#no longer going to be using casey as dean's face

[cabensonsgirly]

👼These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends (Multi-Char)[NSFW]👼

Multiple SP characters x fem!reader

Xandra, Billie-Dean, Ally Mayfair, Anne Gillette, Audrey Tindall, Wilhemina Venable, Ellie Staple, Diane Sherman, Mildred Ratched.

👼Slice 2👼

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak ​ even though she’ll deny it.

👼Wordcount: 1530👼

👼Published on AO3: Read Here👼

👼 Taglist: @mrsdeanhoward @okpaulson 👼

👼 Content (some for later parts): Super Au, dubious consent, slow-burn, manipulation, face-slapping, drug-use, alcohol, smut, cunnilingus, strap-on, cum, choking, degradation, sex-work, court, bruises, spit, mommy kink, daddy kink, humiliation, public sex/teasing 👼 

👼She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh, she was not interested in this man in the slightest and he wasn’t even that good in bed, it was his money she was after, and she would leave the relationship with all of it after they get married. He had been talking about marriage for the past few months seeing as they had been together for a few years, completely unaware of how disinterested she actually is. Anne was not a woman to fall in love, nor was she the type of woman to settle down and get married. 👼

Rita leads Anne from the courtroom, the pair laughing quietly and talking amongst themselves as they made their way to an elevator. Rita gestured for Anne to enter before she went to herself, “Rita!” the older woman fights the urge to roll her eyes, telling Anne where she was to go and how to get there before she closes the elevator door. She turns to face the woman who yelled her name “Oh what a pleasant surprise, Detective Benson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Olivia shakes her head, jaw set firm as she stops in front of Rita “What the fuck are you doing? The evidence shows that she was the one that set the crime up! Who cares if Prestwick was blackmailed!? Gillette killed her damned parents and you know it. Just because you have some vendetta with my team doesn’t-“

Rita laughs, shaking her head with an amused smile on her face “How many times must we do this, Olivia? It is my job to defend people regardless of what they do, just like it is your job to investigate crimes ethically. I know I’m doing my job to the books; I can’t say the same about you. My advice, lie back and pretend like you’re enjoying it. You’ll last longer.” She steps into the elevator after the doors ding open, she turns to give the detective one last cursory glance “You lost, Benson.” She states before the doors close.

It doesn’t matter whether she believes Anne killed her parents or not, the woman had paid her generously to defend her and she was going to do just that. Nor does it matter the two have history, it didn’t impact the case or her ability to do her job. She was looking forward to the end of it though so she could finally actually enjoy a quiet drink without the guilt of knowing she should be working instead.

Once the doors open, she makes her way quickly to where Anne should be, letting out a breath of relief when she sees Anne sitting back in one of the seats, her blazer draped over the back of it. “You really think I’d risk doing a runner after the absolute field day you had out there? Ms. Calhoun I’m offended” she laughs, a coy smirk tugging at her lips “I’m saving the energy for once I’m cleared of my charges. How does that sound? You come back to the estate and unwind, just like the-“

Rita hushes her, swatting her arm lightly as she takes a seat opposite the blonde “Ms. Gillette! The walls have ears.” She shrugs her blazer off as well and leans back in her seat, propping her elbow up on the armrest before leaning her head against it, a small smile on her face as she looks at the woman opposite her.

“I never thought I’d be defending you in a murder case too, Anne. It’s one thing helping you get out of minor assault charges, but for a double-homicide?” She lets out a laugh, shaking her head “That is something else entirely. You were always one to make a grand show of things though, hm?” Rita quirks a brow at the blonde, a faint smirk tugging at her lips which earns an eye-roll and scoff from the blonde.

“Oh please Rita, I’m hardly as dramatic as that Tindall woman. Now, after this is all over, would you like to join me for drinks? Nothing else will happen, just an extra thank you for your hard work.” Rita sighs quietly “I can’t- I owe Novak a round after being so rough on her in court. She’s an amazing lawyer and a hard-worker, I’d rather not burn that bridge.”

Rita’s phone buzzes against the table and she immediately grabs it, turning the screen on to see the message before her eyes dart to Anne’s “They��ve reached a verdict, Ms. Gillette” she breathes out, a very faint hint of a nervous waver. “Well then, let’s get this over and done with.” Anne stands up and puts her blazer on, doing a button up in the middle then brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She follows Rita out of the room and down the hall to the elevator, this is the first time since this case started that she feels genuinely nervous- Not that she committed the crime, anyone would be nervous if they were in court.

Rita gives Anne’s arm a gentle squeeze before they exit the elevator and make their way into the court room, both ignoring the glares coming from the prosecution as they take a seat behind their table. “All stand for the Judge.” They do just that, Rita glancing at Casey out the corner of her eye, noticing how tense she appears before they take their seats again once the Judge has sat down.

Court:                 Will the jury foreperson please stand. Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?

Foreperson:          Yes.

                                  CLERK TAKES THE VERDICT FORM

                                     AND HANDS IT TO THE JUDGE.                              

Rita rests her hand on Anne’s thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze upon noticing how anxious the woman was before returning her hand to rest on the table with her other one.

Judge:                    The jury find the defendant not guilty. The defendant is free to go home. Lets hope we don’t see you in this court again, Ms. Gillette. The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned.

Anne lets out a shaky breath before standing up and throwing her arms around Rita in a tight hug, repeatedly mumbling thank you to her. Rita returns the hug before pulling back slightly, gently wiping away the few tears that had spilled onto Anne’s cheeks, giving her a soft smile “I told you that I’d make sure you were found not guilty, Ms. Gillette. I’m a woman of my word, you should know that by now.”

Anne smiles back and lets go of Rita before running a hand through her short blonde hair “A miracle worker.” She glances over Rita’s shoulder and sees Casey watching intently, a disheartened look on her face before returning her gaze back to the woman in front of her “I should get going, it looks like Casey wants a word with you and she definitely looks like she needs a few drinks. I’ll see you around, Rita.” She kisses the woman’s cheek in farewell before taking her leave, feeling considerably lighter and more free now that the case is over.

Once she is out of the courthouse, she takes out her phone and calls her boyfriend- well, he thinks he’s her boyfriend, but she really couldn’t care less. “Hi darling, you’re talking to a free woman. No I’m not upset you couldn’t be in court, it would hardly be a good look for a detective to be seen on the alleged criminal’s side. You can make it up to me tonight when you take me out for dinner- Yes Yn can come along too, she is your daughter after all. I will take her shopping for something nice- I won’t be spoiling the girl. She needs nicer clothing to go to the restaurant I have in mind. Don’t worry- I already told you I am not going to spoil the girl. I don’t like repeating myself so it would do you some good to actually listen. I’ll pick her up from university and we’ll go from there. Mhmm, love you too. See you tonight.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh, she was not interested in this man in the slightest and he wasn’t even that good in bed, it was his money she was after, and she would leave the relationship with all of it after they get married. He had been talking about marriage for the past few months seeing as they had been together for a few years, completely unaware of how disinterested she actually is. Anne was not a woman to fall in love, nor was she the type of woman to settle down and get married.

“You better not fuck this family up too, Ms. Gillette” Anne turns to find Olivia walking towards her, thoroughly pissed off “Yn is like a daughter to me, so if I find out you do anything to upset her-“ The blonde gives her a bored look “Do you have nothing better to do, Olivia? Were you not listening to what the judge said? I’m an innocent woman, so no, I didn’t fuck my family up, daddy did when he killed my mother before himself.”

She takes a step closer to the brunette, a smug smirk settling on her face “You may be like a mother to her, Olivia, but unlike you… I actually am her step-mom, something you will never be. Now, this may be a surprise to you, seeing as you’re someone that never works, I have things to do including taking Yn clothes shopping for our celebratory dinner tonight. You’re not invited.” She fakes a pout “How unfortunate” before laughing and making her way to the car that was waiting for her before getting in, telling the driver where to go.

[somethingwritey]

my writing samples!

if you’re interested in commissioning my work (or you just like reading excerpts), i’ve taken some time to prepare writing samples! 

more commission information can be found here or you can private message me for further questions! 

-----

💖 dramatic

this is an excerpt from a rangi/kyoshi one-shot i did recently: 

Rangi’s exhalation is loud in Kyoshi’s head, but perhaps almost silent in the world. “I used to see you guys around the mansion,” she confesses. “I would… watch you two. It was my duty, of course, to watch him. But not you.”

This isn’t exactly news to Kyoshi. Rangi has spent lifetimes saving her from herself and the world. Her bodyguard before she knew she needed one.

“I know.”

“You wanna know what I thought?” Rangi shakes her head, a strangled bit of laughter escaping her lips. “When I saw the way he’d admire you? I thought… The Avatar and his servant… what a pathetically tragic way to love. So caught up in the power imbalance of it all.” 

“Rangi -”

“And then,” Rangi stares up at the sky now, squinting into the brightness of it all. “I fell right into it myself. Only you’re not the servant, Kyoshi. You’ve never been the servant. It’s me. In love with the great and powerful Avatar. Hopelessly and endlessly lost in the difference between duty and pleasure.” 

That is absolutely wrong. If nothing else, Kyoshi knows that. “You’re not.”

“In love with you?”

No. That’s probably true, even if Kyoshi still doesn’t know why.

“You’re not my servant. You’ve never been, and you never will be.” 

Rangi finally meets her gaze, and Kyoshi is surprised to see a glassiness there, reflecting in the bronze of her irises. She reaches out and runs a hand along the girl’s jawline, gently tracing every scar, every ghost of pain.

“Whoever made me the Avatar was really, really stupid,” she whispers. “You would’ve made a better one.”

“I’m not Earth Kingdom.”

“I don’t care.” Kyoshi knows how the cycle works. And she still thinks the Era of Rangi would outshine any past or future Avatar.

----

💖 comedic/light-hearted

 this is an excerpt from a jay/carlos de vil one-shot: 

“You have a crush?”

Carlos whipped around, staring at Jay who had just come up the stairs. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Uh -” Jay blinked, pointing down the stairs. “Downstairs? Look, someone said you go ... oh, you found a friend.” His gaze fell on the cat.

“He’s my new best friend.” Carlos was only half joking. “You’ve been demoted.”

Jay feigned hurt for a moment. On the whole, he didn’t look as drunk as Carlos would’ve expected. “So, this crush of yours,” he said at last. “Is he the reason you agreed to come?”

The irony wasn’t lost on Carlos, and if he weren’t too busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, he might’ve laughed. “Uh - I don’t -”

“Come on,” Jay laughed. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Mal. What’s he like?”

Carlos made a face. “The one time you’re not hammered at a party, huh? Just my luck.”

Jay shook his head. “Come on, man! Just give me a hint!” 

Carlos mimed zipping his lips. 

Jay is here. With you, his brain whispered unhelpfully. Not downstairs. Maybe you have a chance. 

Jay smiled, oddly genuine. “I get that parties aren’t your thing, ‘Los. Must be one hell of a guy if he’s worth all this.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos mumbled, picking at a spot on the carpet. “He looks cute when he says please.”

----

💖 alternate universe/timeline adjustment 

this is a sneak peak of an unpublished equalist!asami/korra fic that i’m currently working on :) so stay tuned for more of this: 

“Miss Sato,” a voice called from beyond the reinforced door. “You have a visitor.”

Her father, surely! Or one of his associates. But when door slid open and someone stepped inside, it wasn’t Hiroshi.

Asami turned towards the wall. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Asami, wait.” Korra didn’t try to get any closer. “I just -” 

“Just what?” Asami muttered. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wanted to see me put away? Make sure they’d gotten the right girl? A non-bender standing on the sidewalk at night is so dangerous, see. Glad you’ve got the police force cracking down on the issue.” 

She could feel Korra’s frustration and revelled in it. She liked being able to get to Korra. 

“No! That’s not! Ugh!” Korra paced, her footsteps heavy. “I don’t have much time! I just wanted to ask you to meet me! Away from anyone listening! Under the Silk Road Bridge.” 

“I’d love to, but you see,” Asami gestured around her cell. She still hadn’t dropped the cynical act. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.” 

“Your father is already trying to buy your way out,” Korra told her. “You’ll be released before most of Republic City wakes up. I know you, Asami. You wouldn’t… you’re not -” 

“Not what, Korra?” Asami finally looked at her. Hard. “Like the rest of the non-benders? One of the good ones?” 

“You betrayed us!” 

“And you couldn’t save those people from being rounded up like animals!” 

Korra opened her mouth, but no words came out. She threw back her head in frustration. “Fine! I’ll leave you alone! But tonight, at midnight, I’ll be under that bridge. I hope you will be, too. I just want to talk.”  

-----

💖 angst/pining

this is an excerpt from a casey/izzie fic: 

Casey couldn’t breathe. 

She was used to the breathlessness that came with running, the burning and tightening of her lungs as she demanded more from them. But when her feet skimmed across the pavement, racing, racing, like her heartbeat, it didn’t scare her. Rather, she relished it, craved it. The way her whole body felt alive, how she could feel every tingle in her arms and legs, how everything seems to still and grow quiet around her - she loved it. 

This was different. 

Her vision tunneled, entirely swallowed by Izzie and the boy in the corner who had his tongue in her mouth. The people around her suddenly felt too close and the music too loud. She wished she had Sam’s noise canceling headphones. 

Casey wasn’t even trying to inhale anymore as she stared, watching the girl whose lips she’d taken a chance on kiss a boy - a stranger. She could feel her chest burning, could feel the rest of her body screaming at her to take a breath, to do something. But she couldn’t. She could only stare until the need for air became too much.

She gasped, her feet moving against her will. The room smelled like too much weed, stinging her eyes and nose. Casey began to back towards the door.

It wasn’t that she was heartbroken; no, she knew what heartbreak felt like, and right now, that space was occupied by Evan. 

This was on her. She’d decided to break off something good and consistent and wonderful to chase after someone who played hot and cold like Evan played video games. She had no one to blame but the person in the mirror. 

Somehow, after being jostled around by several other bodies, she made it to the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully, the noise of the party muffled to the pulsing of the base inside the hotel room where she knew Izzie was still liplocked with that tall stranger. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How could she have thrown away something so good for this? 

She wanted to go back to being normal; to the time when she looked at Evan’s eyes and didn’t see Izzie’s reflecting back at her.

-----

💖 hurt/comfort 

this is an excerpt from a nico minoru/karolina dean fic: 

“You’re still glowing.” The words came out low. Nico’s eyes flicked up and down her girlfriend’s illuminated body, taking it all in. She knew Karolina could control her light now, which could only mean one thing.

“I wanted you to see it,” Karolina admitted, ducking her head. Now that Nico’s eyes were open, she could see just how much fear flickered behind Karolina’s warm glow. She had removed her arms from Nico now and twisted her hands together in front of herself anxiously. “I needed you to see it.”

Nico swallowed hard, unable to pull her eyes away. The light brought so many emotions flooding back. The first time she’d seen Karo glow. Early nights at the Hostel when the power would short out and Karolina walked around like a glowing flashlight. All the times Nico ran her hands down her hips and kissed her neck and watched her glow brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

“I see it,” Nico promised. 

“You’re not scary,” was Karolina’s response.

They were words Nico had said many times to Karolina, but never had anyone said them to her. 

“Then why am I… like this?”

“Nico.” Karolina shook her head. “Your darkness isn’t evil. It just… is. And I know you can master your magic without the Staff. You’re more than its power.” 

“Am I?” Nico didn’t know what she was. She’d been trying to figure it out for a lot longer than she cared to admit. 

She was the Dead Girl’s Sister. She was That Goth Bitch. She was a loner, an outcast, a freak.

“You’re Nico Minoru,” Karolina said quietly. “And that’s… that’s enough.”

----

💖 fluff

this mal/evie moment is an excerpt from longer fic titled In Loco Parentis:  

Evie had really outdone herself. She’d managed to put together a figure cutting, sapphire satin dress that fell off the shoulders in the most tasteful way possible. With her dark makeup and striking updo, Evie could’ve passed as at least twenty-five. And Mal had never wanted to kiss her more.

“I’m proud of you,” Mal said during a quiet moment, rubbing the other girl’s shoulders gently. “You look great. You did good.”

“Well,” Evie laughed, tipping her head back. “I did well.” 

“Whatever, princess.” Mal’s voice had gone soft, her chin resting on Evie’s shoulder. Unable to help herself, she pressed a gentle kiss there, glancing up to see if she’d overstepped. But Evie didn’t look upset; on the contrary, her eyes were wide and her cheeks pink.

“So that’s what it’s like when a girl kisses you,” she breathed, tucking Mal’s hair behind her ear.

“Believe me,” Mal purred. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She waited for Evie to correct her grammar again, but instead, the girl pulled Mal gently out from behind her, capturing Mal’s lips with her own. 

And just like that, Evie was kissing her.

“You’ve got lipstick on your face,” Evie whispered as she pulled away, doing her best to wipe it off.

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t fail you today.” Evie tugged at the hem of her dress, sighing. “I can’t. Mal, this means so much to you.”

But for the first time in a very, very long time, revenge on her mother was the last thing on Mal’s mind. Evie’s eyes and lips and voice took up all the space, blooming in her chest. “You can’t fail me,” she promised.

And that was the sheer and utter truth.

-----

💖 single character-centric

this is an excerpt from a catra-centric exploration:  

She’s lost count of the nail marks. 

When Hordak first threw her in this cell, Catra resolved to count every single tally Shadow Weaver left on the walls. But now that she’s fifty-two marks in - or maybe fifty-three? - her determination is beginning to waver. 

She also doesn’t remember Shadow Weaver being locked up for fifty days. Maybe the nail marks don’t represent days at all - or maybe the old lady is as crazy as she is evil. 

Lowering her gaze to the green glowing shackles around her hands, Catra tries - not for the first time - to wriggle out of them. Their buzzing is growing increasingly irritating.

How dare Shadow Weaver leave? Did she stop to think what would happen to Catra? Did it even cross her mind that she might be thrown in this cell as her replacement? Or maybe she did and just didn’t care? 

Catra’s face twists in a grim smile. Of course her own fate hasn’t given Shadow Weaver any pause. She got what she wanted.

She tries to think back, to find the place where she went wrong - a single moment she can pinpoint where her plans went to shit. But the pieces just don’t fit. Nothing adds up. 

Because Catra has done everything right. She’s climbed the ranks. She’s done her job well. She’s accomplished everything Adora could have and more. She’s surpassed even Shadow Weaver’s authority! 

And yet, here she is. In chains. Awaiting punishment. 

Adora always comes out on top. Hasn’t that been beaten into her since day one? Adora gets to walk away unharmed, with her new best friends and glowing hair. Adora gets Shadow Weaver, despite being a defector, a traitor, a failure! 

I would’ve stayed for you.  

Catra kicks out with her back foot and pushes away the tray someone delivered to her earlier. She’s not that hungry anyway - and certainly not for brown ration bars. 

The tray makes a satisfying clatter as it skids across the floor, and Catra bares her teeth in a halfway smile. If she’s going down, she’s going to go down fighting. She’ll make it as difficult and as painful for Hordak as she can - right until the very end.

-----

💖 second person

this is an excerpt from a summer/tessa fic i wrote by request: 

She’s happy now, you know. 

She’s brighter and happier and just really fucking in love. 

You can see it. You can hear it in the way she talks and the way her eyes light up when she walks into the room. You notice how she perks up when her name is dropped during casual conversation and how she makes a point of talking about her at every possible offhanded moment.

And honestly, you’re happy, too. You’re happy for her. You’re happy for them. Because they’re just so cute, and everyone says so. 

And if you notice that Tessa is wearing her sweater - the one you used to wear because it made her mad and got those sparkling eyes to fix on you for just a few more seconds -  you don’t say anything. 

Because it wasn’t like the sweater belonged to you or was anything other than a polyester cardigan with a small hole in the elbow. 

It’s not like when you draped it over your shoulders, she would roll her eyes and grumble and demand you give it back. Your heart wouldn’t jump, and your mind wouldn’t rush with the adrenaline that came with shooting a snarky response. 

It’s not like you memorized the way she used to scoff - that sound in the back of her throat - or how she’d wave her hand dismissively while you wondered what it would be like to hold it and never let go.

 It’s not like you’ve ever wanted anything from her - attention or otherwise. 

It’s not like that sweater gave you an excuse to touch her shoulders, to catch a whiff of her perfume, to pretend the old sleeves were a good substitute for her arms. 

When words finally do form in your mouth, they’re not the ones you want to say. They’re snarky or sarcastic or snide. They’re perfectly in-character for you, the airhead, the fair-weather friend, or just The Bitch. 

Plain and simple. Easy to categorize and even easier to overlook. 

You won’t think about what it feels like to hug her or how comforting it is to rest your head on her shoulder for those brief, world-stopping seconds - so close you can smell her shampoo and whatever else she uses to make those curls behave themselves. Those moments are meant to be locked away, to be kept safe, where they can’t become anything they shouldn’t. Because the two of you have come so far, but nowhere near far enough. 

Yeah, you’re not my type. 

It’s confirmation of a dead end.

-----

if any of these pieces catch your eye and you want one of your own, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me! i’m in the process of working on some really cool commissions right now, and i’m more than happy to add yours to the mix!

♡  ♡  ♡

[thesoulbound]

@storiesofthenight (Dean) // Drabble.

“Just read it, okay? Don’t be a bitch about it,” Sam said quietly. Handing Dean a rather thick envelope.

“Sammy. You’re the bitch, remember? I’m the jerk!” Dean pouted, accepting the envelope with a slight worried frown on his face.

“Things change, Dean,” Sam smiled.

“Not that, bitch,” Dean countered.

“Lucky for you, you can be both a bitch and a jerk,” Sam grinned, giving Dean a pat on the top of his head before backing off,

“Just read it okay? Seriously,” he insisted. Patting his thigh for Bones and Miracles to follow him so Dean could be left alone on the porch to read.

Dean watched his little brother leave the porch and walk down to the lake by their cabin. Because yes. Who would be surprised that the two Winchester brothers wanted to spend eternity together? No one. The lovely little thing though was that now they could go see their other loved ones when they felt the need to. Now they were at peace. It was just a relief for both of the Winchester brothers to know that they found that peace together as well.

The first thing that came out of the envelope wasn’t the letter, but a photograph. He didn’t know how Sam had gotten it, but considering this was Heaven, Dean wasn’t about to sit and think too hard about it. Turning the photo over it didn’t take long for tears to form in his eyes.

Sam Winchester. His little brother as an old man with his arm around a younger man that undoubtedly was his son. The son his brother had named after him.

“Goddamnit, Sam,” Dean felt tears in his eyes already and he hadn’t even begun on the letter. He watched the photograph for a long time. Seeing his baby brother an old man both broke his heart and made it soar at the same time. His boy. His brother. He got to live a full life. He got to die an old wrinkly man with a son that loved him by his side. He wished he could have been there through the latter half of his life more than anything else, but he did find peace in seeing Sam getting the life he deserved.

Reluctantly he put the photograph next to him. Smiling at photograph. Sam’s son looked just like him. Long hair and all. 

“Goddamnit, Sammy,” he chuckled before unfolding the letter.

Dean,

Somethings are too hard to talk about. Especially when there’s so much to be said. So I figured it would be better to write down on paper about my life. After you. Rather than to talk about it. None of us has ever been that good at talking about our feelings afterall. You worse of all. Don’t fight me on this. You know it’s true. 

Don’t worry. I’m not going to go into dreadful details. If I did that this letter would be even longer, but you should know that if there’s anything you do want to know, you can just ask. This isn’t my way of telling you we can never talk about things. I just wanted you to know the most important things.

First of all, I guess the roughest part is how my life after you started... the moment you were gone. You might mock me for this, but it’s the one day in my life I really can’t talk about without breaking. You’ve always had it in your mind that I didn’t love you as much back as you loved me. Or that you didn’t deserve it or whatnot. Well, you were always wrong about that. I love you. You were always the one I could count on. 

Okay maybe not always, but every relationship, be it friendships, or brotherhood, or romance, fail at times. But most of the time I knew you had my back, and the times you didn’t - your intentions were still pure. But you need to know that just because we had our bad times. I loved you just as much as you loved me.

Therefore, the day you died for the last time, as cliche as it sounds, I died too.

I don’t want you to feel bad about it. What soulmate feels anything but grief when their other half passes on without them?

Despite how hard life was after that, you need to know I’m not angry with you. It hurt that you think it would be just easy to move on without you. That I should just let you go. But I was never angry with you. I was angry because you deserved better. You deserved a life you claimed wasn’t for you. You deserved a child of your own. And well, considering how much you slept around, maybe you did have a child out there.

Dean paused to take a very long, deep breath while drying his tears. He would kick his brother’s ass for that joke, but fairs. He supposed he had a point there.

Anyway. I took care of Miracle the rest of her life. As you know. She lived a long life and died an old girl. Of course losing her was rough, but I suppose it was a relief to know that at least she would get to reunite with you. 

I left the Bunker after grieving you for a... let’s not go into details here, but I guess it was a long time. You know I never loved the Bunker the way you did. It never felt like home. Once you were gone it certainly was even less of a home because it hadn’t been in the first place. You were my home. You were Miracle’s new home. 

Years passed and I reunited with Jody and well, the hunters from the Apocalypse world. They helped me get back on my feet. They helped me become some kind of leader I guess. This was the way I met my future wife. Her name was Casey. Dean’s mother. A great woman, but we wouldn’t last. That’s why I never mentioned her to you. I wasn’t a great husband. As you know, I don’t exactly come with a tiny baggage and in the long run it became too much for her.

I don’t want you to think ill of her. She really is a good woman. She always made sure that my son. Dean. Would have both his parents in his life. 

Dean wasn’t raised as a hunter, but he was raised with the knowledge of it. He is fully educated in it, but works as an auto mechanic. He is the one who has taken over Baby back on earth. She will be very loved there as long as there is a Winchester to appreciate her significance. She was an extension of you and she was always home. I wouldn’t dare to not let it be known how important she was. Even if the whole world can’t know her importance in human history, all hunters know of her and the new Men of Letters will continue to care for her if no one else can.

The rest of my life I mostly made the new Men of Letters a thing. Not alone of course. Our old friends and the ones that came after will continue that legacy. And no, I did not go back to law school. Didn’t feel right after all the illegal shit we’ve been doing. 

Dean sat back in his seat. Needing a moment to put himself together. The fact that he was smiling and crying at once was just too much, but at least it wasn’t all too bad. 

He took a moment too admire the view from the porch of their home. Bobby didn’t live far away. Their parents. Jody. Distance wasn’t really a thing here. If the wished to see someone, they were never far away. Even if the landscape required one hell of a makeover to see them. Perks of heaven, he supposed.

He looked down towards the lake where Sam had settled down on the floating dock with Miracle and his own dog from childhood. Bones. That dog had been a pleasant surprise. 

Dean.

Dean looked back on the long, long letter.

This letter is already getting too long. At this point I’ve said some of the most important things I guess. From here on you can ask me if there’s something you want to know. 

I do want to finish off though by reminding you to not worry that I feel any anger or regret with you. Moving on from you is the single hardest thing I ever had to do. For the rest of my life I missed you. Even though I knew I would see you again. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to see you waiting for me on that bridge when I came here. I don’t know if soulmates are still a thing, but I figure you’re still mine based on that. 

Now, I’d say we enjoy a well fucking deserved rest. One day you will meet my son. And I will help you find real peace. Because yes. I’m your brother. And I will always know when you say you’re fine, but you’re not. But give it time. We finally have all the time in the... world? Heaven? And now I’m here to make sure you find that peace. 

I love you.

Sam.

Dean folded the letter and shook his head.

You sappy son of a bitch. 

He could quite literally feel Sam’s beaming smile even though he was still down by the lake. 

Dean got to his feet, furiously drying away the tears on his cheeks with his sleeves before making his way down to his little brother and their dogs.

You want me to leave? I’ll leave, Sam challenged in his head and Dean lifted his head to see his brother not moving an inch on the floating dock. Both dogs had jumped in the water to swim around in circles. 

Don’t you fucking dare. I’m coming, you big sap.

[senpaisatanwolnotimaginepage]

angry sex part 1

I waited for dean to come pick me up, i knew he would be angry with me. Going against him even though he told me not to go after the werewolf pack,

dean came to the spot where i was in the next 5 mins, and he looked at me from inside the car with a very angry look on his face, i waited for him to get out and i knew i was in trouble, going against him was something i did quite often, not that i cared.

"i told you not to!" dean said getting out of the Impala

"yeah well i did" i said rolling my eyes "im not a child dean, accept it"

"get in the car casey, even if you are not a child. im still worried" he said looking at me angry and concerned

"whatever, you dont have to be, im a big girl" i said getting in the car

"really?!" he said angry

"yeah... i hunted many werewolves on my own" i said annoyed, dean gave me an angry look and started the car, we sat silently in the car for a long time, then we got to the bunker and he slammed the car door and walked off, i got out of the car and followed him

"you dont have to be so angry... jeez" i said getting inside

"you think? do you know how worried I got? what if you got hurt huh? you thought about that?!!" dean said really angry

"if i get hurt, i can deal with it. stop treating me like im a child" i said angry

dean pinned me to wall and said "I will treat you the way I do, and I cant deal with you getting hurt!" he said with a little louder voice

"oh you cant deal with it? then what are you going to do?" i asked looking into his eyes

he didnt say a word rather just fixed his eyes on me, he opened his mouth to say something then stopped .. taking a deep breath he finally said "I worry for you.. and dont you go on a hunt without telling me"

"dont worry, i can fend for myself. and yes mom i will" i said rolling my eyes "i kinda like it when you yell at me" i smiled

"are u challenging me casey" he said looking right into my eyes and bending a little towards me

"am i?" i said raising an eyebrow "all i said was i like it when you are angry"

"and why is that?" dean said with a little smile, his  eyes were still fixed on me

"because you get extra sexy" i said biting my lip

"do I now?" dean said leaning in a little more  getting almost right in front of my face

"yeah you do, i love it" i said looking at him,

as I said it,  dean bend in and gave me a kiss.. "you have been a bad girl,  you know that?" he said with a serious look

"oh really? is that true?" i said getting a little closer

"uh-huh" he said and lifted me up  and headed to the room,

"i like being a bad girl" i said with a sexy voice

"I can see that" he said as i entered the room and slammed the door shut behind him

"now what are you going to do to me?" i asked smiling

"punish you for not listening to me" he said with a smile as laid on bed and started to kiss me slowly

"i do deserve it" i said in a sexy voice

"you do" he said lowering my tanktop, he kissed my shoulder.. slowly moving his hand under  .. touching my skin as he moved then up to unclapsed my bra,

"well someone forgave me quickly" i said smiling

"not so easy love" he said as if he had an evil plan in his mind, he finally freed me from my top and bra.. and kissed my breast and stomach,

"well now you are making me curious" i said moaning a little, i knew sam was here

he slightly bit u near my breats, as his hands slit right in my jean.. ready to remove it with a click,

"you know sam is here right?" i asked moaning a little

"well I dont care" he said as he removed my jeans and looked at me,

"i cant make so much noise, he will hear it" i said wanting to make him more angry

"why are you so worried if he hears.. " he said looking at me as he grabbed my panties  with his finger and moved them down,

"because he will hear me moan" i said getting more turned on, i wanted him to be more angry

his anger rose when i said that, he looked at me and said "then I will make you moan louder baby" as  he spread my legs wide as he licked me slowly,

a smirk on his face as he got a little rough on me, as his hands held me , making it difficult for me to move,

"hmmm dean" i moaned a little louder, making it difficult for me to keep it in

he looked at me and made me sit on bed, still kissing me as his hands were on my back gently holding me.. "get down casey" he said in between the kisses,

i got down on my knees, first licking through his boxers making him frustrated, then taking his hard cock out and putting it all in my mouth, bobbing my head back and forth as i sucked on his member,

dean held ur hair back,  letting you suck him, "hmmmmm i love your mouth around my cock" he moaned a little as i continued

"there you go sweetheart" he moaned as he moved my hair off to the side, i moved my head back and forth as he held my hair, eventually removing my mouth from his cock and looked up at him with puppy eyes,

"no puppy eyes .. they dont work on me" he hold me up turned me around..holding me tight as he kissed my back,

"you sure?" i asked wanting him to get angry again,

he bend u a little down smacked my ass before going in "I'm sure" he said in the most sexiest voice,

i yelped when he smacked me and said something to make him more angry with me "is that all you got?"

"I have a lot more for u bad girl" he said almost in a husky whisper,  he turned me around and laid me on the bed my legs still wide open around him, he got in again, his hands holding my back  in a position that ensured that he got more inside me,

"hmm fuckk" i moaned out loud, not being able to keep it in anymore

"let it out baby" he said biting my neck and gradually pacing up his speed, i let out a scream as he kept going making me hold the sheets and arch my back,

"there u go" he said with a satisfied smile. "next time listen to me when I ask you not to go alone on a hunt" he said licking and kissing at my breasts,

"and if i dont?" i asked kinda wanting more

he moved up to my neck, leaving little bit marks.. "if you dont.. the punishment will be a lot rough" he said in my ears , his hands moved down from my back to ur ass to grab it as he thought of going more rough,

"What if i want it more rough?" I asked moaning a little bit

hearing me say that i want it more rough, dean pulled out.. got his head in between my legs.. as he licked me, hitting the right spot spot every time,. holding me tight. "then u will get it more rough" he said in between of the licks, i moaned out loud even louder than before, his tounge making me more wet, i was unable to hold it much longer, holding his head as he kept going, brushing my hands on his hair

"that is what I wanted to hear" he said with a smile as he continued, knowing he teased me well,

"fuckkk i dont want it to stop" i said moaning louder and louder,

"what if sammy hears us?" he said remembering that i mentioned it before, he tightened his grip.. and slowed his speed,

"what if he does?" i asked looking into his eyes

"I dont care" he said with a smirk... as he didnt let go of me,

"i am sure he heard me" i said feeling his hard hands on my back

"well then I want him to hear you scream" he said in a soft ticklish voice as he moved up,

"then make me scream daddy" i said knowing he loved it,

"I will baby" he said as he sucked at me and let his fingers inside u, slowly moving them, At first i started moaning  and then screaming as he went faster,

he had a satisfied smile on his face.. he continued going faster as he reached up my lips and kissed them hard, not letting me scream at all, eventually making me cum and breathless "Fuck that was fun" i said out of breath

"Yes it was" he said with a smile

[artemismoon12writes]

Title: Windsor Throws a Party (and Stuart is Technically Invited)

Daltonfic Big Bang; Week 4, Day 2; Spin the Bottle/Truth or Dare 

“That’s the spirit! The rest of you should take notes.” “It’s educational.” “Isn’t that what we’re in school for?” “The youth of tomorrow, learning tolerance one day at a time.”

The party might have gotten out of control. Perhaps. A smidge.

If you asked the twins, they had invited everyone on campus. There would be no one to drag them into Dean Ramsey’s office this year. If Logan wanted to complain about it, he could simply check his email for the invitation which came 2 minutes after they’d started up the music anyways. If he didn’t check his email, who were they to insist he came?

Besides that, they had made sure through word of mouth that some Stuarts did represent amongst the Windsor common room- if only to be used as a shield against the authorities at large. Ethan and Evan’s ‘secret stash’ was snuck throughout the house, and like fairy food, once you unknowingly partook you could not leave and work against them.

Kurt thought it was evil. Shane thought it was brilliant. But then again, Kurt hadn’t approved of much they did these days, working as the implementor of much of Blaine’s beleaguering prefect work. It didn’t mean he was going to shut down this party- rather, try to keep the freshman away from the “powdered sugar” on top of the doughnuts in the kitchen.

“Who invited Dobry?” A voice called from the top of the stairs, noticing the girls trickling into the common room.

“Not me!” Wes answered, trying to look innocent. “I’m not trying to get us in trouble after Katherine and the BBQ incident.”

“Don’t worry, Wes, we’ll vouch for you when campus security comes to kick us out.” Katherine said, kissing his cheek and crossing the room to join David on the makeshift dance floor.

It was a Dalton party. You couldn’t keep the freshman out anymore than you could keep the Dobry girls out it seemed. Lucy Westwood gave the cameras around the common room a good natured gesture, rude though it may be to her reclusive brother who refused to join them. Clay and Kaelan, their newest recruits into Windsor madness thought it was hilarious.

“You’re not scared he’ll do something to your Facebook?” Clay asked, buzzing despite Kurt steering him away from any of the Twins’ snacks.

Lucy looked at the freshman like he was nuts, “With all the blackmail I have on my brother dear, I don’t think so.”

“Wow, you’re so cool.” Clay said, wide-eyed as she flounced off in her four-inch pastel Mary-Janes. Kaelan knocked his shoulder to get him to pay attention to the Hanovers who were challenging them to table tennis with baseballs.

Across the room, a corner had already grown, with the twins in charge of the madness pulling people in as they tried to pass to go to the bathroom. You would not be released until you spun the bottle of Armagnac (emptied for this purpose).

“This is stupid.” Blaine said, roped into the circle of half-sober and mostly-high students.

“Oh stop being a wet blanket Anderson.” Adriana, one half of the warped mirror image Dobry had of the Brightmans, insisted. “Either spin, or go in a plant.”

“I am not going to the bathroom in the ferns…” Blaine said, horrified.

His boyfriend snorted, already captured into the circle. “I don’t know Blaine, these guys can’t take care of the ferns anyways.”

“We got Mom on board! Yeah!” Clay was hushed up again by Sara Tomlin, covering his mouth like she’d practiced it on her own freshman.

Blaine, reluctantly was forced to sit through the turns of Jeff and Lucy, tiny Regina Warburton and Brennan, and the catcalls of Derek Seigerson’s ex-girlfriend making a point to kiss Sadie Moore far longer than necessary.

“Wow, Casey, didn’t pick you for the other team.” Jackie said, nudging the Prima with her foot.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? It’s just a game. Duh.” Casey tossed her hair over her shoulder, winking at Sadie from across the circle. “How can I refuse an audience?”

“That’s the spirit Lambert!” Ethan and Evan chorused. “The rest of you should take notes.”

“It’s educational.”

“Isn’t that what we’re in school for?”

“The youth of tomorrow, learning tolerance one day at a time.” Ethan sighed, leaning against his brother’s shoulder dramatically, waving his hand at the circle.

Blaine rolled his eyes; trying to ignore Kurt and Reed’s laughter, or Shane’s giant smile at him.

Sebastian Smythe, there on the insistence of the Twins for the amount of chaos he’d already been causing in Stuart, passed by the circle with a bottle he dropped into Thad’s lap. “You guys are so boring. At least make it a drinking game.”

“If we’re so boring, why don’t you join?” Blaine accused.

Sebastian scoffed, “I already did my part. Ask your little scientist.”

Satoru blushed from across the circle, sitting next to Drew who just laughed. Thad took a fortifying swig from the bottle Sebastian had left them. He looked to be praying he’d get a girl; but the twins could be known to play tricks at parties like this.

“It was a good spin.” Neil confirmed, getting a shove from Satoru; who didn’t need reminding why his knees were tucked up to his chin.

“I bid you all a due.” Sebastian teased, with that faux-french accent of his lingering in their ears.  

“Come back, it’s more fun with you in.” Alessio called, already a little more than drunk and finished with his own spin. Mika’d let him off easy when he started to try and pet her hair during the kiss.

“Let it go.”

It was Shane’s turn next, landing on Adriana Brightman. He frowned for a moment. “I can re-spin right?”

“Of course you c-” Blaine started before the chorus of “NO!”s made him jump. He looked around, shocked to see even Reed insisting on no re-spins. Reed?

“It’s unfair! You don’t get to pick! You spin, you kiss!” Casey insisted.

“Kiss! Kiss!” Nadia tried to get them to chant before collapsing into giggles against Alexandra’s shoulder.

“Coward!” Andriana challenged, hands on her hips. “I betcha can’t!”

Shane frowned. “I can!”

Reed giggled and pushed his boyfriend forward, “Do it!”  

“Peer pressure, it works.” Evan commented, leaning forward with a devilish grin.

“They’re all so awful, I’m so proud.” Ethan continued.

Blaine glared, “Shut up you two, if he doesn’t want to-”

He didn’t get to finish because Reed and Andrea’s cheers cut him off. Shane broke away from Adriana, quickly enough some called foul, but he sat back on his feet and nodded proudly. “I’m no chicken!”

“There wasn’t even tongue!” Adriana complained.

“That’s optional.” Jackie shrugged. “Take it or leave it Brightman.”

“I am the greatest at this game!” Shane cheered; Reed patted his knee. “Yeah you are.”

Blaine would wonder why Reed was so supportive of this, until he saw the brownie crumbs littering the carpet around his brother and Reed. Ah, that’s what happened to Medel’s extra tray of brownies. Alright…

Next Neil O’Connor landed on Laura Bancroft, who took her kiss with the right amount of blustering embarrassment and confused elation- and then took Sadie out of the circle as they’d fulfilled their party duty. Dwight tried to escape the circle with them but was pulled back to Shane’s other side with a grunt. An attempt at good grace was made, failing when Laura could not clamber over the cross-legged group in a skirt without being a little awkward. Reed waved the two goodbye as they went to go bother Merril who had been avoiding that side of the room entirely.

“Can we get more Armagnac? Is that allowed?” Jackie asked.

“I’ll get some,” Blaine said about to get up before he was pulled back down.

“No way, you haven’t spun yet!” Ethan insisted.

“Fine! Then let me spin and leave!” Blaine insisted.

“Oh prefect, my prefect” Evan taunted. “It’s not nearly that easy!”

“He’s bringing the game down,” Andrea complained. “Let him spin and go.”

Blaine coloured, his cheeks heating up. “Uh-”

The chorus matched, and the bottle was passed to Blaine who twisted his wrist and prayed it didn’t land on Shane, or Reed, or-”

“Oliver?” Danny Abbot said, recently pulled into the circle.

“Wait, get the child out of here!”

“Who let Oliver sit here?”

Tiny Oliver Snow was promptly ejected from the circle; which they’d all been too out of it to notice he’d been in beforehand.  

Drew shook his head, “God, I can’t believe Blaine was going to kiss the kid!”

“I was not going to kiss Oliver!”

“I guess you can have a resp-respe- new spin! That’s it- have one of those now.” Casey said, mocking in good fun, tips

The bottle spun again, this time to land on someone probably worse than Reed, but not as bad as Shane.

“Okay Anderson, you know half the girls in Dobry would kill to have your chance.” Casey laughed as Sara moved out of her spot to the centre of the circle.

“I’m gay!” Blaine insisted.

“And you spun in a co-ed circle.” Sara said, a hand’s length away from his face. The catcalls mostly came from Shane, who was redirecting his own chicken taunts (helped in part by Reed). She smiled and Blaine closed his eyes tight; just to feel a cool kiss at the corner of his mouth.

He stopped cringing, but the rest of the circle booed. Sara shrugged their complaints off, “I’m not awful guys. Give Anderson a break.”

“You wasted a kiss with Sara Tomlin, I’m straight and I’d jump on that chance!” Jackie said, kicking her feet out.

“Sure you’re straight Blake.” The Double As accused to Jackie’s middle finger.

“Can I leave now?” Blaine asked, getting up.

Kurt took the bottle next, “I don’t know, maybe you want to stay for this one?”

Blaine flushed, ah yes maybe. Reed nudged his roommate as Blaine watched his boyfriend spin the bottle. Ethan and Evan looked excited until it, disappointingly for the rest of the group, landed on Blaine.

Kurt smiled, “There we go. I’ll take my kiss to go if you guys don’t mind.”

“Cheater!” Shane booed, without much feeling behind it. Sara and some of the Hanover boys laughed. Blaine found himself pulled away from the circle gratefully, tugged towards the wall to get a kiss he’d much prefer.

Blaine’s dissent aside, the game continued into chaos. Drew landed on Sara, earning more scorn from the girls in the group; but enough of a show, to let him be safe from too much booing. Alexandra got Ophelia, who immediately slipped her tongue into Alexandra’s mouth with her valley girl courage, leaving Alexandra flushed and quieter than usual- though behind her hand they could spot a shy smile forming.

Hoots and hollers continued when Ethan and Evan took the full bottle, newly delivered by Todd (who was then ordered to join the group) and spun it as a pair.

“We’ll get it finished off in no time.” Evan insisted, as it pointed square towards Thad who started sputtering excuses about the pair of them spinning being unfair. The catcalls overwhelmingly did not let him get out of the kiss. Ethan opened the bottle, passing it to his brother as the group convinced Thad to not run away.

“Come on Thad, would you rather them land on you twice?” Todd laughed, “I know what you write in the-”

“What happens in Midnight Writers, stays in Midnight Writers dammit Todd!” Thad yelled back, wobbling as he got up on his knees to stab a finger in Todd’s direction. Maybe he’d had too much of Sebastian’s vodka. Maybe not.

Casey pushed him back up into the centre of the circle. “Come on, you’re not dating them. It’s a little kiss.”

“Just a peck!” Shane called.

“Nothing but a smooch.” Reed giggled into his boyfriend’s shoulder, who was truly feeling the brownies now.

“You guys all suck.” Thad accused, getting in front of the twins with determination flagging as they looked at him like appraising a new conquest. “Uh, just a kiss.”

“Your virtue is safe with us,” Ethan assured him, sounding less trustworthy by the second.

“Unless you ask otherwise.” Evan finished; drawing more catcalls.

“Uh, well…” Thad closed his eyes and leaned forward, scrunching his face as Ethan just pulled him forward into his lap, shocking any refusal out of him. He would have pulled away and complained, until he felt a hand around the back of his neck and Ethan moved. By the time Evan pulled him over, he’d made the most embarrassing groan and was red as a tomato.

“That means nothing.” Thad said quickly; unconsciously biting his lip.

The Brightmans laughed. “Sure. Sure it did.”

If Thad then took a pillow to hug, distracted for the rest of the game, it was no one’s business but his own he insisted. The vodka was finished quickly after that.

With Ethan and Evan’s turn complete, it was Allison’s turn. It was obvious to anyone she wanted it to land on one of the girls, her words supporting the boys but every single kiss she’d watched with open-mouthed want happening between the girls. She’d been speechless when Jackie’s first round had landed on Laura, and she’d kissed her senseless.

The bottle landed on Reed; Allison’s mouth twisted downwards, disappointed. Reed didn’t look so upset as she did, his boyfriend giggling and encouraging him like they’d done earlier.

“Why do we keep making the gay guys kiss girls?” Andrea complained. “It’s not fun.”

“Who said I’m gay?” Reed cut in, boldly as Allison blushed. The Dalton boys cheered him on, including his own boyfriend.

Allision pouted, she hadn’t wanted Van Kamp, she’d wanted Satoru, or Danny Abbot, she insisted to herself. But she couldn’t look like a chicken, planting herself in front of Reed determined.

Reed looked at her kindly. “I could do what Sara did for Blaine-”

She frowned at the older boy, talking under her breath. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s just a game-”

“Well I’m not gay like him, so I’m not chickening out.” She said sharply, keeping it quiet between the haze of his curls and her long hair falling in her face.

“Okay.” Reed said, unsure, leaning up to the taller girl to kiss her.

He tasted like brownies, and she was startled at how soft his mouth was. Fingers with band-aids on each one settled on her shoulders as they both swayed. It made sense; the twins wouldn’t let you walk away from one of their parties if you could just as easily crash on the floor because you’d gone so off the edge. She nipped at his lower lip, in a game that usually had boys wanting more; but felt rather empty as he pulled away from her with a simply smile, lingering no more than the cheering around them demanded. It was weird, she felt so detached for a moment.

“You’re a good kisser.” He said to her.

She frowned deeper. “Whatever.”

Sitting back, Allison passed the bottle over to Danny- who had been her actual choice, and she hoped he’d hand on her.

He didn’t in fact; Danny’s spin finding Todd across the circle, to Todd’s own quiet snort.

“Come on Danny boy, let’s see what Wes is missing out on.” Todd beckoned.  

“Hey!” Wes said, hearing his name from the bathroom door. Danny tried not to look at him as he was pulled in for a long kiss.

“I knew it’d be fluffy.” Todd said, ruffling Danny’s hair, pushing him back to his side of the circle.

“You’re as bad from the as Alessio.” Mika said, barely heard over the music; though she said it with good humour, rebraiding her hair before more drunk students decided it held the secret of life and messed it up again.

“What? Its not a crime to appreciate the finer things in life.” Todd joked, one leg out and smiling.

“You’re certainly much less shy about it than last time there was a Windsor party.” Dwight pointed out, supporting Mika.

Todd grinned at his roommate. “Life is too short to not ruffle people’s hair. Unstuff your shirt Dwight, if they’re not a demon I say they’re free game.”

Dwight opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by the twins cheering on Andrea and Marcus Holland- who’d shown up despite his own misgivings about his former house. Another two left the circle, another few joined.

Casey spun again and landed on the twins, who had a much more eager- if less vocal- partner this time. Jeff’s second spin got Shane, who was an enthusiastic partner.

Jackie then took over, the bottle finished off again; it was her third spin of the game, as she’d been having too much fun to leave the circle. She’d been hoping for another Dobry girl, or at least one of her friends from the Motorbike bros, so at least she could have one she could go overboard and funny with. Todd would go along with it, even if Sadie’d already left the circle.

One person off wasn’t bad she supposed. “Okay Houston, pucker up.”

Todd laughed at his roommate, who looked ready to scramble up the walls. “She won’t bite.”

“I object to the moral grounding of this game!”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t disappoint me.”

Dwight blushed, “Hey!”

She bit her lip, crawling across the carpet with wicked humour in her eyes. “It’s only a kiss.”

“HOW COULD IT END UP LIKE THIS?” Shane yelled, rather than sang from beside them.

The circle burst into an impromptu sing-a-long, covering up the small squeak Dwight made when Jackie kissed him, softer than she would have liked, but the confused smile on his face was worth it. She punched his shoulder gently, “Told you it’d be fine.”

“No wonder you hang out with Sadie, you’re scary just like her.” Dwight said, using the sing-a-long to get up and scuttle around the circle to escape.

“Do I kiss like her?” She asked amused.

Dwight went a plum red, “I- what- NO!”

“Oh, so she’s better than me?”

“I have never- she’s my fr- AH!” Dwight threw up his hands and hurried into the other side of the room like he was being chased.

Todd snorted besides Dwight’s vacated seat. The circle was falling apart; around them various Primas, Royals, Hanovers, Windsors, and a couple of Stuarts ended up pairing off, singing or sharing drinks, or just starting up a contest of trying to climb the stairs without using their arms or legs (of which Thad was surprisingly winning).

Jackie nudged his shoulder, shoving Todd against the bookshelf to make room. “Is he always like this?”

“Most of the time.” Todd said, loudly enough she could hear him. “I’m surprised he didn’t throw salt at everyone a round earlier. He might have if he’d gotten the twins and not Kurt on his turn.”

“God, how can you live with him?” Jackie asked. “I’d go nuts.”

“He’s a good guy.” Todd assured her. “Besides, you’re worse than he could ever be. You jumped a car in the Denny’s parking lot last time we went out. I should be asking your roommates the same question.”

“I’m a special brand of weird.” Jackie insisted, sticking her tongue out at him. He pinched it- her screeching in response sending him into laughter. “You’re awful!”

“You love me Jackie, come on.” Todd teased, tapping the abandoned bottle at her.

“Hey, you landed on me, you know what that means.” She said, taking the bottle out of his hand. “No take backs.”

“I didn’t spin it.”

Jackie turned it around once clumsily and then pointed it back at herself. “There. I win.”

He rolled his eyes, but she got her wish anyways; pulling him down against her mouth with a smile, twisting her tongue against his as the party raged around them. She felt his hand in her hair, pulling at the thick strands. She’d have to make fun of him for that later. She braced against the bookshelf, swinging a knee over him to get closer to him.  

“We should get some water. Just… cause.” Todd panted, unable to move back, wedged against the bookshelf the way they were. His glasses were askew, but the warm flush to his face made it look infinitely less dorky.

“Is there water in your room?” She asked, grinning into another kiss.

“Jackie…”

“Is there?”

“…yes.”

“Well then let’s go.”

The party continued long into the night. Some disappeared upstairs; others just fell asleep on the common room floor. Lucy was found curled up under the sink after winning an impromptu game of hide-and-seek which had ended 3 hours prior.

Han only flicked through his view screens; looking for campus security by the time 5am rolled around and he had to sound the alarm to disperse. No one thanked him for it; but when did they ever?

The twins called it one of their best parties ever.

Logan Wright called it an affront to good taste.

Julian Larson was just mad his invitation had been sent via carrier pigeon- because he really wanted to come.

---

Note: Everyone except my OC Ophelia is a canon “Season 2″ character.  I am not tagging every single character in this, by god that is far too many for an ensemble fic. I also give up because there would be too many potential ship tags. 

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part three) 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: ±5200 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 three: Things are awkward between the Reader and head-wrangler Dean, and her nerve wrecking first day at Gold Canyon Ranch hasn’t even started yet. 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: 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

     Before the alarm even has the chance to awaken Y/N from her restless sleep, she turns it off and rises from her bed. As she hops off the small mattress, she hits her head against the top bunk and lets out a groan. Wonderful, she thinks to herself as she rubs her head and grids her teeth, just what I need at 5.30 in the morning.       She flicks on the light, which stings her eyes the moment the rays hit them. For a second she glances around the ten-by-six room, of which most of the space is occupied by the two-story bed and a closet. Oh well, at least she has the room to herself. She would feel even more claustrophobic in the small space that she can call hers for the next six months. 

     By taking in a deep breath, she tries to calm herself down. Today is the first line of a new chapter in her life, the chapter in which she will prove to the world that she is not just some stuck up rich kid from upstate who is offered all life’s best opportunities by her parents. She does get everything she wants, alright, because she works hard for it. She has worked hard for her degree, she has worked hard to become a pro reining rider. And now she will work hard shoveling horse shit. Y/N isn’t a simpleton; she saw how interns were treated at the livery stable where she boarded her horse, back in Freeport. They tend to end up with all the chores nobody else wants to do; the dirty jobs. Come to think of it, she might have used an intern to clean up her mess every now and then, and boy, does she regret it now. If karma exists, today it will bite her in the ass. 

     With a sigh, she gets up, grabs a towel, her shampoo and makeup bag, and quietly heads for the shower without waking anyone. The warm water falling on her skin does not only cleanse her body from a damp and restless night, but also her mind. The intern expects today to be dreadful, but she needs to stop being so negative.           Maybe you will get to go on a trail today, that would be fun, she reassures herself under the spray. You’ve got Jo to back you up, you will be fine.

     You. Will. Be. Fine.

     Nevertheless, nerves tighten knots in her stomach again, as it did when she stepped into the saloon last night. What if I won’t be fine? What if the workload is too heavy, what if I’m not cut out for this job?      Getting tired of her own brooding, she washes out the conditioner and turns off the shower. After drying her hair, she wraps the towel around her chest and secures it by tucking one hem behind the other, then starts on her makeup. 

     This is her daily routine, no matter how early she needs to get up for it. Confidence is not her strong suit and looking as good as she can, gives her just enough boost to get by, especially on nerve-wracking days like these. After fixing her eyelashes with mascara, she hears a door creak open in the hallway; sounds like the rest of the crew is waking up too. After tightening the towel, making sure that it’s not coming off on her stroll back to her room, she opens the bathroom door. A young woman with dark wavy hair throws an old coffee filter in the trash. All she’s wearing is an oversized plaid shirt that reaches over her thighs.       “G’morning,” the brunette greets friendly.      “Hi,” she returns, somewhat hesitant, then extends her hand towards her as she takes a step in her direction in order to introduce herself. "I'm Y/N."      “Casey,” the natural beauty replies, shaking her hand.      Last night, she was there in the saloon, but Jo didn’t introduce them. Y/N assumed she was a guest, but now that she finds her here in the bunkhouse, she figures Casey must be personnel.       While pouring herself a cup, she looks up at Y/N. “You want a cup of coffee?”       “Yes, please,” Y/N obliges, appreciating a mug full of warm brew to help her wake up. "I'll throw on some clothes first."

     As Y/N turns around to retreat back to her room to get dressed, the door closest to the kitchen area opens. When she sees the man at the door, her jaw drops and she swears to God that her heart beats twice as fast from the moment her eyes capture the person in the doorway. It’s Dean, but wearing distinctively less clothing. His worn-down jeans are the only thing he’s wearing, hanging from his hips, only held by a leather belt with a silver inlaid buckle. Y/N’s eyes glide up, noticing the happy trail running up his abdomen. My oh my, is that body a nice one. Proportioned, toned, and tanned from years of ranch work under the Arizona sun. Broad shoulders, strong arms. In her mind, it feels like she has been taking him in for at least a minute, but thankfully she only needs a split second to snap out of it, not wanting to get caught staring again. It’s only then when she realizes that she herself is draped in nothing more than a towel, exposing almost as much skin as he is. There it is, the first moment of the day when she wishes to be invisible.      “Morning, Yankee,” he greets, his voice still raspy from sleep.      “M-morning,” she manages to mutter.      She then points at her room awkwardly, pressing the towel against her chest, after which she stammers something unintelligible and turns to self-consciously walk back to safety. His eyes burn in her back, and when she turns towards him as she closes the door, a suppressed smile that expresses both amusement and appreciation adorns his handsome face. Y/N only breathes out again when the door falls in the lock behind her. God, could you be more embarrassing? Good job on not making a total fool of yourself!       She takes a deep breath and runs both her hands through her hair, trying to push the moment to the back of her mind, then drops the towel and quickly hoists herself in underwear, and after that a pair of dark jeans. Get yourself together, Y/N. Sure, he looks incredibly hot, but he is not the first good looking guy you’ve come across. He shouldn’t have this effect on you, Jo warned you about him, for crying out loud!       Lecturing herself, she puts on her bra and a denim blouse, after which she steps in her boots. The shine has worn off, since she kicked through the dirt on her way to the bunkhouse last night, making them a little less conspicuous. Quickly, she blow-dries her hair, straightens it out with an ironer, and glances at the reflection in the small mirror. A nervous and insecure little girl stares back, the image having her sigh deeply and close her eyes on herself. On the corner of the bedpost, her custom-fitted Milano western hat waits. She brought two hats to Arizona, one being a navy blue Stetson that she has had for ages, the other is the black Milano, which her grandfather gave her before debuting at the State Championships. Ever since that win, it has become her lucky hat. She picks it up by the crown, moves it over her head, and then pushes it down on her hair, pulling the front dip down a little deeper over her eyes. There, much better. Just walk out there, pretend nothing happened. You’ve got this.       After another deep breath to ground herself, she exits her room and joins the others in the living area. Jo, Benny, and Garth are there too, trying to wake themselves with some caffeine. Dean has settled on the leather couch, also sipping his coffee. He’s fully dressed now, thankfully. She’s not sure if she could have looked in his direction if he wasn’t.

     “Hey! Slept well?” Jo wonders, pushing a coffee filled mug in her direction.      “Yeah, fine,” Y/N answers, forcing a smile.      Not at all, but no need for them to know. A quick glance at the clock above the stove tells her it’s 6.20; only ten minutes until this dreadfully slow day is going to start.      “Is Ash up yet?” Dean checks with the rest.      “What do you think?” Jo returns snarky.      With a grunt Dean gets up, walks over to the door next to her and bangs on it loudly. “Ash!”       A loud snore comes from behind the closed door, followed by nervous rummaging. “I’m up!”  

     With a chuckle, Dean returns to the living room, where Casey stood up from the chair. Wearing the same clothes as she did last night, she walks up to him.      “I’m heading off. Breakfast with the girls,” she announces, after which she leaves a kiss on his lips. He answers her and closes his eyes as he does, stalling the motion for a second longer. Then they part and he smiles down on the gorgeous girl.      “See you in the saloon tonight?” Dean checks.      “You betcha,” Casey replies, staring him down flirtatiously, before she exits the bunkhouse.      The wrangler pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, grinning content as he settles on the couch again. All this time Y/N has watched him, a bit perplexed by what just happened. Suddenly it makes sense why Jo didn’t introduce her to Casey; she’s a guest who just happened to have spent the night here, with Dean. When she directs her focus to Jo, the blonde cowgirl mouths ‘told ya?’ triumphantly. Chuckling, Y/N shakes her head. Jo was right, and boy is she glad that she told him to find his booty call elsewhere. 

     In the meantime, Ash has joined them and five minutes before their shift starts, the group of wranglers and workers head out. The moment Y/N steps outside, the heat that lingered despite the night hits her. Dear lord, she hasn’t lifted a finger yet and she’s already sweating. Before she can complain out loud, the intern looks up, instantly captivated by the landscape. Last night the veil of darkness didn’t allow the scenery to be appreciated, but now that the sun steadily rises in the east, warding off the clouds that float at the horizon above the Superstition Mountains, she is fully aware of its beauty. Bright rays of orange and yellow spread their light over their surroundings, draping all that’s in the sun’s reach with gold. Cows and their calves impatiently wait in their large stretched out pastures by the fence, moohing, eager for new hay. The dirt with a speck of red in it crunches under their boots as the smell of the country fills her nostrils.

      Suddenly the intern’s first day at the ranch seems a little less intimidating. She can’t wait to be around horses again, to hear them rustle their noses through their roughage and hear them neigh the moment the stable doors open. The way their presence triggers every sense of her to take in as much as she can possibly absorb, purely to enjoy the bliss feeling of belonging. In a year’s time, only a few days passed without spending at least some hours around these majestic animals. Christmas was one of those moments, yesterday was one too. One day without them and she already craves for their touch, their interaction, their companionship. Something called homesickness. Not for Maine, not for her friends and family, but for horses. Home is where the heart is. There’s a lot of truth in those words.

     “So, what is today going to be like?” she wonders eagerly, after catching up with Jo.      “We start with feeding, turning the horses out, and mucking stables. Dean and I usually ride a couple of horses before breakfast at 8.30. After breakfast, we tack up for the trail rides with the tourists. A few wranglers go out with them, others stay behind to groundwork horses, clean tack, stuff like that. Lunch at 12.00, depending on the heat we take a break and get back to work at 2 PM,” the ranch owner’s daughter fills in.      Y/N tries to memorize the schedule as well as she can. Her description of the day helps, though. It offers a grip on the situation, calming the nerves.      “The afternoon is different every day. Sometimes we have extra trails, the vet might come in, or clients for the horses that need to be sold. When it’s quiet the workers do maintenance on the property while we train more horses. We feed the animals round at 6.30, dinner is served at 7. Final feeding round at 10.”

     The humid air was already pressing heavily on Y/N. Getting through the day without passing out, is definitely going to be a challenge. Despite those circumstances, she catches herself looking forward to this day, something that she couldn’t imagine last night when she retired to bed. She directs her attention to the group again, when some of the workers fan out, heading for the hay barn next to the stables. Within seconds she hears the tractor start and watches Ash roll out the big old machine that pumps black puffs from the exhaust with every strike of the engine. A trailer loaded with hay bales is attached to the rusty tractor, carrying Benny as well, who found a comfortable spot in the back.       “Keep up, Yankee!” Jo looks over her shoulder, waiting for Y/N to step to it.      Quickly she follows the cowgirl, who on her turn is right behind Dean and Garth.       Seems like they aren’t the only ones who got up early to get work done, because Bobby is already pushing the feed cart through the hallway between two rows of stalls, scooping pellets into the horses’ feeders through the bars. Some impatiently kick against the wood in an attempt to rush the old ranch owner, but he’s not in a hurry. Instead, he mutters something to the grey in the left row that is making a fuss.      “Mornin’, y’all,” Bobby greets them, somewhat grumpy.      “G’morning. What are we up for?” Dean consults with his boss.      “Two rides. A slow ride in the morning and a mountain hack in the afternoon,” Bobby fills in, closing the lid of the bucket half full of oats, then turns to his new intern.       “What time does your horse arrive?” he asks.      “Around 2 PM, the driver would let me know if he would run late, but I haven’t heard anything so far,” Y/N notifies.      “The first box on the right is unoccupied. It’s yours for the next six months, but I expect you to work for it,” he says, an encouraging sternness in his voice.      “I will, Mr. Singer,” she assures him.      “Alright,” Dean interrupts. “Y/N, you’re with me.”      The authoritative way he speaks unsettles her a little, but she tries her best to hide it. She’s on his hip from the moment he starts walking through the barn, showing her around.      “Tack room is on the right. Wash the bits clean before you hang the bridles away and always fold a cover over the saddle. Put back everything where you found it, otherwise Garth will rip you a new one, he likes the place neat. The cafeteria is over here, we all gather here for breakfast and lunch. Same deal, keep it clean. The coffee sucks, but it will wake you up in the morning.”      Dean gives her a short moment to glance inside the small yet comfy hangout, which contains a wooden picnic table for ten, and a small kitchenette. Her eyes glide over the numerous photos on the wall of show horses, the ranch from a birds-view, and many other images, together with won belt buckles, ribbons, and a messenger board.      “You’ll find the schedule of the day on there, also important phone numbers, to-do lists, memos, you name it. Check it every morning before you start and every evening before you leave. If a horse loses a shoe or needs special care, write it on the board,” he tells her, after which he retreats back to the hallway.

     His flirtatious manors have disappeared after she flipped him off last night, just the way she wanted at that moment. But now that he has this coldness over him on the work-floor, Y/N isn’t so sure if this is what she was after. Is he a sore loser? Is that the reason why he’s so reserved all of a sudden? Or is he keeping personal and business separate? Confused, she follows him as the wrangler heads for the horse boxes.      “These are all training horses, some owned by us, some by clients. They are turned out in small groups, except for the stallions, which are turned out alone in the high fenced paddocks. Learn their names and description quickly, we can’t have a mare in a pasture with a stallion, and believe me, you wouldn’t be the first to do such a thing.”

     On the other side of the barn, he lifts the heavy bar out of the hinge in order to open the tall doors. Behind them lays several acres of land, split up in pastures and paddocks, their gateways surrounding the outdoor tack up area in a U-shape. In the center, a Joshua tree reaches up to a clear sky. The old specimen must have been here for a while, since it has grown to a stunning height of at least thirty feet, offering shade to whoever needs it. To the right, a round pen is situated together with a large outdoor training arena. The yucca tree as well as the wooden fencing, are illuminated by the warm rays from the rising sun. Y/N tips her hat forward to protect her eyes from the brightness, enjoying the view. It’s a gorgeous sight and she wonders how long it has been like this. The tree almost seems sacred in this setting, an old soul that has been watching over these lands for decades, maybe even centuries. In the far distance, a herd grazes on the slopes leading up to the Superstition Mountains.           “Those are our trail horses. We’ve got about twenty of them. They stay out in the fields twenty-four seven and only come in for rides,” Dean tells her, after which he goes on with the tour, pointing out each while naming them in a rush. “Stallion paddocks, pastures, round pen, arena.”

     He heads back inside, expecting the intern to be right on his heels, but she hesitates, still absorbing the information. For a split second he observes, because she isn’t the only one who is taken aback by the view. Her silky hair falls down from under her western hat, the profile of her nose, lips, and chin outlined by the morning sun. The place mesmerizes her, just like it did when he first saw it. In fact, one of the first memories he can recall is sprinting through the barn towards the sunrise, his mom requesting with a gentle voice not to run, because it might spook the horses. He listened and halted in the large door frame, gazing at the enormous tree in front of him. He couldn’t have been more than four years old. Pushing the memory away, Dean lifts his gaze back at his intern and gets back to business.      “C’mon, we ain’t got all day!”            Y/N snaps out of it and approaches him, clearly not at ease and he regrets striking such a tone instantly. He can’t help it, though. Of course, he needs to be tough on the rookies, he has to if he wants to determine if they are right for the job or not. Ranch life is hard work, not to mention that they are handling horses and cattle weighing a thousand pounds each. A small error can have huge consequences, and since she’s under his supervision, he wants to prevent mistakes at all costs. But is it just that? If he’s honest with himself, is he really being an ass because he’s the boss? Or does he have to admit that he’s still slightly annoyed by the fact that his ego got damaged by this fierce new face? Normally he would shake off a rejection - not that he had many - yet she brought out of balance. Why is that? He gave it some thought, especially the way she responded to him right after she entered the saloon. Those lingering stares they exchanged, the way she got all flustered when he surprised her with his eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed, so the harsh ‘no’ when he went over for a chat still feels like a slap in the face. Somehow, it didn’t add up, because he could have sworn he felt a connection. It occupied his mind to a degree that he was still thinking about the woman who shot him down while having sex with Casey. 

     Forcing himself to get a grip, he continues to walk down the alley between the stables, footsteps echoing under the high ceiling. Jo and Garth already started preparing the horses for their free time outdoors, strapping protective boots to their legs. Bobby’s daughter takes a bay quarter horse out of his box after which she opens the stable door for a beautiful palomino as well and leads the two horses outside. Iron horseshoes click on the paved grounds rhythmically, soothing like a metronome.      “Each horse has its own halter. Some wear leg protection, which you can find in these bags,” Dean continues, taking a pair of overreach boots out of a canvas bag hanging from the stable door, along with a halter.       He opens the stall without making eye contact with his intern, focusing on the horse that curiously comes closer to meet him. Uncomfortable, Y/N waits for his next instruction by the door. Should she speak up? This time she reconsiders her words carefully, but she cannot stand the tension that is hanging in the already humid air.      “Dean, about last night…”      Her voice is so hesitant that it triggers the wrangler to turn and face the young woman, his expression shifting from annoyed to something much more gentle. In comparison to the deliverance of her message yesterday, she seems timid now.       “I know I was a little… blunt, when I told you to go find your luck elsewhere. The thing is, that I really need to focus on this job and on my placement here, do the best I can. I don’t want to mess this up or get sent home early. I can’t afford distraction,” she explains, trying to smoothen things out.      Observant Dean returns her gaze while he gently pulls the halter over the horse’s ears, securing the snap of the throat lash to cheekpiece. He doesn’t mean to, but a small smirk fights it’s way up to the surface. He’s got to say, he respects her for keeping her eyes on the ball. Bobby was right; she is a go-getter.      “Where is this coming from?” he wonders, voice much softer than it has been all morning.      “Well, I kind of had the feeling you are giving me the cold shoulder,” she confesses, uneasy.

     Again silence, this one at least as awkward as the previous one. How many hours ago have they met each other? Not even ten? And yet, despite being a little insecure about it now, she seems to be able to express herself quite well. It’s an aspect that stands out, one that Dean likes. She doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s for sure.      “You might have a point,” the wrangler admits. “But I need to be tough on the interns. It ain’t a cashier job at Walmart, this line of work can get dangerous. Do understand that I’m your supervisor and that it’s my responsibility that you--”      Whoa whoa whoa, stop it right there. Rewind and play again. He’s her what now?      “You’re my supervisor?” she repeats in shock.      Dean nods, confused. “Yeah, didn’t Bobby and Ellen tell you that?”      She shakes her head and buries her face in her hands as the embarrassment washes over her like a tidal wave. She cannot believe she wasn’t aware of this!      “N-no, they didn't…” Y/N stammers. First, they forget her at the airport and now this? God, this place has communication issues!        “I’m so sorry. What I said, that was just downright disrespectful,” she apologizes, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.      “Don’t worry about it,” he says, shrugging it off. “Can you get Argo? He’s in the box next door.”

     She nods, not entirely at ease just yet. Nevertheless, she steps to it, takes the halter and splint boots, and enters the stable to the right. Not being in the same box offers time and space to revise strategies, because she doesn't feel like the conversation has come to a solid end. Good grief, she feels like such an idiot. For someone who takes the job seriously, it was a pretty dumb move to talk back to the one person who is going to be her guide and mentor during this placement. He barely said a word before she treated him so rudely! He came up to ask if she was looking forward to her first day, for crying out loud! She has got to say something, anything to make it right. Before she can continue, though, the wrangler beats her to it.       “Look, I might have come on a little strong. I didn’t mean to put you in a compromising position. If I did--”        “No, it’s fine,” Y/N insists. “I think last night went down a little different than we both anticipated.”

     The wrangler keeps a hold of her gaze for a second and then nods, deciding to settle with that. She’s right; they both could have handled the situation differently. It’s good that they cleared the air, though. He usually enjoys bossing rookies around, but with her, he’d rather take a more gentle approach.      “I’m gonna take you thinking I’m a distraction as a compliment, then,” he comments jokingly.      Y/N looks up from her work as she puts the halter on the chestnut, chuckling lightly. Dean smiles at her response, her little laugh lifting the weight off his chest. Their eyes lock as they observe each other through the bars separating them, both very well aware of the slightly different vibe in the air. Dean - who was left somewhat disoriented after her decline - seems to have found his footing again. She can see it in the small crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, in the dimples of his cheeks when he smiles. Damn, that smile. And there it is again, that sparkle. A shimmer in his eyes, like holding a beautifully cut emerald gemstone against the light.        “I was warned that you can be very distracting,” she returns, correcting him.      Jo walks past to fetch more horses to turn out, glaring at the pair as she passes by. Dean catches her ‘what the hell are you up to?’ stare, which he replies to by raising his eyebrows and intensifying his trademark smile.      “Let me guess. Jo told you all about how I spend my evenings?” he replies to her comment, almost a whisper to prevent his cousin from listening in.      “And your lunch breaks,” Y/N adds, well aware of the value of the intel.      He cringes at that, then chuckles, busted, as he clasps the lead rope to the halter, after which he bends down to strap the overreach boots to the lower leg just above the hoof. He never thought the day would come, but his experience with women isn’t exactly working in his favor right now. Is he keeping his hands busy trying to hide the embarrassment?       “Seems like I’ve built myself quite the reputation,” the cowboy concludes.

     She watches him through the barred wall, considering if she should say something. After all, she doesn’t want him to feel ashamed. What he does in his own time is none of her business. So what that he sleeps around? That doesn’t make him a bad person. Why should she even care? And yet, she can’t deny that when Casey kissed him back at the bunkhouse, jealousy tucked at her heart.       “No, you haven’t,” she reassures, trying to take away his embarrassment while pushing down her own thoughts. “I promise I won’t jump to conclusions anymore, okay?”      “Alright,” Dean agrees to that. “And you’ve got my word that I won’t treat you differently from now on. Despite that you were busting my balls yesterday.”       Finally at ease, she smiles, glad that they both find the memory amusing now. When she looks up at him again, the curved line of his lips evens out a little.       “Despite that - and please don’t take this the wrong way,” he adds on a more serious note, the short pause hanging between them, the moment intensified by his kind eyes, “I believe that you’re somethin’ special.”

     Surprised by his words, Y/N stares back at him. It’s not a joke, is it? Nor is it innocent flirting. She barely knows the guy, but she can tell he’s being sincere. Unlike yesterday, Y/N accepts the compliment, because this time she truly believes it’s not just a way to seduce her and lure her to his bed. He means it, and something tells her that he hasn’t said something like that to many girls before. That’s what she wants to believe, at least.       The flustered smile that his words ignites should give him even more confidence than he already possesses, but it does the opposite. With any other girl his eyes would remain fixed, letting his gaze do the talking for him. He would have let his content smile grow larger, he would keep his head up, stand straight with his shoulders back, not a speck of insecurity to be noticed. But not with her. With her, he averts his attention to the horse next to him, gently running his hand through the gelding’s mane, unable to keep his posture. Why does he do that? He was doing just fine the first time they locked eyes last night. Hell, he stared for so long, that she didn’t know what to do with herself. He was in control, until he settled down on that barstool next to the cowgirl. Until she told him ‘no’. Until she took the reins.

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 four here

[themichaelzane]

Jasmine - Morning glory

jasmine; what mythical creature do you wish actually existed?

“pegasus and phoenix for sure.”

lavender; soundcloud or vinyls?

“vinyls all the way.”

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read?

“Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. A classic. Relevant to our times and the state of our society, and just a great book I’d say anyone could and should read.”

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets?

“i wear my boyfriend’s clothes all the time.”

bird of paradise; what was the best thing that happened to you this month?

“@ray-moretti​ coming home, probably.”

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself?

“be better to @noolivertwist​. be more open. be honest.”

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests?

“the forest.”

whirling butterflies; would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

“i don’t know, would i? @casey-blythe​.”

marmalade skies; do you plan your outfits?

“no.”

apricot drift; how do you feel right now?

“tired.”

everlasting daisy; what’s the last dream you remember having?

“i vaguely remember being at an airport telling someone to let me through because g eazy was my husband.”

queen’s cup; what are you craving right now?

“@casey-blythe​.”

lavender dream; turn ons/offs?

“kisses on the neck, nice thighs, hands/kisses on my neck. can’t think of many turn offs right now, but that’s probably because i’m used to ollie and casey and i don’t think they do anything i don’t like.”

water lilly; when was the last time you cried? why?

“arguing with ollie.”

lily of the valley; did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize?

“no. and i don’t expect him to.”

winterberry; do you bite or lick your ice cream?

“only a psychopath would bite into ice cream. lick.”

honey perfume; favorite movie ever?

“i can’t pick just one. it changes constantly. anything hitchcock, david fincher, tarantino. i love james dean and marilyn monroe. cary grant too.”

desert rose; do you like yourself?

“i put up with myself.”

snapdragon; have you ever met or seen in person a celebrity?

“i don’t think i have.”

night owl; how many countries have you visited?

“none.”

heliotrope; have you ever been in a castle?

“i’ve been to @noolivertwist​‘s old mansion?”

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done?

“most crazy shit i’ve done i wouldn’t call brave. just plain stupid.”

lantana; what’s on your mind right now?

“right now, in this very instant, i’m thinking about ollie.”

pumpkin patch; what’s your zodiac sign?

“virgo.”

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself.

“1. i2. hate3. listing4. facts5. about bonus: me.”

daphne; do you believe in karma?

“not really.”

queen of the meadow; ever been in love?

“madly so.”

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child?

“i don’t remember being read bedtime stories.”

remember me; did you make someone laugh today?

“oliver’s dad’s dick.”

iris; do you believe in ghosts?

“yes.”

lilac; if you could go back in time which time period would you visit?

“the 70′s.”

caramel kisses; would you want to live forever? why/why not?

“no, i barely wanna live now as it is.”

primula; what makes you sad?

“don’t get me started…”

rain lily; was today typical? why/why not?

“it was a typical day for the most part. nothing out of routine happened.”

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most?

“i would trust oliver with my life. casey too.”

lady’s slipper; what did you have for breakfast today?

“coffee and stale bread.”

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life?

“i wouldn’t change where my life is at right now. but, oliver once asked me to run away with him. i don’t regret not going because i’m happy now, things turned out suprisingly amazing for me. however, i do often wonder about that. daydream, maybe. who would he and i be if we’d run away? where would he have taken me? i wonder what we would’ve done there together. i think about us spending countless hours in bed, so long we don’t even know what day it is. the curious part of me wonders about it. the logical part of me knows my life would probably not be what it is now if i had done it.“

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe?

“the galaxy from hitchiker’s guide to the universe, oz from the wonderful wizard of oz, and the harry potter universe.”

violet; favorite tv show?

“i don’t watch a lot of tv, but ollie got me into queer eye recently. my all time favorite might be dexter—but we don’t talk about that ending.”

sunflower; share a favorite quote.

“i had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” —jack kerouac

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like?

“ollie and casey must be in it. anything else don’t matter much.”

tiger lily; do you have any hobbies?

“does having sex count as a hobby?”

tea rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared?

"love. but i’ve done it now.”

honeysuckle; do you usually date people your age or older/younger?

“i’ve never dated anyone younger than me.”

sweet pea; who means the world to you? why?

“casey because he is my first love and my soulmate. ollie because i’ve never known love like i do for him. i would do anything for them.”

foxglove; who is your favorite cartoon character?

"johnny bravo and the red guy from cow and chicken.”

magnolia; coffee or tea?

“coffee.”

crown imperial; would you rather be extremely rich or extremely loved?

"a few months ago my answer might’ve been different, but today it’s extremely loved.”

snowflake; are you a dog or a cat person?

“neither. but if i were to have a pet, i’d probably go for a cat. however, i do love my boyfriend’s dog widget a lot.”

bell flower; what is your biggest addiction?

"being sad and complaining about everything. i make myself sad for no reason. i just can’t stop. maybe one day i’ll kick the habit.

on a much lighter tone, though. maybe i’ll say my boyfriends, cause i can’t get enough of them.”

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy?

“yes. vast, infinite, fascinating.”

moonflower; what’s your favorite color?

“black.”

freesia; do you have a good relationship with your parents and siblings? why/why not?

“well, they’re dead.”

sundrop; are you a morning or a night person?

“night, maybe. evening, more like.”

poppy; have you ever dealt with a mental illness?

“i don’t think so.”

dandelion; do you consider yourself and extrovert or an introvert?

“introvert.”

lilly; what’s something you love watching/reading but you are too embarrassed to admit you do?

“fuck guilty pleasures. it’s 2019. if i wanna read john green books i goddamn will read a john green book.”

lotus; best memory as a child?

“it was my parents’ anniversary, they had plans but the nanny couldn’t make it. i told them to leave me in the house, but they wouldn’t do that and obviously i’d be scared shitless if they did cause i was a child. they ordered food, my mom set up the table with candles and shit, my dad went to the store and got her roses. we just had dinner and then we played and watched home movies. it was the last anniversary they spent together.”

angelonia; what is your eye and hair color?

“light brown eyes, dark brown hair.”

dahlia; do you like crystals?

“sure. they’re pretty. i don’t mind them.”

baby’s breath; what’s your hogwarts house?

“ravenclaw.”

calendula; biggest pet peeve?

“people who breathe loudly. i know it’s not their fault, i don’t judge or blame them, and i’m aware it’s a very irrational pet peeve to have. but my god does it make wanna stab myself with a spork.”

blanker flower; would you rather go to a cocktail party with your best friends or stay home and read a book/watch a movie with your pet?

“stay at home, always.”

blazing star; share a secret.

“i once broke into a random family’s basement on a really bad acid trip. i was far from home, and just too freaked out to make it home. spent the whole night there on the floor. made it out before anyone saw me. spent weeks thinking every time there was a knock on the door, that it was the cops coming for me. then again, i spent a lot of time thinking that while growing up.”

carnation; would you rather live longer or happier?

“happier.”

bluebell; do you wear glasses?

“i have a pair of reading glasses that look godawful on me. i’m supposed to use them all the time. i never do.”

nymphea; forest or river?

"forest, forest, forest.”

orchid; do you like exercise?

“yes. keeps my mind off of things. helps my mental health. body looking tight.”

pansy; do you like poetry?

“i love poetry.”

morning glory; any special talent that you have?

“i have no special talents, but how about a very useless one? I can dislocate both my shoulders and pop them back in again. i can also swallow a hot dog whole.”

[fairest]

ACCEPT 2022 FOREVER

The year in first paragraphs

It was the year we learned even more about people we’ve never known. The year skinny fit could be classic or modern, the year a pair of Seven for All Mankind could cost $249 before tax and trimmings. It was the year we ran out of options and used all of our points. The year, in America, that AI had a better chance at being offered a soul than a cow. It was the year the first sip from a Peroni still tasted like the first pull on a girlfriend-rolled spliff. The year sober people reached another anniversary of not getting fucked up, at least in that way. Twitter changed hands and out shook the transhistorical. This was the year, more than any other, the armchair leftist informed us: THAT’S NOT WHAT NIETZSCHE MEANT! This was the year we left intact the address labels on our small magazines before leaving them for the next unlucky contestant in the rigged game of wisdom contemporary. The other night Julie told me she went out with this interesting guy, he was tall, and the next day she looked at his feed and it was just “stacks of books” and “blocks of texts” with no “pictures of him doing, you know, things, with the people he knew.” I told her I was familiar with these kinds of people. I might even be one of them. It was the year people kept on letting us know they had a very creative pandemic, and Kendrick Lamar confessed he “doesn’t blink like he used to.” You might have missed it.

The year in reading

I read several books called Origins. I read more of the Old Testament, King Philip's War, Boyle’s Goethe, Casey’s Place, Slotkin’s Violence, Kramer’s Schubert, Proust’s Combray, and the New Testament, almost unreadable given the domestic political situation in my country. Perhaps I need to go deeper into the text. I read Sacvan Bercovitch’s The Puritan Origins of the American Self, he’s Canadian, and longed to reread Anthony Powell’s Books do Furnish a Room. They certainly do. I longed to reread Natasha Stagg’s Sleeveless but instead faced it out on the shelf so I could see the cover. I did reread Antin’s Cage, Kundera’s Immortality, Turgenev’s First Love (in early spring, a sensuous experience I recommend) and Levé’s Autoportrait. I’m worried I can no longer be moved. I’m worried I can no longer be guided. I would rather be stuck in an elevator with two Kristin Cinema than read one Cormac McCarthy novel. I donated well over 100 books of critical theory, but not Tim Dean’s Unlimited Intimacy. I read Dean’s contribution to 2022, Hatred of Sex, and heard thirteen podcasts about it. It was a good year for hatred and the podcasts were better. But I read very few books published in 2022, sticking mostly with that MotherTimberStuff.

I read the internet. “Fast, through a slow-motion landscape,” as Mark Sandman wrote about Kerouac. I read 198,000 words through the Pocket app according to an email Pocket sent me this December. On the internet I read about young people. I need to study youth culture when I crash, need to understand who’s trying to get in. I like to read young people who have newish takes about things they were too young to understand in the original pain they occurred, such as Crumpstack on the 2014 Isla Vista killings, or NYC vs: MFA, which correctly points out the MFA thinks we’re all on drugs. When I was having chemsex with my wife I often thought about Substack in general, but never when I came. On the other hand, I asked a New York-based writer at a classic Chicago hangout (bullets flew overhead) what he thought of Dimes Square and he asked, very nicely, “do you mean Times Square?” I imagine the same exchange took place in Manhattan, above and below 23rd Street, more than once this intergenerational holiday season. It was another year I lived in the wrong city for my professional goals, for my attitude, but not for my well-being. The bestselling novel Fleishman Is in Trouble became a TV show, demonstrating Wallace’s point that television is an “incredible gauge of the generic.”

What I’m most amazed at is how you all keep going. Doesn’t my energy rob you of yours? Or do you find this kind of writing inspiring? I hope the latter. I feel this amazement whenever I scroll Twitter and see the huge stacks of books from Julie’s dates. Our categories so often Missionary, my overworked husbands, but sometimes Lesbian, Very Pale, even Fetish. It was the year Dwight Garner typed Kathy Acker into Amazon.com and Whole Foods sent him a bag of dill pickle almonds. I saw the fiercest female writers of my generation find their fullest expression on the mat. Baudrillard wrote in 1990 that people barely have time to consume their own cultural products, never mind other people’s. But I don’t mean to turn this on you.

The year in sound

All summer long I walked the beach listening to right-wing podcasts. Sometimes, for no reason, my cancellers would go from “quiet” to “aware” and I would hear the waves, the children, the sand. I spent $79.50 on a new bathing suit. Right-wing podcasts are very serious. I love that about them. It reminds me of going over to the metalheads in high school to see what they were up to. Sometimes they make me physically queasy. When they say “the n-word” I shiver and shake. They too use the words “Trump” and “DeSantis” but those words mean something different to them. Sometimes the podcasters discussed the coming of “Red Caesar” which made me taste, on my sunburnt lips, the saltiness of Red Robin fries. For a bit there the Red Caesar was Blake Masters but then he was Elon Musk. Red Caesar always made me hum the Conor Oberst lyrics

Children they fill the bleachers One is the next Caesar Keep all their minds collected Until he comes, until he comes.

In Arizona, after the election, I saw more Blake Masters signs than signs for whatever person beat Blake Masters. It’s too bad the name “Blake Masters” will die with 2022, but that’s why we accept 2022 forever the way Kerouac accepted loss forever and taught us to write autofiction and be in love with our own pain, our bodies, our selves. During the hora, Libby told me she didn’t use social media and kept up a print subscription to The Drift and, she whispered, Jewish Currents. I can’t remember if she lives in Brooklyn, campus Florida, or Austin. This year I continued to think the sound of my door creaking sounds like the first song on Radiohead’s Amnesiac which sounds like the beginning of “Allentown” on Billy Joel’s The Nylon Curtain. Jerry informed me the chorus of R.E.M.’s “The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight” is not “ponytail wiggler, ponytail wiggler.” What a great tune.

I love the mucoid provocations of Bari Weiss, the way her voice drips with leading questions.

I love it when an always-be-interviewing Rebecca, w/ that glottal Ivy League bling, hashes out trends on a Vox Media podcast.

I love it when the hottest guy on Pod Save America says, “alright, let’s get to the news.”

I loved the quickened breath in Christian Lorentzen’s voice when he recorded his White Noise recap outside of Lincoln Center for The Last Thing I Just Saw podcast. It totally captured just getting out of the pretty good last thing you saw.

At the movies, I thought a lot about how Bret Easton Ellis thinks the sound of people eating popcorn should be banned at the movies.

It makes proper British sense one of the year’s chart toppers, Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill (A deal with God),” came out in 1985 and is about the desire to trade places w/ God. In Toronto, Uncle Richard showed my son his Tesla, and we learned the car’s computer can make fart sounds, and that’s the sound I now make when a Tesla cuts me off in a Chicago parking lot. An old quatrain I sang to myself a lot this year was

brief encounters in Mercedes Benz wearing hepatitis contact lens bed and breakfast getaway weekends with Sports Illustrated moms

from the opening track on Beck’s 1999 album, Midnight Vultures, which has tarnished quite well.

My favorite musical genres included Death-Metal-w/-under-20-monthly-listeners, Ian Cohen’s Recommendation Corner, Black Without Drums, 2009ish-8.4-Best-New-Music, and the equalizer setting Small Speakers as compositional ethos. In the cafes, I listened to an “Underrated Shoegaze” playlist to drown out the Wilco and the Big Thief. I watched the Wilco video for “Everyone Hides” with my son at least 150 times. Surprising fact: children are not good at hiding. The few times I gave the new Beyoncé album a shot I just shuffled over to Madonna. Perhaps I am too old for new Bey. In moments of agony I recalled dumping a good girl while the Destiny's Child song “Irreplaceable” played on her clock radio. That actually happened. I can still hear the sound of her left creaking stairs as I walked down them, out to my digressive freedom, and the stairs sound like “Allentown” and my soul door feels packed, like sardines, in a crushed tin box.

The year in the rise in antisemitism

In 1943 Antonin Artaud dedicates The New Revelations of Being to Adolf Hitler. In 1959 one of his doctors publishes an article entitled “I treated Antonin Artaud” which cites the dedication as an example of Artaud’s mental derangement. A simpler answer, according to the editor of Artaud Anthology, Jack Hirschman, is that over those years of its composition, when Artaud dominated the madhouses, Hitler dominated Europe. It’s not a peer-to-peer dedication, like T.S. Eliot calling Ezra Pound the better Jew-hater, but a head nod across fields, like Ye to Trump, or Trump to Tom Brady. “Artaud was in fact a much more radical revolutionary,” David Rattray contends in his wonderful essay ‘Artaud’s Cane,’ “than any of his friends or enemies, proclaiming total revolution, not only of production modes and political and class structures, but of the family and sexual mores. He went even beyond that, to prophesy an unimaginable radical physiological revolution: If the flesh is weak, said the logic of Artaud, we must revolutionize the flesh — and our first step will be to burn it.” Hitler, no stranger to burning flesh, would no doubt agree for some folks, although he might not have called it the first step. J.D. Salinger, there for the liberation of the camps, later told his daughter you never do get the smell of burning flesh out of your nose, and published a perfect novel about a boy who wants to save the children, for which, like Christ, he is adored and mocked.

I read a tweet early this year that said, “if you believe in the bullshit of some crucified rabbi you are a weak person,” and it was the only thing that made me feel weaker this whole year than the world war in Ukraine.

The more “the Jews” becomes singular, the worse “they” get. Late at night I stream Henry Bean’s 2002 master script if not masterpiece of cinema, The Believer. The Jew is a Nazi, played by a slim and shifty Ryan Gosling. A rumpled Billy Zane co-stars as Curtis Zampf, a Bannonesque intellectual who, in the film’s opening parlor scene, squares a circle of mumbling Nazis who want to believe they are beyond race and into Nazism for the econ-populism. (That’s like reading PornHub for the “what a lovely dick” comments.) But then Gosling, as Daniel Balint, storms in, wearing an American Apparel fitted swastika tee, Fugazi bottoms, and Ludwig Van suspenders. He makes a speech. A speech that starts with Jews. For it must always start with Jews. People will always eventually want to kill them. Even if they can’t articulate precisely why. And that’s just it. The negro is concrete. Everyone knows this when they step on him. But the Jew “represents abstraction.” The Jewish Nazi suggests the main bullet point on the new Nazi agenda should be the same as before: killing Jews. Curtis Zampf pushes back. “It’s not yet time for that. Nobody cares about Jews anymore.” The Jewish Nazi disagrees. He suggests killing a Wall Street banker first. Zampf’s wife, Lina Moebius, played by Theresa Russell, knows Daniel is dangerous, but makes a good point about his potential influence on the party. “Nazism has always been a romantic movement,” she says.

The year in girls

Another good year for girls. As The Dare’s Girls versifies. Which is this year’s Drunk Girls, this year’s Girls, this year’s Girls, and Girls, Girls, Girls, last year’s Girls, Girls, Girls, cis het Girl, or the girls with the cellophane chests, this year’s Laura and the girls go wild on the west coast. So many girls! Gossiping like Winogrand’s slumpers on a Central Park bench. When you’ve got girls you know you & your bitches are playing your part in capitalism’s soirée. You’ve reached Milo’s

and for following every rule all you received were applause

so take a bow. The year is over.

[arazialotis]

Irish Whiskey - Part 1

Pairing: Patrick × Reader, jealous Dean

Word Count: Around 2100 

Summary: With the case taking longer than expected, Y/N jumps on the opportunity to blow off some steam with a flirtatious Irish gentleman and perhaps will have the chance to make a couple extra bucks while at it. But the case and seemingly simple poker game turns more complicated when the Winchesters come across a familiar face. (Patrick appeared in Supernatural Ep. 5 x 7)

Warnings: Language

@misguidedconqueress Thanks so much for helping me review and edit!! Especially with this one since it is not my typical style. 

----

Witches, you were sure of it; they are what brought you and the Winchesters to the town three days ago. But you were nowhere close. The case should have your full attention but you had become delayed by the sly Irish man sitting across the high top from you. His dark brown eyes were warm and inviting yet glinted with a shimmer of mystery and danger. You wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his flowing curls. And his voice, well his voice warmed your soul the way the Irish Whiskey you were both nursing burned on its way down.

Dean and Sam were both long gone by now. Dean with some chick… as always. But lying to yourself had become easier than entertaining the disappointment. And this man, was a very welcomed distraction.

“So Patrick, you from around here?” You asked, wondering if this handsome distraction could possibly give you leads.

“No, just passing through actually.” He twisted a toothpick in his mouth.

“Oh, what for?” You questioned taking another sip of whiskey.

He smirked still impressed you could handle it. “Poker. A tournament in fact. It's really just a hobby but it makes a few extra bucks. You play?” He asked.

You chuckled. “Ah no. Tried to pick it up but, uh, I was sick of people wiping the floor with me, so I gave it up.”

“That’s too bad. I could give you a few tips, I’ve heard I’m a very good teacher.” He set his toothpick down and reached for a deck of cards in his coat pocket.

“I’m afraid a teacher is only as good as their student and I… I just can’t bluff.”  You blushed.

He started shuffling the deck. “We’ll only go one round.”

“Okay,” You agreed flipping through your coin purse. “Well, if you are interested in lint, hotel keys, or gas station receipts… I’m your girl.” After he dealt the cards and he took a sip of his whiskey.“Your hotel key doesn’t sound too bad.” He smirked and slipped the toothpick back between his lips.

“Oh my god!” You hid your face in your hands. “That’s not what I meant!” You giggled.

“I know Y/N, I’m simply giving you a hard time.” He lightly chuckled. “I’ll give ya the first lesson for free.” He winked.

You squirmed in your seat, imaging this is what it must feel like to have Dean’s attention. “How kind of you.” You finished the glass and singled to the bar for another.

Patrick analyzed your move, trying to read more than just your poker abilities. “Texas hold‘em. You know how the game?”

“The mechanics. Yes.” You looked at your cards and winced.

He laughed and took back all the cards redealing. “You actually need to try and bluff.” “Okay, okay.. I’ll try.” You looked at your cards again and wiped your hand over your face, looking Patrick dead in the eyes. But you couldn’t hold the serious gaze and started to giggle.

“Yeah. You’re terrible.” He chuckled back.

‘“No, no. I’m going to try.” You diverted your gaze. “So..” You found a napkin and started writing down. “I will bet you my number.” You folded the napkin in half and set in the middle.

“I’ll call.” He wrote down his number as well, set it in the middle, and dealt the flop.

You had nothing, but you were trying your best to bluff. “I’ll bet you another round of whiskey.” You purposed.

“I’ll call, and raise you a date tomorrow night.” He offered.

“I’ll call.” Your toes curled. He turned and you’ve never seen a hand this bad.

“Umm…” You didn’t know what else to throw in. “Drinks after dinner?”

“And I’ll raise you my hotel key.” He twisted the toothpick.

You sighed. “... I gotta fold.” You saw his lip twitch in disappointment. “Listen, you are super attractive.” You silently cursed at yourself for being so blunt. Maybe the whiskey was getting to you. “But I’m not the kind of girl just to have a one night stand when I meet someone on the first night.” You anxiously stated.

“Well, technically it would be the second night, after the date and all…” He grinned.

You laughed back. “Okay, if I didn’t just ruin everything. Let see how tomorrow night goes… and maybe we can play another game.”

“I’m in.” He agreed.

After a few more drinks, you called it a night and walked yourself back to the hotel. The next morning, you woke up to pounding on the door and in your head. You stumbled over to the door, rubbing your eyes. Both boys stood outside your doorway, in their tailored and freshly pressed suits. They both furrowed their brows at you.

“Late night? That’s not like you.” Dean chided as he waltzed in.

“Shut up.” You left the door open so Sam could come in too.

“Y/N, it’s 11:15.” Sam stated.

You laid back down on the bed and put a pillow over your head.

“And you have the babies and brunch group in 30.” He continued.

“Babies and what?” You sat back up.

Sam rolled his eyes, exasperated. “I sent you details last night.”

“Essentially, all the desperate housewives from the suburb get together and gossip while they actively ignore munchkins whining and running around.” Dean explained condescendingly.

“Okay. Big flaw in your plan… no kid.” You pointed out.

“Congratulations, you’re expecting.” Dean snarked. “New to the neighborhood and looking for connections and advice.”

“Ugh.” You complained and shut the bathroom door to get ready.

Sam and Dean dropped you off at a way too trendy spot, for babies and brunch. You had in mind a McDonald’s with one of those playplaces. But no, in this place everything was robin's egg blue or fairy dust moss color, and of course a ton of bird decor.

A woman perked up, smiling at you upon your entrance. You swore you could practically smell the chemicals radiating from her unnaturally white teeth.You bit your lip to avoid smiling as she crooned. “Ruthie darling, come join us.” ‘

Ruth was the identity Dean had come up with for you. You plastered on a fake smile and went up an octave more than you are used too. “Veronica? I’m so sorry to intrude but I am new to town and stumbled upon your blog…”

“Darling, darling.” She waved you over to the table. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.” You sat down in the free chair, putting your purse in your lap. “We are delighted to have you.” She greeted for the table around you. “I’d offer you a mimosa, but we want to keep that precious bundle of joy safe and sound.” The group laughed.

You politely chuckled and put your hand to your abdomen. “Yup, we are staying dry for another seven months.”

Veronica placed her hand on your shoulder. “It’s all worth it, Ruthie dear.”

The rest of the wives continued business as usual, gossiping about anyone and anything, complaining about their husbands, and willfully ignoring their children’s screams and overwhelming amount of bodily fluids. You tried to stay focused though on the pack leader. She would have the most information if there was a witch in the group.

“So, Veronica, which one of these little rascals is yours?” You looked around, eyes following the two boys running around the table playing tag.

“Oh sadly none, my children have all grown and moved away with no prospects of grandchildren.” She conveyed with sorrow.

“But you’re so young?” You blurted out in shock before you could catch yourself.

She chuckled. “Oh you’re too kind my dear. No, it’s true. That’s why I’ve started this group. So I can be a support to young mothers and get the joy from the children.”

At that moment, one of the boys playing tag tripped over his shoelace and collided with the ground. You looked to his mother who was already on her third mimosa and waved him off as he started to wail.

“There, there Sebastian.” Veronica called and snapped her fingers. He instantly stopped crying.

“... You’re so good with them…” You spoke, but the look on Sebastian’s face indicated he was more mortified than calm.

“It comes naturally dear, don’t you worry, it will come to you too.” Her phone buzzed and she jumped in her seat. “Oop, I’m running late for the salon. But we simply must continue our conversation. How does tomorrow for afternoon tea sound?”

“That would be so lovely.” You bordered on the edge of mocking her fake pleasantry.

“Wonderful, I’ll text you the details.” She stood up and blew a kiss to the rest of the group before waving. “Bye darlings.”

As soon as she left, Sebastian began crying again, raising your growing suspicion. His mother finally took notice and went to collect him.

The lady next to you bumped in. “Hey, don’t get too close, she can be a little overbearing.”

“A little overbearing?” The woman argued from across the table. “She’s worse than my mother-in-law.”

“I’m sorry… I guess I’m confused…” You stated.

Sebastian's mother who was now packing up, piped in. “Sweetheart, she pays for the drinks so we come.”

That’s a little rude, you thought to yourself. Maybe your gut feeling was wrong.

“All I’m saying is, the doting on is fun for a while but pretty soon you’ll start to remind her of her daughter and she’ll send you to her estate in New Hampshire like the rest because.” The woman cleared her throat and gave her best impression. “‘They simply have far superior doctors in that region. I can’t have you giving birth in this primitive landscape.’” A few of the other women chuckled.

“I’m sorry, the rest?” You asked… then again your gut never steered you wrong before.

“Yes… a few months ago… what was her name..” The lady tried to recall.

“Casey!” One popped in. “And before that, the poor gal who was still in high school.”

You forced a lump from growing in your throat. The missing high school girl was what brought you out in the first place. “But never any of you?” You clarified.

“No she doesn’t want to pull us away from our families already here. I guess she just wants to make sure the ones who are alone feel cared for. It’s really not all that bad.” One lady passively argued.

“Okay, well thanks for the info, ladies… I’m going to get going though.” At this point you felt you had a solid case built up against her. It would be better to focus your energy on her rather than trying to suffer through another hour of gossip.

You set out down the street towards the downtown district, dialing Dean’s cell. “Hey. Suspect numero uno is going to send you details about a tea party tomorrow.”

“Why me?” Dean asked.

“Because you’re the one who set up this brunch thing in the first place, idiot…. I don’t want to raise suspicion by giving out a different number.” You explained. “Just forward it to me when she does, I’m headed to city hall to dig up any records I can.”

“We’ll meet ‘cha there.” Dean ended hanging up the phone.

After pouring through city taxes, housing records, and whatever else you could get your hands on, you were able to establish Veronica moved here twenty years ago with her husband Edward Marshe. Unfortunately, there was no mention of the kids she had spoken about. You discussed the babies and brunch meeting with the boys and they agreed that it was still worth investigating further. Perhaps tea would lead to some further details. Sam was planning to research more into this New Hampshire estate and the oversea investments that counted for most of their income.

You picked up your phone and gasped at the time, evening already setting in. “Shit guys, I gotta run.”

Sam and Dean shared a shocked look. “What for?” Sam asked.

“Card game.” You smirked.

“And you didn’t invite me?” Dean asked pretending to be offended.

“You’re a distraction.” You reminded.

“Because of my dashing good looks?” He teased.

“Oh of course.” You snorted. “Your fiery eyes, hard pecs, and boyish charm just makes me oh so weak in the knees I forget the difference between clovers and spades.” You teased even if there was a hint of truth to it.

“Shut up.” Dean waved you off. “Win it big time for us kid.”

“Drinks on me tomorrow night, boys.” You laughed before walking out with confidence. You had this Irish man right where you wanted him.

-----

Part 2

Forever Tags: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78 @blushingokoye @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @li-ssu @highonpastries @daddy-kink-confirmed @weewooweewoo1212 @carryonmyswansong @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @atc74 @superapplepie @coolness22 @cassieraider @winchesternco @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67

[authoressskr]

Uses to Conceal

Characters: Reader, Balthazar, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Casey (OFC), Joey (OMC)   ::   Warnings: Language, Sass, Mentions of death, Random Monster   ::   Word Count: 5255 (It got out of hand...)

This was written for my 400+ Celebration!! Request your own here!!

Prompt: “You don’t get to come for information and then tell me to stay out of it. That’s - quite rude, actually.” This was written for @archangelgabriellives who requested the trope of Sarcasm to Hide Secret Feelings to round the request off!!

Note: Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

It was pouring rain the first time Balthazar saw you, standing close to Sam in an attempt to block some of the onslaught. He’d stood next to Cas, staring at you across the burning pit filled with the two chupacabra. You had given Castiel and himself a warm smile, despite how you cradled your arm, the blood tinged pink with all the rain. Cas had healed you, giving you a small smile before Sam and Dean relaxed, knowing you had been taken care of. Neither Winchester had bothered to introduce him, Castiel only doing so once he’d coughed - loudly - through Angel Radio.

What he’d been dissecting afterward was why he kept staring, and returning your ever-present smile, when he didn’t actually care for humanity half as much as Castiel. And once he realized not only that he was thinking about you - but about your safety and concern for a race that didn’t know what you’d sacrificed to keep their petty-filled world turning - but thinking he cared. And that had to be stopped - or at the very least, contained.

Which led to the current situation - your moving in day.

Hunters kept very little in the way of personal effects, but you seemed to be the exception. You’d insisted on a queen-sized bed and decorating. Eight large boxes full of clothes, sheets, and blankets later, you’d come down the hall with yet another box, he couldn’t help the scoff that escaped. A quick quirk of your eyebrow made him stop, gesturing to the box in your grasp.

“Shouldn’t Bed, Bath and Beyond be empty now?” Your head had pulled back, your gaze sharpening at his words. Sam and Dean were coming up the opposite end of the hall, Dean’s face hardening when he saw you not smiling.

“Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need. Ephesians 4:28.” And continued onto your room, Sam and Dean smirking as they passed by, Balthazar’s chest warm with your wit and the sharpness he needled out. He enjoyed the interaction. Shit. This was going to be a lot more difficult than be had first hoped.

Nearly four months later, you’d caught a bad cold from pulling a teenage boy from an icy river when a vicious skinwalker case popped up in Arkansas. The 104 fever, chills, and dizziness at any little damn movement made going impossible, so you were currently buried under a mountain of blankets blindly reaching for a water bottle that Sam had left on your bedside table before they’d left.

A low whine escapes you as you can’t immediately locate it, shimmying from under your blankets as your body achingly protests.

“Y/N?” Castiel’s deep voice sounds funny through the cottony feeling in your ears. “You shouldn’t be up.” He chastises, coming to your side to re-cocoon you.

“I was looking for the water bottle.” Your voice is hoarse, watching blearily as Castiel locates and uncaps the water for you. He helps you to sit more upright as you drink, Balthazar appearing in the doorway as you attempt to muster a glare over the top of the water bottle at him.

“Look at the widdle huntress.” He coos sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. You pull away, Cas recapping the bottle before frowning at his brother.

“Bite me.” You grump out, snuggling back down into the nest of blankets.

“Witty comeback.”

“I wish you could get sick because I would shove my tongue so far down your throat…” You mumble, turning onto your side and pulling the covers up under your nose before sleep drags you under.

“If only you knew how much he wanted that.” Castiel smirks at Balthazar knowingly, smoothing a hand over your exposed hair a few times before they both left the room.

“You’re a jackass, Castiel.”

“And you are enamored, Balthazar.”

“She could have gotten worse than a cold from doing that.” Castiel smothers a smile at Balthazar’s exasperated tone.

“It was a risk she was willing to take. Hunters tend to do that.” Balthazar glowers at his brother and disappears to a bar halfway around the world.

Nearly a month after that, you’re once again stuck in the rain - this time in Arizona, watching an old warehouse where a rather large nest of vampires was holed up. You’re on your belly, pressed against a few spindly bushes that provided a semi-sheltered vantage point for you to watch Sam sneak around the back.

You’d been silently cursing the onslaught of rain for almost fifteen minutes when it suddenly stopped. Cautiously, you turn slightly, revealing Balthazar lying beside you. Furrowing your brow at him, you peeked upward, seeing nothing, but could see the rain rolling off the invisible shield.

“Helping out?” You whisper, turning your gaze back to the warehouse.

“Keeping you from getting sick again.”

“Humm. How gallant of you.”

“I am just that type of angel.” You scoff at his words, pulling the tranq gun from its resting spot just under your right hand as a few vampires attempt to flee the warehouse and the trio of hunters inside. Placing your eye to the scope, you aim for the one furthest from Dean, who had just come flying out the back door to give chase, easily taking the burly man down with Dead Man’s Blood.

You shoot another two vamps before you see one scampering up the hill towards you, second row of teeth on display just before a light seared from his eye sockets, his smote body tumbling back down the hill. You hadn’t even noticed the rain pelting you at Balthazar’s temporary absence until the rain stopped once more.

“Why’d you do that? I had it under control.” You huff, shoving yourself off the ground and upright.

“Yes, darling, you were managing wonderfully. If you’d given him any more time you could have set up a tea party for his arrival.”

“Bite me.”

“He would have.”

“This isn’t the time or place for your ill-placed sarcasm, Balthazar.” You snap, turning to gather the handful of vials and gun from the ground. “And I don’t need you to protect me from the rain - I’m not going to melt.” Slinging the gun strap over your shoulder, you come face to face with blue summer eyes and a ticking jaw before his hands wrap around your upper arms, hauling you against his chest as his lips met yours in a bruising kiss.

“Seems you need plenty of protecting to me.” He mutters smugly before flashing a grin and disappearing.

“What the actual hell?” You whisper to no one before Dean calls your name, and you begin carefully picking your way down the slippery hill, pausing only once to look at the vampire with his eyes burned out of his skull.

A few days after the vamp hunt (And the kiss you kept not thinking about. Mostly...) and one day after sleeping for nearly ten hours out of sheer exhaustion, you got a call from your old hunting partner.

“Hey, Velma. I, uh, I need your help.” Your spine had straightened immediately at her tone, anxiousness wiping any fog from your mind.

“Casey, just tell me what you need.” Rising from your seat, Dean giving you a quirk of his eyebrow at the sudden change in demeanor.

“I need,” She grunts on the other end of the line before continuing. “I need you to come help me. I don’t know what the hell attacked us, but - but,” You can hear her fighting back tears. “They killed Joey.”

“The kids?” Your voice is barely audible, even in the quiet room.

“Naw, they’re, uh, they’re with Joey’s mom for her birthday. Down at the lake.” Your walking briskly out of the library now, with Dean hot on your heels and Sam stopping in the hallway as you head to your room, only to end up following the both of you.

“Just tell me where you are, sweetie.”

“Ohio. Just outside Sagamore Hills, in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.” You’re writing down everything on a notepad on your desk as Dean takes a seat on the end of your bed, one elbow propped on his knee as both of them carefully watch you.

“I’m coming. I will be there as soon as humanly possible, okay? Are you injured?”

“Dislocated my damn shoulder getting away from the wolf.”

“Wolf?”

“It was bigger than a real wolf. Waaaaay bigger. And no matter what we emptied into it, it just kept coming.” Her voice wavered a little and you knew she was crying.

“Anything else you had to go on?”

“Joe,” Casey grunts in pain. “Joe, uh, he was worried cause there were reports of an abnormally large black wolf. It - Jesus, I didn’t think I was this out of shape, Y/N - it killed two little girls. One was seven and the other just turned four. Snatched them right out of their yards. With his mom living so close by...he thought we should take, uh - shit, take care of it.”

“I’ll bring the Jack. You send me all the details.”

“You still owe me from last time.”

“Fine. I’ll pick up a couple bottles of wine too. I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

“I love you, Velma. Be safe.”

“I love you too Case.” And the line went dead, and you let a few tears slide down your cheeks for Joey. You’re already bringing up a map on your phone to see how far it is when Dean clears his throat, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well?”

“I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“Nope,” Sam mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll be gone for a few days.” You manage a nod before a few more tears slip down your cheeks. You’d known Joey nearly as long as you’d known Casey. He’d grown up in the life while you and Casey had only been introduced to it in college when a pair of vetala had been taking men from the fraternity across the road.

“You can tell us the story and what you know in the car. We all know you drive like a soccer mom.” Dean huffs playfully, kissing your forehead before leaving, Sam nodding at you before following his brother.

Twelve and a half hours later, you arrive at the edge of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. The trip had been filled mostly with Dean sending you flirty looks once he found out you’d been part of a sorority, with Sam and you rolling your eyes through the hour and a half of endless questions and smirking glances after it had been brought up. You’d driven in shifts, the boys letting you sleep the last leg, but you’d been too jittery the last couple hours to sleep.

The last stop you’d made, you’d slunk away from the car to make a call.

You’d been wrestling with the call most of the trip and even dreamed of his light blue glower if you didn’t call and had to emergency pray in a tight spot.

“Hello, darling huntress.” Damn him and his cockiness and accent.

“Balthazar,” You steel yourself, inhaling deeply.

“Still thinking about our last interaction?” He damn near purrs through the phone.

“I need your help.” Silence. “I, uh, my old hunting partner called, and they were talking about a wolf.” More silence. You pull the phone away from your ear to make sure the call is still connected. “Hello?”

“I’m still here. Can the Winchesters not handle a werewolf?”

“Casey said the wolf was abnormally large. Definitely not a werewolf.” You bristle a little. “Do you think I would call you if it was a werewolf?”

“Considering this is the first time you have called, I would venture to say no.” There was that condescending sarcasm that made you want to say fuck it and just figure it out yourself. But there was something else in his tone too. “Calm down, love. I can feel you practically vibrating with the need to throttle me.” He huffs a little, “Continue.”

“Casey unloaded several clips into it. One with regular bullets, the other with silver centers. Said it didn’t even slow it down. I did a quick review through the “furry” section of the library and didn’t see anything that might match the description of size and ferocity.”

“I’ll confer with Castiel, but it sounds like something I’ve heard about. I’ll dig a little and get back to you.”

“Thank you, Balthazar.” You breathe out, the information he may know easing some of the tension in your body.

“Of course, Y/N.”

You think about the conversation as Dean pulls the Impala up to the little shabby cottage-like house Casey had directed you to.

Casey, nearly six-foot-tall with long brown hair that was pulled into a messy bun, comes out the front door, a tight smile on her beautiful, tired face. You exit the backseat a little too eager, the need to comfort your best friend overwhelming. She’s wrapped in your arms before she can even manage a ‘hello’, hands rubbing soothing circles up and down her back as she pulls herself together to greet the boys.

“Velma, aren’t you gonna introduce your handsome friends?” You roll your eyes, keeping an arm around her waist as you both turn to the Winchesters.

“Casey, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“Hmmm. Damn.” Dean grins lazily at her before her face falls. “Well, I would say it’s nice to meet you, but circumstances being what they are…” The boys both nod and enter behind the two of you.

Once inside, she goes over the whole story again, handing over all the clippings and official report copies she had on the case before bursting into tears.

“So, uh, why do you call her Velma?” Dean asks, changing the subject swiftly as you hand her a tissue.

“Not only has she seen every damn episode of Scooby Doo - original, Scooby Doo Show, Scooby Doo Movies with the celebrities and most of the actual films - she is irritatingly good at deduction.” She sniffles a little before giving a watery smile. “Seemed logical given how long we’ve known each other.”

“She mentioned you’d been friends since high school.”

“Yep. We met in English, second period, Mrs. Park, seated beside each other. We didn’t actually talk until a week or so after the first week of school. Haven’t stopped talking since.” She answers Sam, smiling wider. “She’s godmother to all three of my children.”

“Well, that explains why she’s always grinning at her phone and who she’s always talking to.” Dean’s mouth turns up on one side as his eyes shift to you.

“Are you okay now Case?” She nods, straightening her back and pointing to a map by Sam.

“We were about here when we were attacked.” She marks it with a black ‘x’. “I made it across the 271, headed for the Brandywine Falls when it attacked again. It dislocated my shoulder, scratched the shit out of the back of my left calf, and added some more bruises.” She marks that with a black ‘x’ as well. “The first of the two little girls bodies were found here by Hines Hills Road,” she grabs a red sharpie, marking the map. “And the second body was found maybe a mile up the road, closer to the Stanford Trail.” Casey sighs. “We were just trying to keep our children safe. We’ve visited this state park dozens of times when we visit Joe’s mom.” Her voice wavers when she mentions her husband’s name, and you reach out to squeeze her hand. “Don’t think you’re leaving me behind. I - I - I need to bring him home.”

“Of course.” You agree. “But you do as we say. Cause you are gonna go home to your children.”

Once it started getting dark, you’re standing with Dean as he digs through the trunk.

“Still nothing from Douche-azar?” You check your cell for the ninth or tenth time since arriving, chest tight.

“Nope.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Balthazar states loudly from behind you, Castiel beside him.

“Well, when that source of faith is you…” Dean trails off, returning to his digging.

“Do you know what it is?” You ask hopefully, moving closer to the angels.

“I always deliver.” Balthazar’s voice is missing its usual undertones, sounding more harsh than flirty.

“What is it?” You query, ignoring the change in Balthazar’s tone and stance.

“Pricolici,” Balthazar answers before looking away. Castiel shoots his brother a look and steps forward.

“It is a werewolf/vampire hybrid. They’re stronger than vampires and they’re stronger than werewolves. The lore states that it can shapeshift into wolves, dogs, owls, and bats. Although the owls and bats seem a bit far-fetched.”

“More handsome men, Y/N?!”

“Oh! Casey! This is Castiel,” You gesture to the tan-coat covered angel. “And this is Balthazar.” You gesture to the thorny blonde angel, whose face has changed from moody indifference to the skin by his eyes wrinkling slightly as his lips quirk up.

Castiel gives her a nod as Balthazar moves a little closer to you, raising a hand in acknowledgment to Casey. You frown at the quick switch, glancing at Balthazar with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I’m all ready. Sammy’s ready to modify the silver bullets. Just let us know how to kill it.” Dean moves into the space between you and Balthazar, smirking at the angel.

“Wolfsbane,” Balthazar answers, eyes boring into Dean’s before softening and switching to meet yours. “And silver. And remove the head.”

“And we’ll burn it just to be safe.” You look to Dean, who nods then places his hand gently on your lower back, guiding you back towards the cabin.

“Let’s go tell Sammy.” You stop in front of Balthazar.

“Thank you for the information. You can go back to doing whatever you were doing.”

“You don’t get to come for information and then tell me to stay out of it. That’s - quite rude, actually.” You pull back at his tone, furrowing your forehead.

“Well excuse me for thinking this was just something you put up with, especially with your attitude on the phone and when you got here.” It clicks suddenly, mentally reviewing the words you used when you called and his attitude until he found out your old hunting partner was a woman. “Oh my gosh! You’re jealous!”

At least he has the sense to look indignant. “I am not.”

“He is.” Castiel supplies, just a foot or so away, earning another glare from his brother.

“What should I be jealous over, darling?”

“Another suspected male who you believed had been intimate with Y/N. Especially considering your heavier use of sarcasm when she is around.” Castiel leans in a little, lowering his voice. “I have learned from Dean these are uses to conceal when one party is interested in another party. Usually in regards to sex.”

“Dude!” Dean tugs you away from the angels as you smirk at Balthazar. He points a finger at Balthazar. “No. Hell no.”

“May we come inside?” Castiel asks Casey, who is enjoying the exchanges far too much.

“Yeah, of course, sweetie.”

“Thank you.” Balthazar follows him quietly, although Dean continues to glare at him throughout the walkthrough of the hunt, with you avoiding his glances. You weren’t going to cave to the snarky angel.

It was a little before eleven pm when you all reached Joey’s remains, Castiel transporting the body back to the run-down cabin before rejoining the rest of you.

Balthazar had attempted a few times to speak to you, only to interrupted by Casey (accidentally) who had thought he was simply going to tell you that your pack had come open on one side.

The second time was intentional. And it was Castiel who did it - which had surprised you to no end actually - easily slipping ahead of his sibling to walk by your side as you ventured deeper into the woods.

“Shh,” Sam whispers at the head of the group, all of you freezing in place just as Cas and Balthazar turn to your right, staring straight ahead before you hear the deepest fucking growl you’d ever heard in your life.

You know it’s there, it knows that you’re there - no sense in being coy. You pump the shotgun in your hand, each one of you adjusting your stance when you see the faintest dark gold eyes through the trees.

Too close is your only thought before the enormous inky black wolf bursts out of the dark wood.

You move quickly in front of Casey, even as she makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat as shots ring out in succession around you.

At first, when the two of you move, it’s clunky and choppy. Out of practice.

But you’re in sync as soon as Dean shouts “DOWN!” before shooting directly behind you, Casey dropping into a low crouch before emptying all her bullets into the hind end of the beast, an angry snarl seeping from its chest as it turns to look you directly in the eye. Balthazar’s arm winds around your waist, yanking you from the suddenly charging and pissed off pricolici.

“Still in need of saving, I see.” He whispers loudly before releasing you, handing you another handful of shotgun shells.

“I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.” You call out just before he runs back towards Castiel.

“Is this how you guys flirt?” Casey pants, slamming a new clip home.

“Hell, if I know, Case.”

“For knowing a lot, Velma, you sure are blind.” And she heads back towards the wolf, with you hot on her heels.

“IF I DIDN’T LOSE MY FUCKING GLASSES ALL THE TIME!” You both laugh, drawing the intense gold eyes once more in your direction before it swings to Casey.

And holy shit was that thing even bigger up close.

“Alright, bring it, Jacob.” Casey snaps out, her thin lips nearly curling up to reveal her canines.

Castiel and Balthazar shoot forward when it does, both the angels shoving their grace through the pricolici as Casey, Dean, Sam and yourself all unload what’s left of your bullets into the giant black monstrosity.

He goes down with a groan, shifting back to his human form as his body twitches, riddled with bullet holes that were smoking - from the gunpowder, the silver or the wolfsbane, you had no idea.

“That was for Anna Lee. And Daisy. And for my Joey.” Casey’s voice is loud in the suddenly silent wood, unsnapping the machete from her thigh before cleanly removing the bastard’s head.

Sam’s butane torch lights the wood and kindling easily, the body going up almost as easily.

“Thanks for healing me.” Casey nudges Castiel with her elbow, smiling sadly. “Again.”

“Of course.”

“I can’t believe everything that’s happened the last couple days.” Her voice is soft as Cas joins the Winchesters and Balthazar at the foot of the pyre.

“I hope there aren’t more of those things. I can’t believe you called him Jacob.”

“Oh, come on - you were thinking it too.” The silence sobers you both of the deflective humor, Casey turning and folding herself around your smaller frame, sobs racking her body.

“Shh. I know, sweetie. And I’m so damn sorry.” You shed a few tears along with her, knowing she was looking at a lot more tears. “Shh.” You soothe, running a hand up and down her back.

When you got back to the cabin, you gave Joey a hunter’s funeral, Casey sobbing even harder as the flames engulfed the man she thought she was going to grow old with.

The others keep a respectful distance, allowing the pair of you to grieve long after the ashes began to smolder.

It was Dean and Sam who scooped Casey and yourself off the carpet of fallen leaves, tucking you both into the only bed. You fell asleep holding Casey as she cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, Casey had the sheet pulled over both your heads, keeping the outside world at bay for a while longer.

“What am I gonna do, Y/N?”

“Well, you'll never forgive yourself, unless you get up, get dressed and you brush your goddamn teeth, 'cause your breath stinks.” You begin, quoting one of your favorite shared movies, Practical Magic. She gives a huff of a laugh before tears cloud her eyes again. “Casey, you are the most strong-willed woman I have ever met. I think even Heaven is afraid of you.” You smooth a hand up and down her arm. “You wanted us to start hunting, then we look karate and gun classes. You wanted to not have one night stands anymore, and boom - there was suddenly Joey. You wanted to get out of the life, and you did. You wanted a family and you did that too. There is nothing you can’t do. I guess you just take it one day at a time, take as much of it as you can handle and cry the rest out.”

“That’s why you’re the smart one.” She sniffles, using the back of her hand to wipe away the tears and snot. You shoot her a small smile and jerk your shoulder in a little shrug. “A little shit too.” She adds, pushing at your shoulder with her left hand, stopping when she saw her wedding ring. “At least I got seven wonderful years.”

“And three beautiful children.” Casey scoffs playfully.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess so.” And the pair of you drift off to sleep again for a few more hours.

When you wake up again, you’ve shoved the covers all away from your overly warm body, Casey tugging them closer around herself.

“So…” She begins, making you groan. “You and blondie gonna get sassy then get nasty?”

“Oh my god Casey! There was soo much wrong with that whole question!”

“I’m just sayin’... the way he looks at you… ya know.”

“Pssh.” You roll your eyes, flopping onto your back and tossing your arm over your eyes.

“Don’t ‘pssh’ me, Y/N. Jump on that fine piece of angelic ass.”

“You are going to hell.”

“He’s not gonna let that happen if I help him get you.” She perks up, changing her position as the bed moved, making you look. “You’re like a ‘Get Out of Hell Free!’ card!”

“That’s not how it works.”

“When you guys get home, bang him. Hard.”

“That didn’t work in college - it’s sure as hell not gonna work now.”

“Sure, it is!” She leans in like she’s telling you a big secret and you roll your eyes. “Next sarcastic comment he says to you, just kiss him senseless then walk away. Then you deliver a zinger of your own. Boom! The sexy times - they commence. You’re welcome.”

“No. But I love you.”

“You’ll be thanking me later.”

“Uh-huh.”

When you finally arrive back at the Bunker, nearly a week after the boys - electing to stay behind with Casey to help with the kids, it’s eerily quiet.

“Hello?”

“Kiddo!” Dean hollers from down the hall, boots making hardly any noise as he hurries towards you. “SAMMY! SHE’S HOME!” A second set of boots echo lightly down the hall, Dean reaching you and pulling you tightly into his chest.

“Missed you too, Dean,” you manage before Sam tugs you impatiently from his big brother’s grasp and crushing you in his own. “And you, Sam.”

“Tired?” The younger Winchester asks, Dean picking up your duffle.

“You have no idea.” You huff. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the little terrors, but how she does it on a daily basis is beyond me. I got up every day at the crack of dawn and fell asleep well after eleven. I’m sore in places I’ve never been sore in, just to help give you another piece of this puzzle.” Dean chuckles.

“Sounds like you want three just like ‘em.”

“Nah, I like the whole love ‘em and hand them back aspect.” You manage around a yawn, looking up from the Bunker’s floor to realize you were almost to your bedroom door. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna sleep for a few days.”

“Only awaken at feeding times - gotcha.” Sam smiles down at you enough to show dimples. “Get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Sam.” You kiss his cheek and then repeat with Dean. “Thanks, Dean.”

You get your door closed and your pants unbuttoned and unzipped when you hear someone clear their throat to your left, making you jump. Luckily, you manage to suppress the startled squeal as you see Balthazar sitting propped up against your headboard.

“My, my...” His grin is almost cheshire worthy and you expect his eyes to roam, but they never leave your face. “I was thinking you might not come back.”

“I can see you’re really torn up about that.”

“Not so much anymore with this impromptu strip show.”

“Sorry, but that’s not a show you’re getting, buddy.” You don’t bother to zip or button your jeans, just put a hand on your hip as you look at the angel on your bed. “Did you need something, Balthazar?” A smirk dances across your lips. “Still upset your brother outed your feelings?” His lips pressed together in a thin line, summer sky colored eyes boring into you.

“You’re worth every ounce of chaos you bring to the table, you realize that?”

“I am not chaos. You’re chaos.” You squint your eyes a little at the half-assed comeback, the tiredness rolling back over you anew.

“Good come back - pick that up from Dean, did we?”

“Balthazar, I just wanna sleep. I really am not in the place mentally to deal with your bullshit.” He shifts on the bed so his back is to you.

“Well, go on then.” He orders, taking his tumbler from the side table and taking a few healthy sips.

“What?”

“Get. Dressed. For. Bed.” You sigh, deciding not to fight it anymore as you shimmy out of your jeans and kick them away, pulling a fresh set of pajama shorts from the stack on your desk and sliding them on before turning your back to Balthazar’s and quickly removing your tee shirt and bra, slipping on the matching short sleeved button up pajama top and buttoning it as you moved closer to the angel.

A soft brush of your fingers on his shoulder stirs him from his thoughts, his face softening.

“Lie down.” He manages thickly, watching as your eyebrow shoot up. “Darling, I am always a gentleman, so calm yourself.” You crawl past him onto the bed, wiggling down until you’re comfortable, watching as he stands and removes his jacket and shoes.

“Pants too.” You grumble, eyes already heavy.

“Whatever you say, love.” You get a glimpse of toned legs, darker than you thought they’d be, before the covers rise and he slips under them with you.

“Balthazar?” You mutter softly, letting him turn you on your side to spoon you.

“Yes, little huntress?”

“What is this?”

“I believe humans call it courtship.” You chuckle at his choice of words.

“No one calls it courtship anymore.”

“Wooing?”

“Still no.”

“Let’s just call it sleeping for now, darling.”

“Okay.” You yawn again, wiggling impossibly deeper into the angel’s embrace before a little contented sigh leaves you. “Night, Balthazar.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He nuzzles against your throat, waiting until he feels your consciousness slip away. “I love you.”

Tagging: @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @sumara62 @clockworkmorningglory @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard @whinywingedwinchester @chelsea072498 @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @keepingcalmisoverratedgoddamnit @ourloveisforthelovely @archangelgabriellives

[primenumbersareintiminating]

some smut i wrote

listen this is not like dean, honestly i have been meaning to write this for a long time, but i was not sure... so imma do it.

I was trying to get into my car when all of a sudden some guys approached me asking for my money,

"what the fuck do you want?" i said really annoyed

"we want your money bitch" one of them said and stepped forward carrying a small knife

"dude.... really? thats not going to do anything to me" i said rolling my eyes and stepped forward kicking ass, then turning around i saw a figure come forward "You want your ass kicked too?" I yelled and the figure laughed "No casey i dont want that" dean winchester said coming forward with a smile on his face "Well if it isnt dean winchester.. what are you doing here?" I asked annoyed "Sammy and i came here to celebrate a case. What are you doing here" dean asked looking at me up and down "Well dean. I was done working a case, hence why i am covered in blood and i look like a stripper" i said rolling my eyes. The case was simple but the execution was poor, a vampire case in a strip club.   "Well. You look good" dean said still eyeing me down "I always look good" i said smiling at him and i got in my car, "I kinda miss your body" dean said biting his lips "You think i have time for that dean? You were at my place yesterday" i said a little turned on "I know but, i just cant get enough" dean said getting closer to me and kissed me roughly making me more wet "Lets go then" i said and he smiled getting in shotgun, i started the car and drove off, his eyes were on my legs and his hands were on my thighs making my breath uneven as i drove. Once i parked, he couldnt handle it any longer and carried me inside as he undid my bra, laid me down and pulled his knife out from his pocket, gently gliding it down my thighs as he looked into my eyes, he knew i loved it. Then with a quick motion, he cut my panties making me whimper. "I want it daddy" i said wanting him to just fuck me already "Oh do you now?" He said as he put the knife against my chin and kissed me roughly, "I do daddy please" i said whimpering some more, i could not handle the way he looked at me. I became more wet as he glided the knife across my body and lowered himself down, kissing inbetween my breasts, biting my neck and eventually putting himself in, making me moan as he did it. It went on for hours eventually leaving both of us out of breath. "Fuck that was fun" i said panting almost as i laid there naked, he smiled at me and kissed me more roughly this time, "I want more" he growled and we did it again, only when he finished, he finished on my face

[the--blackdahlia]

Shake it Off Chapter 7 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Shake it Off Chapter 7

Summary:  The reader decides to get rid of the Mark of Cain for Dean using witchcraft, not realizing what she's getting herself into.

Warnings: None

That night, after (Y/n) ran her errands, trying her best to put off seeing the boys, she sent them the address to Casey’s Bar. When (Y/n) walked in, a chorus of greetings welcomed her. She smiled as she made her way to the bar. She leaned up against it with a smile on her face as the bartender, an older Vietnam vet named Dusty, set a glass down.

 “Trashcan Punch?” He asked with a smile. (Y/n) laughed.

 “You know me all too well.” He slid a glass over to her as a man from the plant came up and gently touched her side. She turned to look at him and smiled. “Keith.”

 “(Y/n), are you okay?” He asked.

 “Yeah I’m fine. Thanks for the warning earlier. But I have to tell you that they’re not working for a newspaper or whatever they told you.” (Y/n) said, patting his cheek. “They’re…” As if on cue, Sam and Dean walked through the door. “My cousins.”

 “Your cousins?” Keith asked. He turned to look at them, noticing the way that Dean was glaring at his intimate touch. “You sure about that?”

 “Unfortunately.” She sighed. “But they should be back on their way to Kansas soon.” She headed off to a booth in the back. “Come see me in a little bit.” She winked at him before settling down in her seat. A friendly waitress came over and took her order for food from the kitchen as the boys joined her.

 “Who was that?” Dean asked, not even trying to hide his jealousy. It made (Y/n) smile a bit as she took a sip of her drink.

 “Jealous?” She asked. Dean just glared. “His name’s Keith. He’s a close friend from work. Helped me do some work on the house. We have lunch together almost every day.” She took a drink.

 “You seem popular here.” Sam noticed, seeing people walk by and tell her hi. “Come here often?”

 “Quite a few of these people I’ve saved in the past year.” She explained. “Most of the town knows what I do. And they’re grateful for it. I’m a hero here.” She laughed a little, taking another drink. “I mean, just last week, I took out three werewolves by myself. And most people here know better than to leak what I do to the papers. But the kid at the plant, he just got here. He didn’t know any better. And I’m sure Harry had words with him.” Her food came and she ate pretty quickly.

 “So, you’re a known hunter here, and they don’t care?” Sam asked. Dean just couldn’t seem to get past whatever her relationship was with Keith.

 “There’s a few people here that think I’m the devil.” She laughed some at the thought. “If they only knew.” She looked around the bar then. “But the ones I’ve saved keep me safe from them. I’m kind of Robin Hood.” She stood up suddenly. “I’ll be back.” Sam looked over at Dean as (y/n) walked away.

 “Maybe we should leave her alone here.” Sam suggested. “She seems happy. And it looks like she’s got everything under control.” Dean watched (y/n) bounce around the bar like she owned the place. She went up to a guy at a DJ stand, having a serious conversation over what song he thought she should sing at karaoke. She was like a whole new person, and Dean secretly wondered if she was really possessed, or if that Keith guy had done something to her.

 “I think we just need to stick around.” Dean said, shaking his head. “I don’t trust that Keith…” Sam rolled his eyes.

 “Is it just because (y/n) and him seem to have a thing for each other? Dean, she’s been gone a year. A lot can change in a year.” Sam tried to reason with his brother, but he knew that he was so stubborn and he wouldn’t back down easy. He knew Dean missed his girl, but this wasn’t the same girl anymore. She hadn’t been since the day that she took the mark from Dean. She had saved him.

 “Hey, I’ll be right back. Go ahead and let someone else go.” Dean heard (Y/n) say to the DJ. He nodded and queued up a song for someone else as (y/n) slipped into the hallway heading out into the alley. Dean got up and followed her, standing at the door.

 “Anything?” He heard her say to someone, but he couldn’t hear anyone else. Her voice sounded so sad. “Just keep trying okay. You have my address. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m trying to make Sam and Dean think I’m perfectly fine, but I don’t think I can do it much longer.” He heard the familiar sniffle that meant she had been crying. “Yeah I’ll see you in a couple days. Thanks Beatrice.” He heard her take a deep breath. Dean turned on his heels and went back to Sam.

 “You okay?” Sam asked. Dean nodded quietly, not wanting to tell him what he heard (Y/n) say. She came back in then, her face a little red but she played it off on dusty air. But when Dean and (y/n) made eye contact across the bar, he could see the old her, struggling to get out. (Y/n) came over to them then.

 “I think I’m going to cut out early. You guys can stay if you want. I know how much you like bars Dean.” She smiled and patted his arm. “See you guys around.” She walked out of the bar. Keith followed her and Sam almost had to wrestle Dean to keep him from following.

 “(Y/n), where are you going?” Keith asked. (Y/n) sighed a little, hoping that no one had followed her.

 “I’m just tired.” (Y/n) said, offering him a smile. “I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded slowly.

 “Did they do something to you?” He asked. He gently took her hand. “Is he the one that did this to you?”

 “It’s not like that.” (Y/n) assured him. “I’ll explain it all later okay?” She pulled her hand away and headed toward her truck. She climbed in and headed home. Keith sighed and started to head back into the bar when he heard a noise from the alley. A woman calling for help. He made his way down the alleyway, looking for the woman, ready to help her, when a hand wrapped around and covered his mouth, and his world went dark.

Tag List: @petrovadixon @smoothdogsgirl @tornjeansandabrokenheart @theas-bedtime-stories

[showmeurmoves]

WWE: Out of Business ch.2

The superstars all met up in the warehouse where Shane McMahon was counting all of the money they’ve made.

“Thanks to Alexa Bliss’ job as a lifeguard, Braun Strowman’s job as a baker, and Shinsuke Nakamura’s job as an English tutor, we are now at $15,000 for the week!” said Shane.

Applause filled the room after Shane’s announcement.

“Soon we’ll be able to reach our goal of 780 million dollars,” said Shane.

After hearing their goal the applause died down.

“There’s gotta be a faster way to make money,” said Seth Rollins.

“If any of you finds a faster way, be sure to let us all know,” said Shane.

After Shane finished his sentence his phone alarm went off.

“Well my lunch break is over”.

Shane took off his jacket to reveal his McDonald’s uniform. He took his hat from behind the podium and put it on.

“I better get back to work before I’m late. I don’t want to end up getting fired from McDonald’s. That would be embarrassing,” said Shane as he was walking off. Seth Rollins, Kevin Owens, Chris Jericho, Bayley, Sasha Banks, and Charlotte all glared at Shane as he walked away.

Moments later, Seth was working his job at PetSmart stocking shelves. Bayley and Sasha came in to his store and ran up to him.

“Seth look what we found!” Bayley yelled.

She handed him a flyer. He looked confused as he read it.

“What’s a focus group?” asked Seth.

“It’s basically like a survey or experiment. Companies pay people to sample their products and tell them what they think of them,” Sasha explained.

“This focus group is for a medical facility. We have to sample a bunch of products and tell the doctors how we feel after,” Bayley continued.

Seth shrugged his shoulders.

“Sounds better than working here,” said Seth.

He took off his apron and handed it to his coworker. Then he pretended to cough.

“I’m calling in sick for today,” Seth told his coworker.

“But you’re already here”.

“Cool, see you tomorrow,” said Seth as he, Sasha, and Bayley walked off.

After leaving PetSmart, the three went to Sephora to go visit Dean Ambrose. They showed him the flyer and explained the idea to him.

“So, you’re telling me that you want us to take unknown medications, we have no idea what the side effects are, and we’re basically being treated as lab rats?” Dean asked.

“Um, yea I guess,” Bayley hesitated.

Dean’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Sweet! I’ve always wanted to do something like this,” said Dean.

The next day Bayley, Sasha Banks, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, and Becky Lynch all met up at a medical office. Three doctors walked into the room holding clipboards.

“Thank you all for coming today,” said the doctor. “Today we’re going to be testing out some medicines that will be sold to our hospitals”.

The doctors placed a tray of pills in front of the superstars.

“You each will get a different medication and we will be documenting any side effects throughout the weeks. Please note any changes in your body or behavior over time,” the doctor explained.

The superstars were each given a cup of water. They all took their assigned pills.

“You will be paid $500 a week until your final week where you will be paid $1000”.

Everyones eyes lit up.

“This is way too good to be true,” said Becky.

“This is the easiest money I’ve ever made,” said Roman.

The doctors had them sign contracts agreeing to the experiment. After they all signed their contracts they were free to go.

Moments later a meeting was called back at the warehouse.

“Before we start the meeting I’d like to thank you all for sticking together in this hard time,” said Triple H.

During his speech Bayley snuck into the room. She sat in the back next to Sasha so nobody would notice her.

“Girl what happened to you?” Sasha asked referring to the band aid on Bayley’s chin.

“I cut myself while shaving,” Bayley answered.

Sasha looked confused.

“Shaving your face?” asked Sasha.

Bayley nodded her head.

“Yea. All of a sudden I’ve been growing hair all over the place” Bayley replied.

Seth Rollins overheard their conversation and decided to chime in.

“Do you think it’s the pills?” Seth asked. “Ever since I started taking them I’ve been sweating a lot more”.

Seth’s shirt was completely drenched with sweat and he had sweat dripping from his forehead. Sasha and Bayley were plugging their noses.

“Yea we’ve noticed, “Sasha commented.

Seth took off his shirt and pulled another one out of his bag. Triple H continued his speech.

“But the real reason I called you here today is to discuss a recent incident,” said Triple H.

Triple H pulled out his laptop. He pulled up a clip that he found on a news website.

“Earlier today, a local Bank of America was robbed by a magician, the horror villain Scream, and a few of his unidentifiable friends,” said the newscaster. “The magician was brought into custody, but Scream and his minions are nowhere to be found. I’m Casey Alvarez reporting from WBFF 24 station”.

The clip ended and Triple H put his laptop away.

“Because of the disaster that came from the bank robbery there’s a new rule. We are no longer using illegal activity to make money,” Triple H explained.

Carmella raised her hand.

“Does this mean that me and Ellsworth can’t sell drugs anymore?” asked Carmella.

“What?!” asked Triple H.

“Huh?”

Sami Zayn raised his hand.

“Speaking of the bank robbery, I never got my Scream mask back,” said Sami.

Baron Corbin pointed to Dean Ambrose.

“Dean’s wearing your mask right over there,” Baron pointed out.

“Dean take that dumb ass mask off,” said Triple H. “We’re trying to have a serious meeting here”.

Dean slowly took off the mask to reveal red scaly rashes all over his face and neck.

“Daaaaaaaaamn!” everyone said in unison.

“Dean put that dumb ass mask back on,” said Triple H. “We’re trying to have a serious meeting here”.

“Man, what the hell happened to you?” asked Roman. “You’re even uglier than before”.

“It’s that damn medicine” Dean answered. “Ever since I started taking it I started getting rashes everywhere”.

Bayley leaned over to Sasha.

“If we’re all getting these weird side effects, don’t you think we should stop the experiment?” Bayley asked.

Sasha shook her head.

“Of course not,” Sasha answered. “We’re getting paid good money for it. Besides It’s not like any of the side effects are harmful”.

“I hope you’re right,” answered Bayley.

After the meeting Dean, Seth and Roman went to Denny’s for lunch. Dean wore a surgical mask and sunglasses to cover up all his rashes. A waitress came to their table to take their orders.

“Can I get you guys started off with some drinks today?” asked the waitress.

“Yea I’ll take a coke,” answered Dean.

“I’ll have a cup of coffee,” said Roman.

“And I’ll have a mango passion fruit iced tea,” said Seth.

Dean and Roman side eyed him as the waitress walked away. Seth grabbed a stack of napkins off the table to wipe the sweat pouring down his face.

“You know I’m starting to regret doing this focus group,” said Seth.

“I don’t,” Roman replied. “Unlike you and Chester Cheetah over here I don’t have any side effects”.

The waitress came back to their table.

“I’m sorry we’re actually out of coffee right now,” said the waitress.

Roman’s eyes began to tear up after the waitress broke the news.

“Ok thanks for letting me know,” Roman replied.

The waitress walked away from the table again. Dean and Seth stared at Roman as he began to cry.

“Man are you crying?!” Dean asked.

Roman was wiping his tears with the napkins on the table.

“It’s just that, I’ve been looking forward to having coffee all day. And now I’m never going to have it,” Roman cried. He blew his nose into the napkin.

“Why can’t I just have things go my way for once? I need some time alone”.

Roman got up from the table still bawling his eyes out. Seth and Dean looked each other with confusion.

Meanwhile Becky Lynch, Sasha Banks, and Bayley went to go get their nails done. They went to the salon where Carmella was working so they could get a discount. Carmella sat down at her desk to do Bayley’s nails.

“So are you here for a full body wax today?” Carmella asked Bayley.

Bayley had grown a uni-brow and her arms were completely covered with hair.

“No. Just a manicure for today,” Bayley replied.

Carmella looked Bayley up and down.

“Ok,” Carmella said rolling her eyes.

Another manicurist came and started working on Sasha’s nails.

“So how have you been since the focus group?” asked Sasha.

“Things have actually been going really well,” Becky replied. “I haven’t had any side effects yet.

Becky’s nail artist came over to her table.

“Our LED lamp isn’t working so we can’t do gel manicures today. Would you like to do a regular manicure?” asked the stylist.

Becky got angry when she heard the news.

“What the hell do you mean you can’t do gel manicures?! What kind of nail salon doesn’t do gel manicures?!” yelled Becky.

Sasha got concerned and held Becky back.

“Becky calm down! It’s not even that serious,” said Sasha.

Becky got back down in her seat.

“Ok I’m cool. I’m not even mad right now”.

After a few seconds, Becky stood back up and karate chopped the table in half. She then stormed out of the nail salon. All the staff and other customers looked scared.

“You know what, I think I will get the wax today,” said Bayley.

Triple H called an emergency meeting and all the superstars gathered at the warehouse.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming here today,” said Triple H.

Seth was wiping his face while his sweat was dripping on the floor.

“It’s kinda hot in here. Can somebody open up a window?” asked Seth.

“Now you know good and well we don’t got no damn windows in here,” replied Triple H.

Becky was getting noticeably irritated.

“Just tells us what you called us here for!” Becky yelled fiercely.

Triple H got scared and jumped back.

“Ok damn”.

After Becky’s outburst, a thin very hairy man with a long beard came into the room.

“Have a seat Bray I have some very important news. You’ve lost a lot of weight by the way,” Triple H commented.

“I’m Bayley,” the person replied. She moved her beard out of the way so people could see her.

“Wow,” Triple H said in shock. “Anyway, I called you all here today for a reason”.

Triple H pulled out his laptop and played a video from a news site.

“Earlier today three men posing as doctors have been arrested for experimenting illegal drugs. They’ve been posting ads for fake focus groups to test their drugs before selling them to terrorist organizations. The suspects are currently in custody and will be charged soon”.

The clip ended. Becky, Sasha, Bayley, Seth, Roman, and Dean all looked shocked. Roman began crying and pulled out a packet of tissues.

“How could anyone do something so cruel?” Roman cried.

“Does this mean we’re not getting paid for our last week?” asked Dean through his surgical mask.

“Well that explains all the weird side effects we’ve been having,” said Seth.

Becky went from being irritated to being angry.

“Oh hell no! They better hope that I never find them in the streets!” yelled Becky.

“Come on guys. We were paid for what we’ve done. And besides, it’s not like the side effects were really that bad,” said Sasha.

Sasha took off her beanie and all her hair came off with it. Everyone looked at Sasha with shock as her hair fell on the floor.

“It got cold in here all of a sudden,” said Sasha. She touched her head and realized her hair was gone. She screamed when she saw her hair on the floor.

“Aw hell no, I’m about to kill these fools! Becky and Sasquatch, let’s ride!”

Sasha, Becky, and Bayley ran out of the warehouse. The superstars watched them as they stormed out.

“Now to the next topic of discussion. There’s a focus group coming up for children’s cereals. Does anyone wanna join?” asked Triple H.

Many of the superstars raised their hands including Dean, Seth, and Roman.

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Dean Winchester's Lyrics Part 4

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Violent depiction of death (not a death fic), plenty of fluff to make up for angst.

Summary: The last of the spell is about to break. Find out what happens in the aftermath.

This is part 4 of the story I’ve started for the @creatively-charlie Anniversary Challenge! I’ll tell you the prompt in the next post. I don’t want to give anything away.

Sam nodded and looked as if he would say something else, but he was interrupted by Dean’s face whipping to the side like he’d been slapped. Blood oozed from where the unseen object had split his skin. Dean’s eyes were wide open and afraid now, searching the room like he was trying to figure out just where the hell he was.

“Dean, hey… Hey, it’s okay.” Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder to steady him, trying to make eye contact. “You’re okay, it’s just a spell. You’ll be okay.” Sam never faltered, never let on how much it affected him to see his brother thrashed about his head and upper body.

“S'mmy?” Dean tried to talk through his busted lips, tried to focus but he had no defenses against the attack that was currently kicking his ass.

But you… You were horrified. Tears clouded your vision as you watched more cuts and bruises litter his face. You watched Sam struggle to keep him still, to keep him from really injuring himself. You managed to grab his legs to keep him from kicking out. You watched as his entire upper body and face was slowly coated in deep red blood. All of this happened from a source that you couldn’t see. You could do nothing to help him.

“You’re okay, big brother. It’s almost over.” Sam intoned his words like a command, both hands now being used to keep Dean on the bed now as he jerked with each blow.

You wanted to put your hands on his face, you wanted to tell him that he was okay. You didn’t want to get in Sam’s way, so you stood helpless until it was over, pushing down hard on his muscular thighs. The way they flexed and bunched beneath your hands was slightly distracting. That was, until you’d heard the way the angel blade had pierced his chest and the rush of air as it left his lungs.

You didn’t watch as Dean struggled to speak. You only heard Sam reassuring him quietly. “It’s okay, big brother. It’s not real this time… I know it hurts and it feels damn real, but I promise it’s not.” Sam was rubbing a hand over his brother’s shoulder, in an effort to comfort. “It’s okay, brother, just relax. That’s it…”

It seemed to have ended just as suddenly as it had began, leaving both you and Sam breathless. There was blood everywhere. Your bed was drenched, your clean light blue walls spattered. And Dean… There wasn’t a spec of skin exposed that wasn’t coated in sticky blood. The wounds on his face and neck were already beginning to knit together right before your eyes.

Sam had quickly snapped out of his shock and jumped straight into damage control. “Run a warm bath, will you?” He began the task of getting Dean out of his clothes in quick, efficient tugs.

When Sam looked in your direction you could see the blood spatter on his face too. You nodded wordlessly, unexpectedly relieved to have some task to do and be useful.

Other than helping Sam get Dean, who was still unconscious and heavy, to the bathroom, you stayed out of the way. By the time Dean was unmarked, clean and clothed you had tidied up your bedroom as much as it could be. Sam made sure his brother was tucked in comfortably with practiced ease before turning back to you.

He had cleaned up a bit too, his clothes were no longer saturated in blood. But you, you could feel where the blood was making your clothes stick to your skin. “Why don’t you go clean up and I’ll make sure he drinks something, yeah?” Sam was patient and kind and you had no problems answering the underlying command in those words.

You took your time in the shower, letting the now chilled water raise goose bumps as you washed your skin. Once you’d dried off perfunctorily, you slipped into a t shirt and shorts before you quietly walked down the hall to check on everyone. Dean was alone, sleeping deeply on your bed. All evidence that there had been a blood bath earlier was gone.

A quick peep into the den of your apartment and you found that Sam had pulled a blanket from your closet and fallen asleep on the couch. His snoring would be obnoxious if you weren’t so damn grateful to have him here.

You didn’t miss the stress of the hunting life or the life and death of it all. You missed how empowered you felt when you completed a difficult hunt. You missed the way the Winchesters had made you feel like you belonged with them. That they were the only family that mattered. But the pull wasn’t enough that you would drop everything and go back.

With Sam on the couch, that only left one place for you, unless you wanted to sleep on the floor. However, you weren’t going to be that chivalrous. Dean had never minded sharing a sleeping space with you before. You doubted he would start now. Slowly, you crawled beneath the covers, trying to leave space between you and the man you were head over heels in love with. You ached to roll over and hold him, to study his face just a moment longer because you knew he wouldn’t be sticking around. However, work was only a few hours away and you were exhausted. You fell asleep feeling safe in a way you hadn’t for the past two years.

—•—•—•—

You woke up a little lost, the sun shining through your blinds much higher in the sky than you were expecting. The red numbers on your alarm clock read ten am and you bolted upright. You were instantly in damage control mode, throwing your wrinkled uniform on. You had a toothbrush in your mouth as you threw things into your bag and bounced into your shoes.

You had no idea what your hair looked like as you stumbled into the den. You didn’t have time to even survey the damage the boys had left before you tripped ass over tea kettle. Your face became pretty intimate with the texture of the carpet and your bag launched across the room to land with a dull thud against the opposite wall.

You were stunned for a moment, not able to identify the duffle you’d tripped over or the low chuckle that was coming from somewhere near your kitchen. “What the fuck?” You finally mumbled as you sat up, completely confused and sleep deprived.

“I thought you were gonna sleep all day.”

His voice caused your head to whip embarrassingly fast in his direction. “Dean?”

Dean’s warm hands scooped you up by your arms and guided you to sit at your dining room table. “You’re still here.” You wondered aloud, “And you’re making pancakes..?”

It was Dean’s turn to look sheepish and you really couldn’t figure out why. Well, aside from the pancake batter on his shirt and in his perfectly gelled hair. You didn’t even want to think about the rest of your kitchen. “Yeah, I think I owe you some pancakes, sweetheart.”

That snapped you out of it, “I don’t need pity pancakes. I’ve gotta get to work and I’ve got an essay and I can’t-” He was quick to stop you with a hand on your arm.

“I swear it’s not pity pancakes… Just, calm down. Give me two minutes, okay?” He looked like he was on the verge of pleading with you and it was working in a way that was baffling. It was like he’d given you a damn narcotic and your brain was floating.

“But, work-” You tried valiantly to resist his grass green eyes that were trained on you.

“I talked to Stacy-” He started, putting a couple of plates on the table along with syrup and the large stack of pancakes in the middle. God, they actually looked edible and you were starving! You were supposed to grab a pizza on your way home from work. That hadn’t worked out.

“Casey?” You questioned, slash corrected. Any contact between your past life and your current one couldn’t bode well for you. No matter how distracted by fluffy, warm pancakes.

“Yeah, whatever.” He plopped a few pancakes on your plate. “I told him that you’d had a rough night and that you weren’t feeling well.” He was very methodical as he buttered his pancakes and poured copious amounts of syrup all over his plate and dribbled onto the table. “And that you’d be staying home… with me.”

“What? You told Casey I wasn’t… and then… you what?” It was possible that you were losing your mind. “Did you-” Dean pushed a piece of pancake into your mouth to stem the flow of your questions.

“Look, I didn’t tell him what really happened last night, okay?” He paused for a moment watching you pensively chew the mouthful of pancake with a look of pure amusement on his face before he became serious. If anyone could pensively chew something, it was you. “I told him that I had been a complete jackass… and stupid. That I’d had you in my life and I… Will you quit looking at me like that!?”

You bit your lip, as soon as you were able, against all of the sarcastic jabs and pointed words you wanted to say. You watched with interest as he became flustered and you waited for him to look at you again and explain what he meant. You tried to school your features from open disbelief to just slightly interested. Because, honestly, you had no idea what he was trying to say. He’d started some conversations like this, only to then offer up his opinion about whatever food you were eating before walking away. He would leave you completely confused.

He huffed out a breath, obviously flustered. His face was turning a very interesting shade of red and he’d been openly abusing his lips with his teeth. “What I’m trying to say, Y/N…” He finally looked up at you, his watery green eyes giving you no choice but to look back. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you away and treating you like shit for all of these years. I’m sorry for all of it.” His voice petered out like it did sometimes, like he’d pushed the words out until he ran out of breath.

Those were words you’d never expected to hear from Dean Winchester. So, excuse you if you nearly choked on your own spit. Your face flushed as you coughed and covered your face. It was partly embarrassment and partly that you were oxygen deprived. Dean pushed a glass of orange juice into your hand and urged you to take a sip, then crouched down beside you.

“Shit, sweetheart. This wouldn’t be a good time for you to choke to death.” He watched you for a moment, a quiet fondness emanating from every feature. He waited for you to be able to breath, his hand rubbing against your back. “I know, you can test me if you want, but I’m not possessed.” You narrowed your eyes at him and he put both hands in the air, “Or a shape shifter. I’m just a little slow.” Your eyes were now mere slits, “Okay! A lot slow!”

You nodded your agreement, not trusting your voice enough to speak just yet. You put a small piece of pancake in your mouth and chewed slowly, leaving all communication up to Dean.

“I gotta be honest, what I felt for you scared the shit out of me. And by the time I’d convinced myself to do something about it, it was too late. You were leaving and I told myself that it was for the best. That I should do what was best for you and let you go.” He was still crouched down beside you, spending an inordinate amount of time studying his bare feet. It gave you a great view of the mess of pancake batter in his hair. How the hell did he manage that? “But it wasn’t, not for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and there were a couple of times there that I thought I’d never be able to tell you.”

He looked up at you now, his face emanating pure, bare bones honesty. There was pain there too. Like maybe you weren’t the only one who had suffered all this time without him. How were you supposed to resist that? How was it that you had everything you’d ever wanted literally at your feet without even trying for the past two years? You were so shocked, trying to wrap your mind around the idea.

“I, uh, thought I was doing what was best for both of us. What you’d asked me to do… But. I was uh… There was no replacing you in my life.” His hand brushing a few hairs from your face brought you back to the moment. “Is it too late? Am I too late?” His hand settled on your face like it had the night before, calloused and warm and perfect. Just like him. “Have you found some college kid? That Stacey kid maybe, who’s smart and safe-”

“Would you just shut up for a second!” You blurted, your hand covering his mouth. His eyes were wide with surprise, which only added to the giddy feeling bubbling up from your chest. “Why would I need anyone like that in my life when I already have you?” He was just so goddamned perfect and appeared to be stumped at your words. You felt the smile on your face, the way your cheek muscles strained to contain it. “Just… shut up.” You managed to mumble before you fell into his lap and kissed him.

Tagging: @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess,

[the-beastslayers-queen]

Magic and Moonlight: Chapter 23

It’s nearly 4AM but I am here with chapter 24. Tagging @queenofthearchitect @biforbecky2belts @balorsbitxh @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mox-made-me-do-it @sassyspacedust @afauss2009 @calwitch and @never-sawft-princess If you want to be added to the tag, hit the inbox. Enjoy!

I was trying to sleep tonight, a week since Dean attacked us, and I was struggling through a nightmare. I was tossing and turning, groaning in my sleep and sweating. I was so scared because in the nightmare, Colby wasn’t there to save me and I was being mauled to death over and over again by Dean. I couldn’t cast any magic in the nightmare and I couldn’t control the nightmare to make it stop either. Eventually, after enough times of dying in my nightmare over and over again, I shot up awake, panting as I tried to catch my breath.

“Thea,” Colby groaned, sleep weighing heavily on his voice as he sat up to rub my back, “Are you okay? What did you see?”

“Dean,” I breathed, still not having my breathing under control, “He was attacking me, over and over. And the worse parts were that you weren’t there, my magic wasn’t working, and I couldn’t change the dream. It was so horrible, Colby. I’m terrified that it’ll happen again and it wouldn’t be just Dean but Morrigan instead.”

I was in tears as Colby pulled me into his warm embrace. He cradled my head to his chest, letting me just cry into his shirt. It was like he knew that the best thing to do was to just let me vent it out.

“I’m going to make sure Dean stays away, okay. I will not let him so much as look at you backstage. And I will not leave you alone in a room with him,” Colby promised as stroked my hair and my back, “I will do all that I can to protect you. You are always going to be safe with me. I promise.”

We were at Night of Champions, and I was still exhausted as hell. I was still having the nightmares. And my insomnia from them was getting worse each night. I ended up not winning the Diva’s title due to all of the issues surrounding Dean’s attack. I was okay with that. I would eventually work harder than ever to get back into that position again. But for tonight, I was going to be ringside for Colby as his valet in his matches against Sting and John.

“You’re going to do great out there,” I beamed as I held his titles on my shoulders, “You earned these babies. There is no way anyone is taking them from you.”

“I wish I were as confident as you are, babe,” Colby chuckled, “Either way, I’m staying a champ. Because I have you in my corner tonight.”

A stage hand poked his head into our locker room to get us to gorilla. I handed Colby his titles, and we headed out to the ring. Since Colby was going to wear his white gear again, I opted to match him out there and I wore a white bodycon dress with gold accents and some gold jewelry. I was so excited to go out there with him, matching his ring gear for the first time. But I had a little trick up my sleeve tonight.

Stephanie told me that creative wanted Colby to drop the US title back to John. And she wanted it to be because of me. I was going to distract Colby that would set up him up to fall. This was going to start our feud of words heading into Survivor Series. That was when I was going to get a guy from the locker room to face off against him in my stead since inter-gender wouldn’t work since he was so much bigger than me. We’ve sparred before to train, but I know how hard he hits.

Once the match started, I got myself psyched up to cost him this match. I knew that since he had his match with John, I would leave his corner to leave him to face Sting alone. Colby was on fire through the match, his training in Crossfit was really paying off for his endurance. I just hoped that he didn’t burn himself out against John before he’d face off against Sting.

Soon my spot came up. I climbed up onto the apron and called over Colby for a moment. I grabbed him by his hair and stole a heated kiss from him. When I released him, John got his attention and performed an AA on him, earning the pinfall win. I simply smirked at a very pissed of Colby as I sashayed my pretty, cocky little behind back into gorilla.

I remained in the gorilla for the remainder of the night, waiting to see Colby come back and to get his reaction to what I did to him. I was focused on his match, watching as he was going toe-to-toe with Sting. But then he landed the buckle bomb on Sting, and I could tell that it didn’t land right. I knew Sting was hurt. But we wouldn’t find out until after the match. Colby performed the pedigree much sooner than he was supposed to, but Sting had to be in pain and wanted the match to end.

Colby got the pin and celebrated that he retained the more important of his two titles, riding his high as the face of the company for just a bit longer. Now I was nervous for how he was going to be around me after what I had costed him tonight.

Colby finally came into the gorilla and he glanced at me, only briefly, before he made his way to his locker room. I followed after him and entered the room behind him, closing the door behind me. I gulped as I watched Colby ripping off his wrist wraps. I knew from that he was pissed.

“Colby,” I spoke up sheepishly, “Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you,” he looked up at me, and I saw the fire in his eyes, “You set me up to get taken out by Cena. You were supposed to be on my side, be in my corner. I should still be the US champ, but now I’m not because of you. Damn it Thea!”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I protested, “It was Stephanie’s idea to have me there to cost you the match. Do you really think I would do that on purpose? I love you, Colby. I never wanted it to be like this. I’m sorry.”

I ran out of his locker room, fighting the tears from having him yelling at me, being mad at me for doing what I had to for the sake of my job. I had no idea if Colby was following, but right now, I didn’t want to see him. I was abruptly stopped in my tracks by the one person I didn’t think I’d run into.

Hunter.

“Hey Thea, where’s the fire,” he asked.

“Thea,” I turned around to see Colby, trying to catch his breath from chasing after me, “Sorry, Hunter.”

“No it’s fine,” Hunter smiled at us, “Just don’t cause any scenes backstage, okay.”

Hunter left me alone with Colby and I averted my gaze to the ground. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Colby. I didn’t want to see the anger that would surely still be in his eyes.

“Thea,” he got close enough to me to grab my shoulders gently, so much so I could barely feel his grip on me, “Babe, please look at me.”

I looked up at him, the tears I was still shedding falling down my cheeks. Colby cupped my face in his hands, swiping his thumbs across my cheeks to wipe away my tears. I hated that I did what I did tonight. I hated that I costed him his title.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I regretted it the instant you went out that door,” Colby looked like he was fighting tears of his own, “I’m so sorry. You are not at fault for me losing. It was my own fault for not being prepared to take on John. I will never yell at you like that again. Not unless it’s for a promo and we know it’s not a shoot.”

“I should have told what was going to happen,” I murmured as he took me into his arms, “I should have told what I was supposed to do to cost you your win.”

“I love you Thea,” Colby kissed my forehead as he started to guide us back to his locker room.

“I’m sure you all saw last night that I lost the US title,” Colby was out in the ring for his promo, about to start our war of words, “And it’s all because Casey decided to steal a kiss from me. Thinking that she could distract me. That she could destroy everything I have built as the architect of my success. Oh but her plan backfired, because I’m still the man.”

My music began to play and I strolled out, ready to deliver my tongue lashing for him. He was going to regret getting into a war of words with me.

“Oh please,” I scoffed at him, “I got into your head, Rollins. You can’t stop thinking about that kiss. You enjoyed it. You were more than willing to let John take that title off of you. After all, you say that you don’t need the Authority anymore. Well it sucks for you, because Kane isn’t very happy about your performance last night. Neither am I or Stephanie and Hunter. So you’ll be going against Kane at Hell in a Cell. I hope you are ready for the ride of your life, Rollins. Because it might be your last.”

“Casey,” Colby cackled and shook his head, “I’m not afraid of Kane. You’d be out of your damn mind if you think I’m afraid of him.”

“Oh you should be,” I smirked as the lights went out and the pyro kicked on. That was when Kane popped out of the ring and grabbed Colby by his ankles and dragged him into the ring. I laughed as his face just showed nothing but fear as Kane dragged him down. Soon the pyro in the ring kicked on, signaling that Colby had been dragged to hell.

Are you okay under there?

Yeah I’m fine. A bit hot though. You’d like it down here.

Get ready to escape from hell.

I went backstage just as Colby fought his way out from under ring and scampered all the way backstage. He was visibly shaken from his ordeal. I was sitting backstage laughing at his reactions. It was nothing but gold.

Once Colby was backstage, he saw me in stitches over his whole ordeal. He simply shook his head before hoisting me up over his shoulder as he took off running to his locker room. I was still roaring with laughter at this goof ball of a man.

“Put me down,” I breathed between giggles as we got into his locker room.

“Alright alright,” Colby laughed as he set me down on my own two feet, “You win.”

Once I was on my feet, I grabbed Colby by the scruff of his neck and slammed my lips into his. I felt Colby pull my body closer to his. I was so happy that we were in a much better place than we were just twenty four hours prior. I was truly blessed by this.

But in the back of mind, after the whirlwind of the last year and a half, that something was going to happen to one of us. I mean I went from not having Colby close to me because of what Morrigan did to him once she was free of me, stealing all of Colby’s positive traits of being a werewolf and his love for me, to having our son and getting Colby back just in time. But at the same time, we were nowhere close to restoring the rest of Colby’s strengths. We also still had no real clue on how to get rid of Morrigan. She’s been silent and absent. I know she’s plotting something, and I have no idea what could lie on the horizon when it comes to her.

But on the same token, Colby has been busting his ass since he won the WWE title. He has been carrying the company on his back. I knew that with all the work he has done, something was bound to happen to Colby. That something could more than likely take him away from the ring, and away from me, and that could be disastrous.

[newstfionline]

Finding It Hard to Focus? Maybe It’s Not Your Fault

By Casey Schwartz, NY Times, Aug. 14, 2018

It was the big tech equivalent of “drink responsibly” or the gambling industry’s “safer play”; the latest milestone in Silicon Valley’s year of apology. Earlier this month, Facebook and Instagram announced new tools for users to set time limits on their platforms, and a dashboard to monitor one’s daily use, following Google’s introduction of Digital Well Being features.

In doing so the companies seemed to suggest that spending time on the internet is not a desirable, healthy habit, but a pleasurable vice: one that if left uncontrolled may slip into unappealing addiction.

Having secured our attention more completely than ever dreamed, they now are carefully admitting it’s time to give some of it back, so we can meet our children’s eyes unfiltered by Clarendon or Lark; go see a movie in a theater; or contra Apple’s ad for its watch, even go surfing without--heaven forfend--“checking in.”

“The liberation of human attention may be the defining moral and political struggle of our time,” writes James Williams, a technologist turned philosopher and the author of a new book, “Stand Out of Our Light.”

Mr. Williams, 36, should know. During a decade-long tenure at Google, he worked on search advertising, helping perfect a powerful, data-driven advertising model. Gradually, he began to feel that his life story as he knew it was coming unglued, “as though the floor was crumbling under my feet,” he writes.

Mr. Williams compares the current design of our technology to “an entire army of jets and tanks” aimed at capturing and keeping our attention. And the army is winning. We spend the day transfixed by our screens, thumb twitching in the subways and elevators, glancing at traffic lights.

We flaunt and then regret the habit of so-called second screening, when just one at a time isn’t enough, scrolling through our phones’ latest dispatches while watching TV, say.

One study, commissioned by Nokia, found that, as of 2013, we were checking our phones on average 150 times a day. But we touch our phones about 2,617 times, according to a separate 2016 study, conducted by Dscout, a research firm.

Apple has confirmed that users unlock their iPhones an average of 80 times per day. Screens have been inserted where no screens ever were before: over individual tables at McDonald’s; in dressing rooms when one is most exposed; on the backs of taxi seats. For only $12.99, one can purchase an iPhone holster for one’s baby stroller … or (shudder) two.

This is us: eyes glazed, mouth open, neck crooked, trapped in dopamine loops and filter bubbles. Our attention is sold to advertisers, along with our data, and handed back to us tattered and piecemeal.

Mr. Williams, 36, was speaking on Skype from his home in Moscow, where his wife, who works for the United Nations, has been posted for the year.

Originally from Abilene, Tex., he had arrived to work at Google in what could still be called the early days, when the company, in its idealism, was resistant to the age-old advertising model. He left Google in 2013 to conduct doctoral research at Oxford on the philosophy and ethics of attention persuasion in design.

Mr. Williams is now concerned with overwired individuals losing their life purpose.

“In the same way that you pull out a phone to do something and you get distracted, and 30 minutes later you find that you’ve done 10 other things except the thing that you pulled out the phone to do--there’s fragmentation and distraction at that level,” he said. “But I felt like there’s something on a longer-term level that’s harder to keep in view: that longitudinal sense of what you’re about.”

He knew that among that his colleagues, he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. Speaking at a technology conference in Amsterdam last year, Mr. Williams asked the designers in the room, some 250 of them, “How many of you guys want to live in the world that you’re creating? In a world where technology is competing for our attention?”

“Not a single hand went up,” he said.

Mr. Williams is also far from the only example of a former soldier of big tech (to continue the army metaphor) now working to expose its cultural dangers.

In late June, Tristan Harris, a former design ethicist for Google, took the stage at the Aspen Ideas Festival to warn the crowd that what we are facing is no less than an “existential threat” from our very own gadgets.

Red-haired and slight, Mr. Harris, 34, has been playing the role of whistle-blower since he quit Google five years ago. He started the Center for Humane Technology in San Francisco and travels the country, appearing on influential shows and podcasts like “60 Minutes” and “Waking Up,” as well as at glamorous conferences like Aspen, to describe how technology is designed to be irresistible.

He likes a chess analogy. When Facebook or Google points their “supercomputers” toward our minds, he said, “it’s checkmate.”

Back in the more innocent days of 2013, when Mr. Williams and Mr. Harris both still worked at Google, they’d meet in conference rooms and sketch out their thoughts on whiteboards: a concerned club of two at the epicenter of the attention economy.

Since then, both men’s messages have grown in scope and urgency. The constant pull on our attention from technology is no longer just about losing too many hours of our so-called real lives to the diversions of the web. Now, they are telling us, we are at risk of fundamentally losing our moral purpose.

“It’s changing our ability to make sense of what’s true, so we have less and less idea of a shared fabric of truth, of a shared narrative that we all subscribe to,” Mr. Harris said, the day after his Aspen talk. “Without shared truth or shared facts, you get chaos--and people can take control.”

They can also profit, of course, in ways large and small. Indeed, a whole industry has sprung up to combat tech creep. Once-free pleasures like napping are now being monetized by the hour. Those who used to relax with monthly magazines now download guided-meditation apps like Headspace ($399.99 for a lifetime subscription).

HabitLab, developed at Stanford, stages aggressive interventions whenever you enter one of your self-declared danger zones of internet consumption. Having a problem with Reddit sucking away your afternoons? Choose between the “one-minute assassin,” which puts you on a strict 60-second egg timer, and the “scroll freezer,” which creates a bottom in your bottomless scroll--and logs you out once you’ve hit it.

Like Moment, an app that monitors screen time and sends you or loved ones embarrassing notifications detailing exactly how much time has been frittered away on Instagram today, HabitLab gets to know your patterns uncomfortably well in order to do its job. Apparently, we now need our phones to save us from our phones.

Researchers have known for years that there’s a difference between “top-down” attention (the voluntary, effortful decisions we make to pay attention to something of our choice) and “bottom-up” attention, which is when our attention is involuntarily captured by whatever is going on around us: a thunderclap, gunshot or merely the inviting bleep that announces another Twitter notification.

But many of the biggest questions remain unanswered. At the top of that list, no smaller a mystery remains than “the relationship between attention and our conscious experience of the world,” said Jesse Rissman, a neuroscientist whose lab at U.C.L.A. studies attention and memory.

Also unclear: the consequence of all that screen time on our bedraggled neurons. “We don’t understand how modern technology and changes in our culture impact our ability to sustain our attention on our goals,” Dr. Rissman said.

Britt Anderson, a neuroscientist at the University of Waterloo in Canada, went so far as to write a 2011 paper titled “There Is No Such Thing as Attention.”

Dr. Anderson argued that researchers have used the word to apply to so many different behaviors--attention span, attention deficit, selective attention and spatial attention, to name a few--that it has become essentially meaningless, even at the very moment when it’s more relevant than ever.

Despite attention’s possible lack of existence, though, many among us mourn its passing.

Katherine Hayles, an English professor at U.C.L.A., has written about the change she sees in students as one from “deep attention,” a state of single-minded absorption that can last for hours, to one of “hyper attention,” which jumps from target to target, preferring to skim the surface of lots of different things than to probe the depths of just one.

At Columbia University, where every student is required to pass a core curriculum with an average of 200 to 300 pages of reading each week, professors have been discussing how to deal with the conspicuous change in students’ ability to get through their assignments. The curriculum has more or less stayed in place, but “we’re constantly thinking about how we’re teaching when attention spans have changed since 50 years ago,” said Lisa Hollibaugh, a dean of academic planning at Columbia.

In the 1990s, 3 to 5 percent of American school-aged children were thought to have what is now called attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. By 2013, that number was 11 percent, and rising, according to data from the National Survey of Children’s Health.

At Tufts University, Nick Seaver, an anthropology professor, just finished his second year of teaching a class he designed called How to Pay Attention. But rather than offering tips for focusing, as one might expect, he set out to train his students to look at attention as a cultural phenomenon--“the way people talk about attention,” Dr. Seaver said, with topics like the “attention economy” or “attention and politics.”

As part of their homework for the “economy” week, Dr. Seaver told his students to analyze how an app or website “captures” their attention and then profits from it.

Morgan Griffiths, 22, chose YouTube. “A lot of the media I consume has to do with ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race,’” Mr. Griffiths said. “And when a lot of those videos end, RuPaul himself pops up at the very end and says, ‘Hey friends, when one video ends, just open the next one, it’s called binge viewing, go ahead, I encourage you.’”

A classmate, Jake Rochford, who chose Tinder, noted the extreme stickiness of a new “super-like” button. “Once the super-like button came into play, I noticed all of the functions as strategies for keeping the app open, instead of strategies for helping me find love,” Mr. Rochford, 21, said. After completing that week’s assignment, he disabled his account.

But Dr. Seaver, 32, is no Luddite.

“Information overload is something that always feels very new but is actually very old,” he said. “Like: ‘It is the 16th century, and there are so many books.’ Or: ‘It is late antiquity and there is so much writing.’

“It can’t be that there are too many things to pay attention to: That doesn’t follow,” he said. “But it could be that there are more things that are trying to actively demand your attention.”

And there is not only the attention we pay to consider, but also the attention we receive.

Sherry Turkle, the M.I.T. sociologist and psychologist, has been writing about our relationship with our technology for decades. Devices that come with us everywhere we go, she argues, introduce a brand new dynamic: Rather than compete with their siblings for their parents’ attention, children are up against iPhones and iPads, Siri and Alexa, Apple watches and computer screens.

Every moment they spend with their parents, they are also spending with their parents’ need to be constantly connected. It is the first generation to be so affected--now 14 to 21 years old--that Dr. Turkle describes in detail in her most recent book, “Reclaiming Conversation.”

“A generation has grown up that has lived a very unsatisfying youth and really does not associate their phones with any kind of glamour, but rather with a sense of deprivation,” she said.

And yet Dr. Turkle is cautiously optimistic. “We’re starting to see people inching their way toward ‘time well spent,’ Apple inching its way toward a mea culpa,” she said. “And the culture itself turning toward a recognition that this can’t go on.”