emmeline’s body on a dungeon floor, her eyes completely black and laughing as she gave birth to you. Then finally, one last image… this one was slow and lingered behind your eyes, as you watched the black smoke clear Emmeline’s mouth. Her body crumpled to the floor, but she was still alive and breathing slowly as she looked up to see Crowley holding a tiny bundle in his arms.

“Well done,” Crowley cooed to the heap of a woman on the floor as he stared down as his newly born child. “I promise, your efforts will not go unrewarded.”

“You can’t...take.. her,” Emmeline managed to squeak out. She pulled herself up to her feet, wincing in great pain as she found her footing. “She’s MY DAUGHTER!”

“Sorry, love. She;s mine. But, I can promise you, I will make sure she’s put to good use,” Crowley looked at the baby in his arms and smiled wickedly. “Papa has big plans for you, doesn’t he?”

Emmeline watched in horror as he lifted one of his hands from cradling the baby. Crowley ticked his head to the side and snapped his fingers. Emmeline began to choke, as her mouth began to spill blood down her dirtied and bruised form.

“Don’t…. Do…. this…..”

“Too late. It’s done.” He watched as Emmeline drowned in her own blood and frowned when she ceased making any noise. Her body fell back to the ground, her once beautiful, vibrant eyes now vacant and cold. “Well, that was anticlimactic, wasn’t, Y/N? That’s okay, daddy still picked a good witch to bring you into this world. Me and you, we are going to do great things together.”

As the vision faded and your eyes readjusted to the somber lighting of Pamela’s cottage, you could feel the sting of fresh tears soaking your flesh. Pamela’s body was sitting back fully in her chair, but you could still see Emmeline’s eyes looking back at you.

“I’m sorry to have to have showed you that, but you needed to know. Your father is a monster. I tried so hard to break free from that demon’s control, but I was helpless.”

The candles began to flicker before you even felt the icy cold breeze blow through the room. Your breath became visible in the air, and it made Emmeline’s spirit panic.

“No… I need more time!” she yelled, half in her own voice, and half in Pamela’s. Pamela’s body jerked forward, then back against the chair hard knocking the spirit free from her body. The same swirling blue mist filled the room, ricocheting from the ceiling to the floor, to the corners and back again while Pamela’s chin hung to her chest, her palms still laying flat on the table.

As quickly as she appeared, Emmeline was gone, leaving you feeling a sense of emptiness and dread. To have come so close to your mother, only to have her taken away again added a vat of fuel to the fire that burned inside you. The fire you would use to burn your father, and his Kingdom, to the ground.

The temperature began to rise and the candles finally steadied from the whirlwind that just blew around them. Pamela was starting to come to, slowly raising her head until her white eyes met yours.

Still shaken from the entire experience, her blank stare was starting to unnerve you. “Pamela?”

“I’m okay,” she said softly, her signature rasp still enough for you to know it was really her and not spirit. “That was… intense.” She reached across for your hand again, and though you honored her request, part of you was afraid to touch her again. “Your mother, you spoke with her? She showed you what you came here for?”

“Yes, she showed me…”

Pamela squeezed your hand and closed her eyes. “But not everything--”

Before she could continue, she was interrupted by a knock at the door, and the old wooden beast being slowly pushed open, allowing the day’s fading light to fill the room.

“Hate to interrupt the girl talk,” Bobby spoke up cautiously as she stepped over the threshold, “but are you ladies almost done? Day’s wasting here, and if Y/N doesn’t get back to the castle grounds before dark, I’m going to have some explaining to do to the King himself.”

You nodded in solemn agreement. You had come here for answers, though the ones you received weren’t exactly what you had been seeking. Unsure of how to process what you had learned, you turned to Pamela and smiled wanly.

“Thank you, Pamela,” you started, and felt the rest of the words catch in your throat. “I--” expelling a deep sigh, you rose from the table and tried again. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve given me.”

“But you didn’t get everything you came here for,” she replied, then stood up from her own chair. Pamela walked around the table with great ease for a blind woman, finding you immediately and putting both of her hands on your shoulders.

Pamela pulled you into a warm embrace and gave you a caring squeeze. Before she completely let go, she allowed her lips to linger near your ear for a brief moment and whispered, “The baby you’re carrying is going to be blessed with great power. It will be up to you to keep him balanced and not let the scales tip in Crowley’s favor.”

Jerking away from her, your eyes snapped up to meet hers as a small smile unfurled on her lips. She gently laid one of her long fingers against her lips. “Shhhh… that baby needs to be your secret, or danger will find him long before he’ll need to pledge his allegiance.”

“Ladies? Everything okay?” Bobby asked from where he still stood in the doorway.

“Everything’s fine Bobby,” Pamela replied, looking over your shoulder to flash Bobby her signature smile and wink. “She’ll be right along.” When her false eyes looked back on you again, her smile faded. “Keep him safe, and this child will one day sit on the King’s throne.”

“Y/N, I hate to bust this party up, but we really have to go.”

Still in a complete state of disbelief, you turned just enough to see the Maester impatiently waiting for you and nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

He threw up his arms and shrugged, before turning and heading back outside.

“Y/N,” Pamela said, and turned your chin so you were again focused on her. “I know you have more questions, I know you were seeking truths about the potion, and a plan to use it. Whether you chose to follow through or not, it will not change the outcome of what’s meant to be.”

“And what is that? What IS meant to be?” you pleaded. “And how could I already be pregnant? Samuel and I, we just… it was one--”

“What is meant to be is already in motion. It was put that way the moment you and Samuel came together. Twin flames, though born of different fires, can still come together to create a force of nature.” She paused, and gently rested her hand on your belly. “And this boy, he will be a force of nature.”

Series Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @silkiechicken / @collette04 / @katiecurls75 / @death-unbecomes-you / @colie87 / @roxytheimmortal / @klanceiscannon14 / @voltage-my2dlove / @flamencodiva / @xhannahbananax03 / @babykalika2001 / @traceyaudette / @winchester-wifey @pilaxia

Sam Winchester: @buckyscrystalqueen / @unabashedsoul97

SPN (all): @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @sorenmarie87 / @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness / @unlikelygalaxyiver / @linki-locks11 / @stoneyggirl / @clarinette07 / @lefthologramdeer / @destielhoneybee / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @81mysteriouslyme / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @deathofmissjackson / @lauravic / @akshi8278 / @rebelminxy / @idreamofplaid / @fictionalabyss / @blackcherrywhiskey / @his-paradox / @closetspngirl / @sorenmarie87

#Sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #Sam Winchester AU #SPN AU #Sam Winchester x Crowley's Daughter!Reader #The Pact #ramble on #Sam winchester fan fics #sam winchester #crowley #gothic AU

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440mxs-wife · 4 years ago

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The Hunter’s Princess- Chapter 3: Winchester Castle

Pairing: Dean x OFC Kira (eventual), Prince!Dean x OFC Lady Kira. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Prince!Sam Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Gabriel, King!John, Queen!Mary, Lucifer and assorted minor characters.

Chapter 3 Word Count: 3145+

Warnings: Dean nightmare, Prince!Dean jealous, fluff with Castiel. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

A/N: This is from some material that’s been rattling around in my head from another project that changed direction. Couldn’t let all this content go to waste, though, so here it is. It’s a work-in-progress, and I will try and update as regularly as I can. If you want to be tagged in this series, send me a message!

Thank you and happy reading!

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Two days later, the carriage reached the gates of Winchester Castle. Once inside its walls, Kira was in awe of how much larger it was than her own humble dwelling. As they passed the stable area, Kira saw a short, white-haired man brushing down one of the horses. "Pardon me, sir?" she called.

The man wandered over as the carriage rolled to a brief stop. As soon as he saw who was in the carriage, he removed his cap and gave the ladies a deep bow. "My name is Collins, Lady Kira. I am in charge of the stables. How may I serve you?"

"It's very nice to meet you, Collins," she smiled. "You may help me, kind sir, by letting my driver know where he can park our rig. I need to report for the Princes' Challenge, and I'm sure, be shown to our quarters," she finished.

"It would be an honor, Lady Kira," Collins grinned and winked at her as he proceeded to give the driver the directions he needed.

"Thank you very much, Collins. I hope to see you again, as I love horses. I don't get to ride as often as I'd like, but maybe while I'm here, I'll get an opportunity," Kira remarked.

"Our stables are at your command, Lady Kira. Whenever you fancy a ride, please come down to the stables and ask for me. I would be honored to assist you," Collins replied, with a twinkle in his eye.

Kira laughed and bid him farewell, as the carriage continued to its destination. She and Rowena were shown to their rooms, where they were each assigned a lady's maid. Rowena's was named Katherine and Kira's was named Sarah. When she introduced herself, Kira felt a little dizzy as a feeling of déjà-vu played in her mind. Sarah looked concerned, but Kira assured her she was fine, just needed a drink of water. Sarah quickly poured a glass from the pitcher on the dresser and handed it to Kira, who smiled gratefully, and promptly drained the contents.

"Thank you so much, Sarah. I appreciate it. I think I'll do some unpacking now," Kira said as she moved to open the trunk.

Sarah intercepted her before Kira could put one finger on the trunk. "I will do that for you, Miss. Please, relax. You're competing in the Princes' Challenge, so you'll need to save your strength," she reminded Kira. "Dinner will be at 7 o'clock for any of the competitors who have arrived. May I suggest you wear this?" Sarah held up a pastel green silk empire-waisted gown with cap sleeves. The skirt was dotted with pale pink mini-rosettes embroidered throughout.

Kira marveled at the selection, but did not recall packing such a dress. Rowena. Kira shook her head in amusement as her fingers brushed the locket around her neck. "That will do very nicely, thank you Sarah," Kira responded. "I would like to freshen up a bit from our long carriage ride. Can you please arrange a bath for me in a couple of hours? I'd like to tour the grounds for now, if that's all right," she added.

"Yes, Miss," she said as she curtsied lightly. Kira gently put her hand on Sarah's arm. "When we're in here, just us or with Lady Rowena? You don't need to curtsy. I may be 'Lady Kira', but I'm a little less....formal than most royals, if that makes any sense," she chuckled lightly. This seemed to put Sarah a bit more at ease. "Thank you, Miss. I'll try to remember," she said as she smiled warmly.

Kira decided to check in with Rowena and find out if there were any other surprises in her wardrobe. As she turned around from closing the door, Kira nearly slammed into a raven-haired woman, a little taller than her, dressed in a red satin gown. "Pardon me, I didn't see you there," Kira apologized.

"Then you should watch where you're going," she seethed. "If you don't want to end up on the floor, that is," she smirked.

"Now, Serena, you need to control your temper a bit. It's not her fault she's so clumsy," a man's voice calmly broke in. Kira looked and saw a man with ice blue eyes and sandy blond hair. Lucifer. Her mouth ran dry and she excused herself before he could see the look of absolute terror on her face. Kira hastily knocked on Rowena's door and as soon as it opened, she rushed in, her entire body shaking.

"Och, Kira dear, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Rowena exclaimed. One look at Kira's face told Rowena that she was not far off the mark. "Katherine dear, would you please excuse us?" Katherine nodded and exited the room. "What's wrong, darlin'?" Rowena asked.

"I was coming out of my room, and bumped into someone. I apologized, but she was rather rude about the whole thing. Told me to 'watch where I was going if I didn't want to end up on the floor'. Then a man came up behind her and it was Lucifer," Kira explained.

Rowena's eyes got wide, then she seemed to collect herself again. "I was hoping we could avoid him, but it seems not. Listen to me: you must keep that locket of yours in your possession at all times. No exceptions," she ordered.

"Why? It's just a locket from my mother's jewelry box that she never got around to giving me. What could Lucifer possibly want it for?" Kira asked.

"Darlin', that locket is a very powerful charmed object. It's what brought you here. Your dear mother didn't get a chance to tell you anything about the locket and all of its power. You know as well as I do that if Lucifer got his hands on it, his power would know no limits. He could do the same as you, move freely about the multiverse."

Rowena continued. "Just think of all the trouble he'd cause in those other dimensions, which might even affect our home dimension at some point. Let's face it: we all know that Lucifer is not exactly the poster boy for 'self-control'. It is imperative that you keep hold of that locket, Kira," she finished.

Kira thought back to how the locket glowed in her hands just before she ended up here. Lucifer is a powerful enough archangel as it is. If he were to get hold of the locket....there'd be no stopping him, Kira thought. To her, that was unacceptable. Not to mention, it's her only ticket home after accomplishing whatever it is she's supposed to do here. In that moment, Kira vowed to Rowena that she would protect the locket with everything she had.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean went to his room in the bunker to try and get some sleep, at least his usual four hours. However, all he could think of was Kira and how far away from him she is right now. He'd give nearly anything to see her beautiful smile or lose himself in the depths of her soft, hazel eyes. He missed hearing her sing in the kitchen while she was making dinner. The bunker was way too quiet with just him and Sam in it.

If Dean really stopped to think about it, he'd been in love with Kira for quite a long time. Probably started after she started showing him up on the firing range. Dean was never truly upset about Kira being the better shot, but how else was he supposed to get pie? Besides, when she shot the targets better than he did, it always made her smile. And damn, did he love to see her smile.

Where are you, Kira my love? Dean silently wondered. Suddenly, her face appeared before him, but it was like she was looking through him to what was behind him. The look of terror on her face made his blood run cold and was enough to make him turn around to see what it was. Lucifer. Dammit, he was with Kira wherever she was. Oh, Kira darlin', hang on.

Dean was jolted awake and scrambled to sitting upright in bed, taking in huge gulps of air. A sheen of perspiration was on his brow and his T-shirt was soaked.

"What?? What is it?? Dean?!?" Sam shouted as he burst through the door. He heard Dean cry out in terror, which brought him to the door. Sam took in his brother's disheveled appearance and knew he'd had a nightmare of some kind, one involving Kira.

"I saw her. Wherever Kira is, I saw her, Sammy. And she's not alone. I also saw Lucifer," Dean rasped.

"No....." Sam whispered. "Okay, while you change into a dry shirt, I'm gonna call Cas. See if he's come up with anything new, or if Gabriel's been in touch with Cas instead of us," Sam muttered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After her encounter with Lucifer, Kira was still a little shaken up. There was no way she was going to catch a nap before dinner, so she decided to tour the grounds a bit. She started in the gardens, which were breathtaking, to say the least. There were so many beautiful flowers that it would take a lifetime to sample each of their fragrances.

Kira lingered most over the lilac bushes, as they were her favorite scent for the brief time that they are in bloom. Kira sat down on a stone bench near the lilac bushes. She closed her eyes and just listened to all of the sounds of nature happening around her.

"Did you know that a honey bee visits 50 to 100 flowers during a collection trip?" a gruff voice behind her said. Kira shrieked in surprise and nearly fell off the bench.

"Wh-what did you say?" she turned to see a man with dark hair and vibrant blue eyes. Where have I seen him before? Kira asked herself as she regained her composure.

"I am sorry to have frightened you, Miss--" he started.

"Lady Kira. And you are?" she responded.

He immediately knelt before her, bowed his head and drew his right arm across his chest. "Forgive me, my lady, I did not realize who you were when I disturbed you. My name is Castiel, head of security and friend to Princes Dean and Samuel. With your permission, I will take my leave of you," he said, rising to his feet.

Kira placed her hand on Castiel's arm to stop his retreat. "Please, Castiel. There's no need to leave. I was on a self-guided tour of the grounds. Besides, I enjoy learning something new every day. For instance, did you know that a honey bee can fly for up to six miles and as fast as 15 miles per hour?" Kira asked, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Castiel's face broke out into a huge grin and his blue eyes seemed to sparkle. "No, Lady Kira, I was not aware of that. Perhaps I could accompany you? I could act as your tour guide," he suggested, holding out his hand.

"That would be lovely, thank you," Kira smiled, took his hand and rose from the bench. He guided her hand around his arm and tucked it close to his side. "Shall we tour the marketplace next?" he asked.

"Excellent suggestion, Castiel. Please lead the way," Kira replied.

The pair wandered through the marketplace to see what treasures they could find. As far as they could see, there were all types of merchants within the castle walls. Some sold food and drink, some had bolts of vibrantly colored fabrics for sale, still others offered books and jewelry. Kira didn't have a lot of spending money with her, but enough to have some fun and maybe pick up a few trinkets for her house and pub staffs.

As they passed a man selling apples from his cart, Kira's stomach rumbled rather loudly. Castiel looked down at her midsection then back to her face and chuckled. "Well, that was interesting," he grinned.

"And most un-ladylike, I'm so sorry," she grimaced. "How much for the apple?" she asked the man. He quoted the price, and Kira dug out enough coins for two. "Pick one, Castiel," she said.

He chose his apple and Kira chose one. She smiled and gave her thanks to the vendor, who bowed as they left his cart. She turned to Castiel and said, "Okay, on three, we both take a bite of our apple," Kira commanded. "One....two....three!" she counted as they sank their teeth into the fruit.

It was the most amazing apple Kira had ever tasted, tart at first, then giving way to a sweet finish. She groaned in appreciation and looked over to Castiel, who was having a similar reaction. He nodded and smiled at Kira as he enjoyed his apple and they continued their marketplace tour.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean and Samuel had just returned from a ride out into the country, enjoying the gorgeous weather. They guided their mounts through the marketplace on their way to the stables. All of a sudden, Dean stopped and Samuel pulled up to a stop beside him. "Look, Samuel. There she is, there's Lady Kira. And she's with Castiel?" he wondered.

The princes watched as Castiel and Lady Kira stopped at a milliner's cart. They took turns trying on different hats, each one more outrageous than the next. When Castiel put on a hat obviously made for a woman, Lady Kira burst into giggles at first, then full-on laughter. At that moment, Dean decided that if he could only hear one sound in the world for the rest of his life, it would be Kira's laughter.

Both princes observed the scene playing out in front of them. Kira seemed so at ease here, not so guarded as she seemed in the pub when the princes had first met her. That night, they heard she'd had to throw out a drunk patron. The man tried to take a few too many liberties with her and one of her staff. She'd also had to deal with two last-minute customers, but both men had to admit, she'd handled both situations with grace.

Samuel looked over at Dean, who had been so relaxed during their ride, now seemed to be genuinely annoyed. Is he....he's jealous! My brother is jealous of his best friend, who at this moment appears as if he's making a move on Lady Kira! Prince Samuel smiled to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean dismount and quickly walk over to the milliner's cart. Sam caught the attention of one of the stable hands, Logan, and motioned for him to take the horses to the stables. He dismounted as well and handed the reins for the two horses over to Logan.

"Prince Dean! Prince Samuel!" exclaimed Castiel as his face beamed. "How was your ride today?" he asked.

"Good afternoon, Your Highnesses," Lady Kira greeted as she dipped her head and curtsied.

"Good afternoon, Lady Kira, Castiel," Dean said tightly. "How lovely to see you again. What brings you to our doorstep?" he asked.

"I am here to compete in the Princes' Challenge, Your Highness. I only arrived this afternoon, and have already been shown to a room. I was on a self-guided tour of the grounds, starting in the gardens. That's where Castiel found me and has since been graciously acting as my tour guide here in the marketplace," she explained.

With rapt attention, Castiel and Samuel watched the exchange between Dean and Lady Kira. Sam recalled what he and Dean had found out about her from Collins. After what he saw with Kira and Castiel in the marketplace, he was beginning to see why Dean was so captivated by the woman. Sam found himself wanting to know more about her.

"So, you've only seen the gardens and the marketplace so far?" Dean asked, to which she nodded. "I would be happy to step into the role of tour guide now, if you wish. It would be my honor," he finished.

"I deeply appreciate your kind offer, Your Highness. However, it was a long trip to get here, and I am feeling a bit tired at the moment. I had hoped to get some rest before joining everyone for dinner. Perhaps you and I could continue the tour another time, if I may request?" she asked.

Dean paused for a moment and his face broke into a genuine smile, one his brother hadn't seen grace his features in quite some time. "It would be my pleasure, Lady Kira," he said softly. "May I have the honor of escorting you back to the main hall of the castle?" Dean asked.

"The honor would be mine, Your Highness," she said as she curtsied. Dean offered her his arm, and when she gave him her hand, he kissed her knuckles before tucking it close to his side. A pink blush crossed her features, which made her all the more lovely, if that was even possible. As they made their way to the main hall, Castiel and Sam followed behind. This Princes' Challenge is certainly going to be interesting, Sam thought.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Where am I? Oh dear, this is definitely NOT the pub, this is someone's bedroom, the woman thought as she surveyed her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was that she was just about to pour a beer for someone, then she woke up here. Wherever "here" is, she thought.

She sat up in the bed, which turned out to be kind of a bad idea, as a wave of dizziness crashed over her. She groaned at the dull ache in her head and waited for the woozy feeling to pass. After it had, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly tested her ability to stand. Once she was satisfied that she wasn't going to fall over, she took a few tentative steps towards the door.

On the other side of the door, she heard male voices, three distinct ones, in fact. One sounded heartbroken, like he'd recently lost the love of his life. She felt a pang of sympathy for the man.

Another man was trying to comfort the first one, to assure him that whatever was going on, they could fix it. The third man had an authority to his voice, confident that a solution would be found to the first man's problem.

As she cracked the door open, all three voices simultaneously stopped and three heads swiveled in her direction. She quickly closed the door and ran back to sit on the bed, her knees drawn tightly up to her chest. The first man carefully opened the door to see who or what was on the other side. His eyes widened as he regarded the woman before him. "Kira?" he whispered.

Part 4 here!

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