#never would have seen the day where spn content was comforting me

[orionsangel86]

From the gifs on my dash it looks like this weekends spn convention was just a huge love fest and that warms the cockles of my heart

(Especially since my heart has been so cold and angry and sad lately)

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me's spn advent calendar 2020. prompt: carols.

dedicated to @one-more-offbeat-anthem!! happy birthday <3

After Chuck's defeated, and Billie's gone, and the Empty has been bargained with (semantics, any of the Winchesters would say if you asked one of the four to elaborate) into returning Cas in exchange for eternal sleep, there's peace.

After they're done, and really done, there's time.

A moment to breathe, a minute to look at the clouds, and hours stretching endless, days on end, resonating with something resembling quiet.

And then, there's a guitar.

*

"Nope." Dean declares. "Never seen that thing in here before. And I once did Christmas inventory by myself, so I should know."

Sam snickers at Dean's cavalier tone. He'd been content to examine the instrument from a distance, unlike his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't paying attention. "You had to do it yourself, Dean. Those were the exact words of the bet."

"I was drunk, and you hustled me!"

"You've known I play poker my entire life!"

"Well, yeah." Dean flashes his best shit-eating grin. "But you've sucked, your entire life, so —"

"— sure I have —"

"— your entire life has really just been a very long, very lame hustle!" Dean spreads his arms in a display of triumph. "And ergo, you hustled me into Christmas inventory-ing. The case is rested, your honor."

"That's not how you say —"

"Sam. Dean." Cas interjects, loud and exasperated. Sam shuts up immediately, eyes falling to his lap, while Dean exchanges a sheepish look with Cas (and Jack, who to his credit, seemed to be unaffected by the mini-feud. But that's less the part about him being God-Lite and more about him being himself. A kid who grew up watching his dads bicker endlessly and mostly, uneventfully, and has come to terms with it as a primary aspect of (at least, his) family.)

Cas, as usual, puts up with less of their crap. "Is this really necessary right now?"

Dean loves him for it, except when it's targeted at Dean and since that's kind of a lot, he isn't sure he loves it, or just loves Cas and generalises the things he does under the wider bracket of Cas.

"And if it's not," Cas goes on, using what is probably his I-led-garrisons-in-heaven voice, which automatically sends a shiver up Dean's spine. "Can we agree the guitar is, somehow, a recent addition and leave it at that?"

Sam nods slightly, apologetic. Dean just rolls his eyes, but it's a yes. (Everyone there knows it's a yes.)

"It's not cursed." Jack cuts in brightly. "Or out of the ordinary at all."

"So," Dean blinks. "We just happen to have an awesome new guitar show up, completely randomly, in this top secret Bunker no one know about, minus any ulterior motives or death curses?"

Jack grins. "Yes."

"Cool." Dean says immediately, and Sam huffs an amused laugh. He thinks he sees Cas smile as well, and a smirk grows on his face.

"Dibs."

*

Unsurprisingly, nobody counters his dibs, and Dean ends up taking the guitar to his room.

It's after a few days of insecurity, leading right into embarrassment, leading further to ignoring its existence, and further still to a mostly depressive array of memories — before it circles back to insecurity, and is about to repeat all over again, when he stops himself in his proverbial spiral, and decides to just friggin' do it.

That night, he picks up the pick.

Fiddles with it in his hands for a minute, and proceeds to abandon the idea again, because it does not feel right. Different shape, different weight.

And Dean Winchester's already enough of a misfit for this project, for his guitar pick to be a poor goddamn fit in his hand too.

But there's something about being so close that stirs up motivation in his heart, similar to the first day they found the damn thing, and next morning, he's out looking for a music shop in town.

That night, he finally plays.

It's uncertain — experimental — and he soon realizes why nobody ever says a damn thing about guitars when they say you never forget how to ride a bike.

But then, slowly, and really slowly at that, music seems to return to his fingers.

It isn't smooth by any chance, or even really accurate, but there's a faint tug in his brain that leads him to the next chord, and a twitch in his wrist that tells him when to strum, and he's awful, he's really friggin' awful, but even repeatedly saying so in his head refuses to dampen the overwhelming feeling that lights him up from the inside to start to feel like maybe he can play again. There's hope, and there's terrible, off-timed, broken music, and there's Dean in the middle of it, and maybe he can actually do this.

Recollection of how to play had come to his hands as they trembled, and tried, but the exhilaration of it, and the joy, only come back to his heart once he'd stopped, heart racing, adrenaline high, and unexplainable tears pricking his eyes.

Dean Winchester goes to bed that night, giddy in a way he hasn't been in years.

And outside his bedroom, his family of three exchange confused glances when the playing stopped abruptly, and then smiles when a sound that can only be said to bear semblance to a squeal, follows the silence.

(The first song Dean had played in over twenty five years had been Joy to the World.

It had also been the first song he'd ever learned — Cassie's choice, not his. Sam, Cas and Jack didn't know any of that. To them, it had just been a christmas carol. But there was also something so moving about that, soft in a way each of them knew Dean would fight against being, that they didn't realize they hadn't budged from Dean's door, long until faint snores replaced the quiet, and they left for their own beds, wordlessly already having decided on a plan for the next day.)

*

Cas knocks first on Dean's bedroom door, and all music immediately ceases. There's a yell from inside after ten seconds of a shuffling kind of silence.

"Yeah?"

"May I come in?" Cas asks.

Another pause.

Cas wonders worriedly if Sam and Jack were mistaken when they said that Cas had to be first, that he was their best shot at getting Dean to open up — the easiest past Dean's line of defense.

Then Dean says, a little quieter. "Yeah, sure."

Cas enters, gently closing the door behind himself before his eyes land on Dean — and he fights the urge to smile, because Dean hasn't kept away the guitar or anything. It's still on his lap, not in playing stance, with his arms folded over it — but he's not trying to hide it from Cas.

"Is everything okay?" Dean interrupts his reverie. Cas nods.

Neither of them say anything for a minute.

"Can I listen?"

Cas surprises himself with his own courage to ask — no twisted words or excuses to stay, just a simple question. Things were so rarely simple for them, but this wasn't a common occurrence either so it evened out.

"Y-yeah." Dean mutters.

Cas lights up.

"I suck, by the way." Dean adds, almost immediately. "But I'll suck less with time, I'm hoping. I mean, I'm supposed to, you know, but I — uh, I mean — maybe I —"

Cas realizes that he hadn't stopped smiling at Dean and that's what had made Dean falter, and he looks away, embarrassed.

"I'll just play, I guess." Dean manages smally, sounding as embarrassed as him.

"Please."

Dean clears his throat instead of playing.

"Yeah."

Cas can tell he's nervous. Even if he weren't good at, and very used to reading Dean, he could've gauged as much. And he wishes he had the right words, he really does, but he's aware a sincere speech of how much it means that Dean let him stay, and listen, would have the opposite effect of calming.

Then there's another knock on the door, and Cas relaxes.

"Dean?"

Sure enough, it's Jack.

Sam had explained how Dean was most likely, unfortunately, to deflect if he was there — "his denial fires up, Cas. I associate it with a parenting complex of some kind, and he just won't let go of it." — so the order had been decided as Cas, Jack and Sam. No overwhelming by arriving all three at once, or one after the other as if it were planned. No, they'd enter after some time, giving the previous person time to make Dean comfortable to them before the next enters.

Cas thinks it's a rather brilliant plan, and wonders if he should ask Sam to formulate a similar one to get Dean to open up about other things too. He doesn't, ultimately.

"Yeah?" Dean yells back.

"Have you seen Cas?"

That had been the plan.

"Yeah," Dean raises his voice to answer. "He, uh. He's right here. Come on in."

And Jack does, and eyes Cas with probably too much meaning (he means triumph) for Dean to not have noticed, before turning to the latter. "Oh. Were you about to play for Cas?"

Dean colors at that, his ears reddening almost instantly, and Cas files it away for pondering later.

"Can I be here too?"

And Dean's eyes widen a little — sign of anxiety, maybe understanding — and he licks his lips and then he nods. "I guess. I mean, okay, fine. But didn't you need Cas for something?" He adds, confused.

"I," Jack hesitates. Oh no, Cas thinks. Sam's prepared him for this, but Jack looks like he's about to, as Dean would say, wing it. And all-powerful or not, he knows his son is a terrible liar. "No, I just wanted to know if you'd seen him."

Dean narrows his eyes.

"Now I do know. That, uh, you've seen him." Jack braves on, determined to reach the bottom of the proverbial hole he'd dug for himself apparently. "So now, I don't need to know anything. Now I can stay."

Dean sighs.

"I can, right?"

There's a lightness in Dean's voice instead of tension when he says, "Yeah."

"Thank you." Jack says brightly, and all Cas can do is shake his head when Jack turns to him for feedback, and the both of them proceed to wear (nearly matching, but not on purpose) excited stares as they focus on Dean.

*

The final straw is when there's a third knock on the door, and Sam pokes his head in. One unconvincing "Where's everyone at?" later, he's joined Cas and Jack in staring with a unnecessary (and hopefully unintended) comfort-the-vic's-family smile at Dean.

God, he loves these dumbasses and would give his life for everyone present in the room, but none of them can act for shit.

It's glaringly obvious they've all respectively shown up to listen to him play.

Which is bullshit in itself, because Dean wasn't being modest when he told Cas he sucks — he does suck. But then, he doesn't think any of them would mind. Sam would probably unlock new levels of the puppy eyes if he knew how happy even playing awfully, made Dean. Jack would be blunt, of course, but undeterringly sweet. And Cas? He'd probably smile at him all the way through, just — that smile of his, that always seems to make time freeze and Dean's heart stutter.

So Dean decides magnanimously to not call them out.

Right away, anyway.

Instead, he turns to them with a question. "Any requests?"

(He can't play one of the only songs he remembers having learned without errors yet, so obviously asking for requests is the right way to go. But you see, once you've given up on impressing, it's only fair to see yourself to the end of the chaos.)

"Christmas carols." Jack answers before anyone else.

"It's May."

"Sam's," Jack swallows. Dean should really get on teaching the kid how to lie. "Sam's making me listen to carols."

"In May?" He asks his brother this time.

Sam shrugs, struggling to keep a diplomatic face.

"You're going to grow up to be the young adult who doesn't take off the Christmas lights in January." Dean informs Jack, who absorbs his words with all the seriousness Dean should have expected. "And, fine. We can do carols."

Cas speaks up. "Any carol you'd like, Dean."

"Nah," Dean shakes his head. "Jack requested it. We'll do what he says." And he insists to his conscience that he said so because he wants to make Jack happy, and not because he's well aware the kid isn't being subjected to carols by Sam in friggin' May, and probably doesn't know any.

"Oh." Jack's face falls. He looks at Sam in the most conspicuous way anyone's ever looked at anyone. "I —"

"Uhhuh?"

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!" Cas blurts, on behalf of Jack, and there's a two second gap where Sam facepalms and Jack exchanges a conspirational glance with Cas, and then Dean's throwing his head back and laughing.

And soon, Sam's joining in with an exasperated kind of chuckling as if he's gotten stuck in the wrong team but he doesn't regret a thing, and then Cas starts too, mostly from looking at Dean losing his shit (Dean strictly ignores thinking about that part and focuses on imprinting Cas's laugh to memory) and probably also because the ridiculosity of the entire situation probably struck him, and of course Jack's smiling at all of them, and it's, altogether, everything Dean could ever have wished for.

The evening ends with Dean playing Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer (of course) for at least an hour while consistently getting better at the repeating music, and although it's him humming under his breath (like he always has while playing) that starts it off, soon all of them are offering their own awful renditions to the chaos. Cas is off-key, Sam somehow manages to screw up the lyrics, and Jack is as flat as a friggin' plateau.

And it all comes together in a wholly unmelodious kind of awesome — to Dean the same way they say a mother's love comes through for an ugly child.

After Rudolph, it's Silent Night (another song Dean's learned, it hits him, once he's trying to find the right chord) and even Cas manages to look disappointed at the lyrics Sam and he come up with to make up for not knowing the real ones, and since Jack's never heard this one, he simply listens in rapt attention leaving Dean wondering if he probably ended up learning the wrong version on account of all his concentration.

And last of all, it's We Wish You A Merry Christmas, and Dean plays the chorus enough times that he's perfect at it, because for once, no one messes up the beat or the lyrics, and everyone has the most fun.

All in all, it's an evening to remember.

What Dean learns through it all is primarily the lesson that letting your family think they tricked you into having an audience is sometimes an excellent choice to make, and that things can be crap, but still be enjoyed. That doesn't mean he's not going to practice his ass off learning to play at least the choruses of the Led Zepp tracks he gifted Cas (the idea came to him in bed last night, and Cas has always sounded like he enjoyed them, okay?) so he can play them 'for Cas' as the kid so casually put — but then, some things are different from other things, just the way some love's different too.

And while some things are about efforts, and saying the words that scare you, others are about letting go, and singing carols in bright and sunny May.

The only thing Dean's sure about is that just about all of it comes down to being free.

[mr-smith-wesson]

Regarding the anon who asked about HCs of Dean being jealous of Sam’s friends: I’m doing an SPN rewatch and just finished Skin. It always struck me as weird that when they were meeting Rebecca, Dean doesn’t make any inappropriate jokes, try to hit on her, there’s no flirty overt concern, or automatically jumping on doing the case because hey hot chick needs help so SuperDean to the rescue. He comments on her house and keeps trying to get Sam to leave. (And the transcript says that Dean looks defeated when Sam says “We’ve looked into less”. Not resigned or angry but defeated.) When they’re looking through her brother’s house he seems slightly annoyed by her there, not rude, just that kinda irritated when you really don’t want to be somewhere. And when they’re leaving, she and Dean never even have a goodbye. He rescued the cute girl and we don’t see him get his flirty goodbye like in Wendigo. Which just always seemed out of character to me.

This time around the thought struck me that he’s scared. Scared that Sam will remember the fun and good times with these friends he made at college and leave him again, only this time there’s no Dad around. So he’d be all alone. And I do think he’s jealous. He’s realizing that his brother had a whole other life without him. He made friends who he had inside jokes with, nicknames for (I mean hell, he even looks a little annoyed when Sam calls Rebecca ‘Little Becky’, like excuse you I’m the only person you should have a nickname for), did all nighters with, hung out with, got advice from, gave advice too all which should have been his experiences. Should have been theirs. He had the same old same old with Dad, who he loves dont get him wrong, but those sibling moments of laughing at the same thing at the same time weren’t there. The times of playing keep away with the remote or a tape or a book where you annoy him until his face gets red and he’s yelling and you’re practically pissing yourself it’s so funny (that is until the asshole has the nerve to grow taller than you, the bastard, so you have to get more creative) aren’t there anymore. Those times when you just sit and vent back and forth at each other, not even paying attention to what the other is saying, both just needing to let it out and just “yep, no totally, you are completely right, and can you believe...?!”, gone. Bitching over who got to watch what on the motel TV and then getting sucked into the stupid documentary on fire ants that your little brother is watching (fucking nerd), that you dont even put up fight when the next show comes on because “damn look at the size of those hornets” - gone. Those times when you’re both in trouble and trying so damned hard not to snicker at how mad Dad is, and the ranting that is going on, that you can’t even look at each other, until one of you makes the mistake and glances at the other and that’s it, you’re done, falling into each other on the couch in hysterics, Dad now yelling about how this isn’t funny, you both could have been killed, and you’ll be cleaning every gun, blade, piece of clothing, and inch of that car for the entire weekend - gone. Now it’s either Dad or booze. And again, Dean loves his Dad, but nothing compares to that connection you have with your brother.

So yeah definitely think Dean gets jealous because his been through this once, remembers those times when he wanted to say something to Sam or show Sam something and he wasn’t there. Those times when he’d come barging back into a motel room, already starting to regale Sam with his new tale of how amazing he was on this hunt and how you should have seen the set on the chick I saved, before he remembers Sam wasn’t here. Those times when he was sick or hurt and all he wanted was for his little brother to come climb up beside him on the bed so as to distract him from the pain by telling him about his day or bitch about some he read or just sit beside him and do his homework quietly; simply letting Dean be comforted by the fact that Sam was there, he was ok, Dean had done his job and Sam was good, and he could rest. But he couldn’t rest because Sam wasn’t there, Dean didn’t know if he was ok, and what if he wasn’t good? So instead of resting he just keeps going and when he can’t go anymore, pours whisky on the problem and welcomes the forgiveness the alcohol induced haze gives for not being there with his brother to protect him. Remembers the times when life just got to be too much, too loud, and too overwhelming because how do we fight them all, how do we win, and why wasn’t I fast enough to save that kid? The times when he’d squish in beside Sam on the shitty motel room couch and just breathe. And Sam, Sam would just wait until Dean either talked, or cried, or got up to go get food. Dean remembers all of this and he’ll gladly be damned to hell before he has to experience that loss again.

(Fuck that was long, sorry)

I couldn’t be more soft I’m MELTING right now. This is so sweet and heartbreaking at the same time (my favorite combination) I’m in awe. I know it’s unhealthy- them being jealous of the other having friends or other people in their lives but GOD it gives us the best content. The angst hurts so fucking good. Anon you have made my night I absolutely adore this SO much

[megsironthrone]

New World

Based on this request:  Supernatural AU. Its actually based on season 6 episode “The French Mistake” xD Where Jaime is in love with Y/N Stark (Ned’s youngest sister) ever since he saw her the first time in winterfell years ago but he never had the courage to admit it. And when he was about to tell her he was sent into our world and he was Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and he is married to Y/N Coster-Waldau and they have two daughters together (might be in two parts idk xD)

Here you are, lovelies! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*

Warnings: This is based on the SPN episode “The French Mistake”. I use the actors’ names, but it’s not actually them! A little angst? Fluff.

Pairings/Characters: Jaime Lannister x fem!Stark reader, mentions of Tyrion

Jaime had never been a coward before. Not once in his life. But when it came to you, the man just couldn't seem to tell you exactly how he felt. You were Ned Stark's sister. He shouldn't have the feelings for you that he did. Lions and wolves did not mix well. But Jaime couldn't help it. Over the course of so many years, Jaime had fallen madly in love with you. He just. Couldn't. Tell. You!

         Whenever Jaime would open his mouth to say the words, someone would inevitably interrupt. Or you would look up at him with soft (e/c) eyes and a smile that made his knees weak. Jaime would find his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his courage gone. But now, with the world about to go to all seven hells, Jaime knew he had to say something. It was already late and you were probably asleep, so Jaime made up his mind to tell you the next morning. That would be a mistake.

         Jaime woke the next morning to someone shaking his shoulder. "Nik. Wake up!" Jaime groaned lightly as his eyes opened. "What is it, Tyrion?" The man before him scoffed lightly. "Very funny. Come on. You'll be late and your wife will start calling me."

         Jaime sat up in confusion. The man he was talking to looked like Tyrion and sounded like Tyrion, but there was something off about him. Then Jaime looked around. These were not his chambers. Before he could ask about that, another thought popped into his mind. "Wife?" Tyrion looked slightly worried for a second, which seemed out of place. Not to mention, there was no sign of the scar across his face from the Battle of the Blackwater. "Yes, your wife. How much did you have to drink last night? And why are you still in costume?" Jaime shook his head, utterly confused.

         As he was about to ask Tyrion what he meant, the door opened. "Niko-oh, hello, Peter. I see you've found my husband." Tyrion, or rather "Peter", chuckled and left. Jaime glanced over and his eyes widened. You were standing before him with your hands on your hips and a slightly expanded belly.

         "Y/N?" You rolled your eyes and repeated what Tyrion had said, "Very funny, Nikolaj. Have you been drinking?" Jaime rubbed his eyes while you took a step closer. You placed a hand on his arm, making him look at you again. "Are you alright?" Jaime pondered for a moment. He wasn't hurt or anything. Just really confused. Why was everyone calling him Nik or Nikolaj? And why were they all dressed so strangely. Were you really married to him?

         "I-I supposed. Just confused." You smiled. "You've been working far too much lately, love," you chastised playfully before placing a kiss to his forehead. Jaime closed his eyes and sighed in content. This was what he had been wanting forever. As confused as he was in that moment, you were anchoring him. You pulled back with a smirk. "I'd offer to help you out of that costume, but I'm pretty sure that's what got us into this situation," you said, gesturing to your belly, "Come on. Get changed so we can go home. The girls are excited to see you."

         "The girls?" You arched a brow before placing a hand to his forehead. "Our daughters. Are you feeling okay?" Jaime nodded and you smiled. "Good. Seriously though, get changed. You can't go walking around in your costume all day." With that, you left the small space, leaving a very confused Jaime behind. What was happening?

         Jaime changed into some strange, albeit comfortable, clothing and followed after you. You were waiting with a smile and a cup in hand. "Figured you could use a pick-me-up. I've missed being on the set with you so I thought the least I could do is bring you some coffee once in a while." You kissed his cheek. Jaime felt his face heat up. "Let's go home."

         For the rest of the day, Jaime walked around with a sense of awe and wonder. This world was so different. So new. But even the novelty of where he was couldn't shake away the pure joy when he walked into the home you supposedly shared and was greeted by three young girls wrapping their arms around him. You simply stood aside and laughed lightly. Jaime felt tears welling up in his eyes. This was exactly what he wanted. He wanted a life with you; children with you. He reached over and pulled you into the little group hug and kissed your temple. If he never got back to his world, Jaime didn't think he would care. Right now, he had everything he wanted although he would have to get used to the name Nikolaj.

         At the end of the day, Jaime was a bit unsure when the two of you retired to your chambers. You climbed into bed, but Jaime hung back. Your head cocked to the side in confusion. Spending the day with you was one thing, but sleeping in the same bed was something completely different. "Nik? You coming to bed?" Jaime slowly joined you in the bed, stiffening briefly when you moved closer and rested your head on his chest.

         After a moment, he relaxed. He knew that this was how family life could have been for him back in Westeros if he had only been brave enough to tell you how he felt. He vowed that, if this dream should end, he would tell you every day how he felt. If he somehow ended up back in Westeros, he would tell you the moment he saw you that he loved you. With that in mind, he fell asleep again, relishing in the feeling of you in his arms.

         Once again, Jaime was cold when he awoke the next morning. He groaned slightly as he sat up. His eyes widened when he realized he was once more in his chambers in Winterfell. Had it all been a dream? A wish deep in his heart that felt so real in his slumber? Either way, Jaime knew what he had to do.

         Shooting out of the bed, Jaime made sure he was appropriately covered before hastily leaving the room. He made his way to your chambers. He only hoped you were still there. He had no idea what time it was. Jaime practically pounded on your door, earning a "just a moment," from the voice inside. The door opened a moment later, revealing you wearing a very confused expression.

         "Jaime?" you asked. For a moment, Jaime couldn't speak again. Then, his mind went back to what he thought was a dream. He needed to see if having that was a possibility. He needed to know. "May I come in?" Your confusion grew, but you let him in anyway. You didn't care if it caused talk. You never had.

         "What is this ab-"

         "I love you!" Jaime nearly yelled, making you jump slightly. "I-what?" you replied, flabbergasted. "I love you, Y/N. For years, I've hidden it. Fought against it even, but I can't any longer." You stared at him and didn't say anything. Jaime looked into your eyes, silently pleading with you to say something. Anything.

         "You love me?" you asked in disbelief. Jaime reached over and took one of your hands in his flesh one. "Yes. It's madness. A Lannister and a Stark is complete and utter madness, but I do. I've done…terrible things, Y/N. Things that make me unworthy of your love and affection. But you deserve all the love I can give you and more, if you wish it." You let your gaze drop to the floor and Jaime panicked as the room went silent.

         Then, a sniffle followed by another. You tightened your grip on Jaime's hand and looked up. Jaime could see the tears gathering in your eyes, but there was a smile on your face. "Oh, Jaime, I love you. I've been trying to show you for years." Jaime thought for a moment.

         Every lingering touch. Every soft smile. Every time you jumped to his defense. It was you who convinced Robb to try and trade him for your nieces instead of killing him. It was you who had convinced Jon that he would need Jaime in the war to come instead of killing or exiling him. You had always been there.

         Your free hand came up to card through the beard that now covered Jaime's jaw. "I like the beard," you said with a slight giggle. Jaime's chuckles joined yours before he brought your other hand up to his lips and kissed it. "I love you, Y/N." You stepped a little closer, peering into his green eyes. "I love you too, Jaime." Jaime let his free arm wrap around your waist and he pulled you even closer. He rested his forehead on yours and sighed in content. This wasn't the new world he'd seen in his dreams, but it was the start of a new world, a new life, for the both of you. And Jaime couldn't wait to see what it had in store.

(a/n: I really hope you like it! I had a lot of fun with this one!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @etherealpotter​ @line-viper​ @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @gruffle1​ @smalltownbigheart​ @igotmadskills​

Jaime Lannister Tags: @faith-in-dean​

[jawritter]

Twelve Days Of Christmas

Chapter 2

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo​

Square Field: Christmas Shopping 

Word Count: 1306

Warnings: Hint of anxiety issues, fluff, Dean being a sweetheart. I think that’s about it. 

A/N: This is to help me catch up on my SPN Christmas Bingo card lol. This is the last one for today! Chapter 3 will post tomorrow! I knew chapter will post every day until Christmas! I know I’m insane lol. This is a real time fic collection and all mistakes will be my own! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy these!!

**SERIES MASTERLIST**   **MASTERLIST**   **BECOME A PATREON**

Dean grabbed a shopping cart from the rack at the store entrance and pushed it awkwardly through the store as well as the crowds of people. The light sounds of Christmas music played through the speakers in the background of the roar of constant chatter. Items were in display boxes in the center of aisles marked For Sale! in red letters on big signs. Different things from men’s and women’s cologne to fuzzy socks and bigger things like expensive and needless foot massagers. 

Needless to say, Dean didn’t know where to start, but he was going to walk around until he fingered it out. He was determined to give you the Christmas you deserved. He had a plan that he’d cooked up on the way up here. He had twelve days to give you the holiday experience of a lifetime, and he wasn’t going to let any of it go to waste, he was going to start with a small Christmas present for you to open tonight when he returned to the Dean cave, and then spend each day surprising you with something new. 

Tonight there was a big snowstorm coming, and he’d already had his plan for that as well, but he needed something he could give you for tonight. Being hunters, you didn’t really wear makeup. He didn’t want to get you something for the kitchen because then he felt like it looked like he was asking you to cook more when he wasn’t. 

He did keep coming back to the fuzzy socks. The bunker was always cold this time of year, even with its artificial climate control, and he had more than once seen you shivering in the morning and walking around with his jacket on. So he grabbed those, and also a pajama set that looked like it matched with a long-sleeved flannel shirt and plaid fuzzy pants. He also knew you liked hot chocolate, so he grabbed the stuff to make some hot chocolate and some alcohol to add to it. He knew it wasn’t much, but it was only the start. 

He did feel a little strange Christmas shopping. It was something he had never actually done before, but he had to admit that he felt a little string of excitement as he looked at your new pajamas and socks. He hoped this was the start of something between the two of you. Something that would last long after Christmas had come and gone. 

Back at the bunker, you took your time in getting to the shower. You had spent some time in your room looking through old family photos you had hidden under your bed of Christmases past and things that you would never have again with a heavy heart. You also spent some time kicking yourself for worsening your mood when Dean wanted to spend time with you. That was something normally that made your day. You carved the attention of the elder Winchester, even if you had never admitted it out loud. So when he came up with this whole movie night idea you should have been over the moon and not dwelling on the past. 

After some time you pulled yourself up off of the floor and put the pictures away before making your way to the showers, where the promise of steaming hot water and Dean’s soap awaited you. You wondered if he noticed you using his shampoo and soap but just chose to never say anything. It smelt like him, and it was comforting on those cold nights alone. 

Speaking of cold, the temperature had started to drop a great deal tonight, you could feel it in the air that hung in the bathroom as you peeled the clothes from your body and stepped under the scalding spray. You were glad to be back in the bunker and out of the storm outside. You loved the snow, and you loved to play in it like an overgrown kid, but you didn’t like traveling in it. 

By the time you had gotten out of the shower, your skin was wrinkled and the shower was filled with warm steam, but you felt more relaxed in body and mind. You had been able to mostly get your anxiety under control with the help of the hot water and Dean’s soap. When you stepped out into the steam warmed room and wrapped the towel around your body you were surprised by a poorly wrapped present on the sink waiting for you. You blinked for a moment and looked around cautiously before making your way to it. 

There was a little note taped to the top of the package that said, “Day 12, something to keep you warm, D,'' written in Dean’s handwriting and you swore for a moment your heart stopped in your chest as tears pooled in your eyes. Had he really gotten you a present? 

You tentatively unwrap the gift to find a new pajama set with a set of fuzzy socks sat haphazardly on top of the folded clothes and smile to yourself at his obvious attempt to do it himself. Your heartfelt like it could swell up and sore around the room and tears were steadily tracking down your cheeks as you quickly dressed in your gift. Dean didn’t have to go to the store and do that for you, but he did, and it meant the world to you. 

By the time you made your way to the Dean Cave, Dean was sitting a tray of hot chocolate on the little table in front of the oversized recliners, and grinning widely at you as you appeared in the doorway in your new PJ’s. 

“Looks great on you Sweetheart,” he said proudly as you blushed and made your way over to him. ��I’m glad they fit.” 

“Dean, you didn’t have to do this, but you made my day. Thank you so much,” you tell him, throwing your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug before lowering you both down to sit in the same recliner and handing you a mug of hot chocolate that you were pretty sure he’d spiked with alcohol like you had done for him that one hunt in Detroit when he’d caught himself a pretty nasty cold. 

“I wanted to do it Y/N/N, and this just day 12,” he told you with a wink, and you giggle in spite of yourself as he turns Elf on the TV, and wraps his arms around you, and pulls you into him. Something he had never done often, but you love it nonetheless. 

“You really don’t have to do this, Dean. I know you don’t really like the holidays all that much,” you tell him earnestly as he sips from the much in his left hand. 

Dean shrugged and smiled at you, “maybe I just never had anyone I really wanted to celebrate it with,” he said simply, and your blush deepened as your heart pounded against your rib cage. 

You snuggled down into his hold a little more comfortably, a content sigh leaving your lips. You had no idea what Dean had planned, but you were excited to see what the next few days had in store for you. 

Dean couldn’t wipe the smile on his face off if he wanted to, and even long after you had fallen asleep in his arms he didn’t even bother moving you, just slouched down the chair more than content to sleep right here with you all night long. 

The way your face lit up as you walked into the room in his gift made his broken and battered heart beat again for the first time in ages, maybe celebrating Christmas with you is just what he needed too.

Forever Tags: 

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Twelve Days Of Christmas Tag List: 

@440mxs-wife​

[stardancerluv]

Flowers

One shot in between the chapters of Creative Fervor. Very...very early in the relationship between Roman & Reader.

Note: Heard the song Finally by CeCe Pennington, and some of the lyrics made me thing of Reader falling harder for Roman. Those lyrics are in italics.

Roman makes a reference to a “Tiffany” in one telling of Roman, she was his gf he was forced to kill when Joker put her in a position where she would die horribly otherwise. Roman, carried her photo for years afterward. (I couldn’t put that level of angst on my version) but I wanted to make a nod to actual Roman canon.

Warning: none, playful...fluffy flirting...most likely intamacy shortly after the end of the piece.

You woke up feeling good. You were dating Roman Sionis for about two months and it was amazing. He was amazing. Sure there were rumors of just how rough he could be. That was his business. You had yours, which right now was booming.

Tying your hair into a pony tail, you put on some music and got to work. Fabric was flying here and there. You were cutting and sewing.

The song that just hit the right nerve, began to play. Going over to your mp3 you turned up and just began dancing around your studio. You were feeling so good.

Finally, it has happened to me, right in front of my face

And I just cannot hide it

Meeting Mr. Right, the man of my dreams

The one who shows me true love

You happily bellowed out and danced around.

*****

Roman, leaving the restaurant after meeting with Falcone in Little Italy, he unbuttoned his suit jacket as he slid into the back seat of the rolls. He had been a decent enough meeting. The guy was a real asshole. Stretching, he relaxed bringing up his hand he rested against it as the car cut through the traffic.

When they stopped for a red light, he thought of you. He decided then, he would stop by and check on you. He was still getting used to having someone steadily around. It had been awhile since he had dated Tiffany. She had been pretty self sufficient which in the end made things grow apart between them. So far the mutual need between you he was enjoying.

Spotting, a florist he got an idea. He had never given flowers before. Though he was discovering with you, he enjoyed spoiling you. The way you would smile or the way your eyes would light up, tickled him to no end.

“Hey I want to go to that florist.”

“Ahh, yeah. Sure thing boss.”

It took some maneuvering but his driver got him there. Soon he managed to hop out and get the door for Roman.

You surely would like flowers he mused. Moments after walking in he was greeted but the warm flowery scent he had not smelled since he had been a boy who would play outside and get his hands and clothes dirty much to the ire of his parents.

It didn’t take long but he chose colors that reminded him of you. Happy he had chose gold thread to tie it up with. “Lovely like my girl.” He murmured.

“Oh, so she is your girl?”

He shot the florist a look.

They made an apologetic face. “She comes in here often, she had been walking on air lately and there were those pictures of the two of you.”

“Oh, well yes. Yes,” A genuine smile he rarely gave people came to his face. Thinking of you did that. “She’s mine.”

“Very nice.” The florist smiled and relaxed then.

Satisfied, Roman got back in the rolls. “Take me to Y/N’s studio.

Sitting there as they weaved in and out of traffic to get to your studio, Roman remember the night of the gala.

You had worn this elegant black dress. He snapped two pictures of you that night. One of you looking so shy and demure, and the other just lost in the moment being the on the balcony of the suite, enjoying the night air.

They reminded him of all the sides of you that he loved. He had to admit a few shots he had seen in the paper of the two of them made him happy. They had come out, just right.

“I’ll call when we want to head back to the club.” He told his driver, when he slid from the rolls.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the key you had given him. Almost feeling like he was in his club, your loudly playing music, greeted him.

He smiled when he spotted you, grabbing a chair he pulled it out and sat down. He was going to enjoy this. The sight of you just dancing and singing it.

Admittedly, he smiled a little wider when he heard you add his name to the lyrics. Watching you he was once again reminded of how cute and fun you were. Truly, Roman was relieved that Zsasz had fucked up and brought you to him.

******

Finally, it has happened to me, right in front of my face

My feelings can't describe it

Finally, it has happened to me, right in front of my face

And I just cannot hide it

You continued to belt out and dance about to. But then a scream was ripped from you, when you twirled and suddenly Roman as there smiling at you.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Hi there baby.”

“Roman!” You screamed, shaking your head. You turned down the music and immediately went over to him. “What are you doing here?”

“I finished for the day.” He patted his lap. “Come, get comfortable.”

You smiled and happily draped yourself in his lap. One of your arms around his shoulders, you gave him a breathless kiss on his jaw, enjoying the scent of his aftershave tickling your senses.

“Are you going to tell me how long you saw all of that?” You gestured to where you had been dancing.

“Long enough.” He met your eyes. You could really lose yourself in that blue. “I have something for you.”

“Romy, I told you I don’t need anything. Just you.” You rested your head on his shoulder. Your one hand nestled in his soft hair, loving how it felt.

“Well, I was feeling spontaneous.” He brought his hand up, and in it he held the most beautiful bouquet you had ever seen.

“Oh this,..” You tried to find the right word. “It’s so lovely.” You pressed a big kiss onto his cheek. “Thank you.” Hopping off his lap you went to get something to put it in.

“You better get back here baby, I was enjoying you in my lap.” He gave you a wicked smile.

“I’ll be right back.” You found a vase, filled it and put the bouquet in it and happily made your way back to to Roman. “Gold thread, Roman?”

He smirked. “You are elegant and so is it.” He remarked simply.

You flushed harder at his words. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“I know I am.” The touch of his smugness made your heart flutter.

Coming back over to him, you took down the pony tail and fluffed your hair.

His soft sound of appreciation made your stomach churn happily. “I know how much you like it down.”

“I certainly do.”

Returning to Roman, you decided to straddle him as he sat there. He looked so good. You sighed contently. “How am I always comfortable with you.”

“Because you were made for me.” He shrugged, as his hands settled on your hips.

You smirked. “So are you going to kiss me?”

He drew close but stopped just short of kissing you. “You want me to?”

“Its least you can do after scaring me half to death.”

“I suppose, but I did love watching you.”

“Kiss me to show me how much.”

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-susperia @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj

[msgrumpygills]

I've been saying this for a while, but yes Danneel is just better than Geneva. D seems more legit, sincere and her posts don't feel forced or fake. It also helps that Jensen doesn't act like he hates his home or family, so there's that also. Meanwhile Geneva tries to show off and pull the ''family goals'' thing, it doesn't work as Jared doesn't even seem to care. Instead, it comes off as flat, forced and fake, and often downright gives second hand embarrassment to audiences.

For example look at D's new pride post and Jensen's response. They just feel like a natural couple and a happy family. That's not the case with Pads however, and... I just don't get their mindset at this point.

You've asked if Geneva follows the anti-blogs or not-- I don't think it's a conspiracy theorist mindset to question that. It's not like she doesn't know that anti-blogs exist. And also consider the SPN fandoms 'toxicity' and that how there are fans out there who criticize or just outright hate on both D and G... they are both aware of the blogs' existence. It wouldn't surprise me to see that Geneva sometimes search such blogs in order to get an opinion/idea from what ppl say about her or Jared or her family in general.

I won't lie, when this blog first started, I disliked D and Gen equally, but I think that D has kind of had a humbling moment? Not sure what it was, but she seems like a different person than she was when I started this blog.

I know there are people who think that Jensen and D aren't together but are co-parenting, and some who say they're still happily married. I have thought both options, but I'm not so sure where I stand now. I will agree though that Jensen and D seem a lot more comfortable with each other and seem to at least be able to tolerate each other for more than an hour. Even when they're out and about, they're (from what I've seen, it's been a while) at least acting like they enjoy each other. I think it says a lot that even though D hasn't had much of a social media presence lately, she is STILL seen as more genuine and more likable than Geneva who desperately posts all the damn time. The Ackles' STILL look like the more real and genuine family and they don't have to try. That's the point though, Geneva tries way too hard. Just take the L, sis.

I also really respect Jensen and D for not shoving phones and cameras in the kids' faces at every moment for content and ads. Before anyone calls me a hypocrite here, when they do post the kids, it's genuine pictures that a regular ol' family would take while doing activities, living life, etc. It's never manufactured and fake looking, it just seems like the nice neighbors next door would post.

While I'm on a roll here, when the Ackles' do have pictures with the kids or post them, everyone looks like they're genuinely enjoying themselves. Now I know that kids aren't always feeling 100, that's just not realistic, but they seem like they're having fun together (and the Ackles' aren't monetizing their bad days along with the good ones.)

Also, look at the difference in Jensen's kid posts and Jared's kid posts. Jensen acts like he's proud to be a father, you can tell that he really does care about his kids and when he gets the chance, he spends any time he can with them. The only complaints from him that I've seen about the kids are that they're growing too fast, or that they can't be with him when he's working. Jared on the other hand, bitches about his kids any chance he gets and races for the opportunity to stay away from home as long as he can. He acts like some frat boy that knocked up his girlfriend 3 times and refuses to take any responsibility for the kiddos.

I think it's getting even more suspicious that Gen keeps trying to post more candid shots instead of the photoshoot ones. Maybe D's post successes in the last week have made Geneva realize that she's just not gonna get those likes she's so desperate for unless she changes something.

Unlikely, but maybe.

[canonicallysoulmates]

Jensen was, once again, on Rosenbaum’s podcast; he had been on it last year it was a really good interview if you haven’t heard it I highly recommend it I also recommend checking out this new/more recent appearance it’s up for free on youtube I’ll leave a link at the end of this post in case you wanna check it out. I will say they don’t talk about the content of the final two episodes - this came out today (edit: yesterday, Sep 8th, since i’m posting after 12am) but the interview happened when the boys were starting their Canada quarantine -  so if you’re looking for info regarding the final episodes of the show you’re not gonna find it here, however, just like with the first time he was in the podcast, if you wanna hear two people who have known each other for a while talk then check it out. This was a bit more structured imo than the first time he was on the podcast. 

I, personally, am glad Jensen was on the podcast again because I really enjoyed his first appearance in it and I like Rosenbaum’s more laid back interview that’s more like a conversation style I think he gets people to open up more than they usually would in a more formal interview. 

There were some things that stood out to me so this is going to be a semi-recap type opinion post. Also, for the sake of convenience, from henceforth Michael Rosenbaum will be referred to as MR. 

- Even before the interview starts there’s something I loved and it’s MR saying/stating that j2 are the leads of the show, thank you MR for knowing what so many in this fandom fail to ❤ 

- Jensen spend a good chunk of this interview being fond over Jared and making them sound super married, and it started right at the beginning around 4 minutes in when after mentioning that some changes have been done to the final two epi scripts and that there were some things they could no longer do due to covid, MR - for some reason....(do you know something rosenbaum 👀😂) - goes “like you and jared can’t make out” and Jensen without missing a beat replies that corona or no corona he and Jared are making out...😏

- After some, actually pretty cool talk about how things are currently working bts and such, Jensen, once again, talks about Jared. MR and him were having a conversation about some changes that have been made for filming due to covid including the longer lunch breaks which turned the conversation on to food on set and MR asked if there was some go-to that catering knew to make for him like when he arrived on set in the morning so of course Jensen replied by talking about what Jared usually has for breakfast on set which is a breakfast burrito and he couldn’t resist mentioning the fact that Jared and him bicker about it because Jared likes to say he doesn’t eat breakfast to which Jensen points out the burrito and Jared insists that it doesn’t count- they sound so married I can’t fucking deal. Also, I love Jensen’s...fond laugh when he mentions that he and Jared get into “arguments” about it, he’s so soft for his boy 🥰  When he does get around to answering the question of what he usually gets he once again brings up the burrito, he says he usually gets breakfast on his way to work, a coffee and a simple, breakfast sandwich...so when he goes to the studio he won’t be tempted to go to catering and order a giant breakfast burrito. I wonder how many times they’ve argued over that damn burrito 😂

- MR asked Jensen if, after 15 years, he and Jared have their ups and downs and annoy the shit out of each other or if they’re like ‘I love him’ all the time. Jensen replied that over 15yrs there are moments when he’s like ‘I don’t need to see him right now’ but that for the most part the majority of the time “they’re buddies hanging out”

- One of the most interesting parts comes after MR asks who has the shortest fuse on set. And, Jensen, unsurprisingly to me, replies that it’s Jared who has the short fuse. I say unsurprisingly because while we as a fandom have gotten used to seeing Jared being silly, kind, sweet and caring to the point where some think of him as completely helpless, he can actually be very serious and professional, and I’ve always been of the thought that he is sweet up to a point reach that point and you’ll be in trouble. So, I wasn’t surprised to hear Jensen say Jared is the one with the short fuse, I also wasn’t surprised by him say that he likes to light Jared’s fuse, or that he knows how to get under Jared’s skin. 

Jensen also said that his and Jared’s frustrations tend to line up, so if something isn’t working or frustrating he’ll quickly bring it up to Jared or Jared will quickly bring it up to him; he also knows how depending on the severity whether Jared will get wound up and heads will roll or whether he’ll be able to diffuse the situation. That’s...a lot to unpack. Him saying that if something ain’t working or is frustrating they’ll quickly bring it up to one another makes me think of all the times they’ve said that they made each other a promise back in s1 to never let things escalate between them to the point it did when they had that big fight back then, it’s kind of in the same line but like because of him saying depending on the severity and if heads will roll it also sounds like he’s referring to maybe problems with a crew members or something maybe someone stepping out of line (which actually later on he does say they have had some situations over the years where new people will come in like guards and not treat their crew member the right way) and like just them having each others backs at work and protecting each other. Also, I think it says a lot about how well Jensen knows Jared that he knows whether Jared is going to snap about something or if he’ll able to calm him down. And it sounds like he’s the one in charge of cooling Jared down if something does happen that winds him up. 

He also said the few times that he has snapped Jared tends to be behind him ready to help with the insults if need be in others words Jared has his back. 

He also mentioned that there have been situations where they’ve had new people come in and not treat other crew members well so he and Jared have had to step in and let that person know the behavior that is expected of them, that makes me respect them even more like it’s no surprise spn truly is their show and for years guest stars have praised them specifically, for the environment that they have created and maintained on set- the way Jensen puts it is that they have had to put their producer hats on that they don’t actually own, I’ll forever be bitter that they never got a seat at the writer’s/producers table because they fucking deserve producer credits for this show with all the work they put into it that goes beyond acting in it. [timestamp]

- MR pretending to be Jensen: “you know Daneel- your wife”. I don’t know why this made me loose my shit, there’s just something hilarious about MR bringing up D and pointing out to Jensen that he’s talking about his wife as if Jensen had forgotten who he was married too 😂 (although considering how many times Jensen said Jared’s name and the whole making out thing I can’t blame MR for thinking Jensen had forgotten, silly rosenbaum he didn’t forget that’s why he kept talking about jared 😜)

- Jensen gave a cool funfact! Originally, the production wanted to get Bruce Campbell to play present-day John, back in s1, since JDM wasn’t that much older than the boys but for some reason or the other they weren’t able to get him so they decided instead to gray up JDM a bit and have him play an older version of himself! I wish Bruce Campbell would have appeared on the show because that would have been awesome but I’m glad they kept JDM playing John, I can’t imagine anybody else bringing that character to life. 

- Another interesting moment- or I guess not really interesting just something that stood out to me is that when MR asked if it had been hard to isolate and quarantine with D and the kids for 5 months Jensen said that it had been hard but he and D had a solid partnership, friendship, relationship....instead of just saying marriage. Which encompasses those three words. He went with three words that could be used to describe a relationship with a romantic partner, or just a friend which actually- it sounded less like he was talking about his wife and more about a friend who he’s raising his kids with. 

- They talked a little bit about Jensen’s album with MR even playing a bit of it and praising Jensen for his voice 🥰

- At the end Jensen opens up a bit about his mental health and how quarantine affected it and while he doesn’t go into detail he does say his kids kept him from falling into a depression and that there were days where he found himself lost. 

I am going to sound like a little bit of a *censored* because while he was talking about this at one point he mentions how his kids give him purpose and push him to find something to do and he starts listing things and one of them is making the kids dinner, setting them up with a movie then having a date in the kitchen with his wife which got a snort out of me because a couple months ago he did the How Are You Today interview and said he and D hadn’t gone on a date in months and yes, you could make the argument that he meant gone out as in to a restaurant but it sounded like he meant in general so when he brought that as an example of something he could do I just went *snort* yeah right. That being said, I think he brought that up more as an example than anything else but it did make me go ‘sure jan’. 

That moment aside, I think this might be the first time I’ve seen him open up about his mental health and struggles he might be having with it, I’m proud of him for talking about it even though it does seem like a topic he doesn’t feel fully comfortable sharing with the public which is completely valid.

Jensen on Inside of You with Michael Rosenbaum September 8th 2020

[cajunquandary]

Whispers of the Desert

Pairing | Reader, Sam, Dean

Summary | When the reader takes time for herself in the mountainous desert of far-west Texas, the last thing she expected was to have to fight for her life.

W/C | 6100

Warnings | Canon-level violence, blood, drowning and nightmares. It’s angsty.

A/N | Several years ago, I took a trip to Big Bend State Park, which is the setting for this tale. While there, my better half shared some folklore from his heritage. This was written in part for @supernatural-jackles​ SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge. Prompt is in bold. Happy spooky-season, y’all.

The can of beans bubbled gently over the open fire. You stirred them carefully, as not to spill the contents or allow them to burn on the bottom. Little else is worse than burned beans. Using a well-worn cotton kerchief, you reach quickly to remove the can from the flames, cussing to yourself as the smoldering metal burns straight through the thin cloth to your fingers. The can lands next to you on the ground in a whap, a few rebellious beans jumping overboard as the can tipped and wiggled to a stop. You place the burned digits in your mouth one at a time in an attempt to suck the zinging pain away quickly then give up, wiping them on your dusty jeans with a sigh of resignation.  

The sleepy spotted hound to the left of you continued to snore, exhausted from the heat of the day and the journey thus far. You’d been hunting for months straight without so much as a full night of rest and decided to take a weekend to yourself, far away from humans and monsters. You smile at the dog, glad to have such a loyal companion. Training him had been surprisingly easy, you reminisced while blowing on a spoonful of dinner-in-a-can to cool it.

You don’t quite remember when you stopped being a “normal” kid, if ever you were, and became a hunter. There was no dramatic intro, no amazing story—only a few ghosts and some salt. You sniggered at the thought, recalling how you’d been hooked on the Supernatural books as a kid, reading well beyond your grade level. So, when the time came that you actually confronted the supernatural in real life, you already had the answers. It was easy. You still weren’t sure about all the larger plots, like apocalypses and the Winchester boys, but the basic lore was solid.

Just a few years ago, you remembered being so lonely that it was throwing you off your game. Even though you craved human contact, you could never give more than a one-night stand on occasion. Loving me is a death sentence, you replayed over and over in your mind.

After a not-so-great hunt, you limped into a shelter, asking for the dog least likely to ever find a home. A puppy was unceremoniously thrown into your arms, the staff begging you to take it and go, as they were already struggling and couldn’t afford to keep a dog like this for long. Walking back to your old blue truck, you looked down at the small, fragile thing. Spotted all over, ears floppy and forlorn eyes that broke your heart. “A mutt,” they’d called it. One that just wouldn’t be wanted in that town. A runt and only surviving pup in a litter from a mix of a large, skinny hound dog and an even bigger, meaner pit bull.

As he’d grown, you trained him to hunt as well, bringing home bits of monster so he could learn the different scents and be able to tell you what may be approaching before you were caught off guard. The mutt grew up strong and confident with a huge loving heart.

On the rare occasion you make a public appearance in a town—any town—young children would come running to him, pulling on his ears and shoving their hands down his throat. He loved the attention. You couldn’t help but to smile, thinking that he would have been the perfect family dog, then sink into heart ache, realizing that the life you led would never allow for such a thing… that the two of you would likely both perish bloody at the hands of beasts.

You were scraping the bottom of the can now, grateful for the nourishment, when a shadow crept closer, curious of this new thing in its home.

Mutt sensed you stiffen and slowly turn your head to the midnight intruder. His hackles raised as he sniffed the air, a low, nearly inaudible rumble beginning deep in his chest as a warning. The waning light of the fire cast short, fleeting glimpses of the visitor. You dropped your shoulders and relaxed. It was only a coyote. Most people would be frightened by the animals if confronted in such a way, but you were familiar with them and with their mannerisms. You gently laid a hand on Mutt to reassure him that all was well. He trusted you fully, hackles lowering slightly, standing down.

The coyote lowered his head, sniffing towards your discarded can. You locked eyes with the scavenger, mirroring its movements. Its jowls drew back slightly, revealing short, sharp teeth in a smiling sneer. You drew back yours as well, baring your teeth and adjusting your features until your brows furrowed and eyes dared it to move closer. After a moment, the wild dog went back to a resting face, blowing from its nose and licking the air in peace. On swift, silent paws, it turned and trotted away in defeat, using the light of the Milky Way to guide it to its next meal.

You smiled and shook your head. Though during the day, the mountainsides and valleys looked barren and empty except for cactus and an occasional pile of wild grasses, the nights were always vibrant and teeming with life. Off in the distance, a chorus of howls echoed off of the cliffs and across the canyon below, rising and falling, sounding off in one direction, then another, then both. Cool winds of night lifted the solemn song through the air, carrying it for miles as if it were a raptor weightlessly gliding over the terrain.

Mutt released a tired huff, a bit of caliche dust stirring in a small curling puff in front of his nose. You killed the now flameless glowing embers with a swift kick of dust and your boot, smooshing it until the ash was cool. You climbed into the front seat of the truck, Mutt right on your heels. He laid next to you on the faded carpet as you sprawled across the bench seat and kicked off your boots. Folding your arm under your head, it was merely seconds before your mind fell to black.

 The largest owl you’ve ever seen haunted your dreams. It was persistent and aggressively following you, swooping and diving towards your head. As if being shrouded in a spell, where you could only move sluggishly as if in water and your mouth could fall open but emit no sound, was terrifying enough, the owls face would morph continuously between that of the animal and of a young woman whose face twisted in unnatural ways. More than anything, you were angry—angry at the being, angry at yourself. Frustration pushed at the seams of your sanity as your mind and body fought each other when they should have been unified and fighting against the feathered behemoth. The shape-shifting head seemed to whisper a steady string of words you couldn’t understand.

The more you labored, the heavier your limbs grew and a thick fog began creeping at the edges of your brain, poisoning every thought and emotion until there was almost nothing left. Nothing but absolute, bone-chilling, illogical fear. Quick, panicked breaths drew fire-hot air into your lungs, but you could not longer even writhe in the pain with your body completely paralyzed—suspended high above the black silhouette of desert. Every cell in your being began to swell and pull, tearing apart. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt it being ripped from your body.

Your soul.

With the last bit of strength left within you, you forced your eyes open.

Mutt whined as you came to, suddenly upright and back in the safety of your truck. The first rays of sunrise were creeping up over the horizon. You looked down, feeling coming back to your body in waves of numb tingles. You were soaked in sweat and nausea overcame you. Barely opening the door in time, you leaned out over the step and released your stomach violently, heaving for some time until there was nothing left. Right then and there, you swore off canned beans for the foreseeable future. Mutt laid his head on your shoulder, licking the beads of perspirant off your temple in concern.

When the retching and trembling stopped, the stars had been all but chased away and replaced by the soft, subtle rainbow hues of morning. You groaned and rolled over, staring at the cab roof and planning your recovery quickly. Starting a day out here already dehydrated and weak could be a death sentence.

The wind kicked up, blasting a sweet relief of fresh air into your lungs. Whistles and other unexpected noises on the breeze were fairly normal, especially during daylight exchange, but you could swear you heard the distant hoots of an owl. Mutt didn’t seem to hear anything, so you shrugged the spooky feeling off and put the keys in the ignition, ready to head into the nearest truck stop for a shower and a sports drink.

 About an hour later, you pulled your sputtering, rattling truck into the stop and parked next to a shiny black car. With windows rolled down for Mutt, you stepped out and around to get a better view of the old beauty. It was an Impala, probably a ’67 if you were to guess. You loved old cars, always wanting an El Camino for yourself one day. Even your truck was old—a faded and mildly rusty baby blue Ford. Your eyes traced and admired the curves of the car, the shine of the chrome and the matching leather interior. Everything was in perfect condition, as if it just come off of a show truck. You knelt down until you were on hands and knees, peeking up under the front of the car, taking note of the lack of rust underneath and original suspension. In all, you were impressed.

You straightened back up on your feet, adjusting your wide-brimmed hat back in its place. You went rigid, suddenly feeling a presence too close behind you for comfort. You spun on your heels, feet spaced and ready to defend yourself. It wasn’t often you had to, but once in a while, a particularly ignorant man would try to get a little too fresh with you—the small woman travelling alone.  

You weren’t prepared for this.

Only inches away, a very tall, very handsome man in flannel stood cockily, a bag of donuts in one hand, beer and jerky in the other. You slowly lifted your gaze from his chest up to his face. Shaded green eyes caught yours like a spider would a fly—you were ensnared and unable to focus on anything else around you. The rest of the world fell away bit by bit as you performed in this staring contest. He slowly popped a little donut in his mouth, the pastry filling his cheeks and dusting his lips and collar with white powder. He chewed slowly with a poker face.

“Nice car,” you managed to choke out.

The tension between the two of you was palpable now. The freckle-dusted man continued to chew, responding with a throaty, mumbled “Mhmmph.”

The door to the building opened with a ring-ding, startling you from the awkward competition. You took a step back, breaking the stare and following the alert towards an even larger man walking towards you, face buried deep in a local map. “Hey, Dean, get this—”

His eyes snapped up, assessing the standoff before him, and he shook the hair out of his face. His eyes were nothing like the other man’s—they were softer, drawn together inquisitively, the sun highlighting the different shades of green, blue and brown folded and swirled around black pupils. He stopped next to the passenger door and cocked his head to the side. “Uh, Dean. Everything alright?”

Without so much as wavering his intense regard, Dean answered the taller man. “Yeah, Sammy. She’s just admiring the car.”

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed. “Dean, we don’t have time for this. Let’s go.” He waved amicably in your direction and settled into the Impala. You crossed your arms and turned back towards Dean after shooting a smile at Sam.

A little more confident now, you returned back to your game of glares. “Can’t take a compliment, Dean?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Yeah, it’s my baby. I put a lot of work into her. Thanks.”

The man continued to stand there, looking you up and down and eyeing you warily as if you were about to explode. You shrugged off the strange encounter and turned away, throwing a “have a good day” his way before you entered the welcome air conditioning of the store.

As you pre-paid for your shower and sports drink with the clerk, you could still see the man standing there out of the corner of your eye, watching you cautiously through the window.

You took the key and headed off towards the back of the building, ready to wash away the night terrors and bizarre encounter.

When you reached your private bathroom suite, you closed and locked the door then set down your backpack and turned on the hot water in the clean, sand-colored tiled shower. Steam started to fog the mirror, but you glimpsed yourself before it went completely white. Horrified, you wiped at the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot and there was dried blood, almost black, that had trickled down your nose. Your veins were prominent and unnaturally blue, spiderwebbing across the thinner areas of skin. Your pupils were blown wide. You reached up to touch your face, confused, but your hand wandered to an itch under your ear. You leaned in closer and angled your head to see that blood had seeped from your ears as well.

You hastily stepped into the drumming water and tried to scrub away the knowledge that the nightmare may have been more than just that.

 Back at the Impala, Dean watched you through the window, unmoved from the spot he’d caught you sneaking around the Impala. When you were out of sight, he slipped into the driver’s seat, hinges protesting with a squeak.

“You okay, dude?” Sam asked.

Dean set his snacks down between them. “No, Sam. Did you see her face? I found her creeping around the car. I didn’t see any hex-bags, but I think she’s a witch.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Dean, she just looked like she had a few too many last night and maybe got in a fight.”

Dean shrugged, not willing to argue with his brother. One of his favorite things about Sam was also the worst—he always saw the good in people and, all too often, was blinded by it.

He turned up the music and peeled away from the truck stop, ready to put some distance between them and you.

 You walked back to your truck, fully refreshed and looking much more like your normal self. Mutt stood up in the front seat, tail wagging and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. As you popped up next to him, you pulled out your phone to search for the nearest library. It was time to figure out what the hell happened last night.

 The library wasn’t too far—another town over about a half hour away. It was a relatively small place, with only two computers and a few rooms. What it lacked for in size, it certainly made up for in quality and quantity for the research you required. Mutt walked silently by your side through the long, narrow passages between bookcases. Just before you reached the end, one book caught your eye.

Folklore of West Texas

You pulled it from the shelf, a familiar green eye arresting yours once more where there should have been another book on the opposite shelf. Startled, you took a stumbling step back, spine crashing into the full bookshelves behind you and digging in uncomfortably. Mutt stood at attention then, low growl emanating from bared teeth towards the stranger on the other side. You dropped your free hand to him, knowing that if he made a ruckus, you’d both be kicked out. He quieted, but still leaned into you, rigid and on high alert.

Dean rounded the corner quickly, looking down at the hackled dog and drawing his hands up quickly, as if mildly scared. “Mind calling off the attack dog?”

“Only if you tell me why you’re following me.”

“Following you—what? You’re following us!” He hissed, barely above a whisper.

Sam trotted up behind you, footfalls heavy on the old hardwood floor.

He looked from you to Dean to Mutt then to the book you were holding. Ignoring his brother’s strange demeanor, Sam asked kindly, “Hey, uh, mind if we borrow that book from you? The librarian pointed us towards it. It for research—important research.”

You gripped it tighter, suddenly feeling quite cramped in the small space and wanting to run the other direction, away from these crazy people. “Sorry, uh… Sam, is it?”

He nodded, small, thin, friendly smile coasting his lips.

“Sorry, Sam, I need it urgently. I uh… I have a paper for my college class due in like four hours and I haven’t even started. Maybe come get it tomorrow?” You hoped they would accept your lie and let you be.

Sam sighed. “Maybe we can share? There’s seating over by the computers. You can write and when you’re not using the book, maybe we can?”

You had to hand it to him, he was thoughtful and it would have been a good compromise. Unable to think of another excuse, you nodded in agreement.

 After a few hours of searching through the book and the internet, through the library computer, you found a promising lead. Something called a Lechuza bruja, a type of witch or spirit well-known around the Texas-Mexico border.

The whole time, you could feel the eyes of the men as they bore into you, watching your every move.

You stood quickly, numb legs stretching and ready to carry you away from the situation. You smiled and tipped your brim at the men and quickly walked back through the maze of shelves and to your truck. The afternoon heat hit the parts of your face not shadowed by the black hat. Once in the vehicle, you opened the cooler to check your provisions. Hmm, running low. Next stop—the market.

 Sam and Dean whispered with each other, huddled so close that their heads were nearly touching.

“A lechuga?”

Sam huffed. “No Dean, a Lechu-ZA. We aren’t fighting lettuce.”

Dean hung his head in his hands, dragging them across his hair and back down, rubbing his temples. “Frickin’ witches man,” he mumbled. At least for Dean, lettuce and witches were held in the same regard—both revolting.

 You were glad to be back out in the wide-open human-less landscape. You cracked open a cold beer from the cooler and let the fizz glide down your throat, both cooling and warming you in delightful ways. Sunset was fast approaching and painting wildfires through the sky. Atop your plateau, you could look down and see Texas to the North and East, Mexico to the South and West, and the Rio Grande snaking between them, forming an oasis along its banks. You were close enough to hear the constant, deep rumble of water. You closed your eyes, imagining people from a thousand years ago listening to the same sound.

Letting the peaceful daydream fade away, you set the beer on the hood and went to rifle through the tool box in the bed of the truck. You pushed aside the smaller items of necessity and heaved a large bag of salt over your shoulder with a grunt. You painstakingly dug a shallow trench with your heel all the way around the vehicle, filling it with an unbroken line of salt along the way.

After you prepped the truck for a sleepless night potentially fighting away ghosts and witches, you climbed into the bed of the truck with the cooler and opened a bag of jerky. Mutt enjoyed his kibble and curled up next to you, happy and relaxed, innocent of the danger that would likely find you tonight.

As the temperature dropped and the familiar refrains of coyotes filled the air with music, your eyes grew heavy. You curled into yourself, pulling the rough blanket over your shoulders. You looked up at the stars, trying to tally the larger ones to keep yourself awake. There were so many that the dark sky was not truly black anywhere—everywhere you looked there were more. Every time your eyes adjusted and focused on a dark spot, you could count even more of them as they appeared.

 Everything was true black and silent, as if you’d gone blind and deaf. This was not the desert you knew. You turned and felt the ground with your feet, trusting that your tall boots would block any cactus or unfriendly critters. You shuffled forward and tried to call out to Mutt, but the words caught in your throat. It began to constrict, as if something had you in a vice grip, crushing your windpipe from the inside out. You reflexively tried to breathe deeply, but fell to your knees, scratching at your throat, panic rising. Your eyes bugged and strained, desperate for any miniscule bit of light. You blinked hard, just to verify that your eyes were indeed open. Gasping for breath, your lungs burned and you fell onto your side, convulsing as if drowning. As numbness creeped its dark tendrils through your body, and you began to sense gravity fall away.

You continued to struggle, allowing fear to set in. Off in the distance, a light appeared. Like a shooting star destined to destroy worlds, it hurtled towards you. In mere seconds, the bright, glowing owl was there, once again sporting the glitching face of a woman contorted in sickening ways.  The owl dwarfed you, calmly flapping its wings and whispering those strange incantations that drew such agony from your breaking body.

It floated closer to you, and in the light, you could see your hair suspended as if you were fully submerged under water. When the monstrosity got within arms reach with open beak, you reeled back and punched it right in the eye.

 You woke with a start, Mutt pawing at you and barking violently. Urgently.

Shaking off the nightmare, you could taste blood in your mouth. Tears had run down your face at some point, and you hurriedly wiped them away.

The blinding light of the full moon revealed otherwise—blood. You were bleeding tears?

You withdrew a kerchief from your flannel pocket and wiped your face as you scanned the salt line. The wind had blown away several areas. You looked up at the sky and tried to calm Mutt, who was trembling for the first time since he was a small pup. The full moon snatched the breath from you, and your chest heaved. It looked exactly like the eye you’d just punched in your dream.

The night was far colder than you’d expected, the chill reaching down to your bones. That was it.

It was time to leave. This was not something you could fight on your own. You jumped from the bed of the truck and Mutt joined you in the cab. You tried to start the truck, but the engine just sputtered. You tried a few more times, then nothing—as if the battery had died.

“No no no no no,” you cursed, hitting the steering wheel with both fists.

Time seemed to slow to a stop, Mutt frozen mid-bark and facing the windshield.

A large gray owl landed on the hood and its striking yellow eyes sent shockwaves through you—overwhelming pulses of anguish. You screamed, mouth falling open and eyes shutting against the spell, trying to break its hold. A vision of a small child drowning in the river filled your mind. It was screaming, choking, begging for help.

When your eyes opened, the screams of the child urged your feet forward faster, now running full speed through the desert.

You were not in control of your body anymore, but merely a hapless passenger. Your feet betrayed you and you went tumbling down the side of the cliff, catching every sharp rock and thorn on the way down. If you had your wits, you wouldn’t have been able to move, too broken to continue. The rush of the water nearby caused your veins and arteries to constrict and pulse at a dangerously high rate. Adrenaline coursed along with your blood and you rolled and stumbled towards the river once more. In a kicking leap, you crashed into the frigid waters searching for the screaming child. The shrieks were so loud that they rattled your brain and hurt your ears, threatening to consume you. You thrashed against the strong current.

The owl screeched and swooped down, tearing at your drenched hair. The freezing black water helped ground you enough to realize that there was no child—only the horrid cries of the bird.

The Lechuza, you reminded yourself. Just as you reached for the vial of salt in your pocket, the witch-owl dove into the water, catching the back of your collar in its sharp beak, dragging you to the depths with it. Its eyes glowed, the only visible thing in the dark waters.

 Dean pulled the Impala slowly up to your truck, eyes locked on the salt circle. “Shit!” He shouted as he threw Baby into park. He bounded from the car towards the abandoned vehicle. He whipped back around towards Sam.

Sam picked up the blood-soaked kerchief in the bed of the truck and gave it to Dean. “I think we’re too late,” Sam noted, his voice faltering with the worry rising in his throat.

“I didn’t know she was a hunter! How did we not know?! The signs were all there!” Dean cursed and kicked the tire violently, throwing firsts in the air as he gripped the soiled kerchief. Of course, he blamed himself. In fact, the only reason they were out there was to gank you. Until this moment, they’d had no idea that you were another victim and not the bruja herself.

Mutt whined and cried a high pitched imperative. Dean ran back to the Impala with a long string of creative curses, retrieving two shotguns and extra witch-killing bullets. Sam opened the truck door and Mutt spilled out.

“Here boy, here,” Sam called to the frantic dog. “Take her to us. Go get her!”

Mutt seemed to understand and took off towards the southwest, nose close to the ground and paws practically levitating across the rough earth. Dean tossed the extra gun to Sam and they raced off, following the dog’s brays. They carefully descended the cliffside, sliding partway down and narrowly missing a large crevasse. The men watched in horror just as the large owl drug you beneath the waves.

 You thrashed violently against the authority of the currents and the essence of pure evil leeching into you through osmosis. Once you were fully saturated in the foul concentrate, the Lechuza Bruja reared its ugly head back, screeching at a decibel that whales would envy, resounding through your entire being and threatening to shred you to pieces. Whether it was the spell or hypothermia kicking in, your limbs grew stiff and immovable. Your lungs screamed for air until you couldn’t fight it anymore.

In that moment, you felt your very soul being stripped away, and in the void, water filled your lungs. The pain only lasted a moment more before you started to sink towards the rocky bottom, bits of freshwater weeds outstretching soft, welcoming arms. You blinked slowly one last time, looking up at the disappearing monster above you as it emerged forcefully from the opaque waters. With the fading light, you closed your eyes, ready to greet your reaper. Your limp body fell to rest with a soft thud into the bed of river grass.

 Sam dove into the water immediately, shoes and shirt flying off in a frenzy along the way. Just as he submerged, Dean angled the shotgun full of salt pellets and hit the fleeing bruja like a game of skeet. The nasty beast crumpled at his feet but did not stay still long. Dean dropped the shotgun and withdrew his pearl-handled pistol. The man-sized owl stood and flared its wings, beak agape in a blood curdling scream. Without hesitation, Dean aimed carefully and shot it center mass twice then between the eyes once in rapid succession.

The creature exploded in a ferocious affair, leaving only dust and feathers behind. Dean held his arm up, coughing into the crook of his sleeve. When the particles settled, he rushed towards where Mutt dug at the bank, barking and whining, careful not to touch the water.

“C’mon Sam,” he prayed, pacing impatiently. Just as he thrust off his own shirt and shoes to rescue both of you, Sam broke the shallow waves with a loud gasp. He held you in one arm, treading towards shore with the other. With a waterlogged body, you were more than a typical deadweight. Dean grabbed onto you when he was close enough, about waist deep in the river, feet sliding on the slippery stones. He traded a glance with Sam to make sure he was okay. Sam nodded between coughing fits.

He would be alright, but he couldn’t say the same for you. Your eyes were half open and far away, likely lost on this plane. Dean set you down on a sandy patch devoid of sharp protrusions and slammed fists on your chest. You were cold and blue.

“No no no, shit! Come on!” He yawped into the waning night. He started CPR. In desperation, he rolled you on your side and slapped your upper back hard. Your lungs rejected the water, projecting it up to a few feet away. Shallow, agonal breaths shook you furiously, your limbs going into straight, fixed positions. He sighed a minor breath of relief then picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, hoping more water would drain that way. The boys scrambled back up to the plateau where they reached the Impala in record time. Your body still racked and spasmed, trying hard to intake oxygen but still unable to expel all the water on its own. Dean handed you to Sam and jumped in the driver’s seat, breaking his “no dogs in the car EVER” rule as Mutt joined him in the front. Sam slid into the back, still pumping your chest when needed.

Dean grimaced as he flew as fast as he could down the winding, bumpy excuse for a road through Big Bend. He checked his phone, waiting anxiously for a bar of service since the nearest hospital was almost three hours away by car. “Sam, is she—?”

“Drive faster, Dean.”

The car gained air a few times, until at last Dean slammed the breaks to a sliding halt, atop a peak near the park exit. He dialed 911, pleading with the operator to send a helicopter to them like yesterday.

Minutes passed.

Dean paced outside the car, searching the sky and spinning in circles, the first rays of morning shining in his eyes. Sam pulled you from the car to the ground when you stopped breathing again. This time, he started CPR and you didn’t react.

Ten minutes.

Sam sang the Bee Gees under his breath, struggling to hold tempo and arms shaking in exhaustion. Mutt lay by your side, eyes closed and whining softly.

Dean kicked and punched at the world around him, screaming curses into the sky and towards himself, tears coming freely now as he felt the full weight of his guilt. He’d allowed another hunter to die because he couldn’t see past his own pig-headedness.

Fifteen.

Sam collapsed, arms shaking with exhaustion. Dean picked up where his brother left off with torturous thoughts raging rampant through his mind.

The long-awaited sounds of a helicopter in the distance graced their hungry ears. Sam jumped to his feet, waving wildly. He helped guide the crew to a clearing just a few yards away. Dean shielded you from the flying debris.

Two medics quickly wrapped you and continued CPR. In seconds, the helicopter was pulling away towards the rising sun.

Dean’s hands were clasped together atop his head, but internally, he was imploding.

 Your eyes opened slowly, blurred vision confusing your already muddled mind with distorted images. You winced against the cool, damp cloth brushing against your temple. You groaned as your body woke in stages, each one more painful than the last.

A solid, warm hand wrapped around your forearm. You clenched your fist in response, a sharp sting in the top of your hand. “Shhh, shh shh. You’re okay. You’re at the hospital,” the soft yet gravelly voice whispered reassuringly.

Bringing your other hand to your eyes, you roughly wiped and rubbed until you could see more clearly. You started to gag and heave at the tubes connecting your lungs to a breathing machine. You pulled and flailed, panic striking fight or flight into you once again. Nurses rushed in and your eyes followed them wide open and wild. They carefully withdrew the apparatus and strapped your limbs down, replacing it with a much gentler nasal cannula, and lastly lifting the bed so that you were sitting up slightly.

You tried to choke out questions, but the more you tried, the more it hurt. You gave in to frustrated silence and took in your surroundings. Dean was there, hovering closely, tears at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes and an apology already spilling from his mouth.

You shook your head, confused, and motioned for something to write with. He handed you a small whiteboard and expo marker.

Who are you?

“Dean Winchester.”

You looked at him, unbelieving that it could be that Winchester—the one from the Supernatural books. It was only a story, right? Yet it was all right there—the character description, the car, and even Sam. Erasing your last question, you sloppily wrote a new one.

‘The’ Dean W.? SPN Legend?

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, that one.”

You took in the view of your body—wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages, some of them still bloody.

What happened?

“You don’t remember?”

You shook your head no.

He recounted his version of the night, looking over his shoulder to make sure there were no prying ears.

You could tell it aggrieved him—the whole thing. You didn’t blame him of course; you’d almost wondered the same about him and Sam, suspecting that they may have been the evil bewitched spirit.

Sometimes, hunters die.

He placed his palm over the scribbled words, eyes cast down. “No. Not like that, not when we can stop it.” You squeezed his hand then shoved it away lightly.

I forgive you.

The words brought the large hunter to his knees. When he found the strength to lock eyes with you once more, you gave him a thin, strained smile. Looking at the band on your wrist, it was obvious he’d guessed your name and age. You jotted the correct information down and showed it to him. He smiled back.

“Nice to formally meet you, Y/N.”

You, too. What now?

Making sure the room was still clear, he leaned in. “Now, we get you out of here. Sam has your dog back at the motel. You owe me a deep clean for my car, by the way,” he quipped.

Teaming up with the Winchesters wouldn’t be the worst thing, you considered. It sure as hell beat living this empty, lonely life.

Mutt could finally have a family.

As Dean expertly snuck you out of the hospital, you weighed the pros and cons of associating with the two most wanted men on the planet. Your decision came when the Impala pulled up to the door of the first-floor room where Sam stood out front, Mutt by his feet looking happy and well fed.

Through everything, we found each other. That’s all that matters.

Come Heaven, Hell, or Beyond. You owed them your life.

FOREVERS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @manawhaat​ @supernatural-jackles​ @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch​ @bummblebeeblue​ @nothin-after-79-blog​ @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction​ @inmysparetime0​ @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer​ @arryn-nyxx​ @idk-life01​ @attorneyl​ @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby​

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278​ @will-winchester​

Tags Open

[queenmendes]

things are changing | extra

shawn x reader x connor

a/n: so I know I said this is the last part but I lied! There are proabably 2 more after this. This was a short filler that just happened so please let me know what you think and who she picks! xxx

big big big thank you to @local-neighborhood-biderman for helping me so much!

____

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been wallowing in self pity since you arrived back in Toronto. Shawn and Connor have not left your mind; along with the last moment you saw them. The anger and then regret that flashed through their eyes broke your heart. It felt like you caused all of this drama because you couldn’t choose between one boy. 

Your life became one of those romantic dramas you constantly make fun of. Of course, your pity party wasn’t getting this situation out of your mind. Memories from tour played through your head like a movie.  

Tomorrow is the first show in America. Currently, the whole team and band was explore the city of Portland. Everyone completely jittery and ready for the show to come. Tour has already been amazing. 

“Oh, let’s go in here.” You grabbed his hand and lead him into the little shop. It was small but cozy and cute. It seemed to be a jewelry shop based on the displays up front but the further you walk, the more options you see. In the back, was an older lady sitting behind a large table with different colored beads and lose, empty bands. 

“Would you like to make your own bracelets?” The lady asked, gesturing to the empty bands. You quickly nodded before picking up two of the bands and handing him one. 

“You make mine and I’ll make yours?” You suggest, smiling widely. He knew he couldn’t say no. Not to that smile. You quickly got to work, picking out the beads you wanted. Deciding to go with a more manly vibe; you picked up black, blue and some green beads. Placing them in an easy pattern on the band, you stop and grab a small white bead that had Y/F/I on it. Then you take two beads that made up your initials, sliding them onto the band along with a bead that was your favorite color. Placing it in the middle of the other beads, you quickly finish up. 

“Here.” He said, grabbing your wrist and tying your new bracelet on. You smile as you see that he put his initials on the bracelet; just like you did. 

“I love it.” You say after tying his bracelet onto his wrist. The two of you shared a big smile, before paying the lady. He quickly but gently tugs you out of the little shop, and down the streets of Portland. The two of you carefree while you had the chance. 

You’re eyes never left the bracelet that was still tied around your wrist as you replayed that memory. You haven’t taken it off since he put it on. To you, it symbolized the connection shared between the two of you. 

Denver. You were almost positive that is the city you are currently in. After travelling endlessly, it’s hard to be completely sure on where you are at. Needless to say, the show was amazing as always. The crowd was breathtaking and gave off a great vibe. Now, everyone was on their assigned bus as the journey to the next city was about to start. 

You already showered and refreshed yourself. Now, everyone was lounging around the bus, relaxing. Soon, he came and joined you; away from everyone. The smell of this fresh shampoo hit your nose and made you smile at the familiar scent.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his face awfully close to yours. You motioned to your headphones. 

“Jamming.” You smile before offering him one of the buds. He immediately recognized the familiar, smooth voice of Hozier’s Almost (Sweet Music). He sighed as he leaned back, resting one hand across his stomach and the other on your leg, tapping to the beat. 

I've got some colour back, she thinks so, too

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you

He watched in awe as you softly sang along to the words. Your voice wasn’t perfect but the look of complete and utter content on your face made everything seem perfect in this moment. 

I wouldn't know where to start  

He doesn’t know where to start with you. He could write a whole book about just your laugh. The things you did to him without even realizing. Like right now. You had no idea the effect you had on him. The way he smiled without realizing it, just by seeing yours. Or how at the sight of you, his heart jumps out of his chest. Your laugh makes him laugh. How you are goofy to put him back into a good mood when he is feeling homesick. You had no idea that your soft singing was going to be the moment he realizes how strong his feelings for you are. 

“What?” You stopped singing as you noticed him staring you; not moving, not even blinking. You sat up straight and wipe your face. “Do I have something on my face?” You asked. He quickly shook his head; his slightly damp hair flying around. 

“No. No. You’re perfect.” He whispered and you almost didn’t hear him. He smiled as you looked down, bashfully, but the smile on your lips could be seen by anyone. 

Hozier’s voice filled your apartment as you tidy up a bit. It was time for you to stop sitting around all day. But no matter what you did, something brought up another memory of him. The bracelet, to your Spotify playlist, to your favorite TV show. All of your favorite things were connected with him. 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” He grumbled as the two of you huddled on his bed in the hotel you were staying in for the night. A lot of the band and crew went out to explore but the two of you were feeling lazy and decided to stay in and have a marathon. 

“You chose the last TV show. It’s my turn.” You said as you scrolled on your laptop, looking for the series. You glanced at him from the side of your eyes and had to suppress your smile as you saw him cuddling into your blanket. “Okay, shall we begin?” You retorchically ask because he really did not have a choice. 

“So, who’s is that guy again?” “What the fuck. The siblings are lovers? What is this shit?” “Awe its a puppy.” “Why do you like this show again?” Those were a few comments he made in the first half of the episode of Game of Thrones. As annoying as he was getting, his commentary was hilarious. 

“Just hush up and watch it. I promise you will like it once the show gets going.” You said, as your head tilted up from its position on his chest. You weren’t sure when or how the two of you ended up in this position but you weren't complaining. He was warm and a great snuggle buddy. 

He wouldn’t admit it but you were right. Once he shut up and watched the show, he got really into it. So much that he watched the first 5 episodes in one sitting. 

“Alright, so it’s pretty good-” He stopped talking once he noticed you were fast asleep. You’re cheek was pressed up against his chest and your arm was wrapped around his waist; a light death grip on it. But he wasn’t complaining. You looked adorable with your mouth slightly parted and little, soft snores coming out. It made it even better that you were wearing on of his hoodies. This easily became his favorite moment between the two of you. Which is why he decided to snap a quick picture of you on his chest before shifting slightly and falling asleep next to you. He swears it was the best sleep he’s had all tour. 

Your hands softly traced over the hoodie you found in your suitcase. It seemed like a good idea to finally unpack the bag that has been sitting by the door for the past week and a half. You didn’t even realize that you took this piece of clothing with you. The all too familiar cologne hit your nose as you held the navy blue hoodie up to your chest. It didn’t hit you how much you missed him until you realized his comforting smell was almost gone from this hoodie. It made you more eager to slip it over you head and cuddle into it; wishing it was his arms instead. But you’d have to settle for the oversized hoodie. 

For now.

_________

Tag List (UNBOLD WOULD NOT LET ME TAG)

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[jayankles]

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Written for: @goodthingshappenbingo​ / @/spnonewordbingo / @spngenrebingo​

Squares Filled: Realization / tulip / angst to fluff

Word Count: 1065

Requested:  @angelwriter3895 said:I wish you would write a fic where Gabriel helps the reader through a breakup and she finds out he loves her and goes on the archangel date train. So to speak. Smut optional

Feedback is gold and appreciated since I hardly ever write for Gabe<3

“I fucking hate men, they’re all the same. Stupid. Self-centered. Do you have an ‘s’ word for cheaters?”

Sleazy comes to mind but Gabriel dares not to say anything. Y/N had just come through the doors to the bunker. He knew that when she walked in like this there was no way in heaven or hell that he was through to her.

Gabriel had seen this way too many times than he cared to admit. The tears flowing down her cheeks, the puffiness under her eyes, the way she closed in on herself but she soon replaced her demeanor with a more annoyed one and she rambled on about how all guys were assholes and how they would never be right for her no matter how charming and nice they had been at the beginning. That was always the story. 

Y/N never really had any luck with guys and when she did it never really lasted that long anyway. She thought it was her protective brothers, then she blamed it on being a hunter or a lack of a real home. Both were reasonable explanations but it still hurt that she hadn’t been able to keep a man for more than three months before they decided to call it quits. She would power through it, she always did but it still hurt her nonetheless.

Y/N had devoured a pint of her emergency ice cream and still didn’t feel any better. All the romance movies she watched made her cry even more so she resorted to poking fun at them and almost throwing a machete at the TV to make it stop.

Gabriel was there to save the day. Well, night, but semantics. He knew to leave her in her room for at least an hour to calm down before even thinking about interrupting her post break up meltdown. All Gabriel had to do was snap his fingers and happiness would be in his hand. Or Pizza as Y/N would call it.

Three taps at the door with the gold plated number eight. He had to be careful where he knocked or the drawings would slip down or the paint would peel off.

After a few seconds, he heard a sniffle before the door opened. Y/N did her best to hide behind a facade, a fake smile plastered on but it fell as soon as Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her. He knew what had happened the moment she slammed the bunker door closed. There was no use in pretending with him.

“He slept with a skank at the bar.” You wiped away another set of tears. “Why does it always end like this? I get hurt all the fucking time!”

Gabriel gave her a sad smile before he presented the pizza. “I may be an archangel and I can’t fix broken hearts or make assholes less ass-holey but the thing I can do is be here for you and help you heal. Nothing more I can do unless you want me to get rid of Travis. Because I can do that.”

With his expression, Y/N knew that in an instant - if she gave the command - Gabriel would snap his fingers and Travis’ head would explode, or be on a platter. Whatever he felt suitable, he would do it in a heartbeat, Y/N dreaded that Gabe would even go to the extreme lengths of Travis’ dick.

“Don’t go wasting your angel juice on that piece of trash. Can you just join me and we can eat this pizza? You can even choose the movie, I’m sick of these romance movies, no matter how much I love Ryan Reynolds.”

*

Gabriel had noticed a change in Y/N behaviour, she seemed a lot more happier lately and it made his heart all fuzzy. It was so weird. But he knew that it was because he was completely and utterly in love with her. Anything she did, he fawned over her.

Gabriel loved the smile on Y/N’s face when he bought her a bunch of tulips and a box of chocolates but he knew that she really got a kick from going to the demolition place. Y/N swung the sledgehammer like a champ, destroying the entirety of the room. The old vases didn’t stand a chance.

“Thank you for being a good friend. Thank you for being here for me.” Y/N said later that day, curled up against Gabriel, completely content in the archangel’s embrace, his presence comforting. Gabriel rolled his eyes before running a hand through his locks, tugging on them slightly to hide his frustration.

“Sure, as long as you’re not with assholes that treat you like shit.” Gabriel tugs Y/N a little bit tighter against him and he can’t help the fact that he’s glowing when she’s near.

*

“I think I love you.” Y/N bit her lips, her eyes darting between Gabriel’s golden eyes and his pink, plump lips.

“Well, it’s a good job because I love you too, honey buns.” Gabriel grabbed her by the hips and pulled her against him, Gabriel’s hand wandered her body, stopping just under her ass. Their lips locked and Y/N lept into Gabe’s arm.

“Y/N...Y/N...Y/N.”

“Y/N wake up.”

“Huh, what?” Y/N punched the air as Sam woke her from her dream. Her dream! She was falling for Gabe. “Sorry. Okay. Out of my room. I need a shower and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to see me naked.”

“Two things: one, gross. Two, I was going to ask what you wanted for breakfast but I’m just gonna buy a breakfast burrito and toss it on your bed. Goodbye.” Y/N rolled her eyes, spinning Sam around and pushing him out before she slammed the door behind him.

Y/N didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or let herself feel the fluttering in her stomach. The sudden realisation made her stomach do more flips than a gymnast hoping for a gold medal. She was in love with Gabriel. In love with her best friend. In love with the friend that stood by her when she was stood up, made her laugh even when she was crying. He even endured her movie marathons - no matter how cringy they were - Gabriel was always there. Gabriel was the man - archangel - for her.

Feedback is gold and appreciated

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[estherdedlock]

SPN 14.10

I am kind of curious about what the Destiel true believers thought of this episode, because to me, it’s been the best overt suggestion so far that Dean is not 100% straight all-American he-man. 

Here we have a comforting fantasy world that Michael created exclusively to keep Dean lulled into content complacency -- this is the Michael who has literally lived inside Dean’s head and presumably knows him through and through. And so what does Michael give him? A roadhouse, his brother, and his friends. There is no wife in the picture, no girlfriend, no friend with benefits. The only woman (aside from the real estate developer) is Pamela, and it is made very clear that there is nothing romantic going on between her and Dean...and to listen to Pamela, there is not much romantic ever going on with Dean.

Dean: How come you have so many boyfriends?

Pamela: You just want what you can’t have.

Dean: (laughing) Oh...

Pamela: Besides, you don’t even want me. You just like to flirt.

I don’t know what to make of that exactly, but it would seem to suggest that aside from casual flirting, Dean is not really that interested in women -- not even the very attractive, available, and sympatico woman who spends every day with him. She has a lot of boyfriends, but she knows enough about Dean to be certain that he’s never going to be one of them.

This is definitely one of those cases where you wonder if the writers are trying to tell us something about the character, or if this was just a matter of expedience. It would have been clunky and weird to have Dean in some sort of domestic bliss, to either bring back Lisa, or give Dean some whole new girlfriend or wife that we’d never seen before, but the show has done it before. In SPN 2.20 the djinn invented a similarly deceptive fantasy world that did include a significant other, nurse Carmen. That may be why they decided not to do it again -- it would have felt too much like a rehash. 

But it wouldn’t have been clunky or redundant to let the audience assume that Dean and Pamela were at least friends with benefits, if not an actual couple. That’s honestly what I did think, until the exchange I quoted above completely shut that down. It was an interesting choice.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Taken By The Wind: A Sam Winchester x Rowena McLeod Love Story Chapter 7: Purple Roses

Chapter 1: You Naughty Boy After Chapter 1: Wildfire Chapter 2: Why Thank You Chapter 3: Yes Please After Chapter 3: Hours Chapter 4: Green Velvet Chapter 5: Locked On You Chapter 6: For You, Always 

Tags: This chapter doesn’t have any of the sexy times but it does reference them. Just lots of feels. 

Thanks again to @boondoctorwho​ who I have somewhat belatedly convinced to beta for me. Thanks for getting the “damn” back and more.  Thanks @there-must-be-a-lock​ for this gorgeous chapter title card.

“I love you, Sam.” 

Rowena’s voice echoed in his memory. At the time, she had been half asleep. He had been afraid to bring it up afterward. He wasn't sure which thought terrified him more: that perhaps she didn't mean it, or that she really did.

As uncertain as he felt at times, every day one thing grew more and more sure: he loved her. He wanted to tell her. She needed to know.

She needed to know the way his whole world had gotten brighter since she came into it. She needed to know that he thought about her when he heard stupid Ed Sheeran songs on the radio. She needed to know that his arms ached to hold her.

The trouble was, he had no idea what to say. He wasn’t one of those people who threw the words around lightly. For him, love was more than a feeling. It was a commitment. Love was serious, because once he loved someone, they were family. Love was a responsibility, a promise. 

It was a feeling, of course, too. And damn, he felt it all the time. Everything reminded him of her. There wasn’t a room in the bunker that didn’t hold memories. Not just the times and places they had sex, although there were plenty of those. All the research they had done, the books they had read and the cases they had worked together. All the moments when she had smiled at him or teased him or just batted her eyes and he had come undone. His heart sped up when she was near, and his thoughts wandered to her when she was gone. Memories of her could overwhelm him with desire. His last conscious thought before sleep, and his first thought upon waking, was always of her. 

Sam felt her absence like a physical ache, her presence like a contented warmth.

Sometimes he thought that all of his life up until now had been in black and white. The moment Rowena kissed him the first time, the world burst into color. 

Most of his life, he had felt held together by duct tape and safety pins. With Rowena around, his scarred heart seemed not only mended but full. 

But that was what Rowena did to him. She awakened dreams he thought long gone. She made him try for a hope that he had thought out of reach. She made him dizzy, breathless and gasping with possibility. And at the same time, she made him deadly serious with his desire to care for her, to love her.

Dean was right. He had it bad. 

Sam couldn't keep all this love to himself any longer. But his life had required him to shield his heart. He had years of practice with hiding his emotions, locking them away. At the thought of telling Rowena he loved her, his heart soared.

But nagging doubts still echoed in his mind. 

Rowena could have any one she wanted, anyone at all. Why would she settle for him? Sure, they had chemistry, but that wasn’t love. It was asking an awful lot, especially when he had done nothing to earn her love. He had nothing to offer, had done nothing to deserve her.

He couldn’t even protect her, not that she needed him too, but even if he tried, everyone he ever cared about got hurt. He was reaching too far. Love wasn’t for him.

The one thing that could silence that voice of doubt was Rowena. When he was with her, all his questions and fears faded away. Her beauty and her presence was enough for him. Her admiration both supported him and spurred him to do more. The obvious way she expressed her need for him- it floored him. 

Being with Rowena was the most overwhelming mix of sensations. He felt so comfortable with her, perfectly seen and understood. At the same time, his heart raced with excitement every time he thought of her.  Her mere presence was exhilarating. 

He had to tell Rowena he loved her. He was pretty sure, most of the time, that she loved him too. But even if she hadn’t actually said it or meant it, he meant it. He needed to say it. 

The words burned in his chest like a live coal he couldn’t hide. The way she lifted him and grounded him all at once. The way she filled him with contentment and longing. It was love, unexpected overwhelming love. He needed to tell her and he didn't know how. 

He wanted to make it special because she was special. He needed a way to demonstrate to Rowena the depth of his feelings for her. He just didn’t know how. 

What could he get for a woman who had everything? Money, magic, power. She had access to anything she desired. And she didn't hesitate to treat herself, either. Gorgeous clothing and jewelry, luxurious spa weekends, delicious food and drink- she indulged in it all. 

If Rowena wanted something, she had it already. What could Sam offer?

It was Dean who got him pointed in the right direction, finally, making a joke about them “dating.” That’s when the realization hit Sam: he had never taken Rowena out on a date.

"A date night! You're a genius, Dean!" Sam thumped his brother's shoulder affectionately.

"Of course I am," he answered in a voice both pleased and baffled. 

Sam was already sliding into a chair and opening his laptop. Their first date had to be perfect.

But where to go? He could make it exotic, elaborate, expensive, but none of those things would impress Rowena. The only thing left was to make it an experience, something unique and personal. 

It’s not like he could take Rowena to Olive Garden. But he was Sam Winchester. Research was his thing. He scoured the internet for ideas as intensely as he had ever researched a case. 

Finally, he found it. Not a restaurant, but an experience. Once a month, a breakfast restaurant in the city opened its doors for a limited seating in the evening. They featured different chefs, each month cooking a chef's choice or tasting menu. No orders, no options, just course after course carefully planned, and paired with drinks.

Three weeks from now, they were featuring a Scottish chef. It took Sam two weeks and several hundred dollars to find someone who had booked a table and convince him to sell. 

Then he had to figure out how to ask Rowena to join him. He wanted to do more than just call or text her. He decided to send her flowers. 

But no ordinary bouquet would do. Not for a woman like her. Red roses, the traditional symbol of love, seemed cliche. Yellow roses for friendship, too platonic. White roses, too funereal. 

Finally Sam found the perfect rose: purple, for enchantment and irresistible charm. They also stood for love at first sight. He grinned to himself. Certainly not at first sight, but at first kiss, maybe. When he first began to see her for who she really was, love had followed. 

He added calla lilies for devotion and magnificence. He filled out the arrangement with fern, which could mean fascination, sincerity, magic. 

He was confident that Rowena would understand and appreciate the message of the flowers, so he kept the card simple: Friday, 5pm, wear something nice. 

Sam knew as soon as Rowena got the roses because he got a text. How nice?

He took a deep breath and sent her a picture of his dark suit and a fresh white shirt, hanging on the back of his closet door. Up until now, he had only ever worn it for cases. Wearing it for real felt different somehow. 

I’ll see you Friday.

Dean agreed to lend him the Impala for the night. Sam braced himself for usual the barrage of instructions and warnings, but instead, Dean grabbed him in a big hug. Then he pulled back, still holding him by the shoulders, to look his little brother in the eye.

“Sammy,” he said, “Go get her.”

...

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @divadinag​ @flamencodiva​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @idreamofplaid​ @kalesrebellion​ @maddiepants​ @magssteenkamp​ @onethirstyunicorn​   @the-chocolate-moose​  @there-must-be-a-lock​ @tloveswriting​

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff​ @lilsylvia​

Rowena My Queen: @lilsylvia​ @marril96

[sharysisnhmoonshadow]

10 Questions:

Tagged by @anomalous-appliances ❤️ sorry for the wait, my answers were LONG!

1. What’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you? I’ve had . . . A lot of weird shit happen to be honest. Depends on your definition of weird, and what you’re willing to believe. A few of the oddest are mentioned below.

2. Have you ever had any kind of supernatural experience? I have had several. Used to live (briefly) and spend a lot of time at a friend’s house that was haunted when I was very young. Our moms were best friends and there were four of us kids, all one to two years apart. All of us, plus several other visitors, all had encounters one way or another. The house came with rules, but otherwise whatever occupied that house was easy to coexist with. If anyone is interested I can get more in depth, but that’s a post unto itself.

More recently, several years back, my boyfriend Josh and I were donating things to a local thrift store. One of those items was a glass vase that we had set down on the pavement (donation center was outside) as we waited for an employee. The vase slid a foot by itself on an upward slant. Needless to say, we dropped our stuff off and beat a hasty retreat. It took me MONTHS to go back to that thrift store.

3. What kind of pets do you have/want? I have one black Betta fish named Gavin (named after my favorite asshole from DBH), had one gold mystery snail (RIP Roomba!), and of course my baby girl Caeli, aka the Monster. Caeli is a 14 year old ½ Arabian horse (almost a pony, she’s barely 14 hands tall). I always wanted a horse growing up, and I got Caeli when she was just seven months old. Taught her everything myself! She will be my first and last horse. Josh agreed to buy her for me as an early Valentine’s Day present. ❤️

4. Favorite place you’ve been, and why? Monterey Bay Aquarium. It’s my happy place and where I go when an emotional or spiritual recharge. I don’t even need to go with anyone! I’ll pick a day and then get up early and make the drive solo. There is nothing more magical than walking through the Open Sea exhibit while listening to Phildel. The Smithsonian Museum of Natural History is also amazing! (Only been once)

5. What’s your current fandom, and what other notable ones have you been into? Currently into DBH hard. I also love Assassin’s Creed (I have a story planed for that. I have four chapters written and a 5,000 word story outline. It’s a daunting undertaking), and of course I love SPN! I read a lot of MCU and HP as well. Yu Yu Hakusho (way back, Kurama was my first Cosplay). Transformers (G1, the first Bayverse movie only (even then it’s love/hate), and the Bumlebee movie). My favorite OCs come from my TF/SPN crossover series Disregarded. My main character Jodi is also the first asexual I have ever written. 🥰 I’m also being dragged (willingly) into the Witcher fandom by all the amazing content people have been putting out! (Now I’m two episodes in and I love Geralt’s relationship with his horse, and Jaskier is just adorable)

6. Favorite fanfic trope (it’s a good question!)? OOOOOOooohh, I love so many? I’m a sucker for soulmates, time travel fix its, and found family in a wide variety of flavors. I’m weak for characters being fiercely protective of each other, and love nothing more than hurt/comfort as a result. Give me fluff, and angst with a happy ending! Also love a well written Sentinel/Guide AU (never seen the source material but I love when the mechanics are applied to fics, and there are some fantastic fics out there!)

7. What’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you? Josh and I were at a red light, discussing an upcoming anime convention. We were excited and did this little synchronized dance with alternating fist pumps to the air. We look over and this stone faced biker on a Harley was staring at us. This guy was like a living stereotype. Skullcap. Sunglasses. Big beard. Biking leathers. Light turns green and he guns it, and then cuts in front of us. This dude lets go of his handlebars, does our fist pump dance and then roars away on his bike. We were dying in hysterics! We still love telling that story!

8. What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten? Soursop smoothie. This was delightful if you’re a fruit lover (spoiler, I am!). I have also had Sweetbread, and I am not a fan (it’s not sweet and not bread).

9. Combine some animals into a new creature. What would it be? When I was in elementary school I was asked to create my own creature for a habitat. I was assigned desert. The resulting critter was this wolf/cheetah/hyena thing with webbed paws, long ass legs, Ginormous ears and a weaponized tail. I called it a Carthage and I still want one So BAD!

10. What’s your favorite thing to cook/bake? Cook- Taco Salad. It’s easy and my repertoire is tiny! Bake- pumpkin chocolate chunk cookies. It was a baking improvisation that turned out delicious! I’ll happily offer the recipe if anyone is interested! And Adult Butterbeer! (Aka a bottle of cream soda with 1 ½ shots of butterscotch schnapps!)

Now, what to pick for my questions? Hmmm.

Favorite fanfic trope? ( it really is a good question!)

Favorite dessert, and/or favorite breakfast?

Ever been to a convention and/or festival? It there’s a lot then what was your favorite?

Your ideal form of transportation or dream car?

What’s the most outrageous hair you’ve had?

Urban living or wide open spaces?

What fictional character would you genuinely want to meet?

Favorite holiday?

Beverage of choice?

Favorite extinct creature? If none, then favorite Pokémon! 😉

(No Pressure!) Tagging: @berry--blonde @ausp-ice @ilikechampagne @its-a-lisbee @the-horny-bisexual-spaniard

Anyone who feels like playing really! Fun if ur bored. Not pressure!

[profoundnet]

Profound Member Post - April 2019

Header by @cryptomoon​​ and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirely during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR APRIL 2019! (sorry for the late one!)

Masterpost below the cut.

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160​ - MaggieMaybe160

Love is a Random Wednesday

400 word fic for a one word prompt based on the word "Love"

Tags: Extreme Fluff

SFW

Regarding Us

(s12e11 Fic) Dean's memory is quickly fading. As Sam and Rowena scramble to find a way to reverse it, Cas tells Dean their story.

Tags: Major Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Grief and Mourning

SFW

No Way to Heal

Remember that handprint Castiel left on Dean’s shoulder? Dean can feel it flair with pain when Cas is in danger.

Tags: Major Character Death, Unrequited Love, Angst

SFW

Be My Superman

Steve is a total dork. Cute, but completely off limits and not at all Dean’s type. He either forgets to take off his work vest, or just doesn’t care. He’s constantly wearing that royal blue polyester vest that could blind anyone if the sun hit it right. His nametag is always pinned just perfectly over his chest, declaring him “Steve.” His dark brown hair is combed, parted on the side, and gelled in place. His eyes are the most stunning part of him. They’re a gorgeous blue that shine and Dean tries not to look for too long because he’s also pretty sure Steve is straight.

Tags: Canon Divergent. Two Sided Love Triangle. Fluff and Angst. Sick Dean Winchester.

SFW

The Eldritch Horrors and Dean 

(post episode s14e14) Michael is gone. The bunker is calm. Cas finally comes clean to the Winchesters about the deal he made with the Empty. While Dean deals with this news, Amelia Bedelia, the Eldritch Horror, is freed and starts to wreak havoc all over Lebanon.

Tags: Major Character Death. Angst and Crack. Murder. Horror.

SFW

The Size of Our Rainbow

Dean and Cas try out a new dildo on Cas because it's too big for Dean. Fic for Pic exchange with my friend.

Tags: Size Kink. Bottom Cas/Top Dean. Porn Without Plot. Anal Sex. Blow job. Rimming. Dildo play.

NSFW

With art by @demonfleet​

April Fools in the Bunker

It's April Fools Day in the bunker. With the Winchesters and their pranks, will Cas and Jack live up to the prank wars? This bunker is in a war zone.

Tags: Crack Fic. April Fools Day Pranks.

SFW

drawlight - @drawlight​ - drawlight

Terminus Est

The gates close every night at the final, ninth, toll of the bell. Nox. They have never failed. Dean has forgotten the time and is outside. No one survives a night out past the gates after Nox. That is the time of darkness; that is where the Others walk.

Tags: Post-Apocalypse, Android Castiel, Forbidden Love, Medieval Analogue, First Time, Alternate Universe - Dystopia

NSFW 

shealynn88 - @shealynn88​ - shealynn88

Are We Human

Set generally mid-S5. "Dean glances over, wondering how much time it takes for light to bounce from Cas’s cheek to Dean’s eyes. How long for Cas to be seen. And if that light ever makes it back to whatever is inside that human vessel he carries around like another trench coat."

Tags: Stolen Moments, First Kiss

SFW

LeafZelindor - @leafzelindor​ - LeafZelindor 

The Scent of You 

Cas really has a thing for Dean's smell, he just hasn't told Dean that. Stealing his clothes might not be the best answer, but it'll do for now.

Tags: supernaturalkinkbingo2019, scent kink, pining,

NSFW

CrowleyLovesUSUK - @crowley-loves-usuk - CrowleyLovesUSUK

A/S/L

When Dean Winchester’s fiancé announced that she was pregnant by another man and walked out, Dean swore off relationships. He couldn’t even bring himself to have casual sex, with the notable exception of a single eye-opening night. Three years later, Dean’s brother Sam has had enough. A sibling argument leads to Dean signing up for a popular dating site, ‘A Profound Bond.’ When Dean’s first match opens their chat conversation with an outdated query, Dean has to decide if he can move past the other man’s awkward 1990s introduction, and finally take another chance on love.

Tags: Alternate Universe-Modern, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Online Dating, Light BDSM, Spanking, Top Cas/Bottom Dean, Dirty Talk

NSFW

nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Like Home

Castiel's twin sister Hannah is getting married, and as the Man of Honor, he's been along for the Bridal Show and Wedding Planning ride. After talking about the last one with his best friend/roommate Dean, Dean suddenly wants to tag along (mostly for the free food). Can Cas handle pretending to be engaged to his best friend?

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Fluff, AU - Roommates, Pining, Mutual Pining, Wedding Planning, Minor Angst, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean need to use their words. SFW

Anteros

Dean is stuck on some research for a book he is writing. Thanks to some help from his friend, he is able to get an audience with the premier expert of Greek Mythology. Part 2 of the Reincarnation Tales series.

Tags: AU - 1910s, AU- Reincarnation, Past Lives, Immortality, Memory Loss, Mythology References

SFW

Blue-Eyed Guy

Cas froze as the singer broke into the chorus. He had heard that song only an hour ago. It should be a brown-eyed girl.

Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Pining, First Kiss, Singing in the Impala, Singing in the Shower, Songfic: Brown-Eyed Girl, Love Confessions, SPN Song Challenge Bingo SFW

MittensMorgul - @mittensmorgul - MittensWraith

Worst Case Scenario

Their lives have always masqueraded as works of fiction, but for anyone they've ever interacted with, there's a scarily high chance that someday they'll discover the strangest events of their lives have been immortalized in a moderately obscure series of pulp horror novels. For Sam, Dean, and Cas, this is old news. For the people who've learned the truth, it's often a life-changing experience. Here's the story of a handful of those lucky... yeah, let's call them lucky... people whose lives intersected once upon a time with the Winchesters. And the stories they get to tell the Winchesters.

Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Case Fic, wherein team free will becomes the case, Post-Canon, Sam's Orange Jacket, The Winchester Gospels (Supernatural), Sharing a Bed

NSFW

Darmys - @darmysasagiri - Darmys (Pillowfort)

Long Road Home - Home Is Where The Heart Is

Sam and Dean Winchester along with the crew of the Royal Sovereign are renegades. Their only hope lies across the fabled Highroad. There, in the birthplace of humanity they face treachery and madness, all in the quest to find a home. This is the third part of a massive space opera trilogy. Based on the original work of Alis A. Rasmussen.

Tags: AU - The Highroad Trilogy, AU - Space Opera, Past Benny/Dean, Past Dean/Nick Munroe, Robot!Baby, Canon Typical deaths, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Racism, Referenced Past Rape/Non-con

SFW

A Bite to Remember 

Alphas can't mate Alphas, everyone knows this, or do they?

Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Alpha,Alpha!Cas, Alpha!Dean, Mating, Bites, Come Inflation, Top!Cas/Bottom!Dean, Messy Bottom Alpha Dean, One Night Stands

NSFW

Jemariel - @jemariel - Jemariel 

Chicken Soup for Breakfast

Written for a Two AU prompt challenge: Werewolf AU + Sick fic

Tags: hurt/comfort, werewolf!Cas, sick fic, SFW

iCeDreams - iCeDreams

Look at this Food (Isn't it Neat?)

Dean swims up to shore and steals one of the best things he's ever tasted.

Tags: Little Mermaid Elements, Fairy Tale, Mermaid Dean, Hamburger

SFW

Dive Bars, Beers, and Names

Castiel isn't usually asked for his name, but when he does, he certainly has opinions on how he's called.

Tags: Walk Into A Bar, Sassy Castiel

SFW

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blueeyesandpie - @blueeyesandpie - blueeyesandpie

No Right to Ask, No Reason to Give

Existential dread totally pairs well with spontaneous love confessions. Right?

Tags: Episode 14x20 coda, love confessions, canon compliant, angst, canon typical violence

SFW

Time is a Flat Circle

Lineart headshot of Castiel from sharkfish's Riptides.

Tags: Castiel, drug use (marijuana)

SFW

For a fic by Sharkfish

Wandering Angel

Illustration of Castiel from MaggieMaybe160's Wandering Angel.

Tags: Castiel, grief, past MCD in fic

SFW

For a fic by @maggiemaybe160

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Carrieosity - @carrieosity - Carrieosity (Pillowfort)

Castiel, in Loco Parentis

Some days at Castiel's library are harder than others. (Prompt from saltnhalo: "Fantasy AU with librarian Cas.") Notes: Based on an actual event at my own library, to me personally. (Though with less magic involvement.)

Tags: Librarian Castiel, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Fairies, Libraries

SFW

One for the Books

When Castiel is selected to serve on an award council for the national library association, Dean couldn't be more proud of his amazing boyfriend. He had no idea what was about to happen. (Or: Castiel apologizes for nearly burying them both alive in piles of books with a promise and a question.) Part 5 of the "Understanding That Reference" series!

Tags: Librarian Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Libraries,Books, Fluff and Humor, Marriage Proposal

SFW

Make a Little History, Baby

When Dean chose his thesis subject, he wanted to capture someone else's fascinating story. He had no idea it would turn into a story of his own. (Tumblr prompt, anonymous: "What about archivist Castiel and grad student Dean? Maybe they finally meet after corresponding long-distance when Dean finally gets a small grant for travel funds for his dissertation?)

Tags: Archivist Castiel, Graduate Student Dean, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gratuitous History, Self-Indulgent, Long-Distance Friendship, Friends to Lovers

SFW

Hear Him Calling for my Soul

Castiel's soulmark was heartbreaking; Dean had no soulmark at all. Of course, at the end of the world, nobody's paying attention to soulmarks at all any more, let alone what they might mean. (Prompt, from holy-tax-accountant: "apocalypse/soulmate? Destiel or DCJ - Please and thanks so much")

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Human, First Meetings, Deaf Character, Deaf Dean Winchester, Soulmarks

Payback is a Bitch, Jerk

Dean and Sam have been embroiled in a prank war for most of their lives. Some things are off-limits, though. Luckily, Dean's new coworker might have a solution. (Prompt: "Prank War/Nurse (or hospital) AU; Destiel!")

Tags: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Human, First Meetings, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Bees, Fluff and Humor

SFW

[idreamofplaid]

The You I Never Knew-Part 1

Summary: Dean opens up to the reader and connects with her in a way she never thought possible.

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam mentioned

Word Count: 1796

Warnings: Oral (female receiving; fingering)

A/N: I’m writing a series y’all! Why is this important? I’ve never finished one before though I’ve started a few. This is the one. It’s inspired by a dream @thisismysecrethappyplace had and shared with me. Thank you, Ally! She is my beta/cheerleader to see me through this thing. Then I’ll go back and give those other babies the completion they deserve! 🙂

The bunker was home. I couldn’t have asked for a better one even if it was unconventional. I took to it immediately. The place was full of books, ancient artifacts, and some rooms that still remained unexplored. My love of books and archiving the contents of the bunker made me perfect for research.

I loved living with Sam and Dean. Growing up I hadn’t had much stability in my life. My parents had died in a car accident when I was five, and I’d been bounced from one relative to another until I was eighteen. Then I struck out on my own.

Those first few years I spent trying to establish a life for myself were lonely. I found a job as a waitress. It was pretty dead end, but it paid the bills. That diner where I worked was the place I met Sam and Dean. They stayed in town for a few days. When they left, I was in the backseat of the Impala leaving with them. 

Dean had asked me to come along. I think he liked the way he could talk to me. I’ve always been good at listening, mostly because the best way to reveal as little as possible about myself is to keep the focus on someone else by letting them talk.

Dean was interesting though. I didn’t mind hearing him talk at all. Once I moved into the bunker, we spent plenty of late nights in my room with a pizza and a six pack of beer. He told me what it was like growing up, the way he was trained to be a hunter and how he knew more about weapons than how to have relationships with people. He’d only had his brother when he was a kid.

That explained a lot about him now. Dean’s emotional walls were thick. It was no easy thing to get behind them, but he’d let me in. I felt a little bad about not returning the favor. I’d thought about it. The thing was, how was I supposed to tell someone who looked like Dean that I had practically no experience with dating. The truth was I hated it. Most guys were only interested in women who looked like the ones that flirted with Dean, the ones he went home with.

The men I’d come in contact with never got past the way I looked to get to know me. I had begun to doubt if I had anything to offer a man at all. Then Dean Winchester with that impossibly beautiful face of his would smile at me and bite his bottom lip like maybe I did. He was looking at me like that now. It was late; I’d had a few beers, and I was feeling nice and relaxed. I told myself the alcohol had me seeing things.

The next thing I saw was a smile curling at the corners of Dean’s mouth. In hindsight, there should have been warning bells going off in my head. Maybe if I had more experience with men, they would have. I could have seen it coming. Instead, I watched Dean practically bounce off the end of my bed and turn to tell me he’d be right back.

When Dean reappeared in my doorway, he was holding a bottle of whiskey. “Want to have a real drink with me, Y/N?” I don’t think Dean was trying to get me drunk. He probably assumed I was more used to it than I am. I don’t think he planned on getting drunk either, but that’s what happened.

It wasn’t the “I want to get numb and forget my life” kind of drunk. It was more the “I want to open up and drop my inhibitions” kind of drunk, and did he ever. Dean’s lips tasted like whiskey the first time they touched mine. The kiss was soft and slow. As his tongue parted my lips, I felt his hand slide into my hair and cradle the back of my head. His other arm went around my waist.

I forgot to feel self conscious about him touching me there. I’d always thought there was too much of me around my middle, but the way that kiss made me feel left my head floating from more than the liquor. When Dean turned up the intensity of the kiss, he slid his hand lower and rested it firmly on my ass. The one that had been holding the back of my head moved down my back to the bottom of my t-shirt.

It felt like Dean’s fingers were barely touching me, like they were gliding up my spine. When he got to the back of my bra and popped open the first hook, I gasped right into his mouth. Dean stopped kissing me and looked at me with eyes the dark green of a forest as the sun’s coming up, before the light has fully shone upon it. He asked me, “Is this okay?” All I could do was nod. His full, soft lips settled on my neck, and he started to suck drawing little sounds of pleasure from me while he finished opening my bra. Then Dean left a trail of kisses across my jaw before he reached my mouth again, and he kissed me with a renewed intensity tangling his tongue around mine.

Dean eased his hand around my side and pushed up my simple cotton bra exposing my breasts to his touch. The feel of his tongue against mine and his fingers brushing over my nipple then rolling and pinching it sent a yearning need for him straight to my core. When he guided me down to the bed, my body melted into the sheets. I lifted my arms, wrapping them around his neck and shoulders.

He slowed down making his kisses gentle and easy again like he sensed something in me. It was like Dean knew I needed this from him, knew I needed the reassurance that there wasn’t enough Kentucky bourbon in the world to make his mind so cloudy that he didn’t know what he was doing or that this was what he wanted. I only had a moment of panic when he started to inch my shirt up before his kisses quieted the fear. Dean slipped my shirt over my head and my bra straps down my arms.

I closed my eyes and held my breath. His tongue raked across one of my nipples. My back arched up off the bed, and Dean closed his mouth around my nub flicking his tongue over it until it was taut, and I reached for his head sinking my hands into his hair. That seemed to encourage him more, and he moved to the other side of my chest giving that nipple the same attention.

I was completely wet by the time he pulled my pants off taking my panties right along with them. My eyes were still closed when Dean opened my legs pushing them apart slowly and spreading me wide for whatever he wanted to do to me. I knew he’d taken his own shirt off when I felt his bare shoulders against the skin of my inner thighs. I wasn’t expecting to feel his tongue swipe up through my folds or his lips to lock around my clit and begin to suck while he pushed one thick finger inside me and started to move it in and out.

My hips were moving in the same rhythm as Dean’s hand. Once he added a second finger, it only took a few thrusts before I was coming on his mouth and fingers. My whole body shook with the force of it, and my breath was coming in little, stuttering gasps. He slipped his fingers from my body and kissed over my abdomen and straight up the center of my stomach until I felt him hovering over me.

“Look at me, Y/N.” I opened my eyes. Oh. My. God. He was gorgeous, his lips still wet from what he had done to me. “Is this what you want?”

Everything had gone soft inside me. All the resistance I might have felt

about letting myself be vulnerable and the doubt about what this could mean or how it would change things was gone. “Yes, it’s what I want.”

Sure of my willingness and desire to keep going, Dean reached for his belt and unfastened it. I took a deep breath. This was really going to happen. He stood and pushed his jeans over his hips and down his legs to the floor.

I never thought I’d see Dean naked, and he was beautiful. He was movie star handsome. His shoulders were broad; his body was muscular, and...and what the hell was I doing here? Dean didn’t give me time to think very long about that because he settled between my legs and lowered himself over me. He brushed the pad of his thumb across my cheek and looked at me like I was...special. I felt shivers across my back and down my spine. The way Dean looked at me, I had never known anything like it.

He kissed me again before he entered me. The way Dean was, he acted like it was all for me and an incredible bonus for him that he was enjoying it too. I almost had another orgasm just from the sounds he was making and knowing he was inside me. When I did climax again, he let himself find release soon after. Dean pulled the sheet up over us, and I fell asleep beside him with the warmth of his body pressed against me in what I can only describe as a euphoric state.

I don’t know how many hours had passed when I woke up. Dean was still sleeping, but my feeling of relaxed bliss was gone. What happened now? What had I just done? What was Dean going to think when he woke up? How could I face him knowing he was going to regret this, wish it’d never happened? I panicked.

It was my room, but I had to get out of there. So, as quietly as I could, I gathered my clothes and put them back on. Then I fled, leaving Dean alone in my bed. I was sure he’d want it that way.

I ran to the place in the bunker that, after my own room, was the most comfortable to me. I went to the archives. Once there, I hid in the back corner between the shelves. It felt like they were closing in on me, and I didn’t mind. Right now, I wished they’d swallow me up. Since they wouldn’t, I sank to the floor and cried.

Tags: @tumbler-tidbits @oldfreakything @maddiepants @mrs-meghan-winchester @dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardbaby @evansrogerskitten @emoryhemsworth @wotinspntarnation @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @sandlee44 @cosicas-cuquis @ackleholicwinchester @mariekoukie6661 @akhuna01 @sorenmarie87 @coffee-obsessed-writer @winecatsandpizza @mirandaaustin93 @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @its-a-spn-thing @death-unbecomes-you @hunterscabin @timelordy-fangirl2 @stusbunker @ladywinchester1967 @girl-next-door-writes