#no jo here. she gives a gentle but light pat on the shoulder and then goes back to work.

[fauvester]

affectionate cardassian kids…

[how-masterful]

Undercover

Delgado!master x reader

Summary: Finally, the Master had let you join in on field work for earth missions. His newest plan, the Keller machine, is going off without a hitch. The Doctor, however, is starting to suspect he’s seen the mysterious Professor Emil Keller’s assistant before- but more important matters are at play beyond the suspicions of a Time Lord: You’ve followed your Master’s orders perfectly, and a reward is seemingly in order...

Warnings: Lemon, EC for definite below the read more.

Notes: A return to writing for masterful! thankyou for being so patient with me, classes are finally beginning to end and so expect more fic’s to be released soon (perhaps that elusive new remaster will finally come out, despite my endless promises!) This half remaster is, as usual, dedicated to my absolutely beloved @plethora-of-imagines- you might recognise this fic from a while ago, but with a few little refreshes and changes here and there. A remaster of a half remaster, if you will. I hope you enjoy this trip down memory lane, queen!

The doors to the base opened with a mechanical grind and heave, the escorting guards that flanked your side guiding you towards the entrance of the UNIT embassy in London. You turned over your shoulder, heels stood upon the precipice of the entryway, leather gloved hand pulling your circular sunglasses down your nose. You met the gaze of the Brigadier, Doctor and Jo- your eyes lined with a dark kohl and red lips quirking up into a smirk. 

"Will we be seeing you again, officer?" Jo asked, her voice sweet as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her blazer. You nodded with a fond smile, turning on your heels to face them as you pushed your glasses back up your nose, brushing the blonde hairs of your wig behind your ear.

"Perhaps, Miss Grant. However it depends on how the operators here at UNIT manage to handle the situation."

The Brigadier gave his typical expression. It was a raised lip corner, signalled mostly by the movement of his moustache. The various officers at UNIT, most recently Sergeant Benton, referred to it as the Brigadiers ‘not-smile smile’: he was a professional, after all. Hiding his displeasure at his authority being questioned behind a display of decorum.

"Believe me, officer, my men are working to the highest level of capacity. This peace conference shall go off without a hitch."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. You do your Job, Brigadier, and the professor and I shall do ours."

You smiled at the Brigadier, who returned with the legendary expression once more, before turning to face the Doctor. His eyes were narrowed as he inspected your face, head slightly tilted as the ends of his wild white hair and long cape coat were beginning to be caught in the invading draft. You brushed down the front of your black blazer dress, buttons shining as you adjusted your hat with a gentle push.

"Until then, Doctor."

The Time Lord hummed, hardly an answer, watching as you swiftly turned on the heel of your stilettos and headed out of the door. The Brigadier gave a sigh as the eyes of his soldiers followed you out, letting out an abrupt cough that broke the men's gazes from the length of your dress.

“I’m guessing I should consider making that uniform mandatory for you too, since you’re so interested in its design.”

The men quickly resumed whatever work they’d been momentarily distracted from. The Brigadier turned towards his scientific officer with a further movement of his facial hair.

"Honestly, it's as if they've never seen a lady in uniform before."

Jo frowned, shaking her head before turning to the Doctor. He was still following after you, eyes narrow as you clutched your briefcase and elegantly slid into the waiting military vehicle down the steps. Jo sighed loudly as you went.

"Oh Doctor, not you too!"

"That woman seemed familiar. Far too familiar for a stranger, Far too familiar for a supposed visitor from Switzerland, anyway."

Jo rolled her eyes and smiled fondly up at the larger man.

"Doctor, I'm sure you've met many soldiers in your lifetime. Maybe you’re just misremembering?"

"Quite the contrary, Jo. I never forget a face. And my gut is telling me that face will be nothing but trouble."

The Brigadier shook his head, giving a light chuckle as he patted the Doctor on the back.

"Come along now, Doctor. She seemed like a professional young girl. You're more than likely worrying over nothing. That apprehension in your stomach can't be anything more than the result of you skipping breakfast."

The Doctor sighed, Jo taking it as a triumphant sign of his relenting.

"Speaking of food, I'm positively famished. Mike said he’d order some sandwiches from that nice little café around the corner earlier. Coming, Brigadier?"

The Brigadier rolled his eyes.

“I suppose it would be delectable of me to keep captain Yates from his obviously rigid lunch schedule.”

The humans parted, discussing such trivial things as food. But the Doctor knew something was definitely wrong. He'd seen your face before, the memory scratching at his brain. All these pieces were beginning to look like disjointed parts of a puzzle: this Keller machine, the peace conference, and now his strange sense of familiarity. He just needed to find out what was going on, and quickly- before his suspicion came far too late to prevent.

You met his eyes one last time as the vehicle door slammed shut, his curious expression suddenly being hidden by a veil of window tint as the engine revved and began to pull out onto the busy road.

By the time the military car had reached its drop off point, late afternoon clouds had begun to fall over london. You thanked the driver, standing under the early light of the street lamp as you watched the vehicle escape down the road and turn the corner back towards UNIT headquarters. You smirked, turning on your heels once more before heading down the street in the ever growing black of the soon to be evening.

A small skip entered your step as you made your way past the row of houses, a giggle escaping your lips. How your Master's plan was coming together wonderfully, your heart practically racing at the thought of his next attempt at world domination. You could see it now, yourself and the Master stood side by side, watching the destruction of earth as he whispered in your ear how good of a girl you were. It was simply dreamy to imagine: and now professor Emil Keller was about to make it happen.

You reached the end of the street, excitement brimming in your stomach as you caught sight of the large, sleek black car and the glassy eyed driver in the front seat. The man nodded at your presence, turning over his shoulder and speaking to the passenger in the back seat. The tinted window to the rear passenger side door cracked open slightly, cigar smoke billowing out into the night. He hopped out of the driving seat and pulled open the door swiftly as you arrived at the side of the car, the cigar quickly discarded out the window as a familiar voice sent comforting shivers down your spine.

"Come inside, my dear- it's frightfully chilly out there at this hour."

You giggled happily at the Master, sliding into the leather interior of the car and placing yourself firmly into his side. He grasped your chin softly, guiding your face to meet his as you dissolved into a tender, welcoming kiss. You pulled your glasses from your face, discarding them to the side as you buried yourself in the waiting arms of the Master. His coat was warm, smelling just like his cologne and lined with luscious fur, something he’d picked out for himself on a planet during one of your various trips.

The timelord knocked on the roof of the car with his knuckles, the hypnotised driver pushing on the ignition as the windows to the vehicle rolled all the way up.

"Master, I missed you." you admitted into the fur of his jacket, a smile appearing on the Master's lips as you made yourself comfortable. He stole another kiss from you, this time a sweeter, more chaste peck.

"As did I, my dear girl. As did I."

Your blush was positively adorable. The Master looked you up and down, a smile settling to a playful smirk at your rather exciting disguise. You noticed his gaze, lifting his chin with your fingers to meet your eyes.

"What do you think of the disguise?"

The Master grinned, watching you unabashedly attempt to seek his approval.

"You're positively radiant, my love. Even a fabulous disguise such as this can't hide your beauty."

You smiled, pleased with the praise you’d received. You sank back into his embrace, watching the road pass through the front windscreen as your head rested upon his shoulder.

"I never thought I'd sink low enough to be a UNIT officer."

"No doubt you were the most beautiful officer there."

You giggled once more, scratching the underside of the Master's beard. He hummed in delight, pulling you closer to his side. He enjoyed this little game of yours that you were currently playing.

"And no doubt it wasn't my face they were busy looking at."

The Master's face dared to sour at the notion, but you pressed a sweet kiss to his hand, pecking the leather just above where his wedding band lay on his finger. He sighed, relenting to your pledging kiss. At least you knew who you belonged to, even if those perverted, prying officers back at UNIT didn't. He'd enjoy pulling out every eyeball from every officer  that dared to objectify you, but he currently enjoyed the thought of your company more. Besides, there were bigger plans in motion than petty, small-scale revenge.

"I trust you were not only stealing hearts, but were successful in your little task I set you, hmm?"

You beamed up at the timelord with a gasp, nodding with vigour and patting the briefcase at your side. The Master had finally let you out into the field on earth- he relied on you greatly during his plans in distant galaxies, letting you play pretend and dress up to cause as much mischief as you desired. But there was something about earth, about the idea of a human opponent, that made him keep you close to his side. This was an exciting change of pace.

"Yes Master. Documents, files, plans, anything and everything that I could get my hands on. There's nothing more thrilling than seeing 'top secret, keep out.' In big red letters on a dossier. How can a girl resist?"

The Master smiled widely, obviously thrilled, pulling you into his lap and rewarding you with a kiss to your forehead. You squealed happily, head resting on his shoulder as his hands came to rest on your lower back and thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh sat taught against the tight fitting material.

"Good girl, my darling- What a good girl you are. You've made your Master very happy indeed, my dear. How proud he is of his best, most obedient girl."

Your whole body curled up tighter in his arms, pure happiness coursing through your veins. Master was proud, Master was happy. He was drowning you in buckets of praise and telling you everything you wished to hear. It was all you could hope for.

You kissed the underside of his jaw, trembling slightly as his cold, leather clad fingers began to wander up and down your thigh. You allowed your own fingers to trail along his jawline, leather gloves against his skin in return making him almost purr with Joy.

"Your Master couldn't ask for a better, more beautiful girl to obey his every command with no hesitation. How perfect you are. Nobody could ever compare."

You moaned softly. You gathered your strength, pulling yourself from his lap to straddle his waist, hands gripping the fur of his collar as you pressed your foreheads together. Your noses brushed together in collision as his lips teased yours, tension building in your core as you felt his hands move to support your behind as you adjusted your position.

"Please, please Master... Say it. Say it for your good girl."

You bit your lip, stifling a moan as an arm curled around your lower back and a hand came to grasp your chin, thumb pulling your lip from your teeth and brushing over the red stained skin.

"Own me, command me. Tell me I'm yours."

The Master chuckled, voice low as you began to grind against his suit pants. He treasured how much you desired to be under his command, the power his words had over your mind.

"My darling girl, your mind and body belong to me: obey me, obey your Masters every command."

You moaned louder than before, grinding harder against his lap- you could feel his growing hard beneath you, a drawn out 'yes' escaping your lips. The Master purred darkly, snapping his teeth together as you grasped hold of his face in your hands.

"My precious girl, irreplaceable and invaluable. Obey me, pledge yourself to me"

You groaned even louder, eyes fluttering shut as your noses brushed together, your tongue slowly teasing his top lip as he gazed up at you with hungry, heavy eyes. His words were sending chills up your spine, more than the cold outside ever could.

"Master... I’m yours. Every part of me belongs to you, every part of me desperate to serve you. To please you. To be owned. Please, show me I exist only to please you."

Your words were obviously getting him hot and bothered. You pushed off his coat, allowing it to fall against the leather seat, rapidly pulling your hands to your dress as you undid the buttons that lead from your neck to just below your bust. You pushed open the material, exposing your bare chest against his as you pushed your ass further back into his groping hands, his fingers trailing to tug at the hems of your stockings and the lacy material of your panties- which were already painfully damp.

The Master snarled, lips moving to nip and bite at your now exposed neck. His tongue licked at the sensitive skin as he allowed his lips to trail over your breasts. A filthy groan dripped from your tongue as you fought to undo the zipper on his pants, your breath caught in your throat as he suddenly growled at the sensation of your wandering fingers.

He grasped hold on your hands, causing you to whine, pulling them up to his mouth with a sneer and biting at the leather material. Each glove was yanked from your hand by his teeth, his lips racing to kiss your wedding ring which shone upon your finger. You purred, a noise that seemingly pleased him, as a leather gloved hand grasped hold of your throat while another moved to grasp tight purchase of your ass.

Your fingers nimbly fought to undo the zipper and the remaining button on his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers and beginning to stroke it with well practiced precision. With a sharp tug your panties were pulled from under your dress, the lace slipping down your thighs and being hastily pulled off your ankles and dropped to the floor. Anticipation was crippling you, your head thrown back as the Master guided your hips to slide you carefully onto his ready and waiting cock.

The back of the car was filled with your excruciating gasp, the fierce moan rippling from your throat as both of his arms wrapped around your back to support you. Your hands once again found his neck, your arms wrapping around it as you fisted into his salt and pepper hair. Instantly the pair of you dived against each other's lips, your moans muffled within each other's mouths as you began to ride him on the backseat of the car. His tongue was precise, warm and tender inside your mouth as his fingertips dragged down your back, beginning an ecstasy fuelled sensory overload.

You whined, desperate for the connection, whimpering his name into his mouth. 

"Take it off... Master, please."

He seemed to understand perfectly- and to share the sentiment, his gloved fingers furiously fighting to unbutton the rest of your dress and push the black garment to the car floor. You gasped at the rush of chill on your back, pushing yourself deep onto his cock as you swivelled your hips and allowed yourself to bounce on his lap- his fingertips stroking up your spine, grasping hold of the black cap and blonde wig that hid underneath it. He pulled off what was left of your disguise, letting your hair fall free as you skilfully rode him in nothing but your heels, stockings and bra. The sight was sinful to the highest degree. Thank god your driver was hypnotised, or the noises you were making would cause him a dangerous distraction.

Moans and whimpers fell from your lips, your whines combined with the Master's harsh grunts creating a symphony of pleasure in the backseat of the car. You were practically falling apart in his lap, putty in his hands, desperately rocking your hips and grinding down as he supported you from beneath. You allowed your head to throw back, tears almost streaming down your cheeks at the waves of pleasure ravishing over your entire body. The Master was deliberate, thrusting hard and in time with your grinding as you both rode towards satisfaction as the car sped down the road. 

It was positively thrilling, your movements melting together as you felt him handle you like his most precious treasure. It was an utter delight to your system, the feeling of the Master roughly yet carefully thrusting his cock inside of you, seeking to make you utterly boneless in his arms. You could feel your climax was suddenly close, the thin veil of sweat building on your brow a symbol of your devoted effort. The Master was also close to his satisfaction, the sensation building in his core as he came closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

"Master, I'm close, I'm so close."

"Hold on, my darling. Good girl, such a good girl"

His rough voice was enough to make you cum there and then. It was the unspoken rule- you came only when he did. You both believed it was the polite thing to do in any situation.

You gave a final series of grinds before the Master eventually came with a low grunt, the sensation of release making your previous ever growing moans seem miniscule in comparison. You cried out desperately as you also came, the Master's arms wrapping around you as you tiredly slumped forward onto his chest. Both of you gasped for air, the Master carefully removing his handkerchief from his pocket and lightly dabbing at your forehead. Your chest rose and fell quickly, his own hearts racing in tandem in his chest.

You hummed, nestling into his chest and placing a trail of kisses to his neck as he mopped your exhausted brow. You smiled, curling up within his embrace, the chill of sweat causing you to shiver under his touch..

"My love, you never fail to bring me to the utmost parts of ecstasy" he murmured softly, removing the smudged eyeliner from the corner of your eye. You sniffled, sighing at the scent of his cologne on his collar, relishing in his post sex praise.

"Love you, Master. So much..." You murmured, voice small against his jacket. If it weren't for his timelord hearing, you were sure he'd struggle to understand. But he did, softly tucking your hair behind your ear and kissing your lips tenderly. You adored his after sex kisses.

"And I love you, my dear girl. Here, let me wrap you up warm. You'll catch your death, and people will stare."

You smiled tiredly, nodding as he carefully pulled his fur coat onto your exhausted body.

"We wouldn't want that, would we? I’m yours." you proclaimed, a stance that caused the Master to chuckle adoringly.

"That's right, you belong to your Master and your Master alone. And when we get home he'll wrap you up in the softest sheets, allowing you to feast on the finest delicacy in the safety of his arms. Because that's where you belong, my dear girl, after such a delightful performance."

The thought was drool worthy. You weren't sure you didn't already start. When the car arrived at the residency the Master guided you from the car, supporting your arm as you let your head rest upon his shoulder. With an instructing snap the driver grasped hold of your clothes, another guard positioned outside the house grasping hold on your briefcases. You placed a kiss to the timelord's cheek, a gesture he returned with a small boop of your nose. You blushed even harder, feeling so safe wrapped up in the warmth of his coat, leaning against his side.

"Master?" You asked softly, voice tired as you made your way up the steps.

"Yes, my beloved?" He replied, a nickname that made your whole body shiver with adoration.

“I don't think the Doctor trusts me… I think he suspects me.”

The Master tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as you whined into his collar. How adorable, you still cared for the plan even in the after sex haze. He shushed you softly as you continued to mumble against his suit jacket.

“I think he recognized-”

The Master shook his head, causing you to stop in your trail of thought.

“Later, my dear. We can discuss business in the morning. You’ve done so well.”

“But-”

The Master shushed you once more, pausing at the top of the steps of the townhouse. He held you to his chest, guiding you chin up to meet his eyes once more. You pouted softly, his thumb pulling on your bottom lip.

“A familiar face will be the least of his problems, my dear. I’ll send Chin Lee on a little mission tomorrow, a small distraction will be enough for us to continue working on the machine back at Stangmore. Trust me, my darling.”

The Master finally let go of your lip, causing you to moan softly as he pushed a stray hair from your face.

“Let's get you inside, you look positively exhausted.”

“Hmm, I wonder why.”

The Master gave a warning chuckle as you entered into the grand foyer of the townhouse, his eyes widening in a harsh refusal as the hypnotised doorman moved to take your coat. You blushed, this time from embarrassment, the Master ushering you further into the house as you pulled the coat further across your chest.

“I suppose I should take a bath. You can't take over the world while filthy.”

The Master grinned, happy his enjoyment of the finer things in life and his presentational standards had passed on to you. He held your face softly, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

“You rest now, my darling. I’ll have some dinner prepared.”

“Nothing fancy, Master. Consider my appetite firmly satiated.”

You wiggled your eyebrows as the Master shook his head, a small giggle escaping from your lips as you began to head upstairs. You considered yourself lucky you could get away with such cheek.

“If you insist, my dear. I’ll send one of the men out to get something quote unquote ‘’not fancy’. I heard there's a lovely quaint little bistro just around the corner”

The Master raised a confused eyebrow as your laughter echoed from the top of the stairs.

[soupyboysforlife]

Suits/Rainbows

Day 2/3 of Ink/Suptober

Dean pulled at the itchy fabric, mumbling under his breath about hating the feeling. His face gave him away. A smile pulled at his mouth and his eyes shone with excitement. “Dean, it’s not even for one day. Cut the crap,” Sammy said, adjusting his tie, “It’s your wedding day.”

“You’re right, no more whining. Today is going to be great,” he said, taking a nervous breath.

“It will be,” Sam reassured him, patting him on the shoulder. He brought his wrist up, checking the time on his watch, “Cas should be here soon. Are you gonna see each other before it starts?”

“Isn’t that bad luck or something?” Dean asked, “Or is that just for a bride?”

“Huh, I didn’t think about it like that.”

Just then, the door opened. Charlie peeked her head in, “He’s here,” she said, her face lighting up when she saw Dean and Sam, “Awe, you two look amazing!” Dean flushed at the praise. He looked at himself in the mirror. Despite how uncomfortable the suit was, it fit him perfectly. “Oh, I have something for you,” Charlie said, stepping into the room. She shut the door behind her, Something was clutched in her hand. Once she was in the room she held it up. Dean laughed when he saw the tiny bisexual pride flag in her hands. The silky material shone in the light. “It’s a pocket square, for your suit. I gave one to Cas too,” She smiled, handing it to Dean.

Dean accepted it gratefully. Something on the corner of the cloth caught his eye. His breath hitched when he saw the letters embroidered into it. ‘CW’ and ‘DW’ intertwined in swirly gold lettering. He traced his fingers over them as tears started to well up in his eyes. This was happening. Really happening.

“Dean? You okay?” Sam asked, looking at him worried.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, hoping his voice sounded steady. He reached up, whipping away some of the tears that had spilled over. “Yeah,” he said again more confidently, “Thanks, Charlie. I love it.” He pulled her into a tight hug.

“Anything for you guys, you helped me so much, it's the least I could do,” she said into his shoulder. “I’d better change,” she pulled out of the hug. “Your groom awaits you,” she said with a bow before heading out the door.

Dean watched her go, turning back to the mirror once the door shut. He folded the napkin up and put it in his pocket, making sure every color was visible. It added a nice contrast to the black suit and tie. He smiled at the reflection. “I’m ready,” he said, adjusting the tie one more time before looking over towards Sam.

Sam smiled at him, “Let’s go.”

Dean followed him out into the hall. Cas was at the end of it, talking to Charlie. She looked over at them when they walked out. She tapped Cas’s shoulder, cuing him to turn. His smile softened when he met Dean’s eyes. He was wearing a white suit and tie with a black shirt, the inverse of Dean. A rainbow-striped pocket square poked out of his pocket. Charlie probably gave it to him.

“Hi,” he murmured once Dean made his way down the hall.

“Hi,” Dean said back.

“You look,” Cas started, gesturing with his hands when he couldn’t think of a word.

“You too,” Dean smiled, not bothering to finish the sentence. He pulled Cas into a gentle kiss, not able to wait any longer.

“Wait,” Cas said, pulling back, “Isn’t this bad luck?”

“We decided that only applies to brides. Neither of us are brides so I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay,” Dean reasoned. Cas shrugged, leaning back into the kiss.

Sam cleared his throat. Dean pulled out of the kiss, shooting him an annoyed look. He tapped his watch in response. Dean rolled his eyes, pecking Cas on the lips once more. “You look amazing, by the way,” he said, turning to Charlie.

“Yes,” Cas agreed.

“Thank you,” she smiled, smoothing down the jacket of her suit.

Bobby greeted them when they went outside. The courtyard was decked out. A large arch stood at one end. White flowers hung off of it in intervals. Rows of white, fold-up chairs surrounded the aisle leading up to it, connected by a rainbow lace rope. String lights were hung from poles staggered around the yard.

“It’s beautiful, Bobby,” Charlie breathed, admiring the scene.

“It is,” Dean agreed, smiling at him, “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Bobby smiled back.

“And thank you for agreeing to officiate, too,” Cas cut in.

“Someone needed to do it,” Bobby said.

“We should go back inside,” Dean said, “everyone will be here soon.”

“Yes, we should,” Cas agreed, his arm wrapped around Dean’s waist.

They watched as guests started filling in the seats. Time seemed to be moving too fast and yet all too slow as the seconds ticked closer to the wedding. Jack had shown up a few minutes after they had headed inside again. Dean paced the room.

“It’ll be okay,” Cas comforted, walking over to where Dean had stopped to peek out the window again. He hugged Dean from the back, his chin resting on his shoulder. Dean leaned back a little into Cas at the touch. Their cheeks pressed together.

“I know,” he hummed. He watched Sam lead Ellen, Jo, and Ash to their seats.

“Dean, look at me,” Cas said, pulling his head off Dean’s shoulder. Dean turned in his arms, “I love you. No matter what. If you don’t want this-”

“I do,” Dean interrupted.

“Okay, but if you don’t. We’ll call it off,” Cas said.

Dean knew he was trying to comfort him but his stomach sank, “Do you?” he asked, hurt creeping into his voice.

“Of course,” Cas said. Dean searched his eyes for any sign of doubt. He sighed, feeling better when he found none. “Let’s save the ‘I Do’s’ for the altar though,” he said, making Dean chuckle. He leaned up, planting a kiss on Cas’s forehead.

“It’s almost time,” Sam said, leading Charlie in through the door. Dean pulled out of Cas’s arms, meeting Sam at the door. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he muttered back nervously.

“Let’s do this thing, bitches,” Charlie exclaimed.

Jack stood in front of the door, holding a small pillow with two rings on it. Sam and Dean took their place behind him, followed by Charlie and Cas. They listened closely as the muffled noise outside the door grew quiet. It was soon replaced by the sound of an orchestra playing an instrumental version of Turning Page by Sleeping At Last.

Jack opened the door at the cue, starting the procession out. Sam offered his arm. Dean took it, taking one final deep breath before stepping forward. “You’re gonna do great,” Sam reassured him, “You got your vows?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyes flicked over the familiar faces smiling at him, fixing on the arch in front of him. Bobby stood there, dressed in a black suit. A bowtie was strung around his neck. If Dean wasn’t so nervous, he would have laughed.

Sam pulled him into a tight hug when they reached the front. “Good luck, Jerk,” He whispered to Dean.

“Bitch,” Dean chuckled back. They separated, going to their places. Dean situated himself to the right of where Bobby was standing, turning towards the door he’d just come out of. On cue, Cas and Charlie stepped out of the doorway. Heads turned and green eyes met blue as the pair strolled slowly down the aisle. They mirrored Sam and Dean when they reached the front. Cas came to stand to the left of Bobby in front of Dean.

“Hi again,” Dean whispered.

“Hi again,” Cas copied.

The music came to a stop and Bobby started talking. Dean barely registered what he was saying, focused on the man in front of him. His soon-to-be husband.

“You all know me, and if you don’t the name’s Bobby, and I have the privilege of performing the ceremony today. First off I’d like to welcome and thank you on behalf of Dean and Castiel for sharing this special day with them. By attending you celebrate with them the love they have discovered in each other and you support their decision to commit themselves to one another for the rest of their lives. Today we celebrate love. We come together to witness and proclaim the joining together of these two persons in marriage. This is the union of two individuals in heart, body, mind, and spirit, Therefore, marriage is not to be entered into lightly, but reverently, honestly, and deliberately. And it is into this union that Dean and Castiel come now to be joined.

Dean, you were more of a Son to me than anything I could have hoped for. I’m glad that you trust me enough to do this for you. Seeing you happy and in love is everything I could have wished for and more. I’m proud of you, son. Now I will admit I am a sentimental old fool so let’s get this started before I start crying,” the crowd chuckled.

“Dean, you have chosen Castiel to be your life partner. Will you love and respect him? Will you be honest with him always? Will you stand by him through whatever may come?” Bobby asked.

“I will,” Dean answered, smiling softly at Cas.

“And you Castiel, you have chosen Dean to be your life partner. Will you love and respect him? Will you be honest with him always? Will you stand by him through whatever may come?” Bobby asked again.

“I will,” Cas answered, smiling back at Dean.

“And do you both promise to make the necessary adjustments in your personal lives so that you may live in a harmonious relationship together?”

“We do,” they answered in unison.

“Now in the spirit of joy and affirmation, I want to ask your families and friends a question. Do you, the families and friends of Dean and Cas, give them your blessing and support this day, wishing them a wonderful life together?” Bobby addressed the crowd.

“We do,” they murmured in response.

“Dean and Cas, now we come to your vows. May I remind you that saying your vows are one thing but nothing is more challenging than living them day by day. What you promise today must be renewed tomorrow and each day that stretches out before you. You wrote your own so I’ll hand this off to you, Dean,” Bobby said, gesturing to him.

He took a deep breath, pulling out the piece of paper he’d scribbled his vows on, “Cas,” he started, glancing up at him nervously, “Before we met, I didn’t think I could love someone like this. I spent almost my whole life on the road, it was my past, present, and future. You changed all of that. You brought something into my life that I never thought I could have. You threw my life off course in the best, most unexpected way. We’ve been through so much, we were torn apart more times than I can count, but we always found our way back to each other. No matter what. I would be honored to spend my life with you. I love you, Cas.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Bobby said, turning to Cas, “Your turn.”

Cas smiled at him, wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corner of his eyes. He fished in his pocket, pulling out a paper that matched Dean’s, “Dean, ever since we met, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about the whole world because of you. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You have taught me so much. You showed me what true happiness and love feel like. You mean the world to me and more. There’s no one in the world I’d rather share this and every moment for the rest of my life with. I love you so much, Dean.”

At this point, sniffs were ringing from everywhere. Bobby cleared his throat, “Thank you, Cas. May I have the rings now?” Jack stepped forward, holding the pillow in his hands. Cas took one and Dean took the other. “Dean,” Bobby prompted him.

Dean cleared his throat, “Cas, I give you this ring, that you may wear it, as a symbol of the vows we have made this day. I pledge you my love and respect, my laughter and my tears. With all that I am, I honor you,” he said, taking Cas’s hand and slipping the gold ring on. He gave it a little squeeze before letting go.

“Dean, I give you this ring, that you may wear it, as a symbol of the vows we have made this day. I pledge you my love and respect, my laughter and my tears. With all that I am, I honor you,” Cas repeated, his voice thick. Dean held out his hand and Cas slipped on the ring.

“Now may those who wear these rings live in love all their days. Now may the love, which has brought you together, continue to grow and enrich your lives. May you continue to meet with courage any problems, which may arise to challenge you. May your relationship always be one of love and trust. May the happiness you share today be with you always. And may everything you have said and done here today become a living truth in your lives.

“Dean and Castiel, we have heard your promise to share your lives in marriage. We recognize and respect the covenant you have made here this day before each one of us as witnesses. Therefore in the honesty and sincerity of what you have said and done here today and by the power vested in me by the internet, it is my honor and delight to declare you married and partners in life...for life.

“You may seal your vows with a kiss,” Bobby finished, smiling. Dean lunged forward, meeting Cas halfway. He heard people cheering and clapping in the background but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was married. To Cas. And it was the best feeling in the world.

Bangs rang from either side of them, startling them out of the kiss. Rainbow confetti was falling around them. Charlie winked at him from over Cas’s shoulder, she had a confetti gun in her hand. Dean let out a full-body laugh which was promptly cut short when Cas pulled him in for another kiss.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34298860

[holylulusworld]

Danger Zone

Summary: Both brothers want you - a pleasant dream, isn’t it?

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, smut, unprotected sex, voyeurism, dom!Sam, light degrading, mentions of plan b, comforting, a hint of choking (not really), plot twist

A/N: That’s the end of the story. Read Part 1 & Part 2 first.

Divider by @writeyourmindaway​ <3

Over the last days, Dean and you walk around the bunker as if you are walking on eggshells. Whilst Sam tries to bond with you again, Dean tries to stay as far away from you as possible.

Just like now. Sam offered to prepare breakfast to break the tension, but Dean just grabbed a slice of toast and almost ran out of the kitchen.

“I should be the one acting strange,” Sam huffs, watching you poke the food with a fork, not eating. “Maybe we should talk to Dean again. He was a demon and…”

“It’s not just that, Sam,” you sigh, meeting your boyfriend's gaze. “I think he’s disappointed as I took plan B. I heard him mumbling something like ‘not worth being her baby’s father’. Do you think he hates me?”

“Y/N, the last days were not a sexual adventure you wanted on free terms. Even though you enjoyed it,” clearing his throat Sam plays with the veggies on his plate, “the demon forced you to a certain point.”

“I can’t be mad at Dean,” while you play with your food Sam grasps for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “It’s not as if I never imagined having sex with your brother. I am an awful girlfriend, Sam. How can I have dirty fantasies about your brother?”

“Baby girl, come here,” Sam rounds the kitchen island to bring you in his arms. He is just holding you, not caring you wet his shirt with your tears or that you press your body desperately to his warm chest. “I love you, okay. No matter what you will decide, I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too but,” sniffling you look up at Sam, giving him a sad smile, “I can’t help myself when I am close to your brother. I don’t know if it’s love or lust. I am confused…”

Sam’s large hand curls around your throat, letting your heart race. You feared Sam will never touch you again, give you what you need, but he’s determined to show you that even though his brother touched you, you are his girl.

“Look at you, baby girl,” Sam purrs behind you, a smirk on his lips feeling you swallow thickly. “So needy, so ready to get me inside this tight little cunt.”

“Sam, please," desperate to feel Sam you push back onto him, rubbing your slick cunt against his throbbing length. “Baby…”

“No begging, Y/N. You know the rules,” you whine, still, you shut your mouth, waiting for Sam to fill you. “My girl needs a thick Winchester cock to fuck the neediness out of her.”

No one would ever assume Sam is a dirty talker or a kinky bastard in the bedroom. He is always soft and caring around others but here he is, enjoying the fact he has you at his mercy, all strung out.

“Please,” you beg again, earning a slap to your ass. “I need you,” Sam slides his length through your folds, holding back the need to just fill you. “I want you…”

“Do you want me?” He husks against your ear, squeezing your throat a little, just to make you feel he is in control. “Is that what you want. Exchanging one brother for the other again?”

When he slips the blunt head inside you fall back against his chest, pressing the back of your head into his shoulder. “Good girl, such a good girl,” his cock splits you open, filling you perfect to bring tears to your eyes.

“So good,” you whimper, writhing on his length whilst Sam holds you to his body, not moving an inch. “Sam, please. I’ll be good.”

“You will,” Sam purrs into your ear, nibbling at your ear shell. “I know you’ll always be my good girl. Now,” the first thrust makes you cry out. Sex with Sam always teeters on the edge of pain, the good kind of pain. “Just relax, Y/N.”

“I want to feel you, Sam,” you are flat on your belly seconds later, Sam doesn��t give you time to take a breath before he’s back inside of you, not caring you will feel him for days. “Please.”

Dean is pacing around the hallway. Moments ago, he wanted to talk to his brother and you, now he must listen to your moans whilst his brother calls you his girl.

“His girl, never mine,” mumbling the words Dean presses his head against the door, even though the noises you make for the wrong brother let his heart clench in his chest. “Never mine…”

“Sam,” your body jolts toward the headboard with every powerful snap of his hips.

Sam is wild tonight, like an alpha ready to mark his territory again. “Take me, baby girl. All of me is yours. Can you feel me in your belly?”

You would answer Sam but the way he holds your hips in a tight grip, his cock slamming into you and the fact you heard Dean call your name outside the room presses nothing but cries and moans out of you.

“Yeah, I think you will come for me. Maybe we invite Dean to watch and use this tight pussy too,” you can hear the anger in Sam’s voice but he calls for his brother before you can answer. “Come inside and watch her getting fucked, Dean.”

“Sam,” you fist the sheets, try anything to keep the approaching high at bay. “I want to cum,” Sam hums watching his brother walk into the room. “There he is baby girl. Now ask Dean to let you cum.”

“Please, D’, I need to cum,” tears run down your cheeks. Your body craves the toe-curling and earth-shattering release, but the elder brother looks at Sam, a smirk on his lips. “Please?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Did you earn it? Did you tell Sammy you’re sorry for fucking his big brother?” you nod eagerly, giving Dean your sweetest pout, the one he cannot resist. “I think she deserves to cum, Sammy.”

“You heard Dean,” another thrust and another dirty word leaving the brother's lips and you are a goner. You shiver feeling Dean fist your hair roughly while his brother still pumps into you as if he wants to break you tonight.

“I-uh, god,” you look at Dean, never breaking-eye contact whilst his brother pushes you over the edge. Dean steals the silent scream with his lips, smirking as he can see Sam slip out of you to cum all over your ass.

“If you go in bare, pull out. We don’t need little Winchesters yet,” Sam smirks, slapping your ass before he leaves the bed. “She’s all yours, brother.”

“My pleasure,” Dean grins, while you cannot process your boyfriend just offered you to his brother, the demon he wanted to kill not days ago. “I’ll be gentle, sweetheart. Just fuck the neediness out of you.”

Dean crawls onto the bed, growling your name and your world turns upside down when your boyfriend sits on the bed to watch his brother slide home in one go.

“That’s our girl, look at her, Dean,” Sam praises a soft smile on his lips. You nod eagerly, feeling lightheaded. Your vision becomes blurry and before you can bring out a word you lose consciousness.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Celeste pats your cheek. “It’s normal to pass out before a wedding.”

Looking up at your friend with wide and fearful eyes you swallow the lump in your throat, remembering the man who waits at the altar, the man you chose over the brothers years ago.

“I…I don’t feel good,” you get up to run toward the exit of the church, panting heavily as the door flings open and two men enter the church. “Sam? Dean?”

“We didn’t want to miss the wedding,” Dean stammers, not meeting your eyes. “I know we never talked after Sam came to the motel room, but I thought.”

“I…I mean we decided we should at least say ‘hi’ and congratulations,” Sam clears his throat, hiding the aching in his heart.

It has been two years since that night, the night Sam freed you. You ran, and never looked back, but here and now you look over your shoulder at a man you barely know waiting for you to become his wife. “I…I need to get away from here, boys. Do you know a place to be?”

“Sammy, I think we are stealing the bride,” Dean grins watching his brother pick you up to throw you over his shoulder.

“Sorry, but we are on ‘stealing the bride duty’, dude. I mean, enjoy the cake and all. I don’t think she’ll be back anytime soon,” you squeal when Sam starts to run after his brother.

“We will never let you go again, baby girl. You’re ours,” Sam pants, looking over his shoulder as your fiancé decided to chase after the brothers.

“Well, hurry up and we can talk about anything else later. I got a few bags hidden in a motel room outside of town,” giving you a wink Dean grins at your words.

“I suggest we get out of the danger zone first…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx

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

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@supernatural-bellawinchester​

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

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

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

Poly Tags

@akshi8278​

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@wolfofbluestardust​

@rintheemolion​

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twenty one) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5850 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part twenty one: It’s Dean’s turn to make an entrance in the main arena. The rides lead to an interesting business proposal by a new client, but brings a lot of doubt too. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Watching From A Distance - David Ramirez (opening scene) Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @atc74​, @manawhaat​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam​, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Saturday morning has started early for the crew of the Gold Canyon Ranch. Before the crack of dawn Benny has mucked out the stables and fed the horses, making sure they had time to digest their pellets before the show starts. Together with Jo, Y/N has hand-walked the animals who are competing today, letting them stretch their legs and graze a bit. She took extra time for Meadow, who always seems to need a moment to adjust to new surroundings. The mare was fresh today, the brisk air only fueling her feisty temper. Her owner couldn’t help but snigger when she lifted her tail and started jogging next to her instead of just strolling along, showing off to anyone who would look at her.

     It’s 8 AM when Dean puts his foot in the stirrup of the saddle, swinging his right leg over the back of the Bon Jovi, the light catching the fringe of his chaps. He pulls his hat a little tighter on his head once he’s seated, while the well-behaved stallion waits patiently for his rider to give him an aid, which he does, after adjusting the length of his reins.

     With the sun only just peeking from behind the horizon, rays break through the leaves of the trees next to the warmup area, adding to the still peaceful surroundings. The commentator isn’t blaring through the speakers yet, the ring isn’t full of other riders trying to find a spot to train without running into each other. It’s the calm before the storm, a bit of peace and quiet both horse and human appreciate. No distractions, no sensory overload for the inexperienced stallion. It’s the perfect way to introduce him to the element of competition.

Y/N has just finished filling up the water buckets in the stables and rests her arms on the fence of the small arena. She watches Dean slowly start up the beautiful palomino, its coat seemingly made from gold in the morning light. Her boyfriend is wearing clean dark jeans and a navy button up, a black Stetson to match his show outfit. Never will she get tired of watching that man ride, but dressed like he is now, she can’t take her eyes off him. Y/N sighs deeply, swooning at the sight. She really did land the most handsome cowboy in Arizona, didn’t she?

     The head wrangler seems composed as ever, not breaking a sweat over having to ride into the ring in thirty minutes, something that she admires and envies all at the same time. She wishes she could feel relaxed right before a test, instead of being the nervous wreck that she usually is. Meadow will not make her entry until later this evening and already Y/N dodged breakfast, well aware that she won’t be able to swallow a bite, stage fright blocking her throat. Just thinking about the premiere of her freestyle makes it slightly harder to breathe, but Dean takes that away when he rides past, breaking his concentration for a second and shooting her a wink and a soft smile. She chuckles as they keep a hold of each other’s gaze for a few seconds as his horse walks by. God, she wishes she has his confidence.

     Other competitors join Dean and Bon Jovi in the warm up area, but the stallion only murmurs at a mare once, its rider gently yet strictly reminding him to keep his head in the game. Before they know it, the same voice that did the commentary on last night’s barrel race competition sounds from the amplifiers.

     “Good mornin’, folks! It’s another beautiful day here at the Flagstaff Horsefair. We’re getting ready for the first class of the day, the Standlee Forage Reining Competition for four year olds. Highest overall score wins five bags of high quality horse food.”

     The commentator continues to promote the sponsors of the event, Dean giving his horse a little scratch on the shoulder when he tenses slightly as the loud voice sounds from the speakers. Aware that it will soon be their turn, the rider allows himself to enjoy the atmosphere as he casts his gaze over the other competitors. He isn’t too worried about the fixture, confident in his own skills and those of his horse.

     “Dean Winchester, two minutes!” A steward announces, looking down at his clipboard to double check the line up.      The cowboy nods in acknowledgement, directing his gaze to Y/N as he waits for her to catch up. He watches as she puts down the grooming bag next to her on the sandy arena footing, attending to the bell boots that Bon Jovi is still wearing. She unbuckles the leather clasps, putting the leg protection away.      “Would you like some water?” she offers.      He shakes his head, casually, taking in the arena. “Nah, I’m good.”

     Y/N looks up at him, trying to read what he is feeling. To her, it is strange how he doesn’t seem nervous. He’s relaxed, collected; reminding her of the still waters at Canyon Lake, where they swam together for the first time on the trail that changed everything. It is as if he can’t register the pressure that should be resting on his shoulders. Maybe he truly believed he is that good.      “Break a leg,” she speaks, fondly.      “Don’t wish that upon me, Yankee,” Dean chuckles. “Kinda need them to do my job.”        She laughs and pats him lovingly on his denim clad thigh. “I don’t know how you can be so calm.”      “Well, I have my good luck charm with me.” He lays his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “C’mere.”       She steps closer to Bon Jovi, tiptoeing to reach up while Dean leans over to level with her. His lips brush over hers softly, his nose nuzzling hers in a sweet gesture. She smiles into the gentle kiss.      “Go get’em, cowboy.”

     The wrangler straightens himself in the saddle, while his girlfriend picks up the groom bag and steps back. He guides his horse into the tunnel under the bleachers towards the arena, concentrating on the gates in front of him, waiting for them to open. The reigns feel smooth between his fingers as he drowns out the noise around him. With his free hand, he encouragingly strokes the side of Bon Jovi’s neck, his pearly white manes contrasting beautifully against his flaxen coat. He has grown accustomed to these kinds of events, his nerves not bothering him anymore. He finds solace in his work, seeing it more as fun than as a chore. He enjoys the challenge the youngsters bring him, from the initial moment of putting on a halter, to getting in a saddle, to showing them all for the very first time. In less than a year, the horses go through such growth, and it’s always a pleasure to be a part of their journey.

     “First competitor of the day is Dean Winchester, riding Bon Jovi, a stallion by Renegade. This horse is bred by Victor Hendriksen and owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch in Phoenix, Arizona.”

     Y/N watches as the palomino calmly comes through the gate, not batting an eye at his new and impressive surroundings. Submissive and willing, the stallion responds to his rider’s aids when he’s asked to halt. To witness how trustful each and every horse is with the trainer, surfaces some kind of gratification inside of her. The way Dean schools the animals isn’t based on authority or rank, but much more about collaboration and respect. It’s something she admires about him from the get go.

     Dean leads Bon Jovi through a precise pattern of figures, spins and stops. Reining is all about the athletic abilities of the horse, and the rider controlling every movement. The horse demonstrates attitude and willingness, while the signals given by the rider are nearly imperceptible. The run is evaluated by a panel of three judges, who mark each pattern individually. In this youngster class, speed isn’t key yet, but correctness is. Every stride must look effortless and relaxed, as if the animal and rider have become one. That’s exactly what is on display in the arena right now.

     With a smile of adoration across her face, Y/N leans her forearms on the steel fence, watching the head wrangler. A small crowd that got up at the crack of dawn have occupied the first rows on the bleachers and by the fence, encouraging shouts and whistles rallying the first competitor on. The young horse is so fixed on his rider, that he doesn’t even pick up on the sounds. Bon Jovi isn’t fast in the spins yet, but that’s okay, because his footwork is close to perfect. After three well executed sliding stops, Dean gives the palomino the signal to back up, his spur not even touching the horse’s flank. Submissively, he reverses until his rider drops the reins and rewards the stallion, who blows out a purr through his nose, looking up at the stands curiously when they applaud the performance, much like the commentator.

     “Well, if that ain’t setting the bar, I don’t know what is. What a solid ride from Dean Winchester and Bon Jovi!”

     While Dean exits the arena, he searches the people along the fence and on the bleachers. He’s looking for Bobby, who he finds on the sidelines. His uncle holds his gaze and gives the head wrangler a nod, telling him so much without using actual words. They haven’t spoken about the elephant in the room yet, today’s pace being far too high to squeeze in the awkward conversation, and so both men have decided for themselves to let it rest. Besides, they might have sold a number of horses yesterday, that doesn’t mean they can lean back now.

     The cowboy leads his horse back to the warm up ring, meeting his girlfriend half way.      “Good run!” she compliments, taking Bon Jovi’s reins after Dean swings his right leg over the saddle and dismounts. She shoves the water bottle in his hand this time, knowing if she had asked, he would have declined anyway.      “I had a little wobble in the second roll back, but yeah, the rest was good.” He twists off the cap and takes a swig, thirstier than he likes to admit.

     Since Dean is competing two separate horses in the same class, he’s both first and last to enter the main arena. It’s going to be a race against the clock, and he looks around the warm-up area in search for his next four-legged dance partner.      “Where’s Jo? Ringo is up in thirty minutes.”      “Better get off your high horse, Mister, otherwise this is the last time I’ll tack up for you,” his cousin replies snappily, appearing from behind with a bay gelding named Ringo Starr in tow.      Dean is about to counter her, but he bites his tongue, knowing she’s not kidding and will never do him a favor again if he gives her attitude. And so he mutters a ‘thanks’ under his breath when he takes the Quarterhorse from her.

     As swiftly as he got down from Bon Jovi, he now mounts Ringo, the next four year old for him to compete. As he does so, his score is announced over the speakers, but he can’t quite make out the numbers. When he glances at the scoreboard, he’s pleasantly surprised.      “218.5 points!” Y/N cries out, delighted. “That’s fantastic!”      With a content smirk adorning his features, Dean nods satisfied; that is indeed a good score. Good enough to put Bon Jovi on the podium. Good enough to ask a high price when the buyers come calling. He doesn’t have time to settle on a high cloud, though; he needs to ready Ringo for his run.

     Y/N hoists the groombag on her shoulder and takes the kind palomino stallion to exit the warm-up arena. This is her job after all, she might be dating her supervisor, she’s still the intern. They made a deal when she arrived at the ranch that Dean would not treat her differently, so she intends to do the work she’s come here to do. Jo, however, seems to have a different idea, and nudges her.      “I’ll take Jovi. You go cheer on your John Wayne.” The blonde cowgirl winks at her friend, taking over the load.

     She chuckles, handing the petite blonde the horse. Grateful to be able to see more of Dean’s horsemanship in action, she finds a spot by the fence. The sun steadily rises, casting out what was left of the night’s coolness, the light radiating down on her much warmer and brighter. Wishing she had brought a hat, the cowgirl takes off her jacket and puts it away in the groombag. She watches her boyfriend warm up Ringo, who seems a little bit more nervous, now that the ring is more crowded. His rider does a good job reassuring the young animal, though, giving the bay gelding some light exercises to keep his mind of the commotion around him, rewarding the Quarter every time he shows a sign of relaxation.

     “Beautiful day to be buying horses, isn’t it, darling?”      Y/N startles at the sudden gruff voice, snapping her head to where the sound came from. The supposedly kind words to start conversation are pronounced with a English accent, by a stranger dressed in black. The rather short man who she guesses would be somewhere in his fifties leans on the steel rail, his fingers laced together while he watches riders in the arena.

     “Y - yeah, I suppose so,” Y/N stammers, unsure how to respond.      “My apologies, where are my manners.” The man turns to her and offers his hand. “The name is Fergus. Fergus MacLeod.”      The cowgirl frowns at his introduction. She has heard of him, but has never met the owner of the MacLeod Studfarms in person.      “Y/N Y/L/N,” she returns, slightly hesitant.      “Oh, I know who you are. I’m an admirer of your work. You’re quite the talent,” the Englishman admits. “That run at the State Championships was spectacular.”

     Slightly creeped out, but not trusting her instincts entirely, she stays quiet for a moment. This is a man of great influence in the business, so she does want to hear what he has to say.      “You saw me ride?” she replies.      He nods, an amused smirk resting on his thin lips. “I did indeed, love. Talking about talent, that horse is something else as well. Meadowsweet, is her name, isn’t it?”      “Yeah...” Y/N returns, somewhat suspicious.      “Tell me; are you the owner of that lovely mare? Or are there parents and sponsors involved?”

     Her stance becomes a bit more defensive, not just because of the rapid questions that are fired at her, no matter how charming this gentleman is trying to be. No, it’s his assumption that she’s too young to own such a horse that gets to her.      “I am the owner, as a matter of fact,” she states, a new found strength in her voice.      “Good to know I am talking to the proper person then.” Her company chuckles, apparently pleased by her feisty counter. “Because I have a proposition for you.”      Before he can make her an offer, Y/N intervenes. “Meadow isn’t changing owners, if that’s where you’re headed, Mr. MacLeod.”      Fergus takes her in, narrowing his eyes slightly, but the pleased little smile remains. “I can make it worth your while.”      “I believe you can, but no matter your offer; she’s not for sale,” the cowgirl makes herself clear, a sternness in her voice that should tone the horse trader down.      It doesn’t. Instead he chuckles dryly and takes a little booklet out of the inner pocket of his black coat; it’s a cheque book. Not taking no for an answer, he pulls out a pen and writes down his signature.      “Everything is for sale, love. All one has to do is pay the right price,” he says, wisely.

     Fergus MacLeod rips off the sheet of paper, handing her the cheque. Not wanting to be downright rude, she takes it, staring at the empty line; it’s blank.      “You may write down whatever number you seem fit. It’s up to you,” the Brit elaborates. “Now that I’ve got your attention, would you happen to know where I can find Bobby Singer? I would like to have a little chat with my old friend.”      “He’s by the main arena.” She points in the direction of the entrance.      “Wonderful,” he quips. “It was a pleasure meeting you, darling.”

     A shiver runs down her spine as MacLeod walks away to find her boss. She’s highly aware that he is a very influential and important person in the industry, but he has got some nerve. Y/N might look like an innocent and timid girl, but there is no way in hell that she would ever give up Meadow, no matter how large the figure.

     She stares at the cheque, crumbling it in her hand before she stuffs it in her pocket, angrily. She has never met someone as brazen as Fergus Macleod at a show before, and she has been to enough to know. But she doesn’t want to waste time and think about the confrontation now. The cowgirl would much rather focus on her wrangler boyfriend who is wowing the judges.

     Dean’s run with Ringo Starr is another great one, and with him being the last contestant of the class, the rankings are decided the moment the score comes in. With 215.5 points, he secures the third place, behind another rider and Bon Jovi, who has held on to the lead. An impressive result, one that he knows his uncle is going to be very pleased with.

     When the Dean exits the arena, he is met by his girlfriend, who is smiling widely.      “You nailed it!” she chirps with enthusiasm.      “They did good,” Dean says, rustling Ringo’s black mane, more than satisfied with the performance of both young horses, but not taking the compliment upon himself.

     The cowboy gets down from the saddle, noticing that the gelding is tired from all the first impressions and new sensories that come with the first show. Ringo’s coat is damp, a shade darker because of the perspiration; he gave it his all. Intending to hand-walk the horse back to the stables to shower the animal and give him his hay, he strolls to exit the warm-up area, but Bobby stops him.      “Dean?” his uncle calls out, beckoning him to come over.      Y/N glances up, following Mr. Singer’s voice. Noticing that Fergus MacLeod has found who he claims to be his ‘old friend’, her face falls slightly. She wonders what the Englishman would want, and why Dean has been invited into the conversation.      Questionly, she looks back at her boyfriend and takes over Ringo from him, reckoning she should leave since it’s none of her business what will be discussed, but the man in black has different ideas.      “Y/N, do join us, and bring the horse as well, love.”      The hair on the back of Dean’s neck rises; what did he just call her? Unable to prevent his jaw from clenching, he steps towards the two ranch owners, trying to keep his cool. Who the hell is this dickhead?      “That’s Fergus MacLeod,” Y/N whispers, as if she just read his mind. “He’s the founder of some of the largest stud farms in the country and even has stables in Europe. Owns at least two dozen licenced stallions.”      The wrangler nods in acknowledgement. Great, some snobby bigshot. Very much aware that this new face might have something to offer Bobby, he keeps his mouth shut.

     “Ah, the one and only Dean Winchester,” Fergus’ grins mischievously. “Nice work there in the ring. Your uncle here told me it’s the first time those two horses are competing.”      “That’s right,” the cowboy confirms.      “Macleod is the name. Pleasure to meet ya.”      The Brit extends his hand, which Dean shakes a little firmer than normal. He’s not even sure what he’s trying to accomplish with the display of his own physical strength.

     “Fergus here is interested in buying the four year olds,” Bobby explains, apparently noticing his head wrangler’s suppressed hostility, shooting it down with a piercing stare, warningly.      Dean’s demeanor changes instantly as he raises his eyebrows. If this horse trader is going to bring the big bucks, he knows he needs to  keep himself in check for the sake of the ranch.      “Mind if I have a peek?” Macleod asks, gesturing at the horse.      “Go ahead.” Dean steps back, making room for him to inspect the horse.

     Fergus circles the horse, taking the bay gelding in from several angles. He feels the hindlegs for any swelling or abnormalities and does the same with the front legs, after Y/N has removed the bandages Ringo wore in the ring to prevent any injuries. The horse trader then proceeds to look Ringo in the face and check his teeth. After a satisfied nod the man turns around, straightens his impeccable suit. He then takes a tissue from his breast pocket and wipes his hands.      “It’s a fine looking animal you’ve got here, Singer,” he compliments. “You may take the horse away, my dear.”      Even though she isn’t fond of the degrading way he is talking to her, Y/N obliges. Taking care of the horses when she’s not riding herself is her job after all.      “Oh, and Miss Y/L/N…”      She halts the horse next to her and turns around. The Englishman has his hands in his pocket now, twinkling hazel-colored eyes looking her up and down.      “Bobby here tells me that you’re a well-educated woman. A master degree in Business & Economics? Impressive. Someone as smart as yourself has to acknowledge that it’s a good deal. I assume you will consider my offer on your horse,” he pauses, more intrigued with every detail he learns about the woman before him. “I would like to point out there’s room for six figures on that cheque. What numbers to fill in, is your choice.”

     Dean wants to snap his head at his girlfriend, but keeps his posture. Did this man just offer her several hundred thousand dollars for Meadow? Eyes wide in astonishment, he exchanges a look with his uncle, both trying to keep a straight face.      “She’s not for sale,” Y/N makes clear one more time, pronouncing the words slow to prove a point.      Amused with her stubbornness, the corner of MacLeod’s mouth twitches upward. Cocky, he holds her gaze, but eventually yields. “Very well, then. Let me know if you change your mind. The offer stands.”

     Without responding to Fergus’ tenacious reply, she turns away, nudging Ringo to follow her. The three men watch her leave, Dean knows her well enough to be able to tell that MacLeod has her blood boiling. He’s not surprised Y/N didn’t think twice about shooting the bid down. Meadow means the world to her, more than any amount of money could ever buy. But holy shit. Six figures! Realisation hits him; it would be enough money to save the Ranch.

     The Brit who made the generous offer pulls him from his thoughts. “Alright, lads. Let’s talk business, shall we?”      The three walk away from the few people that are lining around the warm-up area. A little further down, on a crossing of two paths, they stop. The little square is still quiet at this hour. Safe from lurking eyes and eavesdropping ears, they gather around one high table near a drink stand. Even though it’s a non-serve area, the influential man calls the bartender to take their order. The young guy comes back with a coke for the rider - who still has a run later this afternoon - and two bourbons. Dean didn’t even know they served whiskey at this event, let alone this early.

     MacLeod cuts right to the chase. “I will offer you thirty grand for the four year old Quarters, and I will take them off your hands right away.”      Dean doesn’t flinch, being in these kinds of conversations before. He can maintain his poker face, no matter how amble the offer. It is a negotiation after all.      The owner of the two horses thinks about it for a second, but then comes with a counter. “Forty.”      “C’mon, Bobby. Is that how you treat an old friend?” Fergus clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly after which he takes a sip from his drink. “Now, I know times are tough and that you’re experiencing difficulty staying afloat, but do realize I am already doing you a favor here. Thirty thousand dollars is more than fair.”

     The head wrangler is taken aback by the Englishman’s comment. How would he know the ranch is struggling? Did people in their close circle spill the beans?      Apparently MacLeod spots the unpleasant surprise on the faces of the men opposite of him, because he comments on it without missing a beat. “It’s a small world, lads. People talk. You should know that by now, Singer.”      Bobby moves past the comment rather quickly and ponders about the sum. Fergus isn’t wrong; it’s not just a decent offer. It’s a generous one, one he isn’t going to decline. The Englishman across the table knows it too; the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch is desperate for money.      “Cash,” he demands, accepting the original offer.      The dark haired man strokes his neatly trimmed beard. “I can arrange that.”

     The head wrangler might not like the horse trader, but he did just make this weekend ten times better. He gulps down the last of his coke, crumpling the can before he dunks it in the trash on the side of the crossroads. The cowboy figures the deal will be sealed with a handshake before they go separate ways, but MacLeod has a second matter to settle.      “I have another proposition for you.”      Having their attention, the middle aged Brit observes their reaction, his eyes full of mischief. The two members of the ranch near Phoenix share a look.      “We’re listening.” Bobby says.

     Fergus swirls his whiskey, studying the amber liquid in his glass.      “I own a stallion,” he starts off, putting the drink to his mouth in the short pause. “I bought him at the Derby Quarterhorse Auction for over a million dollars. He’s licensed, one of the best pedigrees I’ve ever seen, not to mention his conformation and movements. He already covered four hundred mares this year. I expect great things from this horse, he is supposed to bring in the money. There is one slight issue, however.”      Dean listens, intently, wondering where he is going with this. “And what would that be?”

     “The horse has some… behavioral issues,” the stud farm owner claims, careful in his choice of words. “It has quite the temperament, one his former trainers haven’t been able to use in their advantage, my advantage.”      Slowly the head wrangler begins to realize why the price MacLeod is willing to pay for the two Quarters is so steep; he is playing a game of give and take. The way the owner of this stallion is talking about money and business, calling the animal ‘it’, doesn’t sit well with him either. Where is the horse’s well-being in all of this?

     “What’s his name?” Dean likes to know.      Fergus frowns at that, clearly not understanding why it would matter, but he answers anyway. “You might have heard of this horse; his name is Cain.”      Dean has heard of the horse. The whopping 1.2 million that was paid for the talented Quarter made headlines in the industry.

     “What are these behavioral issues?” he needs to know, not taking the bait just yet.      “Typical stallion behavior; dominance is the main problem. The horse has character, what can I say?” MacLeod laughs it off. “Anyway, I am looking for a capable horseman. Someone who can actually break him in.”      The owner of the horse in question shifts his penetrating gaze from Bobby to Dean. The cowboy realizes they are at a verge of a possibly very important business deal, but he cannot stop himself from commenting on the peculiar choice of words.      “I don’t ‘break in’ horses. I teach them to trust and to cooperate,” he states firmly.      “Potato, potahto,” Fergus dismisses. “Are you up for the job, or not?”

     Dean exchanges a glance with his uncle, a silent conversation happening between them, only possible by years and years of working together.      When Bobby rights himself, he has a crucial question. “What’s in it for us?”      Again that small smile on the Englishman’s face; he knows he’s close to persuading them.

     “A thousand dollars each month, paid in advance, and a fifty grand bonus when Cain successfully completes the stallion performance tests in April. Plus, five percent of his earnings in coverage for the coming year. After he passes the exams, we can set up a contract in order for you to remain his permanent rider,” MacLeod sums up.

     Bobby analyzes the offer. It’s tempting in many aspects. Fergus just mentioned that the stallion already covered four hundred mares this year. With his stud-fee being at least a thousand dollars, they are looking at twenty grand cut already. Then there’s the regular income, not to mention the bonus. This deal might be the lifeline his family business was frantically fishing for. It’s up to Dean, though. He is the one who is going to work with this horse, and the only one who can make an educated guess if it’s achievable in five months' time.

     “We would like to see Cain first,” Bobby decides, wanting to offer his head wrangler a moment to evaluate the animal.      “I’m afraid that will not be possible at this time, but I tell you what.” The Brit finishes his bourbon, setting the glass down on the high table. “The horse will be delivered to your property and you will have a week to decide if you want to take on this job. If not, no hard feelings.”

     Dean glances aside, spotting the slight nod of his uncle. Seems like they can’t go wrong here; if Cain turns out to be more difficult than Fergus leads on, they can always send him back.      “You got yourself a deal,” Bobby concludes, extending his hand to the man in black.      “Splendid.” The horse trader smirks, delighted with the arrangement they agreed on, shaking their hands. When he grips Dean’s hand tight, he looks him deep in the eye, as if he recognizes something in the handsome cowboy.

     “You’re John’s boy, aren’t ya?” he realizes. “I bought a couple of horses from that Winchester back in the day. How is he?”      Tension grips Dean’s body, the sound of his father’s name on Macleod’s tongue sending a shiver down his limbs. He tries to breathe in without it being too obvious, finding it difficult to keep his mask on.      “I wouldn’t know,” he answers curtly.

     Fergus furrows his brow at that, clearly curious as of why the two aren’t in touch anymore. He allows a silence to linger between them, their handshake holding on to the apprehensiveness.      “Hmm,” he responds at the peculiar answer. “Well, you are just like your father. I could’ve sworn it was him when I saw you in the arena earlier; spitting image. You have his ways.”

     It’s like MacLeod is deliberately trying to get under his skin, and no matter how hard the young cowboy fights it, the man he’s making a deal with is succeeding. The words spoken with that distinct English accent ring in his head, much louder than they were pronounced, cracking like a whip on his back. You are just like your father. You have his ways.

     Dean releases the stallion owner’s hand, quickly slipping his into the back pockets of his jeans, drying his clammy palms on the denim. He hopes neither of the men in his company notice him shaking. He inhales through his nose, squares his shoulders and stands tall, pushing down the anxiousness that is stirring in his stomach. Disappointed in himself, he chews on the inside of his cheek in search for distraction. He can’t let a simple comment get to him like this.

     Now that he has shut down the attitude the ranch hand was giving him, the Englishman looks down on Dean with a sinister smile on his lips. He keeps a hold of the Winchester’s gaze, until he averts his green eyes. Only then MacLeod steps away.      “We’ll stay in touch. I’ll have my men pick up the two Quarters this afternoon,” Fergus announces, his long, dark overcoat swaying slightly as he turns around once more. “A pleasure doing business with ya.”

     With those words, MacLeod walks away and leaves the two men in the middle of the square. The sun is suddenly uncomfortably warm to Dean. He sniffs and takes a few steps from his uncle, as if the two or three strides would actually be enough to walk it off. He places his hands in his side and dips his hat forward when he faces Bobby again, making sure the older man can’t sense how unsettled he is. But Bobby is no fool. He knows his nephew better than the boy’s own father did, and that’s exactly what’s bothering Dean.

     “You alright?” he checks.      “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Dean returns just a little too rapidly, shrugging it off.      “Just…” His uncle is careful not to address the subject directly, yet at the same time he needs to offer the opportunity for the wrangler to vent. “With what he said about John--”      “Don’t.”

     The simple word comes out harsher than he meant it to leave his lips, the darkness in his eyes when he shoots his father-figure a glare soon replaced by regret. Dean knows Bobby is trying, like he and Ellen have for the past fifteen years. But no matter how much time passes, he can’t bring himself to talk about what happened in the past.

     His uncle isn’t mad, nor is he disappointed in his surrogate son. He just nods slowly at the dismissal, before he begins to make his way to the stables. Dean remains in the middle of the crossing, his hands still firm on his hips, closing his eyes for a moment as he breathes out. The deal they just made should bring much needed relief, but the meeting leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He gathers himself and follows after his Bobby. They have more showings to prepare for, but nothing can cast out the words spoken by Fergus MacLeod. Not the rhythmic thumping of hooves in the dirt, not the chatter and laughs produced by the growing crowd, nor the music that comes from the main arena. All he can register is the painful message, which reopens the deep scars on his heart every time they bounce off the walls inside his head.

I am just like my father.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty two here

[onfreckledwings]

hoping you’ll see (what your love means to me)

15x20 fix-it songfic. shameless feel-good fluff. because our babies deserved the world.

When Dean dies on a Thursday in November, Cas is there to welcome him at the proverbial pearly gates. Sort of.

He can’t really even call it a gate. It’s blue skies, sloping mountains, pine trees, and open fields. The sun shines more brilliantly and warmer here.

The air breathes cleaner; the breeze is cool and languid.

He doesn’t realize he’d been walking until he comes to a stop, dirt swirling around his legs. Nothing hurt: not his hip, not his knees, his back, or chest.

Nothing.

“Well at least I made it to Heaven,” Dean murmurs to himself. In the next moment, Harvelle’s appears a few yards away.

“No way.”

He walks the short distance before standing in front of the bar, and he’s smiling so wide and he can feel his laugh lines on his cheeks and the crinkles of his eyes.

Harvelle’s Roadhouse

The same neon lights in the windows, the same sign. Everything is exactly the same.

“Hell yeah,” and then he’s walking up the porch and has a palm on the door before he stills.

Dean shuts his eyes briefly before opening them with a silent chuckle. He knows who’s there. Even before he turns his head.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turns around to see Castiel standing a few yards away.

He feels his face cracking from smiling so wide, and he feels his eyes stinging with tears behind them. He faces Cas fully now, hands shoved into his pockets, and begins to walk towards him.

He ducks his head, almost shy, and glances up at him through his eyelashes. “Castiel,” he greets with pressed lips, eyes gleaming.

Heaven is strange, he thinks. He feels no sense of unease here. No nerves, no jitters. He only feels contentment. Peace. Joy.

Cas tilts his head in that fucking adorable way he does, and Dean can feel something behind his ribs melt. He stops when they are a few inches apart.

Cas’s eyes are bluer than Dean has ever seen them. Moss green and ethereal blue.

Sky and Earth.

The wind gusts gently around them. The blades of grass dance.

Cas lifts a hand and places it on Dean’s left shoulder. Cas’s shoulder. Dean smiles a small, watery thing.

“Are you...real? How-” and Dean trails off. He somehow already knows the answer. Cas squeezes his shoulder and smiles.

“Yes. It’s me.”

Dean’s eyes well up and his nose starts to tickle. He looks up to the sky and wets his lips in that way he does to hold tears at bay, before meeting blue again.

Dean reaches between them and grips Cas’s always-crooked tie. Cas looks confused at first, maybe even a little scared. But when Dean’s free hand comes to cradle the side of Cas’s neck and lets his fingers brush the strands of thick hair at its nape, Cas’s face smooths out and he stands a little taller.

One lone tear breaks free from the corner of Dean’s eye, and Cas’s thumb is there to catch it as he sweeps it over his cheekbone before cupping his jaw.

Dean tugs him close before snaking his arms around Cas’s waist under his trench coat and hugs him close, face buried in the angel’s shoulder. He melts when Cas envelopes him, cheek resting against his crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns against Dean’s back.

“You’re early,” Castiel whispers.

Dean gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, well...I’m a dumbass.” And then he’s inhaling slow and deep against Cas’s skin. Cas smells like sweet summer rain, the crisp air of fall.

He smells like Cas.

“And I missed you,” he murmurs against the warm swath of exposed skin on the angel’s neck before pressing a feather-light kiss there.

Cas seems to melt at the contact and grips Dean tighter. Dean feels fingers card through the short strands of his hair and Cas’s other hand comes up to cup the back of Dean’s head.

“I missed you too.”

Something occurs to Dean then, and he lifts his head to meet Cas’s eyes. His hands travel up Cas’s arms until they rest on his shoulders.

“Hang on...how did you get out? How did you get here?”

Cas simply smiles and gives Dean a knowing look. “Jack may have had something to do with it.”

Dean unfurls a bark of laughter from his chest before grasping that tie again.

“That’s our boy.”

Cas smiles again, and Dean thinks he’ll never ever tire of seeing it.

His eyes flit between Cas’s and his lips and back again, and he flattens his free palm on Cas’s chest, just over where his heart would be.

“Cas,” he begins, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “about what you said..before you left-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean,” Cas offers quietly. “I don’t expect-”

“Well that’s good,” he cuts Cas off, “‘cause I wasn’t really plannin’ on talkin’. I’m shit with words.”

Cas blinks quizzically. “Wha-” but he trails off when Dean grazes the stubble of his cheeks with the soft pads of his thumbs.

Dean starts to tremble slightly when he cups either side of Cas’s jaw again.

He dives in.

Their mouths slot together perfectly; Cas’s is warm and soft and pliant, and Dean brushes his tongue against the crease of Cas’s lips, and Cas lets him in.

Dean knows then that he’s in Heaven.

*

Everyone’s here.

Dean’s eyes scan the entire barroom from the table where he and Cas sit: at the bar, there’s Ellen, Jo, Ash, Bobby, and Karen discussing their hunting glory days. Charlie and Kevin are huddled with their laptops at one of the booths (because there’s WiFi in Heaven, apparently), and are probably discussing the latest sci-fi series or some other nerdy thing.

John and Mary are sitting at one of the candle-lit tables, holding hands and murmuring in each other’s ears that is always met with soft laughter.

Rufus is there too with Aretha at one end of the bar, Johnnie Walker Blue in hand. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man smile the way he is right now, so earnest and genuine.

Missouri and Pamela sit at the table nearest to Dean and Cas, talking about when Pamela séance’d Cas after Dean was rescued from Hell.

“I think he was just trying to show off in front of his boyfriend,” Pamela teases with a laugh as Missouri drops her face in one hand.

“Good Lord,” she marvels. “Some first impression there, Castiel. Burning out a woman’s eyes? Oh!”

Cas ducks his head. “It was an accident, I assure you,” and Dean can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy.

Pamela pats Cas on the back. “All in the past, sweetie. No harm done. Well, no permanent damage anyway,” and then tilts her head back in laughter. Dean can’t help but snicker.

Everything is fucking perfect.

Contentedness blooms in his belly, warming his insides until he feels like his body is humming. Everybody he has ever loved and lost in one room.

Sam, Eileen, and the others will be along, Bobby had said. And he feels complete peace knowing that Sam is in good hands, and that they will take care of each other until their times come.

Dean sits back in his chair, glass of wine in hand. They’re a bottle and a half in, celebrating Dean’s arrival, and his head is buzzing in the best possible way.

He glances at Cas from across the table through his eyelashes.

His trench coat, suit jacket, and tie are all draped on the backrest of the chair, because we gotta get you out of this holy tax accountant get up, man, and if he’s honest, Dean wants to feast his eyes a little.

Cas’s white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, and Dean’s mouth goes a little dry at the naked dip of his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Dean marvels at the ripples of muscle and bone in the angel’s forearms, his fingers itching to touch.

Dean smiles. His cheeks are warm, and something curious blossoms behind his ribs.

“Dean?”

He snaps out of his trance and meets Cas’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, and Dean realizes that he’s been caught staring.

Dean smirks. “Mhm. Jus’ enjoyin’ the view.”

Dean almost dies (again) when Cas blushes and ducks his chin with a roll of his eyes.

Yeah, he can get used to this.

The jukebox in the corner starts playing a new song, and Dean straightens in his chair with a wild grin.

“Oh hell yes,” he shouts with a slap to the table, wine bottles and glasses clattering. “I love this song. C’mon Cas, you’re dancin’ with me.” He stands and reaches for Cas with an outstretched hand.

Horror flashes across the angel’s face. “Dean, no. I’m a terrible dancer. I couldn’t-”

“Well, that makes two of us then” he says and grabs Cas’s hand and pulls him to his feet. “Come on. My ‘got-dead’ party, my rules.”

Cas groans and throws his head back with a grimace as he lets Dean guide him to the dance floor. “‘Got-dead’ party? Really?”

“Yeah, yeah, shhh,” Dean smirks as he turns to face Cas. “Here, lemme lead.”

Dean clasps Cas’s hand with his own and draws them to his chest, his other hand wrapping around his waist coming to rest on his back. Cas’s free arm mimics Dean’s.

Attached at the...everything.

Their mouths are inches apart, and Dean’s bowed legs go a little weak as he stares into Cas’s eyes. The lighting in the bar changes to ambient, almost candle-like glow.

Lying beside you, here in the dark,

Feeling your heartbeat with mine.

Softly you whisper, you're so sincere;

How could our love be so blind?

They sway somewhat in tune with the rhythm, but Dean’s a little wine drunk and accidentally steps on Cas’s toes. More than once.

“Sorry,” Dean giggles—giggles?— and lets all of his weight lean into Cas, who accepts it willingly. Dean’s lips press against his temple, and Cas hums appreciatively as Dean starts to sing low into Cas’s ear.

We sailed on together,

We drifted apart,

And here you are, by my side.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say.

So here I am, with open arms,

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

“‘s how I feel about you, you know,” Dean murmurs as he nuzzles the bolt of Castiel’s jaw. “I’m not good with words, but..,” Dean slurs and sucks a gentle kiss into his neck. “This could totally be our song.”

“Dean…” and Dean pulls back slightly at the crack in Cas’s voice. Tears spill over from those cobalt blues, and Dean’s thumbs are quick to catch them as he frames Cas’s face.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” he says through a smile, licking his lips. “You’ve got me. You always have. And I’ve got you, so…” he smiles and presses the softest of kisses to Castiel’s mouth before resting their foreheads together.

They never stop dancing.

Living without you, living alone,

This empty house seems so cold.

Wanting to hold you,

Wanting you near,

How much I wanted you home.

Now that you've come back,

Turned night into day,

I need you to stay.

“I love you,” Castiel says, and he brings their joint hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Dean’s knuckles.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and nods knowingly. It may be a little easier to accept love up here, but sometimes old habits die hard. Even in death.

“Me too,” he murmurs, and he wraps his free arm even tighter around the soft, curved line of Cas’s waist for emphasis.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say,

So here I am, with open arms;

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

As the song ends, Dean thinks maybe this could be his forever. Surrounded by family, both given and chosen; blissful in his angel’s arms. The love of his life. The one who has saved him more times than Dean can count. At utter peace knowing that Eileen will take good care of Sam, and he looks forward to the day when they can all be together once again.

Until then, he’ll take this. The life he’s always dreamed of but was too scared to hope for. A life of love, warmth, comfort, and peace.

A life after death.

And he’ll think, maybe, just maybe, he deserves it.

fin.

@blacklightguidesnic tortured me this morning and put this incredibly soft scene in my head. here you go ♥️

[cicinicole-14]

it’s always the darkest before dawn

hey listen, the entire jolexgroupchat fucking bULLIED ME into writing a part two for ‘denial isn’t just a river in egypt’ and that was very rude, but y’know it yielded results somehow, so like ??? take that what you will… anyway here’s this. enjoy.

Relief floods her entire body as soon as her eyes land on him. The feelings of dread and worry that had been wracking her body at the thought of returning to an empty loft with a baby that she had nothing for, by herself, terrified her. But just the sight of him brought relief through her.

She couldn’t cross the loft fast enough, practically catapulting into his embrace, grateful he was on the couch, fearing she’d knock him over if not.

She melts into his arms, burying her head into the crook of his neck, holding him so close, so tight.

The feeling of his arms wrapped around her waist and back, holding her against him, just like he used to. She inhales his scent, letting it flood her senses and relishes in the fact that he’s real; he’s here, for her, for them.

She pulls back, with tears in her eyes, but still, a sad smile on her face. “Come meet our son.” She says, pulling him up as she stood, leading him over to the bed where his carrier lay.

Meredith gently unclips the straps from his chest and between his tiny legs, adjusting the hat from covering his eyes and carefully lifts him out, presenting him over to Jo. Jo cradles him gently against her chest, tucking her head down to look at him and then back up at Alex.

“This is Luca. Luca, meet your Daddy.” She says, passing off the baby to Alex.

Meredith takes the moment to excuse herself, wishing the two a congratulations on their baby before slipping out of the loft, leaving the new parents to themselves.

Alex takes the baby from Jo, supporting his tiny, jello-y body in his massive hands.

Jo takes a step back, taking in the sight of how tiny Luca looked in Alex’s arms, the sight of Alex holding his son, the sight of seeing her family together. It resonates through her and she lets out a breath she’d seemingly been holding in, letting the calm feeling course through her.

She was happy. She felt whole. Everything was right.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Alex mentioned he was leaving the following week, on Sunday morning. Because he had a job, and kids, and an Izzie, and a life, all back in Kansas, where he didn’t belong. A life that she didn’t fit into.

And the feelings of dread resume. The feelings of denial come back, except this time, she isn’t able to deny the fact that she has a child, not with the way that he’s waking her up in the middle of the night every few hours to nurse. His constant crying to be held or soothed, or changed. The need of just being a newborn, and she just doesn’t have the energy anymore. Her world is cracking and crumbling, threatening to fall apart, only three days left until her shred of happiness will disappear again.

The three days pass in a blur, and she deteriorates even further.

The knocking at the loft door is almost concealed by the sound of Luca’s cries, but she doesn’t care. Whoever’s on the other side will go away eventually, she hopes.

Her hopes are crushed when there’s a key in the lock and the door slides open, and she can hear Meredith talking to her, but she doesn’t listen to her. And then Luca’s cries grow quieter, into soft whimpers and then smooth sounds of suckling.

“Jo! When has he last eaten? How long has he been crying?”

She doesn't answer, only clutching the pillow closer to her chest, taking a deep breath and inhaling the lingering scent of Alex still left on the pillowcase where his head lay, just that morning, mere hours ago.

Meredith paces the loft, feeding the baby and quietly getting him to sleep before putting him back in the crib across the loft, Ellis’ old one.

Meredith stays, the day, the rest of the week, stays every night, sleeping right next to Jo in the bed and seemingly takes care of them both, watching Jo slip further. She watches as Jo’s routine of getting up with Luca to feed him, clothe him, bathe him, all falter. She sleeps longer, harder. Her appetite fades and her mood fluctuates between being alright and conversing with Meredith to downright anger with her.

Meredith watches the light drain from Jo’s eyes, further and further every day. She watches as Jo starts refusing to take Luca from her for feedings, thus resulting in her having to give him formula. She watches as the bond she knew Jo had with her son, slips right out from under them.

She calls in reinforcements, in the form of Link, who Jo just ends up yelling at them both and barring Link from even being in the loft entirely after stating he was worried about her and concerned for Luca’s well-being.

She yells at Meredith for having the audacity to call Link in the first place, but ultimately decides to let her stay, having no energy to continue fighting with her, or energy to deal with the screaming child in the crib due to the influx of loud voices in the tiny home.

Meredith steps out late that night, calling Alex to inform him on what’s been going on. To ask him for help, to see if he would know what to do.

They gave Jo until the end of the week, gave her room to improve on her actions before Alex returned, but she hadn’t.

She had still been withdrawn and distant. Her son had barely seemed to know her by the end of his almost first month of life. And it broke Meredith’s heart to see such a close friend of hers going through so much heartache.

Alex returned on a Thursday, late in the evening, with a suitcase in hand, to see for himself just how worse for wear Jo really was.

“You left, again.”

The sound of her voice makes them both freeze as Meredith looks up at Jo just as Alex settles himself into the loft, ready to take Luca from his friend.

They both turn and stare at her, not knowing what to say. She’s still lying in the bed, unmoving, not even looking in their direction, he’s surprised she even knew he was there due to the lack of acknowledgement.

She doesn’t say anything else after that, and he apologizes, but there’s really nothing else he could say other than sorry.

He leaves early Monday morning, and Jo’s slight rise in demeanor fades again, and she goes back to the detached shell of a human she’d been.

She doesn’t eat again, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even flinch when Luca cries anymore, and Meredith’s grasping at straws, looking for answers at this point.

“She’s got PPD, Mer. I’ve seen the signs in parents in the NICU. It’s hard, but she was a huge candidate for it. The history of depression, the abandonment issues and past trauma I forced upon her by leaving her,  pregnant and alone. The medical complications with his birth. Almost every risk factor I could name, she’s got.” He says into the phone.

“What do we do? I can’t keep doing this. I can’t watch her as she throws away her life like this, Alex. I can’t watch her become this shell of a person when I knew how happy having a family with you would make her. I know she loves Luca, but I can’t watch her do this to herself anymore.” She’s got the phone wedged between her ear and one shoulder while she props Luca up on the other, patting his back to burp him.

She knows Jo can hear her, and she feels bad, initially, but maybe hearing how this was affecting her too, maybe it would spark something in Jo, she hoped.

“I’m coming back on Friday, I’m taking them both here. I can’t keep missing work, or leaving the kids, but I’m worried about her. I know she does better when I’m around. I don’t know if it’ll help, but they’re both coming here to live with me.” He says, “She doesn’t have a choice. I can’t watch her go through this, knowing I’m the reason why.”

“What about the twins? Have you told them? Izzie?” Meredith questions.

“Iz knows. I told her everything once I came back from the last trip. She’s the one that suggested moving Jo out here, since she’d seemed to do better with me around. And we’d sat the twins down together the other night to tell them about Jo and their baby brother Luca coming to stay at Daddy’s house, and they’d get to see them both when it was my days with them.”  He sighs, and Meredith can only assume he’s rubbing his hand over his face, thinking about the upcoming adjustments for them all. “Izzie even pulled out boxes of old baby things she still kept from the twins. And the new crib will be here on Thursday before I leave. I just need her here, them here. I need her to be okay.”

“She will be, it’s always the darkest before dawn. It’s Jo. You know she’s going to be okay. She just needs a little help.”

Friday hadn’t come fast enough for any of them. And it left Alex in a whirlwind of emotions and things to accomplish and do before the very short weekend was over.

Meredith had helped him so very much. Even Schmidt and Link had too, helping get things from the lot packed quickly, all while Jo had yelled and protested about leaving her home. About how she didn’t need anyone’s help and that she hated each and every single one of them for doing this.

But the moment that Sunday afternoon had rolled around, and Alex stood at the loft door, baby carrier in one hand and suitcase in the other, all hell had broken loose.

Jo had screamed at him, yelling how he couldn’t just take her son away from her. How he was ruining their family and how she hated him.

But Alex had just calmly set the carrier down onto the ground, careful not to wake his sleeping son, and reached out for Jo. He was careful of his actions, making sure she knew he wasn’t going to grab at her making her think he’d hurt her, but instead, he reaches out his hand and rubs her upper arm before she stills, and he takes the moment to pull her fully into his embrace.

He holds her, firmly, yet gentle, as he begins to swipe wisps of hair from her face that had fallen from the tangled bun on the top of her head. “Jo. Jo, listen to me.” He says softly, trying to get her attention. “I’m not taking him from you, I told you this, I promised you this. You’re both coming with me. I can’t be in two places at once, but you need me with you, so I came back here for you, to get you. We’re going to Kansas. We’re going to be a family there, together, remember? Remember what we talked about last night? You’re going to get to meet Eli and Alexis, and they’re going to get to know you, and grow up with their baby brother. They can’t wait to meet you.” He promises.

Her shaking anger starts to dissipate, and his tight embrace loosens as he backs away from her, just enough to look into her eyes. “Can we go now? We don’t want to be late for our flight.” He says softly.

She only nods in response, wrapping both her arms into his, fearing to even let go. He struggles for a moment, wondering how to juggle the baby, Jo, and the suitcase at the top of the loft stairs before ultimately deciding to leave the bag to walk Jo and the baby down to the car before returning to put the suitcase in after.

They return to his house later that evening, and he welcomes her home, hoping that the change of scenery might help.

He settles her in, showing her around before leaving her suitcase in the guest room, watching as the first thing she did was crawl into the bed to sleep.

He lets her, knowing that just traveling alone could wear her out in this state.

He decides on making dinner, her favorite boxed macaroni and cheese, in hopes it would entice her to put something in her body besides the protein bars they’d all been forcing her to eat just to basically survive.

He walks up the stairs with a sleeping, full Luca in one arm and a bowl of the macaroni in his other hand, leaving the bowl on her nightstand before putting the baby in the new crib in his room.

He turns in for the night a few hours later, and just as he’s drifting off to sleep, he feels her slip in bed next to him. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close, inhaling her scent as he begins to drift off to sleep.

A cry startles him awake, and he turns to roll over and slip out of bed to sooth the baby, but she’s beating him to it, already halfway out of bed.

“I’ve got him.” A quiet whisper into the night.

And he watches as she shuffles across the room in the dark, lifting the baby out of his crib and reaching for the water bottle and container of formula on the changing table next to them, preparing a bottle like it was second nature to her. He watches her pace the room, feeding their son in the dead of night, as if nothing had been wrong.

The three simple words echoing in his ears that change his world. Three simple words that gave him the hope that everything would be okay again.

[ficforce]

Little Lady Part 4

Joker/52 x Reader SFW Before Series one

A shudder ran down Y/N’s spine as she felt dark, glass-covered eyes land on her, she could always feel it when Giovanni looked at her by the way her skin crawled, “Did you have fun, Y/N?” There was no point in pretending she didn’t know that he knew where she had been all afternoon and with a defeated exhale she turned on her heel to follow him to his office. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck stood up as they got closer to his office – she knew he was already there. Her Captain. Giovanni was not her Captain; he was just accommodating her presence there for someone else. Taking a breath before walking into the office behind Giovanni, she immediately spotted the large man stood in the middle of the sparse room, his green eyes dull as he stared at her. Y/N tried to ignore the sound of skittering feet and buzzing wings; the shelves all around were filled with vials of insects. She didn’t understand Giovanni’s obsession with bugs. “He trusts me.” Not waiting to be told to speak, not needing the prompt, the woman began her report, “Jo- Five-Two trusts me enough to share personal information, it’s skewered and he plays it off as being stories about monsters and lions. I am certain I could get him to show me where he resides in The Nether, even get information on what he is doing.” “We’re not interested in what he’s doing, complete your mission.” Her Captain took a step toward her and it took everything in her power to not move, to not react or show even a hint of fear, “Does he still believe he’s special? That he’s different?”

“Yes.” She felt goosebumps all over her body the second he was close enough that she could feel his body heat. He leaned down to speak behind her ear, “Are you different?” It was a loaded question, so heavy Y/N thought her knees would buckle, “Are you special?” “No. I am part of a group, we are a collective. We are one, sharing the same thoughts and protecting the Church.” Her voice was monotone, almost dead as she repeated the words he had beat into her over the years. He knew best though, he did this to protect her… so that she didn’t get burnt up with everyone else. The Captain brushed his finger along her cheek, watching as she didn’t even flinch, “Then complete your mission, Five-Two.”

x- - “What’s the news, Licht?” Joker closed the door behind him as he entered the little underground hideout, “You look into the kid I riled at the Rookie games?” He watched as the young scientist mixed up a few brightly coloured liquids, his tongue poking out as he got it just right. “He’s recently finished his final year of training, Mr Devil’s Footprints has a reputation,” Tilting his head back he grinned at the other, “How was your date?” They fell into easy conversation, drinking coffee and messing around with the formula of a new weapon Joker could use if in a pinch. The younger man poked and prodded until Joker told him more about Y/N - he liked to keep her all to himself but he also enjoyed bragging about how sweet his Little Lady was. Maybe one day he would introduce her to Licht and clue her in on what they were doing; she always seemed to understand more than he thought she would. Maybe she would understand that he was searching for the truth, he was trying to figure out why the world sucked and then he would fix it. “I tried looking her up. Y/N doesn’t have much of a history - she seems a little boring for someone like you, Joker?” He shook his head, “Normal house, normal school, joined the Fire Force, average graduation and then joined Company 3,” smoke from his cigarette formed into the letters ‘A to B’ before shifting into a heart, “Maybe I like boring? Maybe I like the simple things in life?” “You’ll want a wedding and babies next, how you gonna save the world?” Licht watched Joker choke on air and the long-haired man told him to shit up; though the scientist couldn’t miss the other’s blushes.

Two weeks passed since their rendezvous at the hotel and Joker hadn’t managed to catch Y/N alone at all. If he had thought she were capable he would have suspected she was avoiding him, somehow able to give him the slip but she wasn’t that skilled. She had always jumped or gasped when he appeared out of nowhere. There was always someone with her, she never seemed to be where he was used to her being… When he did get a chance it was too perfect. She didn’t even scare when he stepped up behind her in the hallway, “Hey, Little Lady.” Y/N turned her head to look at him over her shoulder and smiled, “Hey, stranger. You been busy or something?” “Me?” The man blinked at her dumbly, “I’ve been trying forever to get you alone, I was gonna ask you on a date but I couldn’t get the chance,” taking her hand he gave her a gentle tug, “So now I gotta kidnap you.” That was all the warning he gave her before telling her to go get changed and meet him outside. Joker waited for her in the alley, brushing a stray hair from his black sweater and patting at the appliqué ‘J’ he had sewn on himself. It was his favourite casual top and he knew it was soft for cuddling in; he hoped to get lots of those. She was taking too long… Tying his hair into a ponytail and adjusting his bandana over his eye Joker decided to go and check on her. Barely two steps forward and he saw her around the corner, “Wow…” The woman had put on an outfit that flattered her perfectly, his purple eye couldn’t stop admiring her, she’d dressed up for him and was even wearing the purple scarf he had ‘helped’ her choose. “I thought you were kidnapping me.” No sooner had the words left her that Joker was making good on his promise to take her out. Y/N was surprised that he had taken her to a rooftop of an abandoned building a few blocks away - there, she found he had set up a table and two chairs. He even added a white table cloth. “You… this is…” There was a bottle of wine in an ice bucket and two glasses waiting for them, “This is perfect.” Y/N looked at him as he grinned, he was drifting smokey love hearts her way and she wafted them away with a small smile, “I suppose this makes up for the trouble you got me in with my Captain.”

“That bird faced geezer,” the man pulled a chair out for her and tucked it in as she sat, “You can handle him.”

“Giovanni isn’t a problem,” Y/N leaned her elbows on the table and then rested her chin on her fist, “He’s just useful.”

Joker’s smile dulled a little, leaning back in his chair, “Useful?” That was a very strange way to talk about her boss, “What’s he do? Lay you eggs?” “Joker, who do you think replaced the monster that ran away, the one from your story?” His eye narrowed and Joker looked at the woman seriously - this wasn’t right - she seemed different. Usually, she was cheery with him, usually, she would fall into a small rant about the idiots she worked with and then they would talk about anything and everything. She wasn’t being as open, her body language was stiff and her tone was off. “It was just a story, Little Lady, I guess they just stole another one… Are you okay?” Maybe the sunset dinner was too much, he’d overstepped and was messing things up. She’d dressed up for him and here he was dressed in his casuals, “I can take you somewhere nicer if you wa-” “Did you ever think about the poor little monster that took your place?” Y/N’s jaw was tensed as she stared across the table at him, he glanced down to see her hands were fisted on the edge of the table. The sensation of adrenaline rushing through him was unwelcome, he shouldn’t feel this way when he was with her. Joker poured them both a glass of wine and took a sip to try and calm his sudden nerves, “I just wanted to get out of there, Y/N.” “Sorry,” All of a sudden her body relaxed and she reached across the table to hold his hand, “It’s been a hard week and your story kind of freaked me out - I had a few bad dreams.” “Dreams?” Taking another sip he nodded, “I didn’t mean to upset you, but don’t worry about that stuff, I’ll protect you, Little Lady.”

Y/N smiled gently at him, “I don’t think you’re a monster. I’ve really enjoyed being with you, Joker, at first I really didn’t know what to think - you scared the hell out of me and I panicked… I really thought that was it for me but then you rescued me from that closet.” He could have left her there to die or even killed her himself, “I didn’t appreciate the stalking either but you were just trying to get my attention, right?” Y/N got up from her seat and headed to the edge of the roof, the sun was going down and Tokyo was lighting up in front of them. “I really love watching the city, so much movement and life, the lights are so pretty too… And the sun always feels so warm, even on cold days.” Something still felt off but Joker got up and stood behind her, his arms either side of her body as he held onto the rail, “You’re one of the only people I know who appreciates something as simple as traffic at night and sunshine… You’re right though, I wanted your attention - I followed you around like some lost dog and you were kind enough to pet me.”

“I was looking for your weakness, to see what made you work and how to get past your defences.” She felt him laugh against her back and she turned around - his arms wrapping around her waist loosely, “You shouldn’t laugh, I might be serious.” She was saying some very strange things tonight. “You’re making me nervous, and not even because you dressed up so nice for me.”

“I wanted you to remember me looking my best.” Joker opened his mouth to speak, his expression confused at her words before it morphed into disbelief as he felt a sharp pain slide through his ribs. A shuddering breath escaped him, slowly his gaze turned down to focus on her hand wrapped around the hilt of a knife. “I want you to remember me looking pretty, being different and feeling almost special to someone.” Y/N twisted the knife sharply; his punctured lung being skewered and torn before a rush of blood began to soak into his sweater when it was pulled free. “I want you to see what the monster that replaced you could have been if she’d been left with her family. You said you wanted to get out of there, that the world sucked - and you’re right, it does suck. It sucks because I lost my family, it sucks because I was forced into a deep, dark hole and told to survive. It sucks that I had to fight and strip away anything that made me unique. And Why?” Somehow she had been able to keep her voice level and her tone calm, she cleaned the blood off the nice with the corner of the table cloth.

“Because you wanted to get away.” Joker’s arm stretched out to grab her, fingertips barely brushing her clothes as she stepped back out of his reach. He stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees, crimson painted the cement beneath him and the man coughed up blood and fluid. “The Holy Sol’s Shadows really are monsters. I hate them, I hate all of them and it really fucking sucks, Five-Two. It sucks that I wait in the dark, trying to fit into the collective, thinking the same way, doing the same things but no matter what… the Captain always finds fault with me.” The Captain? His hand clamped over the bleeding wound in some sort of attempt to stop the bleeding, “Y/N… I… you can- ugh…fuck…” “I can what?” Y/N pulled her chair out and sat down to watch him collapse onto his side - gasping like a fish on dry land, “Run away? They’ll just get a new ‘Five-Two’ and I’ll put some other kid through this hell. You tainted the number; no matter who takes our place they will be ostracised.”

“L-little… La-” spots danced in front of his eye, his vision blurring as he began to lose consciousness. “I… I loved - I l…!” Joker gagged as blood and bile forced its way up into his mouth. “I’m not your ‘Little Lady’ or Y/N. My name is Five-Two and if you really loved me - you’ll die.”

Y/N picked up her wine glass and took a drink, “I knew that there was no way I could face you head-on, it’s why I ran the first time… I didn’t plan on getting myself caught but you tried to offer me comfort, you showed me a steak of kindness and I knew then and there that was the way to beat you. To sit and play a nervous rookie whilst you pretended to be a hero.” Watching him drag himself over the floor to get closer, she tipped her glass to allow the expensive red wine to pour onto his head and run down his hair to join the blood under him. “You’re not a monster.” The woman placed the glass back onto the table and stood to leave, “Monster’s don’t fall in love or care so much about a world that sucks that they want to fix it… you never belonged to the shadows. I’m sorry you don’t get that happy ending you wanted.”

Though his ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood and a too rapid heartbeat, he could hear her walking away, Joker tried to reach out, wanting so badly to stop her - to save her. What had he done?

He was going to die but all he could think about was how Y/N was going back to that place, how he had ripped the sun out of her hands to bask in its light. Why did the people he met, the people that helped him… why did they always have to die or suffer just because of him?

He was cold. And it was getting dark… A brief thought swept through his mind like smoke from his cigarettes; He wondered if she still had his card. x - - The End

[laurieteddy]

tale of the field | beth march x reader

Description: you and Beth make your way to the field to have a picnic together. (gender neutral reader x beth march)

Request: anon requested simply something beth x reader

Wanrings: none

Word count: 2,066

A/N: this is my first ever Little Women fic, please let me know what you think! I dearly love Beth and I hope I did well :) also I’m on mobile so sorry if the post is weird/long

Requests are open!

Beth was the most captivating person you had ever met. She was such a caring and loving person, always glad to give a helping hand and kind word. She had such a tender and compassionate demeanor about her. It was as if she could calm any storm with the most gentle of words, something quite amazing. She did seem to put others before herself more often than not though. You were always there to put her first, as she at times would allow herself to slip in order to help other people.

Growing up around the March family and Laurie, you spent most of your days with Beth, finding her company to be your favorite by far. You would do a variety of things together. Cooking, gardening, acting out plays with her sisters, miserably failing when she would try teaching you how to play piano. Name anything and you have done it or will in the future. Both of you loved every minute of it. Jo often teased that you should mind how much time you spent together because might become too much alike.

“I couldn’t stand another Beth.” She’d joke.

This didn’t stop you of course, if anything it pushed you closer. Neither of you really enjoyed anyone else’s company as much as each other’s, why not do it as often as you could? So together you were, going on adventures of all sorts. From going to the market to exploring the woods, you would make anything an adventure. Today your adventure was going on a picnic in a field.

The sun was out and a light breeze was in the air, it was perfect weather for your plans. A smile was on your face as you entered the March home, much like your own, and quickly you made your way to the kitchen where you could hear Beth scorning Amy for trying to steal the bread. It felt like home to all who entered and they felt like family that you were ever so close to.

“Amy March, you keep your grubby paws off of my delicious lunch,” you teased with a grin.

Amy jumped at the sound of your voice, soon after making her way over to you when she recognized you.

“Oh, y/n, you’re here!” She chirped, “Don’t you look wonderful today.”

You raised a brow, “No reason to suck up, you aren’t going this time.”

Beth let out a small giggle, continuing to pack her picnic basket. Amy stomped her foot and was clearly upset at what you said. You knew she would want to go and that she had likely been bothering Beth and Marmee about it all week. Typically you wouldn’t mind if she joined but it was nice to spend some time with just you and Beth, no one else, especially not Amy. You both loved her to death but she could be a handful at times.

“Why not?” Amy whined.

“Because Beth and I have had this planned for just the two of us for weeks now.” you explained.

“We have to go now, Amy. You can come with us next time, we promise.” Beth offered a small smile.

Amy was quick to decline, a frown on her face. “I want to go now!”

“I know you do,” you pat the top of her head with an exaggerated frown. “Here, if I give you some of the cookies I made will you settle for next time?”

Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her lips. “Yes!”

You handed her three cookies and off she went, skipping away with joy and calling out to Meg and Jo. You and Beth couldn’t help but laugh at the rather simple solution used to pay her off after days of begging. Amy wasn’t typically so easy to get off your back, you knew she’d beg and you also knew she’d cooperate with those cookies.

Beth shook her head at her sister’s antics, “How did you know to make her favorite cookie?”

“Because Amy always wants to tag along, I knew I could get her to listen with them.” You smiled, “And if I didn’t have to bribe her we would’ve had more cookies, it was a win win situation.”

She chuckled at your response, knowing you were absolutely right. Locking arms with Beth you started today’s adventure. You had been to the field many times, meaning thought no longer needed to be used when finding your way there. Often you’d come up with wild tales to share along the way, dramatically acting them out with whatever makeshift props could be found on the path. It became somewhat of an unspoken tradition, and the crazier the tale the better. Another game seemed to be paired with this.

If you happened upon anyone you were to pause, acting completely normal as you passed but breaking right back into the story once out of sight. These were simply silly games but they brought smiles to your faces, and they helped Beth to feel more comfortable doing such things where you could be caught goofing around.

Anything you could do to help Beth feel more comfortable you would do, especially when you had gone out away from home. While plenty of fun could be found close to home there was much to be had elsewhere and you didn’t want Beth to miss out. You always went out on her terms, never wanting to make her feel pressured. She easily found herself calm around you, knowing she could trust you and that you were someone who truly understood her. Both of you had only the best intentions and interest for one another, promising to always be there for one another.

Though maybe not when you were deep in your tales.

“Put your sword to rest, Margaret! It’s no use to you any longer.” You spoke with a strong voice, pointing your sword (a conveniently found and crooked stick) at her.

Beth slowly placed her own sword on the ground, raising her hands above her head as she stood. “Would you truly kill me, Adrian? You’re no killer, even at your worst.”

You pushed your stick towards her, “I would watch my mouth if I were you.”

Margaret and Adrian, your newfound names in this tale. They were deeply in love with one another, but being from opposing families that despised each other for generations made it nearly impossible for them to be together. Still, they tried. Their families were not happy about it and did what they needed to prevent the two from being together. Spreading slander, making them go at each other’s throats just like the rest of their relations.

“I only speak the truth,” she delivered her line stern but gentle. Reaching out she put a hand on your sword, lightly pushing it down to point the ground. “I know you loved me at least once upon a dream, and if that love still lingers as mine does for you… I find it hard to believe you might kill me.”

Your heart swelled as she stepped closer, something that wasn’t part of your game. Her words and actions were so soft spoken and delicate, catching you off guard and stumping you. Your character was to stab Beth’s, giving the tale a dramatic speech about Adrian’s grief and regret before they drew their own final breath, making for quite a dramatic ending. Something was telling you to go for a different and new ending, finding yourself unable to hurt Margaret as Beth played her so well.

Keeping your gaze on Beth’s you dropped your sword. “You were right, I could never kill you. How could I ever have even come so close as I did?”

Beth was a bit surprised by the drop of your sword, quickly going along with it though. She held her chin high and embraced you in a hug, what she believed Margaret may do in that time.

“All is well, my love.” Her fingers tangled themselves through your hair, “I understand, I had been as close.”

A blush creeped onto your cheeks, completely out of character for Adrian. You and Beth had hugged countless times before but never in the context of this tale, never in such a way more than friendship. You wrapped your arms around her, trying to fall back into character. To appear more heartbroken you let your body fall somewhat limp, hoping to mask your previous flustered feeling.

Beth held you closer, “I am here. I will forever be with you, my dearest Adrian.”

“I have missed your embrace so,” your fingers gripped tighter as your eyes squeezed shut. “But… I cannot ask you to stay, nor can I allow it.”

Unwantingly, you peeled yourself away from her, resting your hand on Beth’s cheek. Her eyebrows furrowed, showing a confusion in herself and Margaret.

“I love you,” you began, “and yet I have hurt you. I can never forgive myself for this.” Your thumb skimmed over her cheekbone and she rested her hand over your own. “It would be selfish of me to wish you to stay,” you smiled weakly, “and so I must leave you once more.”

She let out a gentle breath. You seemed to have exchanged postures, yourself now standing tall while Beth let her shoulders drop. You were holding each other in near silence and definite bliss. Beth realized, too, that you had never held one another in such a way. She kept the thought to herself, just as you had. A blush nearly came to her as well, which she was quick to hide by bowing her head which was a seemingly meaningless action.

“Stay or leave,” she removed your hand from her cheek, “I shall think nothing but fond and loving thoughts of you daily.”

Her lips planted a small kiss on the palm of your hand, covering your hand with her own once again as if to seal the kiss. With that she let your hand fall, looking up to you through her lashes one last time as Margaret. Your breath seemed to have caught in your throat and you found yourself speechless, completely overcome by the moment.

Beth March had just given you a kiss on the palm of your hand, a completely new kiss than you had ever received. A kiss that part of you longed for, even if you didn’t realize it until you received it. Such a simple, and likely aimless, thing. Maybe you were reading too much into the tale, possibly creating an overemphasized reality. Beth was doing the same, her shy nature doing her no favors that minute.

“What a way to end our tale,” you broke the silence. “I simply couldn’t kill Margaret after everything she had been through to be back with Adrian.”

Beth brushed her hair behind her ear, clearing her throat and straightening her posture. “It still gave us the dramatic ending we craved, Jo would approve.”

“Ah, yes. Jo does enjoy a good drama,” you were both quick to change the subject. “And I think she’d be impressed by our impromptu skills.”

Beginning to feel a pressure, your actions were meek. You both did your best not to let feelings stir, always offering to listen to one another talk about anything whenever needed. There were times like this, though, where you were both too afraid to address anything. How were you to confess your love for one another when you refused to first confess it to yourself?

“Look, the field.” Beth smiled, skipping ahead to find the perfect spot for your picnic.

You stayed in the field for nearly the rest of the day, returning home right as the sun had set. The evening wasn’t filled with many words, rather each other’s peaceful company as you rested your head on Beth’s shoulder.

On the way home you picked a flower for her, something you joked she could keep as a reminder of that day. You both laughed about it in the moment, saying there wasn’t anything very special about that day. It was another day in the field, that was all. But it wasn’t a reminder for what took place in the field, it was a reminder of what happened before you had arrived. Beth kept the flower, pressing it as soon as she got upstairs and keeping it in her private journal as a bookmark.

[portals-to-a-new-world]

Come Hell or High Water Chapter 6: One More Goodbye

Who?: Leonard McCoy x Reader

What?: Our last day in Georgia for now. Leonard is emotional, Jim is a child, and Eleanora is a mom to everyone.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut (I know it’s about time)

A/N: Okay first and foremost. Blame @bakerstreethound​ for the smut. That being said, if it weren’t for her this whole series would have died a long time ago, so I have to remind everyone how freaking amazing she is. I love her. Anywhoo for those who missed it, I just posted an update as to why I haven’t posted anything in ages, so go check it out if you’re wondering wtf’s wrong with me lol.

Series Masterlist

Packing up the next day proved to be as emotional as one would expect. Leonard and Joanna spent nearly every moment together, stubbornly pretending to be okay for the other’s sake. Both also came to you at different points with tears in their eyes, admitting how not okay they really were. You had expected it from Leonard, but you could hardly believe it when Joanna asked you to help her with something in her room, only to quietly break down the moment the door closed. You rushed forward to wrap her in a hug. 

“Hey, hey, easy now.” You said, stroking her hair, giving her time to gather before she stepped back, still sniffling.

“I know, I know, you guys will still call all the time, and everything will be just like normal-” She crossed her arms across her chest as she spoke. 

“Jo, there’s nothing wrong with missing your dad when he’s not here.” You said, offering an empathetic smile. “I know I still miss my family when I’m out in space. But you can always call him whenever you need him, even if it’s just to talk.” She was silent for a moment as she thought. 

“Do you still call your dad a lot?” She asked, and you hesitated before responding. 

“My dad and I have a complicated relationship. But I do talk to my grandfather nearly every day. My family likes to tease me about being a ‘papaw’s girl,’ but I firmly believe that a father-daughter bond, or in my case grandfather and granddaughter, is one of the most precious and beautiful things in the whole universe.” You once again wrapped her in a hug, hiding the way your eyes had begun to water. “Cherish yours.” She took a shaky breath before pulling out of your embrace. 

“Thank you, (Y/n).” She said, and you smiled warmly. 

“Anytime, peach.” You replied, and she grinned at your nickname for her. A knock at the door and the sound of a gruff voice had you both scrambling to hide the evidence of the tears shed. 

“Shug, is everything okay?” Ever the quick thinker, Joanna had an excuse ready to go before you could even open your mouth. 

“Yeah, Dad, I was just trying to show (Y/n) the braid you taught me,” She said, turning to give you a look which you acknowledged with a nod before she walked over and opened the door. You struggled to keep a straight face and hide the surprise at the fact Leonard knew how to braid hair and how Joanna had seemingly prepared an excuse. “I’m glad you’re here actually, you’re a lot better at it than me, and I could use your help.” Leonard didn’t hesitate before nodding, a smile gracing his handsome features. “Awesome!” Joanna said, matching her father’s grin. “Let’s go down to the sitting room, the light’s better.” She said as she walked past him, and you followed behind him. 

“Lord knows an old man needs-” You started, but Leonard spun and cut you off. 

“If you’re about to make a joke about my age-” To both his and your surprise, Joanna was the one to speak up and cut him off. 

“Is it a joke if it’s true?” You nearly bent double laughing at the betrayed and offended expression on his face as he turned to look at his daughter, who burst out laughing and offered an apologetic smile. Leonard scoffed and pointed at her accusingly. “Oh, I see how it is.” He feigned indignation as he strode towards the stairs. Jo, still laughing, cried out “Noooo” as he walked by and latched her arms around him in a hug. Leonard tried to keep up the act, but his smile betrayed him as he spoke. “No, no, I see whose side you’re on. Should’ve known y’all were gonna gang up on me.” You rolled your eyes in amusement and walked over to pat him on the shoulder.

“Aww, poor McCoy, the women are so cruel to you.” You said. He scrunched his face in mocking as he waved you off. 

“I don’t think you’re old, Bones.” Jim’s voice drifted up the stairs. Leonard shuffled to the edge as best he could with Joanna still wrapped around him. 

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.” He said with a scowl. You leaned over the railing to see Jim grinning as he shrugged.

“Probably because you know me too well,” Len just rolled his eyes in response. You chuckled, and Jim turned his attention to you. “Lieutenant Commander (Y/n), you are hereby ordered to report to the kitchen for cobbler duty.” Both Leonard and Jo perked up at the mention of their favorite dessert. “Munchkin, it’s your job to keep Gramps out of the kitchen, we’d like for there to actually be some left for the rest of us.” He said, sending a wink in her direction. Much to your surprise, Len didn’t comment on the jab; in fact, the words that left his lips were so far from anything you expected it took a beat for you to process them.

“Actually, I was going to ask little Miss here if she’d be interested in going down to the lake with me real quick,” Joanna looked up at him in confusion.

“Can I ask why?” She asked as she let go of him.

“Well, I’d been thinkin about the other day, and since you’re starting high school, I figured it’s high time we came up with a new tradition. Just the two of us.” He said, and though he was smiling, you could tell he was nervous. He needn’t have worried though, as Joanna immediately lit up and was nodding in excitement.

“That’d be awesome!” She said, and she once again wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He released a breath as he returned the embrace. You smiled and shot him a thumbs up once they broke apart.

“Go grab your shoes and some water from the kitchen, since I’m not allowed in there.” Leonard stood aside as he spoke, allowing her to step past him. She quickly darted down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

“Well done, McCoy,” You said, stepping forward to wrap your arms around his neck. He turned the faintest shade of red as his hands naturally fell to your waist. “Be safe, okay? I don’t want to have to come pull you out of a hole again.” He scoffed and pulled you flush against him.

“As I recall, it was after that particular madness that you told me you loved me for the first time. So,” Leonard tilted his head and smirked before continuing. “Well worth it, in my book.” You rolled your eyes and leaned up to kiss him softly.

“You don’t have to be missing for two days in the forest to hear me say that,” He raised an eyebrow to prompt you to continue. Giving a dramatic sigh, you moved to cup his face in your hands. “I love you, Leonard McCoy.” You said, with as much conviction as you had the first time you’d said that to him. His gorgeous hazel eyes were locked on to yours as he leaned in. You fought to suppress a grin as you dropped your hands from his cheeks, giving your partner in crime space to move in.

“I love you, too, Bones.” Jim said, causing your lover to yell as he planted a sloppy wet kiss on Leonard’s cheek. Leonard’s hand flew behind him in reflex, smacking Jim right in his chest as he tried to dodge away. He gave a howl and stumbled backward. Leonard spun in shock and darted towards Jim.

“Damn it, man!” Len shouted as he placed a gentle hand on Jim’s back. Jim, who was bent over wheezing, attempted to wave him off.

“No, I deserved that,” He spoke between a gasp and a laugh. “Just give me a minute,” Jim’s face contorted as the pain no doubt throbbed through his chest. “Hell of a swing,” Footsteps downstairs had you again leaning over the railing, and this time it was Eleanora’s face looking back up at you. 

“What the devil’s goin on up here?” She said, climbing the stairs quickly. You blushed slightly at her tone, reminding you all too much of your grandmother.

“Sorry, ma’am. Little bit of a prank gone wrong.” You said as she reached the top. Jim tried to stand up straight but only managed enough to look at Mrs. McCoy.

“My fault, El.” He groaned. She shook her head and pointed a stern finger at him.

“James Tiberius, you’re almost more trouble than you’re worth,” She said. Jim offered a mix between a grimace and a smile.

“I know.” He said. Instantly her face softened, and she turned her attention to the man now heading towards her.

“Leonard, get the-“She started, but Len was already nodding as he spoke.

“The aloe, I know.” He headed down the stairs to retrieve the soothing ointment, and El turned her gaze back to Jim.

“You sure you’re alright, son?” She spoke gentler now, but her voice still held the same stern exasperation you often heard from Leonard. Jim gave her a weak thumbs-up, though his usual charming smile was replaced with a wince.

“Yeah, just really stings. Nothing a nap, some aloe, and a hypo won’t fix.” He said. You turned and followed Leonard downstairs, a laugh escaping you as you found him scowling outside the kitchen door. He turned and rolled his eyes at you right before Joanna emerged with two bottles of water and the aloe.

“I’ll meet you outside.” He said as she handed the aloe over. She sent you a huge grin as she skipped past you and out the front door. You started to lean up for a kiss as Leonard approached, but he just shook his head. “Oh no, troublemaker.” You pouted, but he just chuckled darkly and grabbed your hip to pull you against him. “You’re lucky we’re here and not at home.” He whispered into your ear. You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of his breath against the sensitive skin. He released you and walked away, smirking before you could reply, and you let out a frustrated huff. Damn. The sound of footsteps on the stairs signaled El was heading down, and you took a moment to shake your head and clear your thoughts. You smiled as she approached and followed behind her into the kitchen. Donna looked up from the stacks of recipe cards laid out on the table as you walked in. 

“Trouble?” She asked with a small smile. You tilted your head in confirmation as you responded.

“With those two? It’s always something.” 

“I don’t know that you have much room to talk.” She laughed and gestured to her cheek. You reached up to feel the stitches and gave a nervous laugh. 

“Heh, okay yeah, we’re all three getting into trouble constantly,” You said, pulling up a stool and smiling softly. “But we’ve got each other’s backs. Len patches Jim and I up, mind you he’s gonna fuss the whole time, and we keep him safe when he’s playing doctor on a remote planet to some less than friendly locals or whatever the case may be. None of us would be here without the others.” Donna shared a look with her mother as you finished, far too quick to decipher its meaning before the older woman grabbed a basket full of peaches and set them on the table. 

“Mama I think we may have lost the recipe-” Donna began, but Eleanora just held up her finger and sent you a wink. 

“Do you think I’d leave my award-winning recipe just laying around where anyone can find it?” She said, chuckling and reaching into the pocket of her apron. “(Y/n) why don’t you get started on peeling and slicing these here,” She patted the basket of peaches. “The peeler’s in that drawer there behind you, so’s the knives.” Once you helped clear the stacks of cards off the table, you washed your hands and grabbed a peach. Unable to resist the urge, you lifted it close to your face and inhaled it’s sweet scent deeply.

“Mmm. Are these local?” You asked, sparking conversation about how you get fresh fruit while lightyears away in space. One conversation led to the next, and before you knew it, two hours had flown by. You had come to learn that Eleanora was an absolute powerhouse in the kitchen, although you could have figured that from the astounding food you’d had over the last week. Her peach cobbler really had won awards all over the county, and the recipe for it had been handed down from mother to daughter for generations. On the other hand, Donna didn’t quite have her mother’s finesse when it came to baking.

“Listen, I can cook just as well as anyone, but when it comes to baking?” She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know why, but something always goes wrong.” Eleanora started to reply, but the sound of the front door opening signaled Len and Jo’s return. El shook her head and looked at the clock on the wall.

“Leave it to my son to come back right as the food’s coming out of the oven.” You giggled as she spoke and moved to pull the mouth-watering dessert from the oven. The man himself walked through the door only a moment later, with Joanna trailing behind him chanting ‘Food! Food! Food!’.

“My god that smells amazing,” Leonard said with a massive grin on his face. He walked to El and waited for her to set the cobbler down. “As always, of course.” He said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and placing a kiss on her temple. She smiled knowingly and patted him on the cheek before nodding over her shoulder.

“Go on, you can wait till dinner like the rest of us.” Len scowled but quickly wiped the look from his face when his mother glared back. He cleared his throat and moved to open one of the cabinets.

“I’ll go ‘head and set the table.” He grumbled. His attention jumped to you as you giggled again, offering an apologetic smile, which he ignored. “Don’t suppose you’d like to help, would you?” You hopped off of the stool and walked over to pat his shoulder. 

“Absolutely.” 

=============================================================

It took a little while after you’d finished setting the table before everyone was seated together eating once again. Leonard and Jim were arguing about the plan to drive in the old truck, with Leonard insisting that Jim was too old and too sunburned to ride in the bed for nearly 5 hours. Of course, Jim was adamant that he could do it, and it took the arrival of the cobbler for them to finally stop bickering. One bite, and you instantly understood why. It was all you could do not to moan aloud as the warmth and flavor blessed your tastebuds, and for a moment, you could have sworn you entered a different plane. The sound of a throat clearing made you realize you’d closed your eyes, and your cheeks flushed red as you opened them to see Eleanora standing beside your chair. Confusion passed over your face as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a handwritten index card.

“What’s this?” You asked politely, reaching up to grab the card. As you read, your eyes went wide, and you started to protest. “El, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes, you can.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes held a warmth, not unlike that of the dessert itself. “I insist.” You were dumbfounded as you carefully set the card on the table. Your eyes found Leonard, who was frozen mid-bite, staring at you in stunned awe. 

“I don’t even know what to say, ma’am. I’m honored.” You finally stammered out. Eleanora’s smile matched the warmth in her eyes as she patted you on the shoulder before returning to her seat. 

“Close your mouth, son. You’re drooling on my tablecloth.” She said as she sat down. You looked back over to Leonard and giggled softly as he swallowed and wiped his chin.

“Sorry, Momma.” He said, still staring at the card. All was silent for a few moments until Joanna finally spoke up and broke the tension.

“Daddy?” She asked, and Leonard instantly turned all his attention to her.

“Yeah, Shug?” He replied. She hesitated for a moment, causing one of his eyebrows to rise slowly in concern. 

“I was wondering if you could drop me off at school tomorrow. I meant to ask earlier, but I forgot.” She looked at him with pleading eyes as she finished. Leonard chuckled before answering.

“Well, of course. You didn’t think I’d miss out on embarrassing you on your first day, did you?” Everyone but the man himself rolled their eyes. “Is it alright if (Y/n) and Jim join us? That way, we could head straight out from there.” He asked, and Joanna nodded quickly. 

“I was hoping they’d come too.” She said brightly. Len smiled and tilted his head in affirmation.

“Then it’s settled.” Everyone resumed eating, and before you knew it, you found yourself once again in bed with Leonard’s arms holding you against him. You were squirming as he pressed kisses into your neck, trying to ignore the large hint to his intentions pressing against your backside.

“Leonard.” You whispered in warning. He ignored you, his hand sliding beneath your waistband. “L-Leo-” Your voice came out as more of a choked gasp as his fingers slipped inside you for a moment before moving to stroke your clit. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” He spoke lowly, nipping at the skin on your neck. You fought to control yourself as a moan threatened to escape.

“I think I have a pr-pretty good idea,” You bit your lip and whimpered as he slid one long finger deep inside you, before quickly adding a second. You surrendered into him as he curled them in the perfect ‘come hither’ motion. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth as a loud gasp escaped you.  

“How about I show you how much anyway, just to be sure?” You couldn’t reply as he began a relentless assault, all of your focus needed to remain silent. CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP A whimper once again escaped as Leonard quickly withdrew his fingers, using his other hand to grab his PADD. “Who the hell is sending me a message this late?” He grumbled, and you looked over his shoulder in curiosity.

             Pls don’t. -J

You blushed crimson as you realized what he meant, and gave Leonard a smack with the pillow. 

“SEE!” You whisper shouted. “Be glad it was Jim and not your mothe- mmph!” Leonard silenced you with a demanding kiss that left you breathless. 

“Just gonna have to be quieter, Sugar.” He moved to pin you beneath him as he whispered into your ear. “Think you can do that for me?” He pulled back to look at you, eyes searching for any sign you really wanted him to stop. You huffed and reach up to pull him into a kiss.

“Damn you.” As his hand slid back down your body, you willed the bed to remain silent, hoping that Jim wouldn’t be too harsh in the morning.

=============================================================

As it turned out, you were all too busy trying to sort out the luggage situation to worry about what might have been heard the night before. Jim had most of it in the truck bed with him, but there were only so many bags he could keep watch on, so three ended up in the cabin with Leonard, Joanna, and you. Your goodbyes ended up rushed as the time came closer for Jo to be at school, and when you got on the road, you had barely 45 mins to get her there on time. The whole drive there, Leonard had a death grip on the wheel, and the tension in the truck only skyrocketed as you pulled up to the school. One of the many downsides of such a small town was that everyone knew everyone else’s business. One look at the group of parents standing nearby, and you instantly knew what they were saying. Deciding to avoid any more attention than you’d already drawn, you quickly helped Jo climb out of the truck. You’d started to hop back in when you heard Joanna say your name. Before you could finish turning back, she��d wrapped around you in a hug. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you returned the hug.

“Thanks for letting me stick around, Peach.” You said as you broke apart. She laughed and reached up to swipe at her eyes.

“Thanks for being here, (y/n)” You nodded and glanced over her shoulder at Leonard, who was doing his best to keep it together.

“Anytime,” Jim hopped out of the truck bed as you spoke, and threw his arms out dramatically. Jo giggled and threw her arms around him, too, allowing you to subtly grab Leonard’s attention. Even from a few feet away, he looked shaky. You smiled softly at him and gestured slightly. “Breathe.” You mouthed, and he nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“JO-JO!!” You looked around in confusion as a voice yelled across the front lawn. Joanna broke out in a smile and spun in excitement, and you spotted the owner of the voice right as she started to wave. “C’MON, IT’S ALMOST TIME FOR THE BELL,” The kid, presumably Jo’s friend, called out. Joanna looked at her watch, and her face fell. She turned to Leonard, her mouth open to speak, but he just waved her on.

“It’s alright, Shug. I’ll be back in a couple weeks when we leave. Don’t be late.” He said, and she frowned apologetically before turning to head towards the building. She made it two steps before Leonard spoke again. “Jo!” She stopped on the spot and turned back. Your heart broke as Len swallowed hard before calling out. “I love you.” His voice broke, and Joanna was running back in an instant, slamming into him in a hug. 

“A bushel and a peck,” You heard her say softly, and Leonard held her tighter before they spoke together. 

“And a hug around the neck” 

“Go on,” Leonard said, finally breaking the embrace. “Your grandmother’ll kill me if I make you late on your first day.” Joanna nodded and took off sprinting. Len said nothing as he made his way back into the truck.

“Take your time, Bones. We’ve got all day.” Jim said gently. Leonard waved him off and slid into the driver seat.

“I’m good. Let’s get going.” He mumbled. You looked at Jim and gave him a nod.

“I’ve got him, don’t worry.” You whispered, and Jim hesitated for a moment before sighing and climbing back into the truck bed. Leonard cranked the engine as you hopped inside, offering a small smile when you slid over to take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. “You did great, Leo.” He leaned over and place a kiss on your temple before grabbing ahold the gear shift. Nothing else was said as he shifted into gear and pulled out onto the road. You knew he needed time, and he knew you’d be there when he was ready. He just hoped you both were ready for what lay ahead.

Tags: @bakerstreethound​ @bookscoffeeandracoons​ @lt-trick​ @ladyideal​ @billybutchersbabe​ @emily-strange​ (If I forgot you, feel free to yell at me. If you’d like to be added, click here)

[banshee1013]

Suptober Day 26/27: Wish/Villains

Link to ficlet on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209792

An Almost Perfect Day

Rating: Teen

=======================

Sam blinked in the hazy light of the bedroom, uncertain of his surroundings. Startled by movement next to him in the bed, he reached under his pillow for a gun that wasn't there.

A sleepy voice drifted over from the other side of the bed.

"Babe, can you turn that thing off? We don't have to be at Dean's for a while yet… you must have forgotten to turn it off last night…"

Jess.

He became aware of what she was talking about - the buzzing bleat of the alarm clock. Reached over and slapped at it until it stopped.

Cautiously, slowly, he rolled over to face the direction of Jess' voice. And stared directly into her green eyes, narrowed with concern.

"Everything ok? What were you looking for…" she asked, reaching to touch his face and pulling back sharply as he flinched, which only increased her concern. "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam shook his head to clear it, wiping a hand down his face and blinking. What was it? A dream? Yeah, must have been a dream…

He turned back to Jess, grabbing her hand and pressing it to his lips. "Nothing, babe. Just… a dream, I guess… it's over now." But still clutched her hand, reluctant to let it go and not sure why…

Jess gave him another searching look and gently pulled her hand free.

"OK, well… I'm awake now so I'm going to grab a shower. Can you get some coffee going?" She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and stretched before standing and striding to the bathroom.

Pausing in the doorway, she looked back over her shoulder at him, a flare of heat in her eyes. "Maybe join me after you get the coffee on, whadaya say?" she purred before heading inside the bathroom.

Sam, fully conscious now, scrambled out of bed and all but ran to the kitchen to start the coffee as he hears the shower start.

====================================

The unease and disorientation returned suddenly, even as he stood in the shower behind Jess, a soapy loofa in his hand, arm around her bare wet waist and lips pressed to the back of her neck.

Suddenly, he was in a dark, abandoned place, his vision foggy, his head lolling as he tried to look around. He felt his hands tied high above his head, his feet barely touching the floor.

Luminous blue eyes bored into him and a hand covered in glowing, swirling tattoos reached toward him, grasping his chin. He felt the tattoos burn into his skin and…

His back was pressed against the cold tiles of the shower wall, hands grasping for purchase on them.

"SAM!" Jess cried, her hands on his face and he was back, back in the shower. He took a shaky breath and pulled her close, the warm water beating down on them both.

"Sam, what happened? What's wrong?" she sobbed against his chest.

He stroked her hair, stilling her sobs. "It's ok… just… I just felt like I was someplace else for a minute…" He pulled her up to look into her face, gave her a kiss, wiped the tears from her eyes. "It's ok, I'm fine now. I'm so sorry…".

She gave him a worried, uncertain smile. "Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?"

He met her smile, and reached over her to turn off the water. "I'm sure. C'mon, we have to get out of here before we turn into prunes."

=======================================

Jess pulled up to the curb in front of Lisa and Dean's house… and Sam realized he had no recollection of how they got there. Shaking his head again, he opened the car door and climbed out.

I gotta get more sleep, he thought. I must have dozed off in the car. Meeting Jess by the trunk, he grabbed the grocery bags there and made his way up the path to the house.

He didn't even have the time to reach the front porch before the door swings wide, and Lisa was there, grabbing the bags and ushering them inside.

"Dean's round back, grilling up the burgers," she said, pulling a six-pack from one of the grocery bags and handing it to Sam before giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the back yard. "Here, take these to him, will you? I'm sure he's thirsty by now…," then grabbed Jess' arm, pulling her toward the counter where Lisa's making… something. "Jess, can you help me with this?"

Sam headed out to the back yard as ordered with the six-pack, and found Dean as expected by the grill. The aroma of his famous burgers permeated the yard and made Sam's mouth water.

"Heya, Dean…," Sam said as he approached, and set the six-pack on the shelf next to the grill. "Lisa said you might want one of these…" pulling one out of the carton and opening it before holding it out to his brother.

"Hell yeah! Thanks, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, taking the proffered bottle. Tipping it back for a long pull, he lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Grillin's thirsty work, you know!"

Sam chuckled as he pulled another bottle from the carton for himself, opened it and took a hefty drink, glancing around at the family members gathered for… wait, why were they here again? The feeling of unease began to wash over him again, and then he saw her - Mom.

Oh, right. Mom's birthday. Of course. The unease dissipated.

And there was Bobby and Ellen standing next to her, talking, while Jo and Ash played cornhole nearby, and Garth and Bess watched while Ben entertained their little one on the blanket spread in front of them.

Benny approached from the house carrying a plate of cheese and bacon and a bag of buns, headed for the grill, and he and Dean discussed the finer techniques of grilling the perfect burger.

It was all very idyllic, the perfect family gathering… but Sam couldn't shake the feeling that something… someone… was missing.

And just as suddenly, he was back in the dark room. It was cold, and his hands were numb. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bag full of red liquid and wondered if it was blood.

Wondered if it was his.

Again out of the gloom, the piercing, glowing blue eyes filled his vision, the hand glowing with blue flame engulfed his face, and then he's back in Dean's back yard, laying on the grass. Dean, Jess, and Lisa stood over him, Bobby crouched by his head.

"Hey, boy, are you ok?" Bobby asked as he helped Sam sit up.

Sam glanced around at the concerned faces surrounding him. "Wha… what happened?"

"Dunno, you just keeled right over…" Bobby said, as Dean offered his hand to help pull him from the ground. Sam took it and stood up, recovering his beer in the process.

"Oh no you don't," Jess said, taking the bottle from him. "I think you've had enough for a while!"

"Geeze, when did you become such a lightweight?" Dean mocked, dusting the grass off Sam's back. Sam shrugged, and let Jess guide him to a chair.

Mary approached with a glass of tea, handed it to him and brushed the hair away from his forehead before placing the back of her hand against it. "Are you feeling alright, Sam? You look very pale…"

Sam took a long drink from the glass of ice tea and tried to get his bearings. "Mom, I'm... I dunno, I've been feeling out of sorts all day… like, I'm in a… a waking dream or something."

Mary bent over and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "You're not getting enough sleep, that firm is running you ragged," she grumbled. "You and Jess need to take a nice, long vacation… go somewhere nice, away from the rat race. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Sam listened to her but the words seemed to be flowing past him, uncomprehended.

He looked around again, at the people gathered here. Something was wrong…

Someone was missing.

Wait. Cas… Where was Cas??

"Mom… Mom, where's Cas?" he interrupted, a feeling of desperation growing, the unease overcoming him again. "Mom…"

Mary looked confused. "Cas? Who's Cas? I'm sorry, sweetie, I don't know who that is…"

Sam met her eyes, dumbstruck. "You know, Cas… Castiel! The angel…"

Mary's face drew tight in concern, and her gaze shifted away from him, glancing around until she saw Jess. "Jess! Jess, bring me some water for Sam, he's really not feeling well…"

Sam stands abruptly, pushing her gently aside and scanning the faces beginning to gather around him.  He turned back to Mary and grabbed her shoulders. "MOM! I feel fine, I just want to know where Cas is!" he cried.

His eyes fell on his brother… "Dean! Dean, c'mon you know… where's Cas? Bobby… Ellen…," His voice faded at the looks of incomprehension around him.

Then Jess was in front of him, her hands placed on either side of his face. "Stop it, Sam! Stop!" she growled, and her eyes… were they blue? Her hands were burning his face… and he began to scream.

=======================================

"Sam! Sam, wake up!"

A voice, deep and gravelly, and large warm hands gently patted his face.

His vision cleared and the eyes that met his were blue, but the blue of the ocean and warm as the sun.

Cas pulled a knife from his pocket, reached above him to cut the rope around his wrists, and caught Sam effortlessly as he slumped, lowering him gently to the ground.

"Cas… Cas, are you really here?" Sam whispered, barely able to get the words past his lips.

"Yes, Sam, it's me. You were captured by a djinn, trapped in a dream." He gestured to the still body of the djinn, unmoving on the floor.

Sam grinned wanly. "I kn… I knew it." He reached weakly up to grab Cas's shoulder, then slid up to pat his cheek before dropping his hand in exhaustion.

"You knew… what, Sam? That it was a dream?" Cas asked, puzzled. "How? What was the djinn making you see?"

"I was with Jess, at… at a family party. Mom's birthday…," he paused, and Cas held a canteen of water to his lips, which Sam gulped thirstily.

"Everyone was there," he continued, then met Cas' gaze. "Everyone… except you."

Cas ducked his head and Sam smiled, reaching to tilt Cas' chin up, meeting his gaze.

"Dead giveaway. I knew we would never have a family gathering without YOU."

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: Right Here On The Ground

---

Of course, those voices would be extra loud that morning.

Of all days, they had to creep and hiss from the corners of the room she couldn’t see with her head pressed against the warm, firm chest beneath her. Violent threats and cries that she couldn’t escape the inevitable forever in that soft woman’s voice tinged with ice. Heated remarks in the male’s growl that she wasn’t supposed to be there, that she was due for greater things, that she shouldn’t run from him anymore. And both eventually snarling the words that would make her skin break out in goosebumps regardless of the warm hands running gently down her arms and back - that she was supposed to be dead like him if it weren’t for them, that she owed her life to them and her body in turn, that they could give her him if she just did what she was made for.

Jo wished desperately her brain and mouth could connect and hiss just as sharply back that she was where she was supposed to be and her life was as full as it ever needed to be in the warm embrace and those soft, warm soothing words that brushed through her hair and the heavy thump of heart against her ear, but today? Those words even if they had formed felt harder to think and push back against them. Today it felt like she had forsaken more than just some twisted plan of a crazed goddess and her peon. Today it felt like she was continuing to reject a chance at having him back in her life.

Tears pricked the edge of her eyes as the warm touch of Grey’s hands stroked through her hair gently, and blinking rapidly to clear them, Jo endured the time until her lips and hands and the rest of her finally returned to her own control as those voices receded and her real morning could start. Lifting a hand to rub at them, wiping the wetness away with a tiny yawn and under the pretense of wiping the crumbs of sleep away from her eyes, Jo tilted her head up to look towards her warm, breathing pillow with as much of a smile as she could manage that day of all days.

“Mornin’ hun.” She croaked the words out softly, desperate not to break the spell that came from the soft morning light creeping through the window and the way those blue eyes were always so alert and concerned but overflowing with love in a morning. If she spoke too loud, maybe the magic would break or the fall would drop out from under her feet. “Didja get any sleep ‘t all?”

“How could I sleep when I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms?” Grey’s voice was equally quiet, the gentlest of words washing over her as he moved his hands to wrap around her and pull her gently up the bed towards him, hugging her tightly.

“You’re bein’ ridiculous.”

“Not so at all, pretty one. Did you.. sleep well?”

“I always do with you by my side, hun.”

“Well then, that’s all I need to hear to have had a good night’s rest.”

Jo felt a tiny laugh on the tip of her tongue and about to fall from her lips when she realized just how much she’d usually be doing that in the time she spent wrapped up in his arms. And just how much she couldn’t bring herself to today of all days.

Swallowing the sound in her throat with a harsh gulp, Jo’s lips twitched into the tiniest smile in one corner as she looked at his own warm smile. The dark circles under his eyes would fade by the afternoon if their usual patterns the last week had been any precedent when Jo would jostle and cajole him to take a nap while she took their fluffy baby for a run. Most days she came home with a coffee for each of them and they’d sip sat beside one another on the back steps watching Nana frolic in the sunshine chasing butterflies or all number of things. Blinking away the last remnants of those horrible voices as his fingers stroked through her hair, Jo thought maybe she’d like some two-legged company on her walk that day though.

“Jo?” Grey’s voice cut through her thoughts, and, blinking rapidly, she realized she must have been quiet just that little bit too long as those blue eyes softened and filled with concern and caution rather than just love. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Jo replied quickly, just the subtle emptiness of her tone belighting the lie to those words so clearly for once. She watched that concern bleed quickly into worry, and as Grey’s fingers tightened for all of a moment against her she thought about voicing aloud that those words would never be true on this date. Instead of the truth, though, she swallowed that honesty down with a harsh gulp and pushed herself to sit up breaking that morning magic as she shifted to throw her feet over the edge of the bed. “Just thinkin’. Did you want the shower first or me?”

“Jo-”

“Well, if you’re not callin’ dibs, I’m takin’ it.”

“..Jo..”

“Oh, I got that new body wash last week - I’m gonna try that today!”

Jo pushed herself off the bed and moved quickly checked her phone as she chattered vacantly rather than giving the chance for the other to peel under that layer and see what a hollow skeleton she was underneath. Chancing a glance back at him as she set her phone back down - twenty notifications and a few emails she’d need to get back to later - the blonde bit down on her lip at the sheer worry and concern and care rolling off of the other in waves. Grey’s eyes were fixed on her every move, drinking in the cool mask of her face and the way her stomach muscles twitched sharply giving up her secrets as she twisted away from him.

“Are you doin’ breakfast or did you want me to do some after my shower? Oh, I feel like panca-” Jo found herself chattering her way into those damn thoughts again, her mind catching up to her mouth with a pained screech as she thought about just why she wanted pancakes of all things today. But she’d not had them how she loved them best in more than two decades at this rate so far as her disjointed time could count. She hadn’t had those flat, dense pancakes made in that old cast iron skillet that let the sides catch to a far darker, almost black color on the laced edges; those pancakes that had little fork marks added and stabbed into them as they cooked and were basted in maple syrup while still in the pan itself so the syrup would soak them through entirely; those pancakes that were only half about all those bits and the rest the fact that they got delivered to her plate, one by one, and each one accompanied by a smile and some joke teasing her that she’d eat them out of house and home at the rate she was going as she gorged herself to the point of nausea and beyond just to have one more moment of his attention as he would dote on her. Shaking her head rapidly, Jo bit down on the words and instead finished quietly, “Actually, maybe just some toast. I don’t feel great all of a sudden.”

“How about I get something ready while you... get ready for the day, Jo?” Grey’s voice was closer than the bed, and blinking Jo was unsurprised to feel his hand rubbing her arm gently as the shadow was stood right beside her and looking down at her with that warm glow of care that was so close to what she needed right then, that Jo found herself nodding gently before heading to the shower where she could pretend it was just the shower raining down on her cheeks and block out any thought of sickly sweet pancakes and warm smiles in a waft of vanilla and steam.

---

The morning so far had been a collection of starts and stops for her.

Getting out of the shower, Jo had pulled on the worn men’s flannel she’d gotten from Dean a while back that smelt of gunpowder and the heavy leather jacket that wasn’t quite right but tickled her nose just right that she kept forgetting to wash it over her tank top and jeans to suit the cloudy cool weather outside that matched her mood perfectly. She could even hear the soft patter of rain on the window panes and the roof as she brushed her teeth and tied her damp hair up into a ponytail that left a wet mark between her shoulder blades.

When she got to the foot of the stairs, however, she’d not been able to keep back the small smile at the warm, fluffy greeting as Nana wound her way through Jo’s legs and pressed her back against the wall demanding cuddles with two big paws on her stomach. That smile felt painful as soon as the moment of cuddles and love had passed, and she’d had to fight that sharp stab in her stomach as Nana’s paws patted at her again that laughter and smiles weren’t right today before she shook it off to lavish her baby with the attention she deserved no matter the day.

The smile had slid from her face pretty quickly, but there was something in the way Grey’s eyes caught hers and smiled widely at her in the crinkles of them but not his lips that helped soothe that worry a little bit. She was barely surprised to see that he’d made those almost impossible omelets again today instead of just dry toast - something as far removed from the dense thick, cloying sugary dish her heart craved, but that filled her with warmth as she slowly ate her breakfast between sips of coffee all the same. It felt strange the quietness in the room, but not wrong for her even if she could feel a knot building in her stomach that Grey might be uncomfortable with her silence other than the softly whispered thanks at his handing her her breakfast, but she couldn’t think of anything to say that would break it without breaking her open for his rifling.

Jo’d barely noticed she’d finished her meal, or that Grey had finished his own, and didn’t even look up from her coffee mug until the gentle clearing of a throat broke through.

“So, I was, uh, that is to say - I was thinking I’d get some chores done today, maybe do..some drawing and stuff. If the mood strikes, that is.” His voice was like cotton wool balls, packing peanuts and bubble wrap, spinning about her and wrapping her thoughts up carefully from drifting anywhere unprotected as she raised her eyes from the empty bottom of her mug to the gentle smile on the other’s face. It was the soft cocoon she needed, offering her his time and flexibility in a way she could never remember anyone else doing since she’d left the Roadhouse and that ever-supportive tone from the best friend that came before him. Her lips twitched to smile in return for the tiniest of moments as she nodded her head in time with his own. “Okay cool. Well, I’ve got the dishes to do in here - did you want another coffee?”

Jo nodded again. The excuse was perfect for her to stay seated and listen to the quiet clatter of cutlery and crockery, the splash of water and that quiet unconscious humming as the other started cleaning up as soon as he’d refilled her mug to her liking. The excuse to stay close but not smothered, not pressured, not forced to fake a smile or pretend she was okay like it had been back in the day when she’d work the bar and refuse to let the condolences and stories she’d hear battered across the dusty, grimy wooden floors worm their way past her mask. The excuse not to try so hard.

Grey had almost finished when Nana padded through the kitchen from the hall and started to scratch at the back door, the clear desire to go out to do her business that couldn’t wait for the soft drizzle of rain to pass.

“I’ll take her out.” Jo found her voice finally cracking through the air, and as she pushed her chair back she found herself being circled and barked at quietly by her darling girl until the back door and fly screen were both open to free the dog to the drizzling backyard. “Ugh, she’s goin’ to smell bad-”

“Why don’t you give her a bath after? Have a girls day?” Grey’s voice called over to her as Jo moved to stand in the doorway under the eaves, just out of the path of the rainfall but close enough to get the cold bite of it on her nose and cheeks. “I know she’s due for one as it is.”

Jo found herself smiling despite herself at the idea as she watched the speckled dog snuffling about at the wet grass and the bright greens of the flowers finally blooming again since last November, now that their season had finally actually come. Nana barked at the odd squirrel that ran across the branches of the big tree and then across the cold tin roof of the garden shed, and she found herself laughing quietly at the dog’s antics in a way that she knew there would be that warm baritone joining her if her father had been there.

When the dog had finally done her business and found the cold weather too much for this time of year to stay out in the wet, Jo found herself laughing again at the fuss the dog made at wiping her dirty paws on the mat at the door. Nana truly took after her daddy with her antics sometimes and shutting the door with a final gust of cool air to her face, the blonde slowly cajoled the damp, fluffy, smelly dog upstairs for a hot bath as she noticed Grey pulling out the mop to wipe up what few doggy footprints were left in the doorway.

It was usually a bit of a chore trying to wrestle the giant pooch into the bath and then keeping her under control in the warm water to get properly washed up, but today it was exactly the kind of physical distraction Jo needed as soon as she’d shrugged off her flannel and left it out on the bed to avoid getting it smelling like wet dog and the doggy shampoo. Working the knots out of her baby’s fur, squealing loudly when the thwump of the wet tail would splash her with soapy water, and just generally struggling to keep the excitable dog inside of the bathtub rather than running around the cramped space of the bathroom took up almost an hour that not once did Jo’s mind drift from the work at hand or to what day it was.

She had jumped in the shower quickly while the dog rolled about on the bathmat and her doggy towel before the knock on the door made her jump. “Come in!” Jo called out, her voice light for the first time that morning, as she slowly turned the water. “But watch Nana doesn’t run out.”

“Ooph, thanks for the warning.” Grey’s voice cut through the quiet whining of the dog and the whir of the exhaust fan as she got out of the shower, smiling as she watched her two loves battling for the doorway. “ Don’t want her rubbing herself on either of the beds like this.” He added with a quiet chuckle, looking around the soapy, wet floor and the splashes of soap suds that clung to the walls. “It looks like you two had fun.”

“Oh we totally, totally did, didn’t we baby? Yes we did, who had lots of fun, was it us? Yes it was.” Jo found herself bending over to snuggle into the dopey, wet dog scent of her baby’s face as Nana’d turned to run back to her feet for cuddles as soon as she’d gotten the towel wrapped around herself; voice soft, warm and teasing as she ran her hands over the thick, clean fur. Her babying voice bounced off the tile around them, as did the happy pants from the dog as Jo pet her. “Did we make a mess, bubby? Yes we did, didn’t we?”

“Yes, you certainly did!” “We had such fun, gettin’ Nana all clean-” “I can see that.” “If only cleaning was as fun.” “Well, you go get dressed and start drying her off properly, and I’ll get this cleaned up for you instead then.”

“Oh,” Jo found herself freezing at the other’s offer, glancing up through the limp strands of her hair to see the soft look on Grey’s features. She felt her heart leap catching his eye that this felt just the same as those soft, caring looks she was missing so sharply today; like there was someone who would always be there to care for her, to protect her, and to support her no matter what, even if it came from a completely different type of love. Her stomach twisted at the sharp jerk of that realization even as the boisterous dog continued to roll up against her towel-covered thighs and Grey moved about the space to grab the cleaning rag. “I... I can do-”

“By the time your dressed and gotten the little princess here all soft and fluffy and dry, this will all be done and you know it.” Grey’s words were soft but the tone was firm underneath, and the determined line of his lips as Jo caught his eye again she knew that he wouldn’t hear any other suggestion.

Bowing her head, Jo headed back to their bedroom to get dressed while she heard Grey continue to keep their four-legged baby busy while Jo threw back on the flannel that smelled like an old lost home for her but just a pair of leggings instead of getting fully dressed again when she was just going to get covered in fur.

Fetching Nana from the bathroom to take her down to the laundry for a blow-dry of her soft, clean fur, Jo wasn’t even surprised to see most of the mess already taken care of by the dexterous hands of her love. As the two girls settled in the laundry and Jo began drying, brushing and grooming the other properly, she could feel that tight knot in her stomach brush away as easy as the tangles in the dog’s fur under her careful attention. The tight feeling falling away as she let her mind numb all over again into the motions, and not settling on any fixed thought as she made her baby’s silky locks as beautiful as they could be all the way through to lunchtime.

---

It shouldn’t have surprised her to get the call as they’d tucked into the fried noodles full of vegetables she rarely ate outside of this type of dish. She should have known it was coming. The annual ‘check-up’ call, which never really felt like it was a call for her benefit actually. More like he needed the chance to say even anything about one of the many friends lost to the life.

“Didja get my email ‘bout the thing over in Memphis?” Jo asked softly around a mouthful of noodles, trying for a smile across at the other as she waved her fork at the dish and gave a thumbs up of appreciation. “I got no fuckin’ clue-”

“Girlie, you best no be planning to go throwing yourself into that headfirst.” The tinny voice came through the loudspeaker of the phone sat on the table beside her elbow. Bobby’s voice was rough and hard, and if Jo didn’t know better she would have thought it sounded normal. Like he hadn’t spent the morning using the one defining and memorable dates of a fallen comrade to reflect on them all at the bottom of a bottle. “Fuck knows what it is.”

“I mean, I’d take Garth with me-” “You can’t just take someone else with you and think that fixes everything!” “Why not? Garth’s even got some bonuses over the rest of us. So long as it’s not his time of the month.” “Ugh, must you call it that?”

Jo actually found herself chuckling there, thinking on just how fun it was to connect her lupine friend’s monthly infection to the annoyance of her period now that they’d worked out how best to keep him under control before the surprised sound through the phone caught her off guard at the fact she’d let the laughter out.

“Jo?” “I.. Sorry Bobby.”

There was a pause then through the phone, and as she looked through her lashes she could see the pause also reflected on the look on Grey’s face, before the tinny sound of a cough. Bobby’s voice floated back up through then, softer but somehow warmer than it had been before. “Nothing to apologize for, girlie. You two really hav’a way of making the best of the situation.”

“Well, somebody oughta.” Jo replied petulantly, poking at her bowl of moo goo gai pan as she shook her head to herself. “Anyways, Garth might be able to come up with somethin’ someone else might miss.”

“What’s the signs anyway?” The question didn’t come through the phone that time, but Grey’s question bounced through and around anyway - tone rough and tight like he didn’t really want to ask, but also couldn’t help himself but ask and possibly be helpful. Jo raised a brow at him, getting a shoulder shrug in return as he swallowed a mouthful of mushrooms, before adding. “What? I might be able to help.”

“Pretty much? Exsanguination of about ten co-eds from-” “It’s not-” “No, hun, it’s not him.” “Can I finish my description now?”

The blonde found herself biting back another smile as she chewed on a thin piece of chicken as the other hunter cut back in after their interruption of his description. She’d known exactly where the other’s mind would go first of all - not that it was like the other shadow ever bothered actually draining his victims of blood as intentionally as this case - but nodded along as if the other hunter could see her as he ran through the rest of the case notes. It was a strange one alright, and if it weren’t for there being no signs of bites on the bodies she would have thought it was just a vampire coven. Garth had been the one to flag it, and Jo trusted that between her and the other hunter they could get to the bottom of it - but needed to do some research groundwork first rather than go in blind. And emotional in her case.

As Bobby and Grey bartered back and forth with a few suggestions and then a general agreement that whatever it was seemed dangerous enough to require a second hunter with Jo, she could feel that tug again. The one from the bathroom. Catching Grey’s eye, she found herself blushing and feeling a little queasy all over again before Bobby’s voice bouncing out of the phone caught her attention and twisted that sharp blade all over again.

“Now I get you like the fun, weird cases, Joanna Beth, but I want you to promise you’ll be careful-” Bobby’s voice was tight and filled with something undefinable but the same quality that she used to hear the growled deep words that ‘I love you, Joanna Beth, but you must be more careful’ every time she came home with a new bump or scratch. “-Garth’s a good hunter, a damn good one. And you’re one of the best of your generation. But all it takes is-”

“One wrong step.” Jo finished for him gently with a harsh intake of breath and that prickle at her eyes as she did so. She could hear something of the same from the other end of the line.

Bobby had heard those words, the confession, from the one that pulled the trigger all those years ago. And he had been the one to tell Jo the harder details no one else felt the need to tell her that first year she’d been out on her own and blown into his salvage yard like a battered doll in need of stitches and care. Bobby had been the one to tell her to story, the one he got from the horse’s mouth as it were, and able to tell her with the same self-hatred that the Winchester had told him as he spoke about how one slide of the foot, or one recommendation of a person, could cause such destruction.

She found herself coughing quietly as she moved the topic on, asking how the wonderful woman Bobby brought to her birthday was and managing to draw Grey into the teasing that would hopefully keep the other hunter from falling down that pit that all of their acquaintance seemed to stand on the edge of; but her mind stayed focused on that small moment. The small acknowledgment that today had been blighted by one small accident so many years ago, a tiny rock was thrown into the lake of time by the shift of a foot across the ground. And yet the ripples still ghosted across the surface so clearly, even now.

---

It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that there was a break in the clouds long enough for Jo to suggest they go for a walk. Not that she really felt it was needed, but the crisp air on her skin might make her feel more connected to the now than the way her mind had been drifting since lunchtime.

Jo had found herself camping out on the couch with a few old dusty books, trying to continue her research for the next hunt; but mostly just found herself running her fingers over those jagged, sharp, almost illegible writing that she knew even better than her own handwriting.

Today was probably not the day she should have been reading one of his old journals, but with Nana’s warm, soft body pressed up against her side as the dog dozed and the quiet support from the other armchair of the odd frustrated noise and the familiar sound of pencil on paper, something had been telling her now was the time to do so. To dive deep in the five journals she’d recovered from her father’s locker, all except his last one which Jo had kept secret from her mother after John brought it and his leather jacket home that one last time. Thinking on that, Jo had turned her nose to breathe deeply against the shirt that was slowly losing that smell the more she wore it. It wasn’t the same but it was close. Close enough for her to close her eyes and fade back into that warm embrace of memory if she tried hard enough and felt safe enough like she did with that warm heat to her side and the never-ending support bleeding out in the air from her love.

She’d spent hours, as the rain continued to batter against the window - sometimes hard and fierce the way her heart would clench tight and sharp and painful in her chest, and sometimes soft and gentle and quiet like the softest whisper of her name in her memories as she stroked the dates and times and names written in faded, dried ink under her fingertips - just pouring through the journals as if something would give her anything. A hint, a clue, or maybe just a reason to justify spending so long staring at the words of a dead man that cut like a tiny paper cuts that healed in seconds from the very next word.

Jo had noticed the almost restlessness from the other throughout the afternoon, and she could feel a pit growing in her tummy and gnawing at her that she was.keeping him from doing something else. He moved quietly around and in-and-out of the room, but there was an underlying tension in his movements that let her know he was keeping an eye on her every move out of the corner of his eye. Keeping a watch out for any sign she needed something from him, that she was struggling. It would have felt overbearing from anyone else, but from Grey, it just made her stomach flip flop happily to know he cared for her so much. She had watched him in return, as surreptitiously as possible, as he made his way around the room - tidying this or that - or re-reorganized their DVD collection, or even when he pulled a chair up to the window and sat sketching whatever caught his eye in the grey world outside.

As the clouds finally parted and illuminated the world outside in golden sunshine in the last hour of sun for that day, Jo had finally crawled her way out from the heavy warmth of their pup and stretched carefully for a moment as she set the latest journal down on the coffee table.

“You wanna come on a walk, hun?” She asked gently as she bent here and there, twisting her arms and back around as she limbered up from the tight ball she’d been scrunched up to. Jo really needed to work on how she sat, but it was the comfiest position to spend wrapped up around the fluffy comfort of their dog, and if Grey had been stationary long enough, Jo would have curled up likewise against him as well. “Before the sun goes down?”

“Sounds like a great idea, Jo.” The words were an immediate response, and the way he just shut the sketc book he was working in let Jo know that Grey hadn’t really even been doing anything. He had just been watching her. Caring for her. And Jo’s heart felt like it couldn’t grow any bigger at that realization. Brushing his hands off on his jeans, the other smiled that look at her that always made her smile dopily back in return - though she barely cracked more than the twitch of the lips today. “How about you go get dressed, and I’ll get Nana’s collar and leash?”

“Thanks hun.” The reply was automatic, and would usually come with a smile, but they both knew today wasn’t really that much for smiles. And especially not when Jo had spent the afternoon pouring through the very life of the man missing from that day for years. It took all of three minutes for Jo to store his journals away into her study, and change into the faded grey and black jogger set she’d started to wear for her walks even if she didn’t think she’d end up doing any of the running or jogging she usually did with both dog and man in tow.

When she got downstairs again, she wasn’t at all surprised to see Nana bouncing about in her own little doggy dance of excitement at the door as Grey held onto her leash.

“She seems a little too excited, don’tcha think hun?” “Well, it has been raining all day.” “That’s true.”

“And, she will probably get to find some slugs or snails out to eat knowing her,” Grey added in a teasing tone as Jo pulled her hair back into another ponytail and he cracked the door open. She couldn’t hold back the laugh that joke got out of her as she spotted the fake disgusted look on the other’s face as they headed out. It was just the right thing for him to say right then as they turned on the path that would take them towards the lakefront. He always knew how to make her feel better.

Swinging her hands beside herself as they walked in companionable silence, Jo wasn’t surprised to feel his slide into hers between them and threaded her fingers through his own in response. Glancing out the side of her eye, she could feel that same safe feeling rush through her as his blue eyes met her brown ones filled with warmth and support. Looking away quickly, blinking rapidly, Jo let out a soft sigh as she caught the sun through her hair and felt like maybe more than just the clouds were parted now. Maybe there was always going to be someone there to make her feel like home again the way that warm smile, broad arms, and rough leather had.

---

It wasn’t until bedtime that Jo could put her finger on what felt so different about the day.

“You... you haven’t asked ‘bout it at all,” The words fell out of her lips as soon as she realized it, cuddled up into her love’s side with a book held between her fingers while Grey was tapping away on his game device playing that cute little game he enjoyed so much lately.

It surprised her to realize, but aside from one question to draw her attention in the morning the other hadn’t asked her once how she was feeling. He had not once asked her about her thoughts or feelings, he hadn’t asked her if she was okay, and most importantly he hadn’t told her once ‘how sorry’ he was for her. He’d treated her softly, that was obvious, but Grey had not pushed the issue. He had not tried to get her to talk if she didn’t want to, he had not said ‘its okay to cry’, he had not said any of the many tired cliches she’d heard over the years from school counselors and teachers, hunters and the overbearing mothers’ of the girls in her classes before she’d destroyed those friendships. He had been as quiet as her, and as reflective as she had been, and he had let her move through the day on her own in a way Jo never once remembered being allowed to do so.

He had let her breathe for once in her life.

There was a pause, and Jo could hear it in the lack of finger pressing and the soft repeated musical tone of his game, that Grey was thinking carefully what to say and how to say it.

“You didn’t talk.” He finally replied, soft as silk and gentle as moonlight, as he slowly moved to set his game down on the bedside table before those blue eyes were focused onto her. Grey paused for a moment again, before adding gently, “You don’t have to always talk, and I don’t have to always ask. Sometimes we can just be, and that might be enough or what you need.”

The idea bounced around her head for a moment as she blinked up at him slowly, processing the words and the intent behind them. The fact that Grey had known she needed time and space for herself through her lack of talk, but that she needed him and his support even if she couldn’t voice it. That he knew without words what she needed from him more than anything was just his presence by her side. A firm, unwavering and unfaltering, pillar for her to wrap her May pole feelings around in a silent dance - weaving in and out of her own feelings and her own separation - without once bowing or breaking under the pressure of her need. That all she needed was him to get through the day without him.

Those prickles were back, and this time Jo couldn’t and wouldn’t fight the welling of her eyes as she tucked her head against his chest and finally let out that last, tight breath, that had been stuck under her lungs all day. That tight knot that had welled in her stomach and caught over and over, each time she realized that even though he was gone and that for once? She had people to fill the ache of his absence without tearing at that hole further, without breaking that space apart or forcing it to bend for them. She had someone who would protect her, care for her, love her and watch out for her, even from herself, and someone who did all that and so much more now. 

Jo rubbed her face against his chest as the few tears fell, not many but more than she had spilled on this day ever, and the lightness of her heart as she finally pulled back to see the love pouring out and filling her up from Grey’s eyes, she finally smiled as widely as she usually would. Her own eyes filled with tears of both loss and happiness as she could feel the first stitch on her heart starting to pull that hole back together after all that time.

---

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Someone Alive, Part One

How does it feel?

Falling. Castiel knew that falling was defined as a verb, to move downward, typically rapidly and freely without control, from a higher to a lower level. 

Touch. How does it feel? They were just words, concepts. He understood them as a functionality, just another thing that happens like the wind or the sunrise. They are not required to have a meaning, not everything does. 

Castiel was a man of faith, he had to be, but sometimes he still wondered. When he saw the leaves move with the breeze, a bird with its outstretched wings gliding through the sky, or the lapping waves of Lake Michigan against the harbor. 

What was cool, warm, sweet, soft, gentle, rough? How does it feel?

He wore sensible shoes, when it wasn’t necessary for him to wear shoes at all, but suddenly he was glad that he had them. He stared at the city, his toes hanging over the edge of the scaffolding. His arms extended like wings, his trench coat catching the wind and flapping wildly, but even then he didn’t have the answers. He only had a taste, a longing for the tug of gravity, for just a brush of something real. 

He didn’t know how it felt. He didn’t know how any of it felt, and all he could hear was the echo of a voice inside his head, “I need to be with someone alive.” What was a life anyway? It was all so meaningless, but as the sun rose in the distance, the shape of the buildings just a dark silhouette against the bleeding pink and orange sky, he heard the music. It was a song familiar, like a mother rocking her child to sleep, a hum deep in his soul, shaking him to his core. 

There was a majesty, a mystery to a plane of the world that he couldn’t reach out and grasp, that had no definition - like the song within the sunset. But some things don’t need to be defined. Perhaps it was better to leave the mystery, the vague idea of something more, or perhaps it wasn’t. 

Before  

“Winchester what the fuck are you doing here? This is your off time, go be off,” Lieutenant Bobby Singer grouched as he walked out into the common area of the fire station. 

Dean sat with his feet up, reading the newspaper. He offered a huge smile to his Lieutenant. “I am off, see ?” 

“Don’t buy it for a second. Go home.” 

“Come on Bobby,” Dean whined. “Just let me hang around here, I’m not botherin’ anybody.” 

“You’re bothering me. Git.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He placed his feet on the ground with a huff of complaint, and walked to his quarters to grab his bag. He hated going home, if he was being honest. It was lonely in his one bedroom loft, he preferred the loud, busy chatter of the fire station. He flopped down on his bed, his head resting on his pillow. He didn’t function well on breaks, it wasn't in his blood to stay still. The guys were always trying to get him to take a damn vacation, and he always told them that vacation wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

 There was a groan from the bunk above him, the bed springs sagging as his roommate shifted in his bed. “Brother, what’re you still doing here?” 

“Mind your own, Benny.” 

Benny chuckled and leaned over the edge. He smiled down at him sleepily through a full beard. “What’s your obsession with this place, anyway?”

“Don’t have any other friends.” 

“You don’t have any friends, brother,” Benny laughed, sitting all the way up with a stretch. “Fuck, I should probably get up and around, and you should go home. Really.” 

“Buzzkills, all of you.” 

“Go have sex with your pretty girlfriend, some of us would kill to have that to go home to.” 

“She ain’t home.” 

“Where is she?” 

“She’s a pharmaceutical rep, she travels a lot. She’s on the coast now, I think,” Dean said, almost sounding bored. He’d been with Lisa since graduating from college. When they were together, things were good, and when they were apart, there were no strings. It worked for them. Dean could burst into flames and know that she wasn’t waiting around for him, worrying. The perks of having no family was that he didn’t have to worry about his own safety. He could just focus on putting out fires and saving people. It’s all he’d ever wanted to do. 

Benny’s feet hung over the side of the bunk, his bare toes uncomfortably close to Dean’s face. “Then go have some phone sex or grab a beer. Get a hobby, because if Singer finds you in here he’s going to be pissed.” 

“Eh, he’s always pissed. It’s his default emotion.” The bed creaked as the heavy man above him hopped down, giving Dean a full shot of his hairy ass. “Aw Christ, Benny. Really ?” Dean groaned, covering his eyes. “God, I can’t unsee that.” 

“Kiss my ass, Winchester.” 

“Bend over and give me something to kiss then, princess.” 

“You wish.” He moved his fingers a bit to see if his friend was decent again, just to catch him shrugging into this shirt, his ass out of view again. 

“I told you I’m lonely, don’t tempt me,” he joked. 

The familiar sound of the alarm began beeping, lights flashing - alerting them that they were needed on site. 

“Yes!” Dean grinned, hopping up. “I knew I should stay.” 

Benny was shrugging into his pants and shoes. “No way, man. Singer will kill you if he sees you out on the job. You’re off duty.” 

“Not anymore! I’m not letting you take on the job without me.”

“Stubborn ass,” Benny mumbled, jogging out of the room and down the hallway. 

Dean followed him with a laugh, matching his pace. He patted Benny’s back and offered him a wide grin. “Don’t call me by my true name, can’t have the other guys knowing.” 

“Shut up,” Benny laughed, shaking his head. 

This was Dean’s favorite part. The anticipation before, wrapping his legs and hands around the cool metal, sliding down. He slid into his clothes perfectly in less than sixty seconds, pants, boots, suspenders, coat, SCBA, SCBA mask, hood, helmet, and gloves. He was fast, much faster than Benny who always stumbled around when it came to his boots, leaving Dean snickering inside of his mask. He slid into the truck. 

He’d wanted to be a firefighter his entire life. When he was a child, his mother died in a fire, trapped in the house. They couldn’t get to her and his father pulled him out, the flames licking at their ankles. The firemen let him sit in the truck, and he got to watch as they put out the flames. He watched as one man ran in, bravely pulling his mother from the second story window. She died of smoke damage at the hospital later that night, but Dean never forgot. His own father wasn’t brave enough to go after his Mom, but the stranger in the heavy gear did, without a second thought. 

Dean was four years old, and his future was suddenly laid out in front of him. He bought a fireman's hat from the dollar store with the money that he stole from his Dad’s wallet when he was passed out drunk. 

He was desperate to find the bravery that the men who tried to save his mom had. Even an ounce of it could’ve changed everything. So he went on every run that he could, he trained as hard as possible. He was a smartass, but he was damn good at his job. No one complained when they saw that Winchester had snuck onto the truck, again . 

Dean always said that he was gum stuck to the fire station’s shoe. They couldn’t get rid of him no matter how much they tried. They were stuck with him, and as much as they bitched, he knew that they were happy that he was there. Benny settled next to him, and Dean slapped his back approvingly. 

The rest of the crew consisted of three other firemen. Jo, the petite blonde who was good at squeezing into smaller spaces. She kept up with the boys just fine, meeting every one of Dean’s snarky comments with one of her own. The night that she hustled him in poker she gained his respect and all of the money in his wallet. Kevin the genius kid, who was so good at building structures that he often mapped out their entire entrance plan, making him invaluable to the team. Last but not least, Jack Kline rounded off the group. He was the youngest in the group, brand new and fresh out of fire science camp. He had graduated early, taking classes during his junior year, so there he was: twenty years old, not even old enough to drink, drowning in his gear. Dean was gladder than ever that he decided to stick around. They were going to need him. 

They arrived at the fire first, an apartment building was caught on fire. In the briefing Kevin explained that the fire seemed to be coming from one of the mid level apartments and was spreading upwards. Evidently the old building was extremely flammable, by the time they arrived the flames were licking out of the windows, black heavy smoke curling up into the sky. 

Dean clicked on his oxygen, itching to run right into the shit. He’d gotten a talking to more than once about zipping in without orders, but he always got the job done, saved the unsaveable, he didn’t make mistakes. So he continued to be reckless, because sometimes that was what needed to be done to save the most people. At least that’s what he told himself. 

The police had already sectioned off the building to keep the civilians away, the lower levels were already evacuated and Dean could see soot-covered individual’s being checked out by EMS. 

Kevin rolled out the schematics of the building to show the team. His mask was up so he could talk them through the plan, but Dean felt the itch, something deep inside of this gut that told him he needed to go right then. It was almost like a heavy hand on his shoulder, a tap telling him that it was time to run, that he didn’t have the time to stand around staring at maps. Maybe he did have a death wish, or maybe it was something else altogether, but regardless of the reasoning, he turned away from his team, saluting Benny, and running into the building. 

The lowest level of the building was filled with heavy smoke that seemed to have creeped through the vents and down the steps of the building. He quickly looked around to see if anyone was left behind, but the coast seemed clear. He jogged to the stairs, checking his weight on them before determining that there wasn’t enough damage to cause him any real difficulties. 

The higher he climbed, the harder it was to see. The next floor up was heavy with smoke, and he squinted through his mask. His adrenaline pumped through his veins, his heart pounding in his ears. There were people up there that needed to be saved, and it was Dean’s responsibility to get to them. 

“Hey, idiot! What do you think you’re doing?” Jo buzzed into his ear piece. 

He groaned. They’d recently updated their radios, and he still wasn’t used to hearing them essentially inside of his head. “Savin’ people. You know, the job,” he said back to her into his mic. “Rooms clear on the second floor.” 

“You’re fast, Winchester, I’ll give you that. Don’t go up any further without backup.” 

“What? You’re breaking up,” he said, making chhhh noises. 

“I’m going to break something on you! Stay where you are, I’m coming to you!” 

It was some kind of miracle that Dean hadn’t been fired already, no pun intended. He was garbage at directions, and he was always getting into sticky situations. Sticky situations that he always managed to get out of, and he supposed that was why he still had a job. 

He grumbled and awkwardly stood where he was, deciding that he should probably wait for Jo. It was the right thing to do. It would be shitty of him to leave her all alone in a major fire. At least that’s what he thought until he heard the sound of the building groaning above him. It was going to come down, that was obvious, he just didn’t know how fast. “Jo,” he said into the mic. “Don’t come up, it’s not stable.” 

“Come back down, Dean. We can go up through the window.” 

“Can’t, already this far,” he said, not intending to blatantly disobey her, but fuck he wasn’t going to walk out when there were still several floors left that he had yet to sweep. Before she could respond, a cry cut through the air, through the smoke, and through the thick material covering his ears, and he had no idea how he didn’t hear it before. “Fuck, there’s a kid up here. I’m going up.” 

“Dean!” 

If Jo said anything in addition, he didn’t hear her. He was too busy running. He climbed upwards, not bothering to test for weight, which was an amateur move. He was hyper focused on the sound of the child crying out. He would get to the kid, and get him or her out as quickly as possible. He would save the little one no matter what. When he reached the next level he finally saw the flames. The third floor was clearly the originating location of the fire. Flames licked out of the open doors and out into the hallway. 

Even after all the fires that he’d been a part of he still wasn’t used to breathing easy in the midst of all of the heavy smoke. He listened hard, waiting for another wail to tell him which direction he should be going in. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to think, to focus . He knew he could find the kid, and as if he summoned it himself, a cry erupted from his left. 

He turned sharply and approached the door. He tried to open it, but the knob wouldn’t turn. He quickly eyeballed the doorframe to get a good idea of its stability. He had no real reason to think that it’d crash down around him, so he backed up a bit, and kicked at the door as hard as he could. Kicking down a door wasn’t as easy as it looked on television and even after some practice it still took a few tries before he was able to break through. The door swung open and he immediately shielded his face as the fire reached out toward the oxygen in the hallway.

He pushed through into the apartment, and it was so much worse than he expected. The ceiling groaned angrily above him, threatening to collapse, and just about every surface was engulfed in flames. He couldn’t see shit, let alone a little kid. He went through the house, looking behind furniture and inside closets, but he wasn't getting anywhere. His stomach twisted, as he realized that he might never get to the kid. Not the way he was going. Jo was screaming in his ear, but he tuned her out. 

Dean knew that it only took a single second, a thought, a breath to change his world forever. So he pulled off his mask, and he shouted as loud as he could. “Where are you? I’m here to save you!” 

He squinted in the smoke. “I heard you crying!” Come on, damn it! It didn't take long for him to already start feeling lightheaded, and he thought that maybe he’d imagined the cry all along. “My name’s Dean,” he called out weakly, feeling like it was a sad attempt at putting the mystery child at ease, but something must have made a connection, because just as he opened his mouth to call out again he was met with a small squeak that sounded a lot like his name. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah, I’m here! Where are you?” He followed the soft sound of the child’s voice over the angry, roaring fire, trying his damndest to get to the kid before the roof came crashing down. “What’s your name?” 

“Charlie,” she said, poking her head out from behind the washing machine. 

Dean let out a sigh and smiled. “Hey Charlie, you’re safe now. M’ere.” He turned his head to speak into the microphone. “Jo, I found the kid. I’m gonna get her and head down.” 

“Good, you idiot! Which side of the building are you on? We are bringing the ladder to you. The building is unstable, and the Super says that he has a good headcount of the tenants. We think the building is clear.” 

“North side,” he grunted. “Heard.” 

He crouched down and offered the little girl with two red pigtails a big smile. She coughed in response, her pale, thin fingers tightly gripping a stuffed dragon. 

“Your chest hurt?”

She nodded lightly and he pulled his oxygen away from his helmet and offered it to her. 

“Breathe in, okay? Don’t be scared, I’ve got you.” 

Her pale cheeks were covered in soot along with her nightgown, and Dean had to wonder where her parents were. “Are you alone? 

She nodded quickly again and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, spreading the soot. He stood up, backing out of the small opening so she could get out. “Let’s get out of here. It’s too hot for my taste, what about you?” He offered her a hand, and she nodded up at him, reaching out her own hand.

It happened so fast. It was another moment, a split second rift in the space-time continuum that would change his life forever. Her fingers didn’t even brush his before a loud crack erupted through the apartment. Charlie recoiled into herself, pulling her arm back into the gap next to the washer, directly under a shelf. He reached back for her, feeling like he was moving in slow motion against the pulse of the flames and the haze of heat radiating through the air. 

Dean wasn’t even able to suck in his breath before the ceiling collapsed. The support beam above them holding everything together broke right between them, crashing into the floor with so much force that it busted a hole right through the already-burning floor. Ash, flames, and smoke littered his vision and he had to blink it all away, narrowing his eyes to focus. 

He was on the ground, the falling debris having landed directly on him, and he was fucking glad that he had kept his helmet on. He couldn’t move. He was trapped. The adrenaline pumping through him made sure that he was numb from his shoulder down to his fingers. That can’t be good . He tugged gently and a white hot pain shot up his arm into his shoulder, which surprisingly felt like a good sign. He knew that at least his arm was still under there somewhere. His eyes scanned the tube going from his oxygen tank that had been connecting him and Charlie together. It was pinned underneath the rubble. “Charlie! Hey! Kid, can you hear me?” 

He coughed, his chest burning. He’d been in here too damn long. Heat licked at his cheeks and every breath was hard labor. He pulled on his arm again, feeling the true weight of the beam against his likely-broken bones. The impact fucked up his radio, and all he heard was static where Jo’s voice used to be. He never thought he’d miss the sound of her nagging, but it was all about perspective, he reckoned. 

The weight of the smoke was heavy on his tired lungs and his arm cried out in pain. All of those moments that he was told to slow down felt just a little more justified to him now. “Charlie.” His voice was weaker, his vision blurring as he tried to see her in the rubble. 

He always assumed that he would die trying to be a hero, although most would probably say that he’d die doing something pigheaded. He figured this was as good of a compromise as any. 

It came like a ping, and Castiel knew where to go. Death was a part of life, and it was his job to help the wary souls pass through the gate into heaven. He often approached the situation with eager anticipation, and when little Charlie Bradbury’s face flashed in front of his eyes, the ache in his chest that was always there pressed a little more insistently. 

He could move with a single thought. It was not like most people assumed, there were no large fantastical wings, adorned with thousands of golden feathers. He instinctively reached back behind him, grasping for the place where his wings would’ve been. Compared to what people expected, his travel was lackluster at best, but it was effective nonetheless. 

The apartment was on fire, blazing angrily around him. By the look of things, it had to be hot, painfully so, but he couldn’t feel the heat on his face, and there was no risk of danger to him as his eyes scanned for Charlie. 

His eyes were made to locate lost souls, which glowed radiantly, even as they still lingered inside of their bodies. It wasn’t difficult to locate her once he adjusted his perception. She was lodged underneath collapsed ceiling materials, gasping for breath. A piece of wood had pierced her chest, and she was still trying to breathe into her oxygen mask. The tube ran underneath the rubble and connected to a man. Castiel hadn’t noticed him previously. 

He stepped over the collapsed ceiling and crouched next to him, he had to wait for Charlie to disconnect, anyway, so Castiel had a little time. He was a fireman, still completely in his gear apart from his mask that was given to the little girl. His face was covered in soot, but even through the black, Castiel could see that his cheekbones were dusted with freckles. The fireman’s full lips were open, his breaths weak and labored. It wasn’t his time, Castiel knew, but his arm was trapped below the fallen beam. He looked like he’d given up. 

He wasn’t granted the ability to perform miracles, but there was still something that he could do. There was always something. Castiel reached out his hand and pressed his open palm to the man’s chest. Dean Winchester . The name rushed into his mind in an instant, and Castiel focused on his own grace, willing Dean to breathe in deeply, for his lungs to repel the smoke long enough for him to get to safety. He focused his strength on giving Dean the will to live. Sometimes that was enough. 

The fireman’s eyes shot open as he sucked in a deep, easy breath. He coughed a few times, spitting up black saliva, and then Dean looked at him. His face was a breath away from Castiel’s, his green eyes were alert and Castiel wished that he could see his own reflection in them. He knew that if he had the need to breathe, that Dean would’ve taken his breath away. He opened his mouth as if to speak, to ask Dean if he could see him, but Dean’s eyes flickered away, and he pulled on his arm again. 

The arm was stuck, Castiel saw that it was too much for him to pull himself free. He knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t shake that look that Dean had given him. He stood up to full height and reached down, pulling up the beam just enough for Dean to pull his arm free. Dean winced, and laughed breathlessly. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

You’re welcome, Castiel thought, not trusting his own voice. 

Dean’s arm was twisted wrong, blood staining his rig, but despite the pain that he had to be in, he hurried to his feet and began to call out. “Charlie, hey kid! Can you hear me?” 

Castiel closed his eyes for just a second at the realization that Dean was in the fire to save her. He was trying to save someone that could not be saved. There was a rustling, and Castiel opened his eyes to see Dean throwing pieces of rubble away, exposing the little girl lying on her back gasping for breath. It was too late, it would’ve always been too late. 

“No, no, no!” Dean fell back to his knees, moving the useless mask away from her bluing lips. He put his ear next to her mouth looking for breathing signs, and his fingers pressed to her throat searching for a pulse. 

Castiel had been an observer in many tragedies, and he’d seen the way people react to situations of dire emergency, but what he saw Dean do surprised him, and he hadn’t been aware that he could still be surprised. 

Dean took his broken arm, pressing his palm against her sternum with a wince, and he pressed his other palm over the bottom one, lacing his fingers. He was counting, low, his voice full of pain as he pressed down on her chest, trying to get her heart to start back up. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Live , damn it!” 

Something was stirring inside of Castiel, something that he didn’t know was possible, something that he didn’t yet have a name for. 

“You ain’t taking her. You hear me?” A pair of green eyes met Castiel’s again, causing him to still completely. Dean was looking at him, like he was a man. “Not today! Not on my watch!” 

Dean looked wary as he turned his face back down to Charlie, still pushing with all that he could, but the fire was still intense and rising around him. Castiel frowned, knowing that she was a lost cause, but not knowing how to communicate that to the stubborn man fighting in front of him. 

Castiel was fixed on the movement of Dean’s body as he attempted to pump life back into Charlie when he noticed a small tug at his trench coat. He glanced down to find Charlie Bradbury standing next to him in her pajamas, her skin and clothes clean. She glowed brightly as she blinked at Castiel confused. “Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel,” he said, crouching down at her level. He offered his hand out to her, and she stared at it suspiciously. He smiled at her. People often thought that children were far too trusting, but he found that their honesty made them trusting of only those who deserved it. “Come with me.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” he said simply and as their fingers brushed he sent a rush of calm through her. She exhaled in response, her eyes fluttering shut. 

There was a crash, a breaking of glass in the other room. “Dean,” someone called out. It was a female voice. Dean called out something that Castiel wasn’t sure was even English, sending the female firefighter bursting through the flames in his direction. “We have to go, idiot.” She stopped, her eyes settling on Dean and Charlie’s lifeless body. She shook her head. “Oh Dean, come on, we have to go. How long has she been down?”

“I can get her, I can…” 

“Come on, let me help.” She crouched down, putting her arm under Charlies neck, holding her. 

His shoulders slumped. He stopped pressing against her chest. “No, I’ll take her,” Dean said, defeat in his voice. He slid his broken arm under Charlie’s body, protectively holding her against his chest. 

The woman offered him a fire resistant blanket to wrap around the little girl’s frail, limp form, and she led Dean to the window. 

“Mister Castiel?” Charlie asked, looking up at him.

He blinked a few times, not realizing how long he’d been staring. “Yes, little one?”

“Is Grandpa there?” 

He nodded quickly. “Yes, he is waiting.” 

“Let’s go,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement. 

So Castiel gripped her hand a little tighter, feeling the need to keep her close to him after watching Dean try so hard to fight for her, try just to fail. It was so beautifully human. He turned, seeing the white glowing light of the door to Heaven swinging open for them, and they walked easily over the rubble and through the fire, into the next life. 

“But Lieutenant!” 

“But nothin’ ya idjit!” Singer shouted back. 

Dean sat in his office, his face down turned in embarrassment. He had climbed down the ladder, holding Charlie in his arms, and delivered her lifeless body to her weeping mother. His arm was twisted all to hell, and he was going to have to be in a cast for at least two weeks to fix it. He had other burns and serious smoke damage, but more than anything his ass was getting skinned by his boss. “I was tryin’...” 

“I don’t give a shit, Winchester,” Singer sighed, scratching his beard. “Listen, son, I know what you were trying to do. The fact is that you ignored my direct orders and went on the run, and then you ignored more and got yourself hurt.” 

And I didn’t even save her. He wanted to scream, break his fucking arm again. “So what?”

He shook his head, leaning across the chest. “You’re suspended until I get a call from your doc sayin’ that you’re permitted to come back. So go home, rest, and get your fucking life together.” He waved his hand, dismissing Dean. 

Dean knew that he was being let off easy, and maybe it was the fact that Lieutenant Bobby Singer had a soft spot for him, or maybe it was the fact that Dean almost killed himself trying to save a seven year old girl that he couldn’t save. 

He couldn’t save her, but the girl's mother still hugged him tightly and cried. He was invited to the funeral, and if he was being honest, it all seemed like way too fucking much. But he was a glutton for punishment, so he knew that he wouldn’t miss it for anything. 

He stood up and walked out of the office, and went straight to his bunk to grab the rest of his stuff. He’d already moved a few things, expecting nothing less than a suspension. Singer was chomping at the bit to get him to take some time off, so the required time off was a good compromise. 

He adjusted the sling on his arm, the strap rubbing against his neck. He grabbed his clothes, shoving them haphazardly into his duffle bag. Jo leaned against the doorframe of his quarters. “Got the boot?” 

Dean snorted and glanced at her. “Singer doesn’t want to see my face until my doc says I’m healed.” He waved his bad arm with a wince. 

“I’ll miss your face around here, Dean, but if you keep at it you’ll end up getting yourself killed. Maybe a little vacation will be good for you.” 

“Smug doesn’t suit you, Harvelle,” Dean grumbled. 

“Everything suits me,” she said dismissively. 

He zipped up his duffel with his one arm with some difficulty and a grunt. He picked it up and swung it over his uninjured shoulder. “You seen Sam anywhere?” 

“Benny drove him home when you were getting patched up.” 

“Great.” Dean let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t need help with anything before I go, do you?” 

“Nu uh, Winchester,” Jo said, walking towards him and taking his arm. “I am not going to help you disobey orders. Get the fuck out.” She dragged him out to the front of the firehouse. “I’ll see you later, okay? I got you a Netflix subscription. I texted you the login details.”  

Dean stumbled out into the street, the clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the sun. He grimaced at the sky, feeling like the weather was a little too on the nose with how he was feeling. He made his way to the Loop and found one of the only seats away from other people, his bag resting on his lap. He stared out the window, watching Chicago zip past him in a blur. 

He’d lived in the same old Brownstone his entire life. They’d redone the inside of the house after the fire, so the inside was different but still the same. When he looked really closely, he could still see the scorch marks under the paint on the ceiling in their bedroom. He used it as his office now, but he was rarely there, keeping the door shut at almost all times. 

Dean’s father had disappeared into the night. It was the typical cliche, he went out for cigarettes and never came back. He’d had a revolving door of family members watching over him and the apartment until he turned eighteen two years later. It was already paid for, his grandfather Henry having purchased it with the little money he had coming home from the war when he was young. Dean couldn’t give it up, no matter how much he hated being there, no matter how much his old bedroom kept him from sleeping.

He hopped off the Loop a few blocks away from his place and enjoyed the fresh air, because he knew that the next few weeks would be suffocating. He could already feel the pressure on his chest, constricting his lungs. He unlocked the front door, taking one last deep breath before he crossed the threshold. 

“Sam,” he called out, tossing his duffel bag on the couch. “They suspended me! That’s some bullshit, right?” 

He walked to the fridge and swung it open, grinning wide as soon as he saw that Benny had stocked it full of beer. He pulled one out, struggling with the bottle opener with only one good hand. “Everyone is pissed that I went in against orders. I was just tryin’ to save her, and maybe if I’d got there sooner…” He finally got the cap off, letting out a heavy sigh. He took a swig of his beer and leaned against the counter. “Sammy, you listening to me? Are you mad at me too? Sam?” 

Dean heard the footsteps before he saw him. He turned and crouched down to catch his massive chocolate lab in his good arm. He wrapped it around the dog's neck, scratching behind his ears. “Aw, Sammy I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.” He laughed as Sam licked his cheek. 

He was never a dog person before he got Sam, but on one of the first house fires that he worked, he’d seen this little puppy in the corner, howling and whimpering. He couldn’t just leave the poor thing there to burn, so he carried him out of the burning building and fell in love with the little guy. It wasn’t often that dogs were allowed in firehouses anymore, but the entire team loved Sammy. He was quiet and well behaved, and when Dean went home he took Sam with him. He liked to joke that Sam was the only other living being that he could live with permanently since everyone else drove him stir-crazy. Sammy was happy to see him no matter what he did, and he didn’t give him that disappointed look that everyone else seemed to have. 

“Just me and you for a few weeks, buddy,” Dean murmured, scratching behind his ear, already feeling the quiet from his apartment creep around him like smoke, like a curse. 

Castiel stood on top of Willis Tower, overlooking Chicago as it transitioned from day to night. All the flights flickered in, illuminating the thousands, millions of angels standing around the city on street corners, ledges of buildings, lamp posts, vehicles… everywhere the air touched was also touched by an angel. They were the soldiers, the messengers of god. 

There was a sound of flapping, for just a moment, as if Hannah was taking land as she appeared next to Castiel with only a thought, a breath. She wore a simple suit, much like Castiel’s own. Her hair was plain brown, simple, but she was pretty in her own regard. She was his very best friend, if angels had such a thing. 

“Castiel,” Hannah said pleasantly, lowering herself to a seated position so her legs hung off the edge of the building. He followed suit, sitting next to her. 

They did this every day, sitting on the edge of the buildings and watching the sun disappear over the horizon. They sat, talked, and when the last rays of sun touched the earth they were quiet. 

“I escorted a little girl today,” he said, squinting at the buildings, his hands clasped in his lap. 

“What was her favorite part?” Hannah asked. She could seem disinterested, but for most of Castiel’s brothers and sisters it was just easier that way. Angels were not known to have the capacity to feel, so most didn’t bother to fake it. 

For Castiel, though, it was different. His curiosity with humanity often pushed him to the edge of what was expected of him. He’d always been a bit of a black sheep. 

He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a small notebook. He licked his index finger to catch a page, turning it easily. Hannah gave him a look, like she didn’t quite understand, but she was quiet nonetheless. “Her favorite part of being human,” Castiel said lightly, with a smile, “was the marshmallows in her morning Lucky Charms.” 

“Sugar,” Hannah said with a knowing nod. “Not quite insightful.” 

It wasn’t, but he still wondered. How did it taste ? He tried to close his eyes sometimes and imagine it, just for a moment. He tried to imagine what one of those tiny morsels would feel like on his tongue, melting away, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t grasp onto it. Most days, those thoughts left him more hollow than ever, the emptiness whistling through him like through a chip in a glass. 

“She asked if she could become an angel,” he said quietly. 

“Did you tell her the truth?” 

“I didn’t want to upset her.” 

“Castiel, she can’t be an angel.” She reached for the hand of her friend and patted it gently. “We were never human.” 

“I know.” Castiel let out a heavy sigh. 

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth, but I did offer to make her wings out of paper.” He turned to Hannah, offering her a wide grin. 

“And what did she say about that?” 

“She said, what good would wings be if you couldn't feel the wind on your face?” His voice was solemn, quiet, catching the breeze and floating away with it. He reached his hand out for the breeze, trying desperately to feel something, anything . “Do you ever wonder what that would be like?”

“What are you asking?”

“Touch… do you ever wonder what it would be like to feel ?”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line, in a thought, a consideration. Her eyes were focused elsewhere, out into the distance, and when she opened her mouth to speak, he’d never heard her so hesitant, so unsure. It wasn’t in their nature. “No.” 

He could feel the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile. “Did you just lie to me?”

Her eyes flickered to his, and she pursed her lips. “Of course not. It’s pointless to wonder about things that you’ll never experience. It is a waste of time. You should stop this nonsense, Castiel, it may get you in trouble one day.” 

He knew that, of course he did, but he couldn’t stop, not until the questions that plagued him had answers, and another one had been drilling into his mind since the moment he saw Dean Winchester’s magical green eyes lock with his in the midst of that fire. “Hannah, have you ever been seen?”

“My, you are inquisitive today.” She laughed to herself, a small exhale out of her nose, before her dark eyes flickered to his blue ones. “Of course not, Castiel. Humans can’t see us, not unless we want them to.” 

“When I went to get the little girl today… there was this fireman, and I could’ve sworn that he looked right at me.” 

“He wasn’t looking at you.” 

Castiel swallowed hard, because he knew that she was right. Dean wasn’t looking at him, he was looking directly into him, past the outer layers and into his soul. 

Hannah must’ve noticed his hesitation, because she leaned in closer to him. “You didn’t let him see you, did you, Castiel?” 

Did he? He shook his head. “No. He didn’t… comment on what he saw, but he seemed like he was looking at me.” 

“Your head is in the clouds,” she said fondly, turning her face back out to the sparkling lights from the city. 

That was him, Castiel, the angel with his head in the clouds, but was that so unreasonable? To him, it seemed like a logical place for an angel’s head to be. The time for talk, questions, and judgement was over, because the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, emitting a beautiful hum almost like the first note on a violin. Even though he didn’t know God personally, his purpose, or why he couldn’t get those green eyes out of his mind, at least he had the song in the sunset, because when he heard it, feeling it rush through him into his bones, he had all the answers that he needed. That song gave him faith. That song helped him see God. 

But that day, in that exact moment, the song sounded different… It sounded like Dean. 

  -------------------------

Part Two

Masterlist

Read on A03 Here

Art Masterlist

[hannah-deserved-better]

My Fan fiction blog

I want to invite everyone to follow my fan fiction/art blog: @hanstielprompts It’s where I will be posting all my Fan fictions and art work from now on, specifically my Hanstiel stuff. I would appreciate you reblogging my work and commenting on it as I would like to have feed back. There are four stories on there now that I am slowly transferring over from AO3. Here’s some summaries and snippets:

Angel’s Day Out (Contents)

After saving Dean from being a demon, Castiel decides to teach Hannah a little more about humanity. The two leave on a weekend of exploration and intimacy. Just a cute little fluff about two angels falling in love.

**

“Yes,” Castiel said as he got out of the car and moved around to open the passenger door for her. “I don’t quite understand it either, but Dean informed me that we would not be allowed entry to this restaurant if we were dressed like douchebags, as he called it. He said we had to look sharp.”

Hannah felt confused. “Sharp?” she repeated. “Like a blade?” She looked down at herself. She wore a slimming black dress with a short hemline, square neckline, and thin spaghetti straps crisscrossing her bare back. Her hair was pulled back from her shoulders, spilling in wavy tresses against her back. She wore a light blue pendant that Sam had said brought out her eyes.

Castiel offered her his hand and, hesitantly, she took it, and he hoisted her to her feet. “Do I look sharp then? Sam Winchester claimed this was appropriate.” Castiel looked at what she wore, his eyes studying her slim form closely.

“Yes,” he responded. She felt her cheeks turn a little warm as she took in his appearance. He wore a dark navy blue tuxedo with coat and white dress shirt. His appearance certainly made her vessel flush slightly; she didn’t quite understand this sort of reaction. “You look smashing.”

Hannah hoped that smashing was a good thing.

Grace Exchange (Contents)

Hannah gives Castiel her grace and then is captured by a local serial killer. When she is at her most vulnerable- an angel on Earth without grace- she is held captive and tortured by this killer and Castiel is desperate to find her. Warning: Torture, gore, attempted sexual assault, and sexual assault of a side character.

After that sickening presentation, Castiel could hardly walk. He followed Sam and Dean out into the hallway, and when they turned to him, he collapsed against the wall, bending over, gripping his head in his hands. He felt waves and waves of dizziness, his head pulsated and throbbed. He gasped in a few breaths. The emotions threatened to strangle him.

“Hey, hey,” Dean’s voice seemed distant, like an echo in Castiel’s mind. He felt both Winchesters gripping him on the shoulders, holding him up. He tried to let himself slump to the floor, but the firm grips on his shoulders held him up. As he blinked, his vision blackened, but he saw Dean and Sam sandwiching him between them, both supporting him. Dean patted him on the chin in an attempt to get him to snap out of it.

“Come on Cas,” Sam urged. “It’s going to be okay.” But it wasn’t okay. What he had just seen, the thought Hannah could be suffering like this; this human could be hurting her, it triggered emotions so overwhelming, it was if his body shorted out.

Shadows of the past (Contents)

Castiel and Hannah are raising Jack and a de-aged Claire together when Hannah learns she is pregnant. Aside from what’s going on in their lives, there are some mysteries to be solved in this small Maine town in the woods where they have relocated. Nearby, Sam and Dean make themselves at home at a new bunker, and face challenges of their own. In addition, at the onset of her pregnancy, Hannah begins to have visions and see glimpses of a past she doesn’t remember or understand. Side Pairings: Sabriel+Eileen Leahy, Dean/Jo Harvelle, Charlie/Jo, Claire/Kaia. Warnings: hauntings, gore, mystery, suspense.

“Why pumpkins?” Jack asked as he glanced around at all the activities as the three of them approached the entrance to the pumpkin patch. “Well I consulted the google for appropriate Halloween related activities,” Castiel explained as he and Hannah came to a stop at the ticket booth. “Visiting a pumpkin patch is a significant ritual. We have to journey through the corn maze, eat nutritionally deficient but seasonal foods, ride the carriage, and at the conclusion, we must select some pumpkins to take home so we can carve them into faces to frighten young children on Halloween.” Hannah mimicked the confused look on Jack’s face as the Nephilim cocked his head to one side. Both looked at Castiel for clarification as the angel glanced up from reading the list off of his phone. Castiel smiled as he noticed the two of them looking at him like confused lost birds.

“I don’t understand how consuming nutritionally deficient foods is necessary for this activity, Castiel,” Hannah spoke up, trying to wrap her mind around yet another strange human concept. “And wouldn’t frightening the children cause a traumatic reaction?”

“I’ll show you both,” Castiel assured them, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took Hannah’s hand and ushered her towards the ticket booth while Jack looked on. “Three tickets please,” Hannah told the ticket booth attendant. The woman glanced at the three of them, eyes lingering slightly on Jack, who seemed preoccupied with the activities going on just beyond the gate. “How old is he?” the woman asked as Hannah handed her some cash. “He just turned one,” Castiel explained, proudly. Hannah glanced at him as he received a dumbfounded look from the woman. Now it was Castiel’s turn to be confused. “Was… that not the correct answer?”

Empty Vessels (https://hanstielprompts.tumblr.com/EmptyVessels)

Co-written with a friend, this story takes place in the current seaon 14 of Supernatural (so beware of spoilers). Nick, Lucifer’s empty vessel embarcks on a campaign of torture and murder. His target? former angel vessels. He’s tracked down one particular angel vessel, Caroline Johnson, and Castiel and Jack have come to protect her before Nick gets ahold of her. Pairings: Castiel/Caroline. Warnings: Dark themes, psycological trauma, PTSD, homelessness, mental trauma, serial killing, torture, attempted assault. This is a very VERY dark angsty fic so beware.

Caroline sighed, looking down at her hands as they rested in her lap. After a pause, she lifted her gaze and looked- actually looked- at him. "She cared about you, you know," she said. "Hannah. I shared her thoughts, and she loved you."

"I know," Castiel admitted. He hesitated. He had grown to care for Hannah. Her death had hurt him deeper than any other had. He wasn't sure if it was love, but he wondered if it could have been if they had had time. Emotions didn't come easily for angels and Castiel always admired Hannah for her ability to feel things deeply. It was her passion, her kindness, her trust in him that he admired about her.

And Caroline was not Hannah. She shared her body; it was hard for Castiel to look at her and not see Hannah. But she was not. This was a shy, withdrawn, timid woman who had been hardened by the harsh life she had been dealt. Hannah's passions seemed not to be present. She appeared almost… empty. She was merely going through the motions in life. Not really living. Had she always been that way or was this just one more broken human that the angels destroyed?

"I know you probably don't care for her," Castiel began. "But… Hannah would be devastated to know what had become of you."

Caroline inhaled sharply and quickly dropped her gaze. "I have been on survival mode for so long. I haven't really cared about living, but I suppose I am too cowardly to just let myself die. So… I've just been here… but not alive. It's been so long since…"

She trailed away, her voice becoming husky with emotion. Castiel reached over and used a finger to gently lift her chin. She gazed up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. It seemed that simple, gentle touch broke something within her. First, her face scrunched up and then suddenly, she was in his arms, propelling herself to him, planting her face into his shoulder.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part four) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part four: Y/N begins to feel more at home, getting the hang of the daily routine at the ranch. But her world is finally complete when her horse arrives.  Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Sunshine’ by Ryan Bingham, ‘The Stable Song’ by Gregory Alan Isakov. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “You haven't mucked many stables in your life, have ya?”

     Panting, Y/N stops with what she’s doing, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. After turning out all the animals, Dean and Jo started training the horses, while she was assigned to assist Garth to muck out the twenty stables. The air might have cooled between the head wrangler and herself, he did not lie when he said that he was not going to treat her differently than any other intern. As she anticipated, she landed a dirty job, quite literally.          Out of breath, she turns to face Garth in the doorway, who is leaning on a pitchfork. He has his eyebrows raised, but his smile is gentle. With her pitchfork still stuck in the mixture of sawdust and manure, she chuckles nervously. Is it that obvious that she has absolutely no idea what she is doing? The stable boy has got her figured out, but she is not entirely ready to admit it yet. In another attempt to lift the heavy clunk off the concrete, she’s able to pull it up a few inches, but then she has to admit her defeat; it’s just too heavy.      “Guilty,” she sighs.

     “Here, let me help,” Garth offers. “What you basically do with each stable, is quickly scoop the clean shavings in one corner and only take out what’s dirty. Don't bite off more than you can chew, alright? If you try to clean out the stable in one haul, you’ll ruin your back. Make sure the wheelbarrow is already pointing into the direction of the shitpit, so that you don't have to turn it when it's full.”      “The shitpit? Really?” Y/N grins, assuming he meant the muck heap.      “It has a nice ring to it,” the guy returns, sniggering over his own choice of words.       He demonstrates quickly, moving the clean shavings aside and picking up the darkened wooden fibers with his pitchfork, hurling it into the wheelbarrow swiftly.      “Don't be too neat about it, the ponies are gonna drop their chocolate muffins the moment they step back in. Make sure most of it is out,” Garth scoops up the last droppings, then twists the handle and pulls the clean shavings back to the center of the stall, “then even out what's left and if necessary add a little more shavings.”

     The tactic helps, and Y/N cleans out the next stable a lot faster than she did the previous one. Yet she can't keep up with Garth, who finishes his row when she has barely reached the fifth box. Already she feels exhausted. Aching shoulders, a sore back, and already blisters start to develop on her hands during the very first hour of hard labor. On top of all that, she is so hungry that she can hear her stomach growl above the sound of Ryan Bingham’s ‘Sunshine’ blasting from the radio. Breakfast sure sounds good by now.       Twenty minutes past eight she finishes her final stable while the slender stable boy is sweeping the hallway. He is done by the time she returns with an empty wheelbarrow, which she turns over against the wall next to the other. Jo and Dean return from the arena, cooling the horses down by walking circles around the Joshua tree. For a second, Y/N watches the head wrangler on the beautiful buckskin with black manes and a shiny, golden coat. Her breath is stolen from her for a short second.

     Holy mother of God; he looks good on a horse.

     Even though the American Quarter is only walking, she can tell he’s a good rider. The way he comfortably adjusts his balance with the movements of the animal under him, the end of the reins loosely between his fingers and his free hand rests on his upper leg as he talks to Jo; riding comes naturally. It is like breathing to him, he doesn't even have to think about it. Jo seems at home in her beautifully hand-crafted saddle as well.       “I don't know about y’all, but I could eat.”      Benny leans against the large doorway, lifts his hat and wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm, then puts it back on. He picks a pack of Lucky Strike from his back pocket, as well as his zippo, and lights a smoke. He generously smiles at Y/N after taking a drag, and for a second she senses that Dean isn’t the only one who is interested in the fresh face. Well, fresh? Not so much after mucking out stalls in eighty-seven degrees, but then again, neither is the farrier. His shirt is drenched, dark stains on the center of his chest. A little insecure about his intentions, she smiles back sheepishly, after which Benny thankfully shifts his attention to the riders.      “Still comfortable up there, Chief? Get your lazy ass off that horse, us workin’ men gotta still our hunger,” he nags.      Dean chuckles, amused by the harmless bantering of his best friend. “Somebody has to do the ridin’ and keep the horse beneath,” he counters, as he swings his right leg over the back of the horse and lowers himself to the ground.      "One time, brother,” the Southerling sighs, shaking his head. “One time you saw me fall off that bronc and you still hold that against me? That was six years ago!”

     Y/N looks from Benny to Dean, who has tied his buckskin to the pole under the Joshua tree and now loosens the cinch of the saddle. The intern takes her cue and walks over to help, partly trying to make up for the attitude she gave him the night before, but also to impress him with her eagerness. The head wrangler grins at her over the back of his horse as his friend continues to argue over what’s true and what's exaggerated about the event that his friend just brought up. Y/N can’t hide her smile either; she would like to see where this is heading.           “Oh, you didn't just fall off that bronc. That was the biggest face plant in the history of the State of Arizona,” Dean corrects, slightly overdoing it to the amusement of the others.      “C’mon now, it wasn't like that,” Benny responds.      Dean opens the faucet and starts to hose down the Quarter, washing the dirt and sweat out of its golden coat. In the meantime Y/N takes off the bridle and replaces it with a leather halter, trying not to snigger.      “Benny, be fair. There's still a dent in the arena footing where you touched down with that brick head of yours,” Jo chips in.      Y/N snorts and Dean breaks out in full-body laughter, only fueled by the stunned expression of the farrier, the cigarette still hanging from his parted lips. He doesn't have a counter ready.      “I ain’t talkin’ to you folks no more,” he mutters eventually, after which he saunters away, mumbling something unintelligible.

     Dean smirks, and eyes the intern again over the arch of the buckskin’s back, running his hand through the horse's wet mane, after which he gives the stallion a pat on the shoulder. He's trying to suppress the trace of victory before the others notice. What was this whole little challenge with his friend about? Truly just his colleague’s legendary fall? Dean saw how his pal smiled at Y/N and felt his gut twist and turn at the sight. He knows Benny, he knows that grin. And although she obviously belongs to nobody and the two men usually don't mind when one gives it a go with the girl who the other is chasing, Dean felt the need to claim her. When the farrier mocked him on making slow time, he instantly took that opportunity to put him back in his place. He wonders if Benny picked up on his reasoning, and what if she did? The cowboy tries to read her as he lifts the heavy saddle off the pole.      “Wanna bring him back to his stable?” he asks with a gentle voice. “Led is in the second on the left.”      “Sure.” She smiles, glad to get the responsibility of one of his horses. But then she realizes something. Led? Who calls his horse Led? Unless…      “Led, as in ‘Led Zeppelin’?” she wonders, as she unties the beautiful stallion.      Surprised Dean frowns at her and looks over his shoulder. “You know this horse?”      She scoffs. “No, but I know the band.” 

     Feeling the cowboy's eyes on her, she can tell that he’s impressed, and instantly the heat rushes to her cheeks.      Why are you feeling so flushed every time he directs his gaze to you? She wonders. You're that confident girl who gave him a run for his money last night. Where did she go?  ��        But something about his ways leaves her a doubtful mess inside.      “You know Led Zeppelin?” Dean appeared again, resting his strong forearms on the stable door. Apparently he stored away the saddle in the tack room and made it back in record time. She piqued his interest earlier, but now he just can’t help himself.       “I’m familiar with their music, yeah,” she admits, undoing Led from his halter, after which she intends to exit the box.      “Prove it,” he challenges, holding the door for her. “First song of the second album.”      “Whole Lotta Love,” she recalls without blinking, confidence returning now that he started on a subject she’s an expert on.      “Name of the fifth album.”      She grins as the two of them start making their way, joined by Jo and Garth, who helped her tack down the grey she was riding.      “Houses of the Holy,” she answers.      He laughs. “Well, I’ll be damned. Where have you been hiding all my life?”

     She can’t stop herself from chuckling as she looks down, catching Jo’s eye roll as she does. It's clear the blonde cowgirl is not impressed with her cousin’s smooth talk and it brings Y/N back to earth. Yes, she gives Dean the benefit of the doubt, but Jo warned her for a reason.      This is his usual M.O, he tells this to all the girls, the convincing voice in her mind tells her. There is nothing special about you.      “What’s your favorite Led Zep song?” Dean wonders.      “Right now at this very moment?” She steals a playful glance at him from under her Milano hat. “It would be a tie between What Is And What Should Never Be and Ramble On.”

     Dean opens his mouth to respond as he pushes open the heavy door to the small cafeteria, but then the titles dawn on him. The double meaning behind her peculiar choice of songs doesn't go unnoticed with his colleagues either, because Jo throws him a wide grin, and Garth sniggers. He shakes his head, but can’t hide the ear to ear smile. Before the wrangler can fire back, he enters the lounge area, the smell of bacon, fresh bread, and pancakes filling his nostrils like it does every morning. Aunt Ellen, his dear aunt Ellen. Everyone who works at this ranch should be thanking the man upstairs for this woman who makes the best scrambled eggs in the country.

     “Well, come on in, y’all!” She greets the workers, stirring the delicious smelling food in the frying pan, after which she starts scooping the eggs on the plates. “The food ain't sittin’ here to get cold.”      With a watering mouth, Y/N settles down on the chair opposite of Bobby, who is already sipping on his coffee while Benny puts a fresh pot on the table. Ash hits the radio, letting Americana music mix with chatter. When everyone is seated, Ellen turns to Y/N.      “Now honey, here we pray before our meal. Feel free to join us, but it’s perfectly fine if you don’t,” she informs the intern with a gentleness in her voice that makes her feel comfortable, whatever option she chooses. Ellen takes her husband’s hand and squeezes it sweetly, then turns to one of the wranglers. “Ash? I believe it’s your turn for prayers.”      “Great, ‘cause I’m starvin’,” Ash states, apparently keeping things short. “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat!”      “Amen!” Benny adds, not wasting a second before starting on his breakfast.

     Y/N grins at the sight of the two men, who couldn’t be more different, devouring the food as her neighbor Jo shakes her head disapproving, muttering ‘savages’. Laughing, Garth reaches over the table for a freshly baked bun while Bobby asks for the butter, and passes the ketchup to his daughter before she can ask for it. The blonde squirts the red sauce on her stir-fried eggs, leaving her bacon unattended long enough for Ash to almost steal it from her, had Ellen not smacked him on the hand with a spatula. The intern might have stumbled on a ranch that at the surface seems a little dysfunctional with workers and wranglers that occasionally score high on the crazy scale, but somehow she feels like she fits in. The fear of not being accepted was washed away by the welcoming comfort that reflects from every single one present in this room. She is a part of this already. 

     As she chews on the delicious bacon while laughing over one of Benny’s funny stories, she glances across the table, catching Dean looking over. It startles her a little, but she doesn’t look away and neither does he. For just a moment, she could swear she caught him off guard when she laid eyes on him, or did she imagine him flinching? The exchange of looks lasts several seconds as the cowboy keeps a hold of her gaze, letting her dwell in his emerald greens, before Bobby breaks the moment unintentionally by elbowing his head wrangler when he tries to pick one of the sausages out of the pan in front of him. Relieved, Y/N breathes and take a swig of her glass of orange juice. How many times does she have to remind herself that the only reason she’s here, is to prove to her dad that she can run her own business? She has to stay focused, remember what Jo told her, and do what she came here to do. Yet the presence of the tall and handsome cowboy with dark blonde hair, gorgeous eyes, and a killer smile is going to make that difficult. She doesn't even have to make it through the first day to figure that much.

     Honestly, Y/N has no idea what she was so worried about in the weeks prior to this internship. Working at the ranch proves to be hard labor, but the physical aspect of the job is about the only one she needs to adjust to. The rookie picks up quickly and doesn't have to be told twice, which is noticed by the crew. Garth especially compliments her on occasion, which fuels her confidence and motivates her to a degree that the soreness of her body is forgotten.      After breakfast, the trail horses are brought in and tied up at the tack up area, where she and Jo prepare them for the first ride of the day. While handling some of the four-legged workers, she tries to remember the names and characteristics of each. She gets to know Teddy, an easy-going, brown gelding whose full name is Ted Nugent, and Pink Floyd, a small chestnut with a peculiar scar on his shoulder in the shape of a triangle; a visible memory of an old injury he suffered when he ran through a fence as a foal. Then there's Bowie, a red roan with a zigzag marking on his forehead, Joplin, a dark mare, and Dylan, a pinto coming of age but is still going strong. Seems like Dean got a little carried away when naming the animals, it’s hard to miss the rock theme.       Jo takes a group of five inexperienced riders for a slow ride, while Garth continues to tack up training horses for the head wrangler, so that he can get off one and on the next. At that pace, eight horses have their workout before lunch. Between sweeping floors and turning out horses, Y/N manages to catch a glimpse of the training, and even though she doesn't want to get caught leaning on a broom, she can't stop her gaze from drifting over to the arena. The skilled rider is a joy to watch, and not just because he looks good doing it. Not once does he use force to control the horse, and the extent of his patience is remarkable, especially when one of the young stallions acts up. Without a shadow of a doubt, Y/N is going to learn a lot from him, she can't wait for her horse to arrive. 

     After lunch - which again is served by Ellen and tastes absolutely devine - the crew retreats to the bunkhouse for their two-hour siesta. Ash lays across the entire couch, completely out of it and snoring loudly, while Benny watches daytime television. The others went back to their rooms, all but Y/N. Impatiently, she draws marks in the sand with the heel of her boot, as she sits on the lowest step of the porch, gazing at the road that meets the private drive, about a half a mile further up. The heat is close to unbearable, even here in the shade droplets of sweat run down her chest. She understands the necessity of the break after experiencing her first day in extreme conditions, because working in these temperatures would be torture. A fly bugs the young woman; she smacks the insect out of her face while she wonders when the special delivery will finally arrive. The transporter called an hour ago that he had made good time and would probably arrive at the ranch half past noon. Which would be right about now, according to her phone. Y/N sighs and snaps her eyes at the main road again. 

     “What time are you expecting your horse?"      Dean slowly walks up from behind. She can feel the wood creak under her as he steps closer. His voice is enough to make her breath hitch a little, although she’s not sure if that’s because his sudden appearance startles her, or because he simply has that effect on her respiration.      Quick to cover her surprise, she answers him without moving from her spot. “Five minutes ago.”      Now she does look over her shoulder, watching him come closer with two cans of Coca-Cola in his hands. He offers her one, which she takes gladly and thanks him for, then she straightens herself again.       “I hope she’s alright,” she sighs, expressing her concern as she opens the drink.      “It’s a long drive from Maine, ain't it?” Dean assumes.      “Thirty-five hours on the trailer,” she replies. “They stopped for the night in Tulsa, but still.”

     He leans against one of the struts supporting the roof. The wrangler sips on his cool drink, clasping his lips around the opening in the can as he tilts his head back and takes a swig, exposing his neck as he does so. Y/N can't help but notice. Damn, that jawline… She snaps out of it and rips her eyes from him before he catches her swooning. Good call, because he looks down on her a second later.      “What’s your horse's name?”      “Meadowsweet.” She smiles.      “Quarter?” he asks again.      Y/N nods. “Sired by Gunner.”      Dean raises his brows impressed. Gunner is a leading National Reining Horse Association stallion, one of the few to earn over five million dollars in offspring, and is inducted into the NRHA Hall of Fame. Foals from his descent are known for their talent and eagerness to perform. That stallion has brought some of the best reining horses in the world.      “Don't worry about it. The transporter would have called if anything had occurred,” he reassures, comfortingly. “And all the horses that come through those barn doors, settle in just fine. These lands have this… peacefulness over them. It’s a good place for the soul, horse and human. You’ll see.”      Calmed by his gentle words, Y/N lets her gaze drift off, the corner of her mouth curling up. Then she glances up at the wrangler, whose eyes haven't left her yet.      “Has it been good for you, too?”       He scoffs. “Like you wouldn't believe.”      It's the way he delivers those words, that tempts Y/N to read the man in her company. How old would he be? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine, maybe? But it's without a doubt that in those years he has been through plenty. The cynical chuckle before he spoke, the way he averted his eyes immediately, those tiny tells just unraveled more than his confident talk and cheery appearance plus Jo’s warnings about the wrangler combined.       “How come?” she asks before she can stop herself.      A little thrown back by her unexpected question, Dean steals a glance, grinning at her nosiness. Instantly the blood rushes to her face again as she closes her eyes and covers her face with both hands. God! Why can't you simply think through what you are about to say before you blurt it out?!       “Sorry, that was inappropriate. Again,” she excuses herself.      “No, no. It’s quite alright,” Dean says, putting her mind to rest.      Usually, the wrangler isn’t eager on opening up about his past. It's something he keeps to himself and only very few know more about. He closed that book a long time ago, so he keeps it simple.      “My mom died when I was young, Dad wasn't around much,” he explains. “I came to live on the ranch when I was fourteen and I never left.”      Silenced, Y/N watches him, eyes big and filling with sympathy.       “No brothers and sisters?” she wonders.      Now she pulls on his heartstrings, even though Dean tries to suppress what he feels within. Yet his jaw flexes, his head tips down as the brightness in his eyes fades.      “I have a brother. But - uh...  He ran away from home before I left myself,” Dean elaborates. “I haven’t seen him since. I don't know where he's at.”

     With empathy heavy on her chest, she tries to think of something to say in order to turn this conversation on a less depressing course than the one it’s sailing now. Y/N breathes out, though. Seems like for the first time since the two met, she’s clueless about what to say, and so she states the obvious.      “I'm sorry,” she says, internally kicking herself in the head for bringing out the skeletons in his closet.       “Don't be. I landed on my feet,” Dean assures, trying to take away her discomfort with a smile. “These lands, this ranch; this is home. And the people runnin’ it and workin’ here are my family. Life’s good.”      He means that: she can tell, because the passion returns in his powerful gaze. Soothed by the sight of his contentment, she smiles down at the empty can in her hand, which she’s torn the cap from.

     “And you? Any siblings?” Dean returns, genuinely interested.      “Yeah, three brothers actually. All older than me.” She grins at that.       “Whoa, that must have been a challenge.” The wrangler chuckles as he takes the last sip of his Coke.      “Not so much. They toughened me up and when it came down to it, and were always there to protect me. Plus, I did learn how to build a treehouse and I’m a pretty good wrestler too,” she adds.       The cowboy smirks imagining it. “And how does a girl like you know so much about Led Zeppelin?” he wonders.      Y/N furrows her brow. “A girl like me ?”      “Yeah, I mean… Y’know,” he mutters, a little unsettled by her tone. “From upstate, young, twenty… something.” Shit. He's digging his own grave here.       “Twenty-four,” she fills in for him, amused by his stumbling, “and I like to think I have an old soul, but really it was my Grandfather who introduced me to music.”      “He did a good job teaching you then,” Dean compliments, looking down at his cowboy boots and still trying to overcome the near-miss.      “He did. He was amazing. Meadow was actually a gift from him,” she tells.

     Was. He was amazing.

     Dean peeks at the intriguing woman from under his lashes. He doesn't need to be a genius to figure out that her Granddad isn't amongst them anymore. A short silence follows as Dean ponders on how to continue the conversation, when a dust cloud on the driveway catches his attention. His focus on the horizon triggers Y/N to get up and look in the same direction.

A bright shimmer of sunlight bounces off the aluminum trailer pulled by a red Dodge, which approaches slowly in the distance. A whirlwind of excitement blows through her as she looks over at Dean. Then she gets down from the porch and heads off to meet them.      “Need help unloading?” he checks before following his intern.      “Yeah, I can use a hand,” she says, looking over her shoulder.      And so he follows. By the time they reach the square in front of the horse barn, the pickup turns onto the parking lot and comes to a stop. A middle-aged man with a black beard turns towards her after getting out of his truck, reaching out to shake her hand.      “Y/N L/N?” he checks.      She nods. “Yes, that’s me.”      A loud neigh sounds from the trailer, followed by stomping. Meadow heard her owner loud and clear and her response puts a smile on the cowgirl’s face. She missed her horse, but it seems like her friend is glad to see her human too.       “Was she okay?” Y/N checks with the transporter as she circles the trailer.      “A little restless every now and then, but other than that she did fine,” he says, taking the safety pins out of the heavy handle, turning it open.

     Dean had done so on the other side as well and the men lower the ramp to the gravel. Inside two pointy small ears are pinned towards the light. Meadowsweet's trademark white face stands out in the shade as she yanks on the chain that prevents her from turning around. It’s for her own good, too much freedom during travel could cause her to lose her balance and fall. But she doesn't understand the restrain, and the mare seems to be insulted by the limitation to her movement. All she wants now is to get out, eat, drink, and stretch her legs.      A soft low purr comes Y/N’s way, her nostrils flaring. After days on the road, taken away from home by a man she didn't recognize, a familiar face calms her. Softly hushing her horse, Y/N walks up to her, takes the lead rope, and clasps it to her handcrafted halter. She releases the chain and pushes open the divider, guiding her horse down the ramp while both Dean and the driver stand on each side of it, making sure Meadow doesn't step next to the lit. Alert, the mare looks around, taking in her new environment. The Arizona sun shines on her light brown coat, revealing a beautiful copper shine. A second neigh reverberates under the high roof of the barn when Y/N leads the Quarterhorse to the first stable on the right. Her call is countered by an echo produced by the other horses, who seem to welcome their new neighbor. Dean follows with the luggage, the heavy saddle under one arm and dragging her large tack box on wheels behind him.      “What did you pack? Bricks?” he complains, grimacing, moving the equivalent of a woman’s suitcase on holiday; a lot of stuff she’s never going to use or wear, but might need.

     Y/N presses her lips together and chuckles a little embarrassed. Yeah, maybe she went a little overboard while packing. She undoes Meadow from her halter and lets her be for a bit, smiling at how the mare curiously sniffs every inch of her new box. When she has decided her stable is safe, she circles around a couple of times, adjusts her bedding by digging through the wood shavings with her front leg, after which she lowers to her knees and falls on her side, taking a long-anticipated roll. She rolls over once, twice, then gets up and shakes off the sawdust, after which she looks at her human friend.      "Satisfied?” Y/N asks, amused.      Meadow sighs, pushing out a long breath, and starts eating the hay; seems like the Queen approves. Shaking her head with a smirk on her face, her owner closes the box. The driver walks up to her with the paperwork and a pen.      “If you could sign this, I’ll be out of your hair,” he requests, handing over the papers and Meadow's FEI passport.       Y/N leaves her autograph on the bottom line and hands the paperwork back. After exchanging another handshake, the man returns to his truck and starts the engine. As they watch him drive off, she lets out a sigh, the weight of the world finally falling off her shoulders.        “Told ya she would be fine,” Dean reminds her, leaning on the stable door and admiring the beautiful mare in the box.      Y/N smiles as she joins him, forking her fingers together while resting her arms on the edge.       “Thanks,” she responds, genuinely.

     He was right, and for the first time since the young woman arrived, a sense of true calm washes over her. Now that Meadow is here, everything is exactly how it should be. Her horse arrived safely and seems fit and well. Y/N can spend time with her again, more than she ever could when she was still in Uni. Now the adventure can truly begin.      “I’m heading back to the bunkhouse. Work starts at two again,” Dean informs, assuming that his intern plans to stay.      She watches him walk off down the alley between the stables, and takes a short second to appreciate the view. His hickory colored western hat is tipped forward to protect his face from the sun, the collar of his plaid blouse up, the hem at the bottom tucked into his jeans. Denim covers his O-shaped legs, which are probably a result of spending years of his life in the saddle. A muscular back, broad shoulders, strong arms. It doesn't matter from which angle she admires him, he’s insanely gorgeous. Another result of all that training and hard work is his well-shaped a--      A wet nose slobbers over Y/N’s face, pulling a startled gasp from her. Meadow took the liberty to awaken her owner from her thoughts, right after drinking from the automatic waterer. Oh well, she needed a shower anyway.      “It’s good to see you too, sugar,” she laughs, petting the horse. “Talking about sugar…”      She digs deep in her pocket. The motion of her hand alone triggers Meadow to extend her neck and ask for the treat with her intense dark eyes. Y/N finds a sugar cube, takes her horse’s favorite candy out and feeds it to the bay mare. Grateful, she crunches the sweet between her molars and begs for more, but her owner holds up her hands innocently.       “I'm out,” she says, sorry to disappoint.      Not taking her words for granted, the smart animal searches her boss’s pockets, first left, then right, then gives her a look that expresses something along the lines of ‘are you kidding me?’ To make it up to the mare, Y/N rubs her neck, softly scratching near her withers. Clearly enjoying the grooming, the mare nozzles her upper lip and turns her head a little. The cowgirl chuckles at the sight, once again realizing how much she missed her company. She mist her whiskers brushing against her hand as she reaches to touch her, and the gentleness in her eyes when she’s at ease.      Y/N’s hand lingers on the flat surface of Meadow’s forehead, between her eyes. It’s a horse’s blind spot, where she can't see her. Touching a horse there requires trust, yet there isn't a single fiber in Meadow’s body that isn't comfortable with her owner, not even her instincts. The mare even lowers her head further, a sign of relaxation and submission. Y/N lets her hand slide down her face and rest on her strong jaw, as she lays her cheek against Meadow’s white blaze, closing her eyes for a moment.      Dean talked about home earlier, how the ranch is his.      Well, this right here, this moment with her Meadow, is hers.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part five here

[castherebel]

Hanstiel fanfic blog

I want to invite everyone to follow my fan fiction/art blog: @hanstielprompts It’s where I will be posting all my Fan fictions and art work from now on, specifically my Hanstiel stuff. I would appreciate you reblogging my work and commenting on it as I would like to have feed back. There are four stories on there now that I am slowly transferring over from AO3. Here’s some summaries and snippets:

Angel’s Day Out (Contents)

After saving Dean from being a demon, Castiel decides to teach Hannah a little more about humanity. The two leave on a weekend of exploration and intimacy. Just a cute little fluff about two angels falling in love.

**

“Yes,” Castiel said as he got out of the car and moved around to open the passenger door for her. “I don’t quite understand it either, but Dean informed me that we would not be allowed entry to this restaurant if we were dressed like douchebags, as he called it. He said we had to look sharp.”

Hannah felt confused. “Sharp?” she repeated. “Like a blade?” She looked down at herself. She wore a slimming black dress with a short hemline, square neckline, and thin spaghetti straps crisscrossing her bare back. Her hair was pulled back from her shoulders, spilling in wavy tresses against her back. She wore a light blue pendant that Sam had said brought out her eyes.

Castiel offered her his hand and, hesitantly, she took it, and he hoisted her to her feet. “Do I look sharp then? Sam Winchester claimed this was appropriate.” Castiel looked at what she wore, his eyes studying her slim form closely.

“Yes,” he responded. She felt her cheeks turn a little warm as she took in his appearance. He wore a dark navy blue tuxedo with coat and white dress shirt. His appearance certainly made her vessel flush slightly; she didn’t quite understand this sort of reaction. “You look smashing.”

Hannah hoped that smashing was a good thing.

Grace Exchange (Contents)

Hannah gives Castiel her grace and then is captured by a local serial killer. When she is at her most vulnerable- an angel on Earth without grace- she is held captive and tortured by this killer and Castiel is desperate to find her. Warning: Torture, gore, attempted sexual assault, and sexual assault of a side character.

After that sickening presentation, Castiel could hardly walk. He followed Sam and Dean out into the hallway, and when they turned to him, he collapsed against the wall, bending over, gripping his head in his hands. He felt waves and waves of dizziness, his head pulsated and throbbed. He gasped in a few breaths. The emotions threatened to strangle him.

“Hey, hey,” Dean’s voice seemed distant, like an echo in Castiel’s mind. He felt both Winchesters gripping him on the shoulders, holding him up. He tried to let himself slump to the floor, but the firm grips on his shoulders held him up. As he blinked, his vision blackened, but he saw Dean and Sam sandwiching him between them, both supporting him. Dean patted him on the chin in an attempt to get him to snap out of it.

“Come on Cas,” Sam urged. “It’s going to be okay.” But it wasn’t okay. What he had just seen, the thought Hannah could be suffering like this; this human could be hurting her, it triggered emotions so overwhelming, it was if his body shorted out.

Shadows of the past (Contents)

Castiel and Hannah are raising Jack and a de-aged Claire together when Hannah learns she is pregnant. Aside from what’s going on in their lives, there are some mysteries to be solved in this small Maine town in the woods where they have relocated. Nearby, Sam and Dean make themselves at home at a new bunker, and face challenges of their own. In addition, at the onset of her pregnancy, Hannah begins to have visions and see glimpses of a past she doesn’t remember or understand. Side Pairings: Sabriel+Eileen Leahy, Dean/Jo Harvelle, Charlie/Jo, Claire/Kaia. Warnings: hauntings, gore, mystery, suspense.

“Why pumpkins?” Jack asked as he glanced around at all the activities as the three of them approached the entrance to the pumpkin patch. “Well I consulted the google for appropriate Halloween related activities,” Castiel explained as he and Hannah came to a stop at the ticket booth. “Visiting a pumpkin patch is a significant ritual. We have to journey through the corn maze, eat nutritionally deficient but seasonal foods, ride the carriage, and at the conclusion, we must select some pumpkins to take home so we can carve them into faces to frighten young children on Halloween.” Hannah mimicked the confused look on Jack’s face as the Nephilim cocked his head to one side. Both looked at Castiel for clarification as the angel glanced up from reading the list off of his phone. Castiel smiled as he noticed the two of them looking at him like confused lost birds.

“I don’t understand how consuming nutritionally deficient foods is necessary for this activity, Castiel,” Hannah spoke up, trying to wrap her mind around yet another strange human concept. “And wouldn’t frightening the children cause a traumatic reaction?”

“I’ll show you both,” Castiel assured them, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took Hannah’s hand and ushered her towards the ticket booth while Jack looked on. “Three tickets please,” Hannah told the ticket booth attendant. The woman glanced at the three of them, eyes lingering slightly on Jack, who seemed preoccupied with the activities going on just beyond the gate. “How old is he?” the woman asked as Hannah handed her some cash. “He just turned one,” Castiel explained, proudly. Hannah glanced at him as he received a dumbfounded look from the woman. Now it was Castiel’s turn to be confused. “Was… that not the correct answer?”

Empty Vessels (https://hanstielprompts.tumblr.com/EmptyVessels)

Co-written with a friend, this story takes place in the current seaon 14 of Supernatural (so beware of spoilers). Nick, Lucifer’s empty vessel embarcks on a campaign of torture and murder. His target? former angel vessels. He’s tracked down one particular angel vessel, Caroline Johnson, and Castiel and Jack have come to protect her before Nick gets ahold of her. Pairings: Castiel/Caroline. Warnings: Dark themes, psycological trauma, PTSD, homelessness, mental trauma, serial killing, torture, attempted assault. This is a very VERY dark angsty fic so beware.

Caroline sighed, looking down at her hands as they rested in her lap. After a pause, she lifted her gaze and looked- actually looked- at him. "She cared about you, you know," she said. "Hannah. I shared her thoughts, and she loved you."

"I know," Castiel admitted. He hesitated. He had grown to care for Hannah. Her death had hurt him deeper than any other had. He wasn't sure if it was love, but he wondered if it could have been if they had had time. Emotions didn't come easily for angels and Castiel always admired Hannah for her ability to feel things deeply. It was her passion, her kindness, her trust in him that he admired about her.

And Caroline was not Hannah. She shared her body; it was hard for Castiel to look at her and not see Hannah. But she was not. This was a shy, withdrawn, timid woman who had been hardened by the harsh life she had been dealt. Hannah's passions seemed not to be present. She appeared almost… empty. She was merely going through the motions in life. Not really living. Had she always been that way or was this just one more broken human that the angels destroyed?

"I know you probably don't care for her," Castiel began. "But… Hannah would be devastated to know what had become of you."

Caroline inhaled sharply and quickly dropped her gaze. "I have been on survival mode for so long. I haven't really cared about living, but I suppose I am too cowardly to just let myself die. So… I've just been here… but not alive. It's been so long since…"

She trailed away, her voice becoming husky with emotion. Castiel reached over and used a finger to gently lift her chin. She gazed up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. It seemed that simple, gentle touch broke something within her. First, her face scrunched up and then suddenly, she was in his arms, propelling herself to him, planting her face into his shoulder.