#s15 round 1

[guess-that-ship]

S15 Round 1

A Seaside Dream.

The Canary and Alchemist were childhood friends. Despite their personalities being worlds apart, they got along, even though the Canary had social anxiety. One day, the two saw a show, and it inspired them both to get into theater. Despite the Alchemist's "weird" ideas, the Canary was always willing to test them. However, there was one issue. The Alchemist had a hard time when the two were in junior high, yet, the Canary couldn't help. She wanted to, but she couldn't. This fact was not helped by an incident at a show the Canary was in, worsening her social anxiety.

Then, they were invited to be part of a troupe. The Alchemist agreed, but only if the Canary joined. They enjoyed it, but then an incident happened, just like back then. However, with encouragement from the Canary, the two became part of the troupe again. Now, they get along fairly well. The Canary gets fed up with the troupe at times, but she wouldn't trade them for the world. She's just glad that the Alchemist is happy now. And he's happy that the Canary is learning to get over her social anxiety.

The Fast and the Bi-Curious

You don't have a single damn clue what your name is, where you are, or what you're doing. Luckily for you, there's a guardian angel in the dust of this run-down city waiting for you.

The second you meet, you get an inkling that you're ride or die, partners to hell and back. The regrets you've had still haunt you, but every time, *he's* there to pull you back into the beating heart of the present. Whether it's in the form of a steadying hand, firm advice, or a quiet presence by your side, you're reminded that you're still altogether ALIVE. And you're not alone. It doesn't end while you're here.

You can return the favour- or not- and he'll respond with a little bit of wisecrack slipping out from under that protective by-the-books shell. There's a lot to learn about everyone around you past the tip of the iceberg, and he's no exception. If you've done well enough, your first instinct might even be right in the end. Maybe this crazy, workshop, just straight-up radical partnership will last a while longer...

[waynes-multiverse]

The Craving

Summary: Everyone is moving forward, only Dean is standing still. Sam leaves the bunker first, but when he fears to lose you as well, he knows he finally has to do something. Because, after all, all he really craves is you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language and smut, post S15, major angst, hurt, cheating, Reader x OMC (established), severe pining, jealousy, drinking, humor, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 13.7k

Song Inspiration: The Craving (Jenna's Version) – twenty one pilots. Listen here! 🎶

Posten on Patreon March 1, 2025

A/N: Yay, finally this monster of a fic is here! There will be parts that hurt a lot, parts where you'll snort, parts where you might catch fire, and parts where you'll feel as fluffy as cotton candy. Hang in there 😉

Happy reading! 🩵

Main Masterlist || Dean Winchester Masterlist || Tag List

Dean’s not the jealous type. At least, he thinks he isn’t, considering he’s never really had opportunity to feel jealous before.

But then came you.

He knew he wanted to be with you – as in the one one – the minute Sam led you down the round, metal staircase after running into you during a hunt. Yup, it was instant. One of those “love at first sight” kinds of crap.

For quite some time, you’d been hunting on your own, but soon enough, you began to call the bunker your home and the brothers your family. And Dean would cockily smirk at you and throw flirtatious jokes your way all day long as if all he ever wanted was to simply get you for a drunk roll on the motel mattress and nothing more. But you crave more than a night of fun, not knowing he craves the same thing, too.

And it is more – more than a simple craving to kiss you, to touch you, or to fuck you. The craving wants to love you, to hold you, and to be with you endlessly, including all that other mushy, sappy shit that comes with it. And Dean’s not even sure it’s just all of that, either. Because all the craving ever screams is you. Nothing else.

You, you, you, you, you… 

You.

That’s all there is. And the more he has of you, the happier the craving is. The less he has of you… well, one gets the gist.

The craving is a feeling greater and stronger than the bloodlust he’s experienced during the Mark of Cain – not that he’s ever told anyone that out of fear of being called crazy. It is crazy.

Fucking crazy. 

Nonetheless, it’s true. The craving for you only grows stronger and more relentless every day, causes him to lose both appetite and sleep, and never leaves him in peace.

But for years, Dean’s never entertained the craving for too long. He’s never listened to his head, heart, or gut when either of those things urged him to ask you out. After all, you deserved better than him, deserved more than the darkness he could offer, deserved a life where you got everything you ever wanted and more.

He is sure, though, you don’t want him.

But then, finally, there was a dim, miniature, barely visible light at the end of his super dark tunnel full of horrors. Chuck was squashed, monsters were scarce, and retirement was on the near horizon.

Sam started bringing Eileen around more and going on dates and being all nauseously cute, while Dean watched Netflix, Disney+, Amazon Prime, and a whole lot of other subscription services Sam wasn’t happy about when he went through the household bills. The main takeaway, though, is: Dean was never bored.

Nope, not at all.

Besides, you were there, too. For some of it. At least for a while.

Not long after Sam’s “courting” began, his kid brother finally left the nest, and then only you and him remained.

“We’re kinda like full-on roommates now,” you’d said after Sam had grabbed his last box, and you had been entertaining Dean’s melancholic mood with whiskey in the kitchen.

Dean had only smiled into his glass. “We’ve been roommates for five years now.”

“Yeah, but we’re finally rid of Monica and Chandler. This is the Joey and Rachel era!” you announced with a slightly slurred speech and toasted to the occasion by drinking straight from the bottle.

Dean, of course, had found it fucking adorable and pressed his lips very hard against the rim of his glass upon his next sip, trying his best not to grab you and kiss you right then and there.

He’d already missed his fucking chance…

“Who’s Monica and who’s Chandler?” Dean had asked to distract himself from the craving.

“Duh, obviously Sam’s Monica. He’s a complete neat freak. And Eileen’s fucking funny,” you’d postulated. “This is what I mean, though! Both of us are sloths! We can finally let chaos reign!”

Welp, that hadn’t helped to lessen the craving at all. It had been downright whining then. His heart had only pounded louder, yearned more.

“What kinda mess were you thinking of, sweetheart?” Dean had flirtatiously and daringly asked – he still liked to test the water from time to time, although he knew the lake was frozen.

You had chided him with a partially amused look and then musingly sipped on the bottle. “Hmm, wanna throw wet paper towels against the wall?”

“Sure that’s a good idea? You know Sam’s coming by tomorrow morning to come pick up more boxes. I seriously think he’s taking the whole library with him,” Dean had joked.

“Even better! He’s gonna clean it up ‘cause he’s Monica!”

Drunk-you might have been evil in a mad but cute genius kind of way.

“No way!” Dean had scoffed it off, mostly to encourage you to carry on. He’d had feeling where this was heading.

“Oh, yeah? How much you wanna bet, Winchester?” You’d leaned forward with your elbows on the counter and a challenging look twinkling in your eyes.

And Dean had wanted nothing more than to bet a goddamn kiss. But he hadn’t been able to do that anymore, either. 

As Dean grinds his brain about all of this, he stares at the reason why from the dark corner booth of the bar. He watches you with a gigantic lump in his throat as you’re in someone else’s embrace, his grip white-knuckling around the tumbler of whiskey once more.

Dean’s greener than green eyes see it all. He sees the arms that tightly clasp your body from behind that aren’t his. He sees your laughs at jokes that he can’t hear. He sees the face nuzzling in your hair that he can’t feel. He sees the smiles you draw when kisses litter your neck, leaving fucking purple and blue permanent tattoos behind – and he can’t ink any of them.

Dean sees the fucking happiness shining in your eyes. He’s never seen you happier than this before. And not any of it is caused by him. Nope.

“Hey, you good?”

Sam slides back into the booth opposite him and draws Dean’s attention, finally steering the insatiable craving away from you. But Dean knows his little brother only asks because he’s worried about Dean’s declining state of mind, even though there is really no reason to. Sam’s exaggerating as per usual.

If Sam’s showing signs of concern, it’s only because he knows too damn well how catastrophically Dean has failed and ruined any future with you by not communicating his craving. And now all there’s left is sulking and regretting. Then some more sulking and regretting. And oh, uh, more sulking and regretting till he drops for good, which is hopefully soon, considering the slow pace his life is currently going right now – just an agonizing crawl to the goddamn finish line.

See? No need for worries. Dean’s absolutely and completely–

“Fine.” Dean scoffs the word into his drink, his eyes flickering back to you. You’re making out now. Great.

Your boyfriend’s hands drift to your asscheeks and palm them. Dean wants to drown in his whiskey.

But it’s good. It’s good you have someone. Someone who can give you everything. Everything you want. God knows Dean can’t give you that, can he? Not then. But now? Now he could, couldn’t he?

What’s he got going on right now that’s so dangerous?

The only things that can kill him these days are the greasy food, alcoholism, and sheer boredom. Cancer. ‘Cause that son of a bitch can get anyone. Maybe some freakish household accident – getting electrocuted by a faulty outlet, slipping in the shower, food poisoning, choking. Maybe even a fucking car runs him over when he’s simply crossing the street.

Well, now it just sounds like a list of things that angel-dick Gabriel would’ve done to him…

He’s already been through it all. What more could go wrong?

“Dean…” Sam’s giving him a pointed look that says, ‘I’ve known you all my life. Stop pretending and talk to me.’

But Dean doesn’t want to talk.

“‘M good,” he repeats and forces the tightest smile known to mankind. It not even closely reaches the soft crinkles around his green eyes.

“I just talked to Trey at the bar,” Sam says then and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth.

Dean wants to scoff at the name.

In fact, he’s tried his hardest to hate the guy, but it’s impossible. Trey’s charming and funny and kind. He’s also taller and broader and younger than the older Winchester, which only adds another painful thorn.

But the dude treats you with respect, holds open doors for you, and cares about your feelings and thoughts and dreams. He listens to you, consoles you when you’re sad, and comforts you when you’re lonely. He’s even tried to become friends with the brothers, knowing how much they mean to you. And most of all, he not only shows you how much he craves you, but he also tells you so every day.

Dean’s been there a few times when it happened. It was fucking sickening.

And sure, Dean could still worry that some civilian can’t take care of you and protect you the way he would, but the guy was a fucking Navy SEAL and a hunter of all things that go bump in the night. To top it all off, he’s now retired and owns a small carpentry in Michigan.

The dude’s fucking Jesus, and Dean knows he stands no chance. So, yeah, maybe he’s a little jealous of the guy.

He has everything Dean wants.

“There’s something you should know, Dean,” Sam continues when the older brother’s lost in his craving again and hasn’t said anything for a full minute.

“Hm, what?” Dean can tell by Sam’s tight expression and slightly furrowed brows that it’s not good. His heart is already constricting. It knows why.

It was almost a year ago, a few months after Chuck’s reign of playing Sims had ended, that Dean had finally gathered enough courage to ask you out (with a lot of pushing from Sam and Eileen). So, while you’d been out on a small, two-day-long ghost hunt on your own, Dean had prepared a whole speech in his head.

Hunts were not only rare these lonely days, but they were also kind of… meh. Mostly your friendly neighborhood Caspers. Since Sam had dipped out, Dean and you resorted to coin tosses, drawing straws and matches, and the occasional paper-rock-scissors.

Dean still sucks at it.

Which is why you went alone. And he wasn’t even worried, just grateful for some space to get his head straight. He’d surprise you with something… romantic when you got back. He wasn’t sure what yet.

But two days turned into three, four, five and six. You’d give him regular updates, assuring him you were safe, sane, and healthy. The hunt was done – you’d decided to take a quick vacation.

The scenery had been so inviting.

On day eight, he questioned if he should follow you. Maybe you’d been kidnapped and held against your will, and he’d been texting with your tormentor this whole time. He barely ever caught you on the phone, and if he did, it was only briefly and you were always out of breath.

Hiking. That had been your explanation.

Yes, Dean should’ve put two and two together at that point, but he just couldn’t see beyond his own craving. It left him blindsided, even though he knew damn well you hated walking through nature as much as he did.

On the evening of day eight, you then called and told him you were coming home. His heart had swelled in his chest at the word.

Dean was your home. That was all he had heard.

Late on day nine, you finally returned to the bunker. Dean had prepared a movie night in the cave – he’d picked your favorite, nothing fancy, just the way you like it. But by the end of it – when you’d lie snuggled against his side like you usually did with his arm wrapped around your middle – he’d tell you about the craving.

He’d tell you he was in love with you. That you were all he was ever thinking about. That he couldn’t get enough of you. That he craved you day and night. That he couldn’t stop.

“So, how was the hunt?” he’d asked as you both stood in the war room, and you’d placed your duffel bag down on the table. “And the vacation?”

Until then, Dean hadn’t really questioned it. He knows you like to catch a wave and ride it out. It’s one of the things he loves about you, always hoping you’ll drag him with you into the sunset at some point.

“I-, uh…” 

Dean had noted the subtle bite of your lower lip, the smile that was itching to break free underneath.

“I met someone,” you’d finally confessed.

Dean’s still sure those are the three most horrible words of the English language. Nothing has ever torn apart his heart more.

“Met someone, huh?” He had swallowed heavily but played it off with a teasing smile. “You’re not usually one for hook-ups…”

“I’m not,” you’d confirmed. The secretive smile that flashed across your lips almost killed him. “I-, uh, I think it might be more than that.”

“More, huh?”

“Yeah, more,” you’d said softly and bit your lip again. Your cheeks had been glowing. You’d been so fucking happy and yet tried to hide it from him to spare his feelings – not that you had a clue. You’d only known Dean hated change and strangers and abandonment.

“You, uh, wanna watch a movie with me?” he’d still tried. He’d been sure one night or one week with some stranger couldn’t trump what he had with you. If he said something now, maybe he could still turn it around.

“I’m honestly kinda beat. Raincheck?”

“Sure.” He’d nodded and forced a painful smile. Luckily, he knew how to hide his pain well. 

At first, Dean hoped the guy wouldn’t call you again. Sure, he’d hate to see you broken-hearted, but he’d be there to pick up the pieces. One by one. Dean could satiate your craving.

But perfect fucking Trey called you that same night. Asked if you got home safely. Oh, Dean wanted to be mad about it. How dare this fucker, right? But how?

‘Stop caring about the girl I pretended not to care about for fucking years?’ 

Yeah, no, there’s no excuse. Dean’s the fucker, really.

So, come next morning, Dean made sure all traces of his romantic plans were erased in the cave. You were none the wiser when you woke up.

Dean then resorted to waiting. And waiting and waiting and waiting. And he figured if he waited long enough, your relationship with fucking Steve Rogers would run its natural course. Something would happen. It was long distance after all and not that threatening.

Yet.

It started with rare, brief visits. You’d stay in Michigan or a hotel in Kansas City for a weekend every once in a while, and Dean’s craving could deal with the temporary separation from you, although it was far from happy.

Yeah, alright, it was being a suicidal dickhead. He even preferred you staying in Michigan over the idea of you fucking your brains out in the hot tub of some fancy hotel.

Well, shit, like he said: The craving was being a complete dick about it and clearly not taking it so well.

The expensive whiskey you got him for his 42nd birthday, though, always quieted it enough to pass out till Sunday evening when you’d return.

But a weekend slowly turned into a full week and then into a whole goddamn month. Now, you weren’t just fucking your brains out anymore but playing house. Somehow, that was even fucking worse. The craving protested and screamed inside of him, urging him to keep you close.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You’d still call him every few days to check up on him, but hearing your voice only turned the craving more violent, more needy.

It was a whiny fucking bitch most days.

And now, well, you’re celebrating your first anniversary this fucking weekend. Your boyfriend has a whole goddamn romantic getaway planned. You’ve talked about it nonstop, looked forward to it for weeks.

Dean doesn’t know if he’s still waiting or if he’s given up. Feels a little like giving up.

His green eyes flick to you and Trey on the small dance floor of the dingy bar once again. Someone as breathtakingly beautiful as you is truly a juxtaposition in a place like this – in his life, really.

You have your arms locked tightly around your boyfriend’s neck, his hands enclose your hips as you sway to the rhythm of the live music. You laugh wholeheartedly and throw your head back. He runs his face through your hair and surely whispers something dirty into your ear the way your grasp tightens on him, too.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice snaps him out of his trance once more.

“Hmm, what?” Dean blinks at his little brother and sees the heartbreak shimmering in his hazel eyes. He knows it’s unavoidable by now.

“Look, uhm, Trey told me he was planing to propose to her this weekend.” Sam gets it out in one breath but then pauses. He watches his older brother closely as if Dean would break down at any second.

But Dean’s seen it coming for a while now. It’s been undeniable.

“He-, uh, he asked for our blessing.” Sam chuckles a little at the unnecessary gesture and scratches the mop of hair, but Dean can tell a part of his little brother feels honored at the consideration.

“You said no, right?!” Dean snaps too harshly, no control over the wild furrowing of his brow. The craving is taking over. It wants to fight. It wants to defend what’s his.

“Dean...” Sam frowns with a look that says the older Winchester was being ridiculous. “It’s not my place to give. That’s what I told him, too.”

“Good.” Dean huffs bitterly into his whiskey and empties the glass.

“I still told him we’d be happy for them, though,” Sam adds with reluctance and caution.

“Sam, c’mon, man!” Exasperatedly, Dean shakes his head. His glare is biting. “Bad day to play middle man! How about you’re on my side for once, huh? Pick your fucking battles, dude!”

“Dean, I’m always on your side,” Sam assures with that puppy dog look of his.

Dean scoffs at it. “Could’ve fooled me…”

But he knows Sam would give his soul to make this situation better for him. It’s just the alcohol and sadness talking. He has to let it out somewhere. Sam knows that, too.

“Maybe you should tell her,” his little brother suggests then, and Dean’s not even sure he’s heard him right because it’s so fucking insane.

“What, are you nuts?!”

“Just think about it,” Sam urges, nearly insists even. “Look, I know you’re scared she won’t feel the same way and reject you–“

“Duh.” Dean scoffs, wishing his tumbler would magically refill for this conversation.

“But if she says yes–,” Sam continues, “–you’ll lose her anyway. You know she won’t stay with you forever, right? I don’t think they’ll move into the bunker with you.”

And thank fucking God for that. Dean would probably hang himself in his room after three days of watching and hearing you honeymoon like newlyweds. Any chances Hell would take him back?

“Sam–“

“What d’you have to lose at this point, Dean?” Sam reiterates. This time, more forcefully. “This might be your last chance, man. You seriously wanna live with that regret for the rest of your life?”

Well, Dean isn’t planing on sticking around for that much longer anyway. He’s sure a monster will get him one of these days on those solo hunts if he upped the recklessness enough and got a little more careless. But obviously, he doesn’t tell his little brother that. Sam would only unnecessarily worry again.

Dean shakes his head once more, and it pains him to do so. “I-, I can’t, Sam. Can’t do it.”

“Dean–“

“I don’t wanna mess with her head, alright?” he finally says. His gaze drifts back to you; tears blur his vision and threaten to spill. “Look at her, man. She’s fucking happy. I don’t wanna ruin that for her.”

Sam lets out a deep sigh, his gaze flickering from you back to Dean. Then, he licks his lips, and Dean can tell his little brother just thought of a new argument to put forth. He really would’ve made a good lawyer.

“Listen, if that really messes with her head, then maybe she would’ve never been as happy with him to begin with,” Sam counters.

Admittedly, it’s a good theory. Dean almost buys it.

“Nah, it’s too late,” Dean brushes the sliver of hope away. He pulls out his wallet and slaps enough cash on the table to close his tab as he slides out of the booth. “I should go home.”

“Hey, are you guys leaving already?”

Suddenly, there you are, with a smile sparkling so bright Dean could confuse it for diamonds in the sky. His eyes then torturously follow your arm, down to your intertwined fingers and the tall man in tow behind you.

“Yeah, uh, kinda exhausted,” Dean says as casually as possible. He hopes you can’t see the torment in his heart.

“Oh, alright.” You nod, and Dean imagines even a hint of disappointment in your voice. The craving probably plays pretend to guard his heart.

You give him a hug goodbye and kiss his cheek. But your lips on his skin are only a quick fix for the craving. It wants more. It’s a beast that’s always ravenous and never satiated.

Leaving the bar hasn’t stopped Dean from drinking, however. He’s determined to drown his sorrows and continues to pour whiskey after whiskey, finding solace in his haze as he sulks and regrets at the kitchen island in the dark, empty bunker. He supposes he has to get used to that feeling – loneliness.

His mind’s still reeling, his skull functioning as a bathtub for cheap booze. He should probably switch to something more bubbly…

He snorts at his own joke, the sound echoing through the emptiness. Great, now he’s the weirdo hermit who laughs to himself.

Maybe Sam’s got a point. Maybe this is his last chance. There’s still a spark of hope – or so the craving believes.

And then, after two in the morning, you finally stagger home and tumble into the kitchen with a goofily drunk smile on your face that causes Dean’s breath to halt. His heart almost shoots out of his chest, wanting to jump straight into your warm embrace.

“Hey, you’re still up,” you say with a small yawn and round the corner to the island, grabbing yourself a glass of water by the sink. “Can’t sleep again, huh?”

It’s not unusual for you to find Dean roaming the bunker in the middle of the night like the ghosts he hunts. Most of the time, your strongest bonds were forged by the late-night, deep-talks you’d shared in here. You keep them close to your heart.

“Nah, not really,” Dean says casually and sips on his drink as if it were just a fluke – a one-time occurrence. But you know better than that.

“Is it about Sam?” you ask almost knowingly and watch Dean’s brow raise with his gaze.

Oh, that. He has completely forgotten about that – the whole reason they’ve gone out to celebrate tonight in the first place.

“Yeah, uh, was a lot tonight, y’know?” Dean deflects. He figures it’s at least a good excuse.

A soft smile spreads on your lips. “You’re gonna be an uncle, though. That’s gotta be exciting, right?”

You’re trying so hard to help him find the silver lining, to give him comfort and drag him out of his misery. But Dean’s sure he’s stuck at rock bottom.

“Yeah, ‘m happy for him,” Dean replies but doesn’t say more. Doesn’t say that he’s envious of his little brother, doesn’t say he craves the same thing, too.

“Dean,” you sigh his name and clasp his hand on the counter. Your touch burns his skin. The craving boils his blood. “I know you hate change, but it’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m sure it will, sweetheart,” Dean says but doesn’t mean it. He knows it’s not true. It won’t be okay without you. So, he forces a wry smile. It’s almost bitter. “Still got you, though, right?”

“Yeah, you got me,” you say softly and send him a smile. It doesn’t reach your eyes, however. Dean knows why.

“Thought you were spending the night out,” Dean notes then and disturbs the silence that has consumed the kitchen.

“Uh, Trey’s got an early flight,” you explain. “I’ll see him on the weekend, though. I suppose I’ll survive.”

Dean’s not sure he will, though, and doesn’t laugh at your joke.

At least, you barely ever bring your boyfriend around the bunker. You mostly spend the nights at a hotel whenever he comes to visit. Dean’s not entirely sure why. It might be the vibe he’s giving off when he’s near you two. You’ve had several talks with him about his attitude.

“Be nicer. Try a little harder to get along with him. I really like this guy,” you’d said. 

And Dean tried for your sake, even though he didn’t really mean it. Moreover, he got the strange sense that Trey knew Dean was harboring feelings for you and was nice enough not to rub it in, keeping his distance. Like Dean stated earlier: It was fucking impossible to hate the guy.

The dude was not nice enough to back off and let you go, though. Dean supposes that also means Trey is smarter than him, too. Awesome.

“You know, uhm…” You chew on your lip. Your heart begins to sting. “Trey asked me to move in with him. In… in Michigan.”

Dean’s silent for a beat. His ears are ringing as if a doctor had just told him he’s got prostate cancer and only a few months left to live. Honestly, it sounds more pleasant than this.

“Hmm,” Dean hums and takes a bigger gulp of his whiskey.

He refills once more, the glass and bottle only blurry shapes in his vision at this point. He ponders if there’s something stronger to numb his pain. Maybe it’s time to pick up a heroin addiction – die cool like Morrison and Cobain.

“Dean…”

You see the devastation on his face. You don’t want to hurt him, but you know him well enough to know that you do. What are you supposed to do, though? Sacrifice your whole happiness and future for his? Never expect to get anything in return? You couldn’t keep living like this.

“You’re my best friend. You know I’m not gonna leave you, right?”

“So, you’re staying?” His look is hopeful, and it kills you.

You swallow lightly. “Sure, yeah,” you say with a weak smile and shrug. “I’m not moving out tomorrow.”

The hope deflates, his face drops, and his look turns crestfallen.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me, okay? It’s no problem, I promise,” you add comfortingly. You know he hates being alone. “I’m sure Trey and I can do long distance a little while longer. I mean, it worked fine so far. Don’t worry, alright?”

Dean hears you. He doesn’t want to drag you down, keep you from living your life. He supposes he has to set you free now.

“Look, I’ll be fine, alright?” he states and forces a cool, carefree, lazy smile with the utmost sincerity – as much as he can find at least. It might have been the worst lie he ever told, and he told a lot of lies over the decades. “If you wanna move out, you should. Don’t take my feelings into account.”

“Dean…”

Your heart stings. You can’t leave him like this. At the same time, you fight your own anger and push it down. If he really didn’t want you to leave, then why had he never done anything, said anything to make you stay? You’d waited years for him to see you, to take your hand, to love you and run toward the sunset with you. But he never did, not even when the big bads were all defeated and gone.

Instead, you watched him flirt with strange women in even stranger bars. You watched him lead them to his precious car with his hand on their backs (or their asses) and a wide, goofy, all-teeth grin on his punchable, freckled face. You watched him disappear for entire nights and return to the bunker, to the endless motels, in the mornings with his latest conquest’s marks on his skin.

A row of tattoos he’d gotten just for you that all read the same message: Fuck you.

And it fucking hurts every single time. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Sometimes, you thought you couldn’t take any more and would just grow numb to the pain. But you never did. It all mars your heart the same.

Some days, it felt like you were dying inside.

And then, after the hunting life slowed, you wanted to keep moving, explore what other wonders life had to offer aside from exterminating monsters and living underground. Sam felt the urge, too. So, you both set sail into the world – but Dean didn’t. He stood still at the docks.

“What’s going on with you?” You step closer, worry shimmering in your eyes. “I know it’s been hard on you since Sam’s moved out. But you’re the best guy I know. There’s great things out there for you, too. I just know it. Don’t give up hope now.”

Dean wants to scoff, cry, and laugh hysterically. He doesn’t look at you, just stares at the whiskey in his grasp.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words are out. Dean’s astonished they finally left his lips. He can’t quite believe it, even clasps his mouth with a hand and runs it across his face. It’s been his best guarded secret for so long. Someone should slap him. Where’s Sam when he needs him the most?

Dean downs the whiskey in his hand and looks up at you. He feels like he cursed you. You’re frozen in place, petrified by the spell he cast. But your lower lip and eyelids are quivering, so he supposes you’re still alive in there somewhere.

“Say something. Please... Anything,” he begs. He wants to drink more but fears you might think of him as a drunk, although he’s pretty sure you’re already aware. That train has left the station, so he might as well make its final destination his mouth.

On shaky legs, you grasp the edge of the counter for support. A “brace yourself, you might wanna sit down for this one” would’ve been greatly appreciated.

“I-, uh… I have to sit down,” you force the words out with a clear of your very dry fucking throat because you’re still rather speechless – and drunk.

Judging by the almost empty bottle of whiskey on the counter, so is Dean, it seems.

Dean heroically jumps from his seat to offer it to you but watches you simply lower to the cool tiles of the floor instead. You’d love nothing more than to lie there and curl in the fetal position right now.

Slowly, Dean crouches down and joins you, careful not to touch you, ignoring the craving’s persistent screams to do exactly that. His hands are shaking from holding back.

Your lips part and shut, your eyes are lost, your brows tremble as you try to understand and think of something to say. But your mind is overflowing. Your gaze stays fixed on the ground and the cracks in the grout between the old tiles.

“If this is some prank, Dean…”

You don’t really think he’s this cruel or moronic. You can always hope, though.

“It’s-, it’s not,” he assures you and tries not be offended. He knows you’re still processing. Besides, he may have overdone it with the pranks a little since Sam is gone. He's put that extra energy into you. “I’ve felt this way for a long time… Knew you were special the second I saw you… Knew I-… I loved you when we watched Shawshank Redemption together your first week here. Remember that? You quoted the whole movie. I guess, I-… I’ve been craving you since then.”

A fond smile flashes on his lips at the memory, but his jade green eyes flicker with insecurity.

You gasp for air and find your voice. “Why did you never say anything?”

“I-… I tried. Not hard enough, I guess.” He chuckles self-consciously, scratching the nape of his neck. But you don’t share his humor. “Last time I tried was when you told me you met–“

He stops himself from saying the name. His mouth twitches with a bitter taste. He doesn’t want to say the name you scream when you cum.

Oof, he wonders which of the many whiskeys was the one that has finally crossed the threshold to pathetic.

“I actually wanted to watch Shawshank Redemption with you that night when you came home, tell you then,” he continues, his tongue swiping over his chapped lips. It’s just his luck, isn’t it? He truly found out how unlucky he was once Chuck was gone. To think the guy actually protected him from some of it almost makes him scoff out loud. “But, uh…”

“I went to bed early,” you finish his thought.

He cocks a brow at you. A drop of resentment sneaks into his voice. “Did you, though? Your room’s right next to mine, sweetheart. I knew you were on the phone with–… I could hear you.”

You scoff darkly and stare straight into his eyes, and for the first time, Dean can see the real hurt in yours. Was he responsible for this?

“Yeah, trust me. I’ve been there,” you reply cynically.

Oh, Dean knows he has messed up.

“Why the fuck now, Dean? What’s changed, huh?” You rise from the floor and begin to frantically pace the kitchen. Dean follows you. “Is it because I told you I was leaving? What, you just decided now’s a good time?!”

“Look, uhm, Sam doesn’t want me to tell you this, but there’s something you should know, alright? I think you should know,” he insists but rubs a hand over his mouth. He knows he’s being selfish. He fucking knows he shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t tell you.

But he fucking wants you a lot more, cost what it will. He’d sell his goddamn soul all over again for you. The craving is not backing down now.

You look at him like he’s kidding. He must be. How could there be more?

“Your boyfriend’s gonna propose to you this weekend,” Dean tells you and slaps you right across the face with the news.

You think he might as well be joking and playing a prank on you again. His face is deadly serious, however, his green eyes dark, stern and unwavering. You can tell he hates the thought of it, the mere suggestion you could be someone else’s, and he’s probably stirred in that hatred all night. So, that’s what truly motivated his ship to leave the harbor.

“But–“ Dean pauses, considering his next words carefully, but his eyes remain fixed on you, drill into you. “But if there’s a chance you don’t want that, just a sliver… I-… I need to know, alright? I need to know if it could be me. I can’t let you go without knowing… without trying.”

You think you’re close to fainting. You feel lightheaded, dizzy. It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much.

“Are you fucking serious right now?! Why the fuck are you doing this to me? Why didn’t you say it earlier?” The tears of desperation sting your eyes as you shove at his chest. “Why didn’t you fucking move sooner?!”

It’s not a question as much as it is an accusation. Dean grabs your hands that still press against his chest and holds them still on his heart. His gaze locks with yours.

And then, Dean recognizes the familiar anger in your eyes. He knows it’s the craving. Not his, but yours.

For him.

“Do you love me?” he dares to ask. He might as well, considering this is the end and he’s putting all his cards on the table tonight. He knows he’ll lose you, so why not do it with a bang? Winchesters are known to go down swinging.

You fight for words. Your heart twists. “It’s too late,” you whisper, tears rolling down your hot cheeks freely.

“It’s not a no,” Dean says softly, his heart swelling a tiny bit more in his chest. It’s almost cute, like a little kid arguing about bedtime, asking for one more glass of water before he has to go down for good.

“It’s not a yes, either,” you counter quite spitefully. You can’t reward this behavior, can you? The man just took a wrecking ball to your life, to your current relationship, to your future – something you’ve carefully crafted and cared for and grown for close to a year.

A year.

And he thinks of this now? When you have one foot out the door? That’s when he fucking realizes?!

You’re furious and want to yell at him till you’re blue in the face. Mostly, though, you’re furious with yourself. Maybe you should’ve known, should’ve suspected. After all, you know him well. You know his insecurities and his deepest, darkest fantasies. What Sam has now, what you’re about to have – the apple pie life.

“So, it’s a… maybe?”

You want to sigh and pray heavenward. Is anyone listening to this? Hello?!

“Do you love him?”

This time, you sigh out loud. “You know I do.”

Your words are sharp, and you can tell that they sting. He flinches when you say them. But something weird tugs at you when you do.

“You love me, too?”

You’re silent for a moment. You don’t know if the truth makes it worse or better.

“I do,” you admit through more painful tears that blur your already hazy vision. His piercingly green eyes find you, and you note the soft, upward curve of his lips.

“You love me more?”

“Dean!”

Yeah, he was pushing it…

Pensively, his tongue swipes slowly over his upper lip before he tucks the lower one between his teeth. Then, he clicks his tongue when he’s thought of something to say, something to give him an advantage, anything.

You love him. There’s a chance.

“Look, it’s not too late, okay? If you wanna get out, just say the word,” Dean says. There’s urgency in the deep timbres of his voice. This is his last shot. He can’t keep watching from the window looking in as everyone eats dinner without him. He has to move.

“So, what? So I can live here with you and watch you hook up with strangers for eternity?” Frustratedly, you wipe the tears from your cheeks and look at him. You can tell your little comment caused a paper cut.

Bobbing his head, Dean rubs his lips with his fingers. He knows he deserves that snide comment. Those distractions from the craving certainly haven’t done him any favors.

“I get it. I screwed up. I came a little late to the party,” Dean admits. Tears threaten to drown the green in his eyes, but he fights to keep them behind the dam. He needs to get this out first. “But I’m here now. I’m yours. All yours. I’m not going anywhere,” he vows, and you believe him with your breaking heart. “I swear to you, to anyone who will fucking listen… I won’t screw this up again. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. You wanna get married? Have kids? I’d do it right now with you. You wanna go see the world? Go skydiving? Then knock me out and drag me onto a plane. Just tell me. I’d give you everything I have, sweetheart.”

His voice chokes on the last few words, barely pushing them out. His heart roars; his lungs wring for air. Every muscle, every vein, every nerve feels like its being electrocuted. Tenses, twists, and constricts under the pressure of the craving.

You’re speechless, your mouth agape. You look at him, stare. You see the desperation, the pain, the fear, the need, the love, the craving. But you can’t think of anything to say. You don’t know what to do, except wait for an ice age to come and freeze you both in time, so you get more time to think.

“I-I-… I should go. I’ll stay at a motel,” you manage to say, your voice trembling like the rest of your body. You can’t feel your legs, your hands, or your head. Most of all, you can’t feel your heart.

You don’t have to say yes or no. You don’t have to make a decision right now – wasted and sleep-deprived. You do the smart thing, the wise thing, the right thing.

But why does it feel so wrong and stupid then?

“You’re leaving?” Dean’s disbelief seeps into every syllable. He can’t understand. He figured this would fix it.

“I’m sorry.” The sniffled apology is quiet as you try to push past him. His skin brushes yours. A wildfire inflames inside of you that vaporizes all tears and fears.

Dean feels it, too.

All rational thought dissipates from his mind then. He grabs hold of your arm and spins you flush against his warm and inviting body. His lips collide with yours – hungry, wild, and fervent.

The craving wins.

You don’t fight it. You melt into the kiss, into him, into feeling instead of thinking. You lick the whiskey from his tongue, drink till you’re drunk on him, and Dean savors the minty Mojitos he’s watched you sip all night.

Your hands don’t find a place, neither can his. There’s too much to discover, new territory you’re both unfamiliar with but always wanted to see, feel, explore. So, he roams your soft curves and you his taut muscles. Squeezing, scratching, trailing.

Your fingers card and tug at the soft hair in the nape of his neck, lock tightly around him as you push yourself closer. He groans and sends vibrations through you.

Dean’s grip on your hips is bruising as he molds you to his frame. He really tries to achieve the impossible here. He won’t let go now. This is it, and with that thought, he cages you between his body and the kitchen island.

The two of you never dare to break the kiss, knowing that if you gave yourselves enough time to think, you’d stop this madness and come to your senses. Neither of you wants that. Not really. Not now.

The craving silenced everything else. It takes what it needs. It needs you. It needs him.

You’ve wanted this for so long – him and you, exactly like this. And now, it’s all so wrong but so fucking right, too.

You whimper into his mouth, your core flooding with desperate need when you feel his growing dick strain against his jeans and press between your legs. Your fingers work on autopilot as they unbutton his flannel and slide it over his broad shoulders.

Dean tosses your top over your head, and your legs wrap around his middle. He hoists you into his arms, and you fling his shirt somewhere when he’s on the move. Your bra follows, landing in the hallway, a trail of clothes marking the path of sin through the bunker.

You’re not sure the two of you will make it to a room, any room, as Dean stops and bumps you against walls, only to ravage more parts of your skin. He bites, he marks, and he grips your flesh so roughly you’re sure you’ll be more than blue in the morning. You know he wants to leave his impression on every inch of you. You don’t stop him because, God have mercy, you want that, too.

You feel him everywhere and still crave fucking more.

And Dean somehow still seems to make it to room 11 because when your eyes blink open the next time, you suddenly find yourself there. Of course it’s there. He needs your impressions to haunt him, too – your noises inside his four walls, your indentations in his mattress, your scent on his pillow, your arousal soaking his sheets.

He wants to lower you to his bed, to the memory foam, but your legs unravel around his waist, bare feet landing on the floor.

You can’t remember when you kicked off your shoes, but Dean isn’t wearing his boots anymore either and only one sock, so you figure they’re somewhere in the bunker with the rest of your lost items.

Your lips leave his but not him. They lick, suck, and bite down the scruffy column of his throat, his solid and freckled chest, all the way down his softly defined abs as you fall to your knees in front of him like he’s an altar you’re about to worship at.

Your fingers hastily unbuckle belt and lower zipper, pushing jeans to his ankles. You don’t bother long with his boxers, still strapped around his knees when you free him and wrap a hand around his throbbing cock as if to shield it from the sudden chill that creeps along your own skin. You don’t even manage a full pump before your lips seal around his red and swollen head. You swallow him whole.

You don’t wait. You don’t think. You give yourself fully to the craving.

It’s a greedy bitch.

A “shit” escapes him when you welcome him into your hot mouth till he hits the back of your throat, the first word that cuts through the moans and heavy breathing since this cataclysmic gluttony began.

You don’t pull back. You stay, hold on. Your tongue massages the thick vein. Your moans vibrate around him and send shivers up his spine, tighten his balls. Your mouth fills with saliva till it threatens to drool out. Your hand can’t even fully grasp his thickness, thumb out of reach from your other fingertips. You haven’t even noticed how big he truly is till tears sting your eyes, and you feel the aches in your jaw from trying to accommodate all of him. Luckily, the burning alcohol numbs some of it.

You both still and know there’s no fucking way back now when your eyes meet. There’s only forward and more.

A massive hand reaches to cradle your head, brushes your hair from your face, massages your jaw, and caresses your chin. Fuck. You drool more and press your thighs together while your pussy whines around nothing.

You slowly pull back, suck with hollowed cheeks and swirl around his tip and dip into his slit. He leaks precum onto your tongue, a tang of salt and sweetness and Dean.

You’re sucking his cock. You’re sucking Dean's cock. You’re fucking sucking Dean Winchester’s fucking cock.

“Fuck, that mouth…” Dean’s hips buck in rhythm with your bobbing head. The fist in your hair tightens, tugs harder, deliciously stings your scalp.

You want him to spill down your throat. You want to taste and drink and swallow all of him.

But Dean’s got other ideas. He raises you back to your feet with a strong grip of your upper arms. You barely catch a breath before he claims your swollen and soaking lips, kisses you truly, madly, deeply. He licks the taste of him from your tongue, his dick standing spit-wet and aching by your belly.

“Dean,” you whimper against his lips, thighs rubbing together. You can feel your arousal dripping down. You need friction, you need to get rid of your goddamn jeans and underwear, you need him.

“‘M take care of you,” he mumbles and nods like agreeing to a decision he just made, and you know he doesn’t just mean your climax or your craving. He means he’ll take care of you forever. That’s the promise he’s just made.

His fingers toy with your waistband and pull down your zipper. He pushes you back and leads you till you lie back onto the mattress, feet dangling over the edge. He shimmies you out of your confining denim, and then he’s on you, hovering above, kneeling between your spread legs.

Dean leaves you with one blazing kiss on your lips, but, fuck, those tits. He’s had dreams about them, day and night – about groping and squeezing and burying his entire face in them. He can’t resist and bites and tongues and sucks, and by the time his hands get to them, pinch and roll and tweak your stiff nipples, his mouth descends down your tummy.

Plush lips passing below your belly button is the imaginary line when he decides to deliver your sinfully throbbing clit from its misery and slides a hand inside your panties.

Ugh, fucking God, his large hand covers your entire cunt.

He could make you come with his fucking pinky alone by the sheer size and girth of his digits, you’re sure. You’ve observed their length and thickness over the years often enough, mostly from the backseat of Baby when he drives, always careful not to get caught in your shameful leering, always wondering what they’d feel like curling inside of you. And God, the things he does with those ten weapons while they linger on the steering wheel drive you insane with wanton need during most trips. Even short ones to the grocery store have become a solid method of torture for you.

And you know they could reach that spongey, sensitive spot inside of you oh-so easily. But it’s his middle and pointer finger that glide through your drenched folds first.

Dean hums against your skin, right by your hip bone. Oh God, he fucking hums and groans – deep and rich and desperate. Desperate for you.

He steals a glance at your face, your beautifully contorted face of glowing pleasure, and he flashes you an appreciative smile of surprise, like he hadn’t fucking anticipated you being so wet for him – so ready.

All you manage is barely a nod before your eyes roll back into your head. You don’t have the energy to argue about his weird insecurities right now. And yes, they are weird, considering how the guy looks, but it’s more than just the mesmerizingly green eyes that cause you to feel lost among tall pines, the faint and golden freckles that dance on his skin, twinkling from the tip of his nose down to soft dips and dents of his chest, or the way his smile carries you home like the beam of a lighthouse without fail each time you’re lost.

No, it’s the things you can’t (and he can’t) see in a mirror that award him the title of the greatest man who ever lived. It’s the kindness, it’s the sweetness, it’s the caring. It’s his heart of gold, his courage, and his warmth.

So, how come Dean can’t ever see any of that? You always could because you’ve loved him since he laughed through your Shawshank quotes that very first week.

And now… Fuck.

Not even the inebriated double-vision makes up for the amount of hands and fingers and mouths and tongues you feel on you. How does he do that? Are there six of them or just the two you see?

Your head is spinning. You don’t know up from down anymore; it’s all one blurry swirl. Is it sideways?

But you know where you are and you can count again when his tongue dives into your channel and his lips seal around your bundle of nerves and fucking suck hard.

A taste of your own medicine, you’re sure.

You cry out at the intensity and almost come right there, especially with his delighted chuckles against your center, but you actually come when two of those long, thick, admirable fingers spreads your tight walls. He manages three or four pumps maximum before you fall apart at his mercy.

You scream his name as your frame shakes, and he kisses your pulsing center softly as if to soothe your aches. But as his heavy erection presses against the inside of your thigh, you know you want more.

The craving never stops.

Heaving chest meeting his, his glistening lips lower upon yours, and your tongue tastes what his did just seconds ago. He hovers above, his nose nudging your cheek forcing your eyes to open, encountering an insecure glint in his gaze.

“You sure about this?” His voice is so quiet, so raspy, the words are almost inaudible as if he doesn’t want to say them at all because he’s afraid of the answer.

Luckily, so are you.

In the darkest, most isolated depths of your mind, there’s still someone else. A guy you claim to love, and yet, you’ve tied his hands with ropes, muzzled him with duct tape, locked him in a dungeon, and somehow found your way into Dean’s bed. Your best friend and roommate Dean.

Yeah, no, there’s no excuse, no justification. But there’s no way back, either. What’s done is done. You’ve already done unspeakable things to each other – all of them rule-breaking. Sucking his cock? Fully your idea! God knows Dean surely didn’t fall dick-first into your mouth.

No, you want this. And moreover, you need to see it through.

Life isn’t just black and white, is it? It’s not a straight road. There’s sharp curves, and hunters are known to ignore the odd dangerous bend symbol.

So you kiss him deep and hard, because your answer would’ve been a shallow and soft uncertainty. You don’t know if it’s right, you assume it’s not, but you follow the craving and cave to its needs.

It needs Dean. Not anyone else. Dean. Not Dean Martin or James Dean, no. Dean Winchester.

Your hand snakes between heated and damp bodies and wraps around the forbidden fruit, lets his cockhead catch at your more-than-ready entrance.

Is it really all Eve’s fault? Probably. Now, though, it’s very much on Adam.

Dean pushes in.

Well, they call it a sin for a reason. The craving clearly doesn’t give a fuck, though.

When his tip taps your cervix, you gasp. Your pussy clenches around him, he groans into your neck, and you moan at that little jitter that runs through his body.

He kisses a path down to your tits as he slowly pulls out to his dickhead and thrusts back into you. Fuck. And well, from there on out, it all blends into a foggy whirl of limbs, bodily fluids, and an obscene soundtrack.

It all comes slowly back, however, when you wake in the morning. You feel the remnants of a wild night, the sheer soreness between your thighs, instantly.

You remember it started slow and tender when your eyes finally flutter open barely a few hours later, just at the break of dawn. It started with good, ol’ missionary – the ‘getting to know each other’ phase. You both learned what made the other tick, while his cock moved pleasantly inside of you like calm ocean waves, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears.

When you carefully slide out under his arm for a simple pee break, panic begins to creep in, recalling how you eventually rolled him onto his back and rode him like his goddamn name was Larry. Shit.

And Dean loved it. His freckled face and the huge grin, staring up at you in awe, is branded into your mind. There’s no way to unsee it now.

As you collect clothes strewn throughout the bunker like they are scavenger hunt items, you remember how things took a turn for the worse then – or for the better, depending one’s perspective on the subject, you suppose.

Eventually, you found your way onto all fours, Dean giving his goddamn everything behind you, pounding relentlessly into you with a bruising grip on your flesh.

Your fingers subconsciously touch your hips, your eyes follow and see bruises there. You hurry into the bathroom, glimpse at the mirror, and immediately see more. They’re everywhere – your throat, your collarbone, your tits, your waist, hips, arms, and thighs. Oh shit, even your ass got some.

There’s no way of hiding a sin this big.

You came five times. You fucking remember that. Never happened with anyone before, either.

Fucking asshole…

With a sobering (but heavily hungover) mind, your anger at your roommate returns. Why did he have to do it this way? Why put you in this awful position in the first place? Did he have to wait till you both were close to blackout drunk and an almost engagement to someone else?

No discussion of anything. No feelings. No future. No plans. No protection. No checking in. No responsibility. No sobriety. No brains.

Naturally, all of this was a decision made by two completely sane people. Why would you do any of that? Talking is overrated. No, this clusterfuck was obviously the best choice.

Shit, shit, shit…

Beating hearts in their purest form. That was there.

You remember how he looked at you, both spent, lying next to each other with your heads by the foot of the bed, feet resting where pillows go. No clue where they went.

His smile was so warm and happy, fingers still caressing skin and never losing touch. You gazed and smiled at each other like idiots till your eyes closed, knowing without words that this was forever now.

Dean still wakes up alone that morning.

Oh, his goddamn brain is buzzing. Without opening his eyes, Dean twists his face into the darkness of his mattress, hands searching for the pillow underneath his head.

Wait… Where is his fucking pillow?

His brow furrows slightly, his head pounding louder as if to try to rattle him awake and alert him to something. If he could only remember what that something is…

The only reason he’s somewhat awake is because his own snore woke him up after he almost choked on his damn spit. God, what a night. He probably should make a mental note to drink less. Those hangovers aren’t getting easier to handle with progressing age.

Little goosebumps spread on his skin when a soft, cool breeze hits the exposed parts of his body. Something is odd, though. Why is it so damn cold? And why is his blanket only barely covering his bottom half?

And why the fuck is he naked? He’s not usually a birthday suit sleeper. A purple nightgown, a shirt and boxers, maybe even a pair of sweats, sure, but he only ever sleeps naked when he’s had se–

Shit!

Dean jolts up in bed, pupils wide and head swirling. He stretches his heavy and tired eyes with strain, forcing them to stay open. Jesus, he feels like a truck ran over him, only realizing then that said truck carried your goddamn license plates.

Shaking his head vigorously, he tries to find his orientation. He almost thinks he’s in a different room before realizing he’s slept upside down in his own bed. He rolls onto his back and sits up, blinking his eyes awake a little further.

The whole night comes crashing back to him then, but he starts to doubt the realness of it all when he can’t find you next to him. There’s just an empty spot.

Looking for evidence, he scans the room. He only finds some of his own clothes strewn across the floor, but none of yours till he feels something tangled around his ankle. Are those his boxers?

Nope! That’s your underwear. How did it get– Never mind. There are more important things to figure out now. First and foremost, where the hell are you?

With a groan, he swings his legs off the bed, bare feet landing on the cold ground. He runs a palm through his hair and rubs his face, even patting his own cheeks to wake up more. His head is fucking killing him. But it’s not the only thing aching.

Lifting the sheet slightly from his lap, he takes a quick peek. Oh, poor guy’s been certainly through a lot last night. Is that a bruise? How did that ha– Nope, never mind that, either. He’s surprised at his own stamina, though. A guy his age? Drunk? He mentally pats himself on the back for it, although he knows the craving did most of the work for him.

Nonetheless, his pride is quickly overshadowed by your absence.

His hand grabs his watch on the nightstand. Almost noon.

Well, your French leave makes a little more sense now. You probably had to pee. His own bladder feels goddamn full, the bottle of whiskey finally finding its exit again. His stomach is growling, too. Maybe you were hungry? Dean knows you practically wake up starving every morning and are unbearable till he stuffs that first stripe of bacon into your mouth.

However, he notices the eerie quiet of the bunker. There’s no smell of awaiting breakfast in the kitchen wafting down the long hallways. There are no sounds of clattering dishes, clinking cutlery, a running shower, or the flush of a toilet.

Silence.

And if you really got up for a bathroom and food break, why are your jeans gone? He knows he took them off in this room and not anywhere else. A perfectly fine and fresh flannel is hung over the chair by his small desk.

Not to complain, but wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d just thrown that one on instead of forcing yourself back into something skin-tight?

Dean’s not a complete idiot, however. He knows those aren’t good signs, and his chest starts to constrict, squeezing the air from his lungs. His mind races, green and red eyes flickering around desperately for answers.

You wouldn’t leave like that, would you? Not after–

“I love you,” Dean whispered, his forehead resting against yours when he spilled into you, your walls still gripping him tight.

“I love you, too,” you replied and could barely finish your answer before his lips claimed yours again.    

No, you wouldn’t do that. It’s not the version of you he knows like the back of his hand. That’s not his best friend.

But then, his stomach overflows with guilt, the hows and whys of the night seeping into every corner of his mind and settling in his bones.

Fuck.

Oh, there had to have been another way, right? He shouldn’t have done what he did, shouldn’t have given into the craving so recklessly. He knew it was wrong. Everything was wrong. This was never supposed to happen this way.

It was supposed to be magical and memorable. The start of something great.

It still was for Dean, although your disappearance makes him unsure. Maybe it wasn’t all that magical for you.

Dean kissed you, which was a forgivable offense. And sure, you kissed him back. But was either of you in the right state of mind? Probably not.

And Dean knows he should’ve stopped it all there, should’ve slowed down, looked at you, and talked to you about it. About next steps, futures, plans. None of that happened.

Last night, after his confession, he could see you needed time to think, a night to sleep it over, gather your bearings with a sober mind. But Dean was scared of letting go. What would he have done if you hadn’t come back? But he didn’t listen to the warning.

The craving didn’t want to risk losing you and clearly didn’t give a damn about consequences.

But Dean does. He cares a fucking lot. And moreover, now he has to live with the damn consequences of its actions and not the stupid craving.

Right now, it’s achingly empty. Dean knows it means you’re not around.

Still, he rises from the bed and starts to pad down the hallways of the bunker in search of you. He needs to talk to you, find you, do whatever it takes to fix this mess. He wants to call you, but his phone is missing, too.

It happens sometimes. Usually, either you or Sam call him to find it, but no one’s here anymore. He’s all alone and realizes then that he’ll probably die this way – slipping pathetically in the bathroom with a disturbing alcohol level in his blood, his phone out of reach, lost somewhere between couch cushions. You or Sam will probably stumble upon his corpse weeks, maybe months later, and only find the flesh rotting from his bones.

Yup, he’s sure that’s it. Lovely end to a shitty life.

With a deep sigh stuck in his throat, Dean follows the path of destruction, a trail of lost clothing items leading him toward the kitchen before he picks up your bra from the floor.

He stops in his tracks when he hears the heavy thud of the garage door. His heart sings in relief. Food run! You probably went to fetch breakfast. Yeah, that must be it.

“Dean? Y/N?”

Sam.

Dean’s shoulders slump, the hopeful smile on his face faltering. He rubs his mouth with his fingers, his mind spinning. Not a minute later, Sam rounds the corner and meets him in front of the kitchen.

“Dean?” Sam then freezes and instantly squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head exasperatedly. “Dude! Why are you naked?!”

“Oh.” Dean blushes with a slight fluster, but his usual shameless grin is missing. He’s too fucking depressed for a witty response. “Hang on.”

Even Sam notices the tension and somber atmosphere when he hears Dean plodding back to his room, but he chalks it off to last night’s news. He slowly opens his hazel eyes and takes a quick scan of the kitchen.

Empty bottle of whiskey on the counter, flannel on the floor, boots in the hallway.

But wait… Is that one of your shoes?

Dean then comes back in a pair of gray sweats and a black henley, still carrying your bra in his hand as if it would help him find you like a dowsing rod.

“Rough night?” Sam quirks a brow at his older brother, a small smile of amusement on his face. It’s not the first time he found Dean like this, after all.

“Good night. Rough morning,” the older Winchester replies soberly.

“Dude, what happened? When did you have time to meet a hook-up after I drove you home last night?” Sam creases his brow, but the sinking feeling in his gut already confirms it. He knows those are your shoes, just like he knows that’s your bra in his brother’s hand. Sam’s been your laundry buddy for close to five years.

“I-I… I slept with her, Sam,” Dean confesses and claps his mouth like he’s done the last time he’s confessed something. He expects it to go about the same.

But Sam surprises him with calmness. “Yeah, I-I figured,” he admits, nodding, and takes another glimpse down the hall behind Dean. “Where is she? Still sleeping? Did she break up with Trey?”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes. Leave it to Sam to dive right into the uncomfortableness. Solely mentioning the name burns a hole into his heart. What if you went back to him?

“No, uh, I don’t know where she is. I just woke up,” Dean says slowly and licks his chapped lips. “I-… I think she left. For good. I think she-… you know.”

Dean swallows the thick lump in his dry throat, while Sam sits with the information for a minute.

“Dean, why–“ Sam shakes his head, collecting his thoughts. “Why didn’t you guys just talk? I mean, what happened?”

“Oh, yeah, great idea, Sammy!” Dean scoffs with a voice full of bark. “You think I haven’t thought about that? Does anything about this look planned to you? I mean, hell! You’re the one who told me to use my last chance and tell her in the first place!”

“I didn’t mean this,” Sam counters, exasperated. “I meant, use your mouth, idiot, not your–“ He frowns when he notices the rising smirk on his older brother’s face. “Dude, don’t even say it.”

“Fine.” Dean rolls his eyes a little and sighs. “Look, I need to find her and talk to her. Can you call my cell? I lost it somewhere.”

“Dude, again?”

“Just-… Would you call?” Dean massages his aching temples.

“You know, my worst nightmare is finding you dead down here one day, just rotting away,” Sam mutters wryly as he makes the call.

“Yeah, you and me both,” is all Dean says.

His ears then pick up the faint buzzing noises of his phone, only growing louder as the brothers follow it all the way to the library. His cell rests neatly on the wooden table, but he knows he hasn’t put it there.

Besides, underneath it is a folded piece of yellow, legal-pad paper that smells like you.

Dean grabs both phone and letter, his eyes fixing on the only two words there. The corners of his mouth quirk to a faint smile, but it’s sad in nature. He’s only laughing to cope with the loss of you. His black soul is rejoicing – it’s been right all along. Hallelujah!

I’m sorry.

You’re sorry. But Dean doesn’t know for what exactly. For sleeping with him? For telling him you loved him? For leaving?

Or is it all of the above?

“What does it say?” Sam’s voice keeps him from jumping straight into a spiral of sorrow.

“That she left,” Dean replies and crumples the paper in his hand, tossing it on the floor.

He tries calling you, but there’s no answer. And even when Sam tries, you don’t pick up.

“Voicemail again,” Sam says after his third try and clears his throat with lacking subtleness. “She-, uh, she probably forgot to charge it again.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it…” Dean pats his little brother’s shoulder as he saunters past him.

“Dean, where are you going?”

“Look, I just wanna be alone right now,” Dean says, his voice laden with emotion he tries to hold back. “I’ve got a raging headache, I smell like a liquor store…”

“Yeah, uh, sure.” Sam nods with understanding. He knows Dean’s shutting down now. “Can I do anything?”

“Yeah, leave,” Dean huffs bitterly, the door to his room slamming shut soon after.

The bunker is cold and dark when you trudge down the metal steps.

There’s just blackness, not a light on except for a small table lamp in the library. Your gaze lands on the giant table, both phone and your note gone. You know he must’ve found it by now; you assumed he would’ve.

Still, your heart cracks at the thought.

You should’ve been clearer with your message. But there was no time, and your head had been spinning. Now, though, the craving’s gone.

There’s finally clarity.

It replaces the feverish longing. It tells you exactly what your heart needs – Dean. Not in a carnal, all-consuming way but in the purest form of love. He’s the air you breathe.

You find the door of his room ajar, but it’s dark inside, too – and empty. You’ve checked the garage, though, and saw Baby parked in her usual spot, so you know its green-eyed owner can’t be far.

And of all places he could’ve been – the shooting range to take his anger out, the kitchen to eat his feelings, or the cave to drown his sorrows – you find him in your room.

He sits on the freezing floor by the foot of your bed like a sad pile of forgotten laundry. When his gaze lifts to you in the doorframe, his brow furrows a tiny bit as if not sure he’s seeing a ghost.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice close to a croak, but Dean averts his eyes as if seeing you pains him. And, well, that pains you.

“You-, uh, you forgot something?” He clears his throat to clear his feelings and seem casual. You don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling with that mask – again, sadly sitting on the floor in your room – but it sure ain’t you.

“Yeah, you,” you reply, a faint smile curving your lips. You step closer and kneel down in front of him, cupping his confused face in your palms as you brush your lips tentatively against his.

“I-… I don’t understand,” Dean says, the surprise still visible in the wrinkles of his brow when you pull back an inch. “Look, if you’ve changed your mind again–“

“No, Dean…” You shake your head and kiss the creases on his forehead. “I never changed my mind, okay? I meant what I said last night. I love you.”

His mouth is agape for a heartbeat, knitted brow ironing out with realization. “So, you’re staying?”

“Yeah. It's you. No contest.” You smile softly, the happiness in your veins almost forcing you to beam, but your other half doesn’t seem to be quite there yet.

“Then why did you leave?”

With a heavy sigh, you slump back against the footboard, taking a seat next to him. “I know. I’m sorry. I panicked when I woke up,” you explain. “I just-… I had to end it, you know?”

Dean’s brow raises with understanding. Oh.

“You broke up with him?”

You nod, swallowing. It hasn’t exactly been a fun day for you, either.

“I went to his hotel, but he’d already checked out. So, I went to the airport, but his flight was gone too,” you tell him. “I wanted to call you, but I forgot to charge my phone. My battery was dead.”

Dammit. Of course Sam was right.

“And, uhm, that’s when I bought a ticket and flew there.”

“You flew to Michigan?!”

Well, of all the scenarios that swirled around his head the past twenty-four hours, this hadn’t exactly been one of them. Sure, he’d buy you going after your boyfriend to be with him, but to break up with him?

“Wouldn’t a text done it?”

“Dean!” Gasping, you slap his arm scoldingly. “I know you don’t mean that. Look, I had to, okay? The guy wanted to propose to me, the least I could do is be honest and face him. I didn’t want to start something… new without ending it first, you know? Not that any of this was good, to begin with…”

Dean lifts a brow, pursing his lips. “So, last night wasn’t… good?”

You fix him with a glare. “Not the point, dude!” You shake your head at him. “Look, last night was–… You were–… It was–“

“Magical?” Dean offers with a small, puckish smile.

“Sure,” you relent, smiling internally at his childishness. Or is it cute? “I just meant it wasn’t ideal.”

“Yeah, uhm, I know. I’m sorry. Really. I am,” Dean says and meets your eyes. “So, did you tell him? About… you know?”

You exhale a long sigh. “Well, I didn’t want to. Not because I’m a coward and didn’t want to face the consequences, I just figured I was already cutting a wound. No need to pour salt into it, right?”

“Makes sense,” Dean agrees quietly.

“Yeah, well, that plan kinda went out the window thanks to your artwork on my neck,” you mutter a bit reproachfully, but a small smile still flashes on your lips. You know damn well he made it a point last night to mark you.

“Right, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, too,” he says and clears his throat, but it’s the apology he doesn’t really mean. He’s not even a little bit sorry about that. The only thing he feels sorry for is making you go through all of that.

“Please, like you mean that.” You snort, giggling. Dean clicks his tongue, his cheeks reddening guiltily. “Anyways, that whole thing then led to a five-hour break-up talk.”

“Five hours?!” Dean wildly furrows his brow. “What’s taking so long? I mean, you tell them you don’t love them, and you leave.”

You frown slightly and deadpan, “Right, forgot you’re the relationship expert. Have you ever actually broken up with someone?”

Well… Cassie broke it off with him. Lisa, too. But to be fair, both of those break-ups combined didn’t last more than ten minutes – tops.

“Thought so.” You smirk winningly.

“Alright, congrats. You’re a saint,” Dean huffs jokingly.

“Hardly,” you scoff and find his gaze. “Dean, I still cheated. That’s not a good thing.”

“No, I know. But–“

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you, right?”

Stumped, Dean arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, of course not. Wait, is that something you’re actually worried about? That I would think that?”

You meekly shrug your shoulders, playing with your fingers in your lap. “Well, yeah…”

Dean wets his lips for a brief moment of contemplation before his palm cups the back of your head and pulls you to him for a searing kiss. It’s deep and soft and hungry all the same. Most of all, it’s pure. It feels like the first kiss that isn’t controlled by the craving.

It’s just love now.

“I love you,” Dean says breathlessly as soon as he draws back from your lips, offering you one of his charming smiles full of mischief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I know, alright? Don’t you worry about that.”

You nod and claim his lips again.

“So, uh, what d’you say? Wanna hit Vegas tomorrow? Stop by a chapel?” Dean suggests, causing your brow to raise significantly.

“Oh, you were actually serious about that?”

Dean chuckles. Yeah, he wouldn’t have necessarily believed him either, but it’s still true. He’s not even a little bit afraid of the commitment. In fact, he craves it.

“Yeah, I was. Meant every word I said,” he confirms with a big grin. “You wanna get married? We’ll do it. Hell, anything you want, just tell me, and I make it happen, sweetheart.”

“Huh… Anything?” A tiny smirk curves your lips.

Dean sighs playfully and rolls his eyes. “Jesus, stepped right into that one, didn’t I? So, you wanna get married? What is it? Atlantic City? You know that place is a shithole, right? Even Jersey thinks so…”

“No, Dean, nothing like that.” You laugh, shaking your head with pink cheeks. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure I wanna get married.”

Dean nods, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “Okay, just figured you’d-, you know, since…”

“No, I mean, I would’ve said yes.”

“Huh.” Dean scratches the back of his head a little too anxiously. “Gotta say, kinda hard not to take it the wrong way here.”

You stifle a chuckle. “I promise it’s not that. I’d marry you in a heartbeat, okay? I’m just telling you it’s not a priority. You wanna get married tomorrow, we’ll get married. What d’you want? Elvis? You know they do weddings without him there too, right? I heard they even have a drive-through chapel. We could get married in the Impala.”

Dean blinks at you for a minute before he shakes his head clear. “Okay, first of all, love that idea. Second… you know, maybe you’re right. Let’s slow down a little. I don’t wanna go on a first date with my wife.”

You laugh, nodding. “Kinda my point.”

“Alright, what d’you wanna do, huh? We could look for a place topside, like Sammy and Eileen,” Dean proposes, but you wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t wanna leave the bunker,” you state. “Do you know how much rent we’d pay for a place this size topside?”

Dean chuckles a little. “We could downsize, you know? I mean, it’s just the two of us.”

“Yeah, but where would we play hall ball? Do I need to remind you this place has a bowling alley and a shooting range? I can’t downsize. I’m used to luxury now.”

A deep laugh rumbles through Dean’s chest at that, remembering only more reasons why he loves you – why you’re the one. “Alright, we’ll stay, princess.”

“Look, all I want is to be with you and have fun adventures. We’re pretty good at that, you know?” you tell him with a teasing smile, seeing Dean nod in agreement. “So… how serious were you about me knocking you out and dragging you on a plane?”

Groaning, Dean throws his head back, pounding it softly against the wooden bed frame. “Oh, c’mon! You sure I can’t just knock you up? We do have enough rooms for a couple of ‘em…”

You snort a laugh at his theatrical reaction. “A, I’m sure. And B, how’s that slowing down, huh? Besides, I already booked the tickets. Our plane leaves tomorrow at eight. Pack your bathing suit ‘cause we’re going to Hawaii.”

Slinging your arms around his shoulders, you peck his scruffy cheek, while Dean rubs a palm across his face, but he can hardly hide the smile underneath it, although his heart is fluttering quite nervously.

“Okay, let’s do it, I guess. Better call Sam for a strong spell to knock me out, though.” Dean laughs a little.

“How about we just go to the pharmacy before we pull out the hex bags, huh?” you suggest gently, smiling in amusement. Only a Winchester would propose such a ridiculous thing. “And you also have me by your side, okay? I think it’s about time Dean Winchester joins the mile high club, don’t you?”

Dean purses his lips but can’t stop the smirk from splitting his cheeks. “Well, speaking of–“ He cradles your head and leans closer, gently pushing you down till your back touches the floor and your giggles fill the room. “You left a hickey on my dick. How about I repay the favor?”

Without another word, his lips find yours, and you cave to craving once more. Dean hopes he can satiate it for the rest of his life.

Quite a ride, but we got to our HEA 😜💕 Let me know all your precious thoughts. Feedback is very appreciated!

I've already written a follow-up one-shot for these two and may have been thinking of a Hawaii-themed miniseries (after all, the Winchesters never hunted in that state, so there surely might be something supernatural there 😉)

🚀 Join Patreon for more stories & read ahead on current series

Tag List Pt. 1:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @little-diable @kr804573

[dandelionjack]

have you guys seen the ‘Ms Flood is Anita’ theory going round on reddit and twitter? i’m wary of any kind of theorising now after the ruby parentage rug pull whiplash, but this one looks like it’s got legs. here’s the gist of it:

moffat said he had to “read the s15 finale script” for some reason while he was writing his christmas special. and then he devoted a solid 1/4 of the episode to anita, essentially a tangential one-off character who was in the episode for longer than joy but not mentioned anywhere beforehand. her friendship with the doctor was given major emphasis before she was sent off to work where? the time hotel.

this is ms flood’s suitcase. a LOT of these locations have doors in the time hotel — if she doesn’t have a TARDIS, how could she have travelled to all these places? through the hotel where she spent her life working. Torajii Trains are mentioned in the newspaper Fifteen’s holding when he exits the TARDIS into the hotel lobby at the beginning of the episode.

never seen a TARDIS before?

oh, and Ms Flood is played by Anita Dobson. how’s that for an in-joke? i mean, russell had Susan Twist playing Susan Triad, there’s a precedent for it.

[tournament-of-ninjago]

ROUND 1-2:

keep reading for propaganda!

RACER SEVEN:

she was an npc, programmed to lose the speedway 5 billion forever, but she broke her code and won! and she didn’t stop there. at the end of S12, she entered the real world as a human, renaming herself with the most epic name EVER (blazey hyper speed)!! did you know she was there at Nya’s funeral in S15? she’s the most epic racer EVER and she could totally trash you in any race, mariokart or real life.

KOKO (from the lego ninjago movie):

C’mon man she’s the most awesome mom ever!! People probably give her crap because of garmadon but she’s able to put up with all that AND support her son AND be a warrior all at once! Is that awesome or what?

congrats to koko!

[hirocimacruiser]

2001 All Japan GT Championship Series Skyline GT-R Power, Sprinting

The Japan GT Championship (JGTC) is Japan's most popular race, contested across the country in machines that have been modified based on two-door GT sports cars produced and sold by automakers. Modifications are permitted over a wide range of areas other than the basic monocoque frame, including the engine and suspension layout. Indeed, JGTC cars can be said to be racing machines based on commercially available cars and armed with cutting-edge technology.

He began competing in the JGTC with the Nissan GT-R as his main machine in 1994, when the series began. Since then, for seven seasons, the GT-R has continued to compete against powerhouses like the McLaren F1-GTR, Supra, and NSX, and has produced four series champions, the most for any Japanese manufacturer.

Rivals include machines with mid-mounted engines, and machines with rear-mounted engines to improve weight balance.

Although the sales model is equipped with an in-line 6-cylinder engine, some have been replaced with a lightweight and compact in-line 4-cylinder engine to create a GT vehicle. However, Nissan has dared to stick to the basic layout of the production GT-R, which is equipped with a twin-turbo inline 6-cylinder engine. This is proof that the development team has sufficient confidence in the high potential of the commercially available GT-R.

Nissan introduced the R34 GT-R in this fiercely competitive field in 1999, and it has been very successful. The GT-R's strengths lie in its drivability and reliability. Depending on the course layout and conditions, the GT-R always demonstrated stable fighting power, making it a ``strong machine'' that was sure to take the top spot in the final race. This season's GT-R is still strong. What's more, his off-season development has paid off, and in addition to his previous strength, he has also begun to demonstrate speed that exceeds his rivals. Although he has won only once, the victory he recorded in the 4th race was a complete 1-2 finish. It was a victory.

As of the end of the fifth round of the series, the GT-R's Krumm and Tanaka are firmly in second place in the battle for series points. The GT-R will rush forward as one, aiming for its fifth series championship.

Furthermore, Nissan's strength in the JGTC is not limited to the GT500 class, where the GT-R competes. Nissan enters the S15 Silvia in the GT300 class, and with two wins out of five races this season, Oyagi and Aoki's Silvia is at the top of the series points. In Round 4, the Silvia also achieved a 1-2 finish in the GT300 class, and together with the GT-R, achieved a remarkable feat of 1-2 finishes in two classes. At present, it has completely dominated the series, and is truly demonstrating the power of Nissan's technological capabilities. There are two races left in the series. Nissan's advance is accelerating.

[south-park-polls]

South Park Song Tournament

You and Cthulhu - Mysterion Rises (S14 E12)

Out of My Shell - Broadway Bro Down (S15 E11)

[spngirlpolls]

Dean Winchester Hair Tournament

hello and welcome to the dean winchester hair tournament, where you can decide which one of dean's nearly identical haircuts is superior. each poll will last one week. the winners from each poll will be matched up until we have an eventual winner.

here's the breakdown:

POSTED NOW:

ROUND 1: THE EARLY SEASONS SHOWDOWN

short crop (s2-3 military cut) vs spiky pilot episode hair (s1)

ROUND 2: CARVER ERA EXTRAORDINAIRE

demon dean summer of love (s10) vs mark of cain angst + stubble (s10)

ROUND 3: NEW SEASON NEW LOOK

suburbia slick (early s6) vs purgatory fluff (s8 and beyond)

POSTED NOW:

ROUND 4: SPECIAL EPISODE STYLES

untouchables hair vs ken doll dean

ROUND 5: WET BEAST

sailor hair (s9) vs wet hair dean (multiple seasons)

ROUND 6: JENSEN, IS THAT YOU?

the winchesters leading man swoop vs huntercorp dean (s15)

POSTED 8/17:

ROUND 7: DABB ERA ‘DOs

apocalypse world dean vs skinny jeans blowout

ROUND 8: FIRE YOUR BARBER

faux-hawk vs bald

SPECIAL BONUS ROUND: BEST JENSEN LOOKS

happy voting!

[castielsprostate]

(if you’re still doing it) let’s go with different cas eras for fuck, mary, kill:

s4 cas, s7 cas and s15 cas 🤠

SCREAM okay so.

SO.

this one, surprisingly easy: fuck season 4 cas. why? because he 1.) wouldn't hold back, 2.) fucked an angel of the lord in still good graces, 3.) morning after would DEFINITELY be a round 2, and 4) LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!! HES SOOOO MMMMMMM

next

this really depends on like. logistics. so would s15 castiel love me? or is this like, teehee this doesn't matter because i make the rules. because if he DOES love me. wouldn't he just feel the eame happiness and BYE BITCH god damn black ooze everywhere???? because that does complicate things... a lot. we marry, say i do, little kissy, dean takes a photo, sam cries, empty waltzes in STOP THE WEDDING slurp slurp, yknow??? or would he never be truly, fully, happy because his one true love isn't actually me and in 20 years dean homewrecks and sam is crying on the phone and the empty storms inside the house with a banner with WELCOME HOME CHEATER and goes gulp gulp. like???? what am i dealing with here??? i think im gonna go with option two, he'd never be truly happy and we can deal with the rammys of whatever happens 20/30 years from then in.. well. 20/30 years from then <3 marriage!

s7 castiel. you had it rough buddy. kill <3

fuck: s4 cas

kill: s7 cas

marry: s15 cas

[2dkapsddr]

July 26th, 2021 - DDR A20 PLUS, PIU Infinity

HANGOUT DAY!!! Not a lot of scores today since, well, hangout day. but i DID go to round 1 after everyone else left and RIPPED IT on a few charts.

in the ddr corner: failed DEADLOCK on extra stage, tried the new 14, and then got an AMAZING upscore on POSSESSION ESP-17, which was also my first 17 AA!!!! then a smaller yet still neat upscore on PARANOiA (kskst mix)

and in the piu corner: I CLEARED LOVE IS A DANGER ZONE PT.2 FULL S19 SOMEHOW!!!! was NOT expecting to get an A rank (though it was prob just the more lenient pro mode gauge

still, i played 2 more songs (hypnosis S15 and extravaganza S16) and also got A rank clears on them!!! i'm getting good at pump finally!!!!

[guess-that-ship]

S15 Round 1*

Found and long-lost (and doomed)

cw: manipulation, child death, spoilers

Lime is a teenage girl who just watched her older sister die horribly. Seeing how traumatized she is, everyone is quick to pity and comfort her. She gets along with everyone easily, but she forms a special bond with Key, a young man who turns out to be a shady, sketchy liar. Everyone is quick to accuse Key of manipulating Lime and try to get her away from him. But no matter what they say, she can't bring herself to think badly of him. Below Key's dark façade, he's hiding a pathetic weakness that he knows will be the death of him, and yet he genuinely cares for Lime and does his best to protect her.

Things come to a head when one or the other must die. They both insist on sacrificing themselves to protect the other. Lime insists that Key has more useful skills for the group's survival, and Key asks why would anyone send a teenager off to death?

Should Lime survive, she later learns that Key was her biological brother. She's much more hopeful now that she has two siblings watching over her.

Should Key survive instead, he is *furious* and wants to kill everyone. And that's before he finds out Lime was his sister.

Doomed Fairytale

The Knight and the Wizard are childhood friends, who grew up together in the same small village and were each other's first love. The Wizard's home life in particular was, putting it kindly, a mess, falling apart more and more by the day as he struggled to keep everyone together. The Knight did what he could to help his friend, and as they grew they became closer and closer, best friends and lovers in equal measure. But, nothing lasts forever, and they eventually parted on good terms when they realized they were meant for different paths--the Knight left to train with the sword, and the Wizard left to hone his magical prowess.

While they were apart from each other, the Knight flourished, finding great success and acclaim, while the Wizard floundered, struggling under the weight of his own failures and grief. They stayed in touch through letters, and the Knight watched his friend grow angrier and angrier, sadder and sadder, by the day. He feared where this path was taking his dear friend, and so eventually, he set out to speak with the Wizard and find a way to help him. Only, when they met again, the Wizard was far too lost in himself to see the concern as anything but pity, and he lashed out violently and angrily. The two fought, and both were left heartbroken. The Knight left, for good this time. Or so he told himself.

Less than a week later, the Wizard was dead. The news broke what was left in the Knight's heart, and he drowned in the sudden tide of guilt and grief--*it was all his fault.*

*Ship does not have to be romantic.

[tournament-of-ninjago]

ROUND 1-2:

keep reading for propaganda!

VANIA:

My girl got spirit! She’s the princess/queen of shintaro and beloved weirdgirl of all time !!!

RAY & MAYA:

okay so maybe they weren’t around for a decade or more of kai and nya’s lives but that’s because they were forcefully taken away and forced to work. why did they let themselves get taken away? so that their children wouldn’t be harmed. and you can see them try to make up for the lost time in S15 where ray spends all his time in the monastery with kai and maya tries her very best to train nya, even sneaking onboard to make sure her daughter was okay. they can’t rewind time and prevent themselves from being captured, so they did the next best thing.

congrats to vania!

[amour393]

Best Ninjago Season Bracket

[south-park-polls]

South Park Song Tournament: Round 2!

[make sure to follow @votemattrey for more south park related polls!]

Thank you all so much for the engagement you've shown with round one of my tournament! Round 2 will begin tomorrow!

The songs still in the tournament are as follows:

South Park Theme Song

I'm Gonna Make Love to You, Woman - Cartman Gets an Anal Probe (S1 E1)

The Lonely Jew on Christmas - Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo (S1 E9)

Chocolate Salty Balls - Chef's Chocolate Salty Balls (S2 E9)

Underpants Gnomes Work Song - Gnomes (S2 E17)

I Hate You Guys - Jakovasaurs (S3 E4)

Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics (S3 E15)

Carol of the Bells - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics (S3 E15)

Christmas Time in Hell - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics (S3 E15)

Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics (S3 E15)

Merry Fucking Christmas - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics (S3 E15)

O Holy Night - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics (S3 E15)

Fingerbang - Something You Can Do With Your Finger (S4 E8)

Wendy's Audition Song - Something You Can Do With Your Finger (S4 E8)

It's Butters! - Butters' Very Own Episode (S5 E14)

Montage - Asspen (S6 E2)

Sea People and Me - The Simpsons Already Did It (S6 E7)

The Ballad of Lemmiwinks - The Death Camp of Tolerance (S6 E14)

Bleeding Heart Rock Protest Song vs. Pro War Country Song - I'm a Little Bit Country (S7 E4)

Taco Flavoured Kisses - Fat Butt and Pancake Head (S7 E5)

Faith + 1 Album - Christian Rock Hard (S7 E9)

Casa Bonita - Casa Bonita (S7 E11)

French Canada - It's Christmas in Canada (S7 E15)

Let's Fighting Love - Good Times with Weapons (S8 E1)

My Robot Friend - AWESOM-O (S8 E5)

I've Got Some Apples - Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset (S8 E12)

Make It Right - The Death of Eric Cartman (S9 E6)

Love Lost Long Ago - Follow That Egg! (S9 E10)

We Can Live Together - Ginger Kids (S9 E11)

I am the Dawg - Miss Teacher Bangs a Boy (S10 E10)

California Loves the Homeless - Night of the Living Homeless (S11 E7)

Imagination Song - Imaginationland (S11 E10-12)

Canada on Strike - Canada on Strike (S12 E4)

Super Fun Time - Super Fun Time (S12 E7)

You Gotta Do What You Wanna Do - Elementary School Musical

Gay Fish - Fishsticks (S13 E5)

Poker Face - Whale Whores (S13 E11)

Minorities at my Water Park - Pee (S13 E14)

You and Cthulhu - Mysterion Rises (S14 E12)

Work Mexican Work - The Last of the Meheecans (S15 E9)

I'm Not the Poorest Kid in School - The Poor Kid (S15 E4)

Make Bullying Kill Itself - Butterballs (S16 E5)

Jackin' it in San Diego - Butterballs (S16 E5)

I Swear - Cartman Finds Love (S16 E7)

Princess Kenny Theme - A Song of Ass and Fire (S17 E8)

My Bitch Ain't No Hobbit - The Hobbit (S17 E10)

Push (Feeling Good on a Wednesday) - The Cissy (S18 E3)

The Tale of Craig's Mom's Bush - The Magic Bush (S18 E5)

The Yelper Special (Boogers and Cum) - You're Not Yelping (S19 E4)

The Ballad of Tweek and Craig - Tweek x Craig (S19 E6)

Put It Down - Put It Down (S21 E2)

I Love You Social Distancing - The Pandemic Special

Mountain Town - South Park: Biggger, Longer & Uncut

Uncle Fucka - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

It's Easy Mmkay - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

Blame Canada - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

Kyle's Mom's a Bitch - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

What Would Brian Boitano Do - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

Up There - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

La Resistance - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

I Can Change - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

I'm Super - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

We Missed You Randy - South Park: The Streaming Wars

I Got Cred, Bitches - South Park (Not Suitable For Children)

[thegeminisage]

what ARE your bottom 10 supernatural episodes? just out of curiosity. Doesn't have to be a round ten--just take this ask as blanket permission to rant about whatever eps you hated.

this is a great question and i have been wanting to write this post for so long so thank you. i managed to narrow it down to least favorite 15 episodes. it was actually really difficult to rank these. asteriks for buckleming eps; warning for mentions of sexual assault. (i am not including s15 eps on this list because i forgot basically all of s15 and i haven’t gotten back to it on my rewatch yet but rest assured i hate the finale with all my blackened heart.)

#15: 1.08 Bugs - this one is fine actually writing wise like it’s not the best season 1 episode the “monster” was stupid and there was typical supernatural racism but i never mind more sam content. unfortunately i have a deep, paralyzing fear of all things in the bug family. i have only watched this one 2 times - once on my first watch thru, and again when i got my brother and his then-gf to watch it

#14: 14.13 Lebanon - i don’t know about you guys but i feel like i have already covered that topic on this blog :’) nonetheless some things about it do make me nuts in the good way. s4 cas, john/mary reunion, queer i have a family, dean almost showing self esteem. yk. 

#13: 4.13 After School Special - some mixed feelings about this actually. it’s SO nice to see sam and dean as kids/teens, i always love a good colin morgan ep, but i fucking hate high school in media and also the moral of this story seemed to be “ah we ALL had a rough time in school, bullies are just misunderstood!” which like. no they aren’t. die. it just ruins the whole thing for me. also dean being like that about underage girls is disgusting WHO thought that was okay

#12: 8.05 Blood Brother - i have mixed feelings about this one too. like i like benny well enough and i love his and dean’s dynamic but they made sam seem SO UNREASONABLE for being upset dean was hanging out with a vamp when i think after dean’s hissy fit about ruby sam deserved to behead benny on sight. just another case of the narrative ALWAYS agreeing with dean at the expense of the development of other characters and continuity itself. it’s just sam and dean fighting and fighting and fighting and BITCHING at each other constantly which is a lot of what i really loathe about season 8. like i just want both of them to shut up the entire season long. also the fact that like benny let dean kill his gf because she had become ugly and monstrous to him...i feel bad for benny but it made it hard to like him after that. like theeee misogyny. 

#11: 5.12 Swap Meat - if you weren’t in fandom in 2010 you CANNOT know how high the demand for a body swap episode was. everyone wanted to see sam and dean swap bodies and play each other. it would have been hilarious, it had the potential to be sad (imagine dean having to experience sam’s demon blood cravings or sam realizing dean holds his liquor WAY too well). the potential: huge. the fanfics: numerous. and then they give it to us...and it’s sam and the lamest most boring teenager ever to exist. this needless violation of sam’s bodily autonomy (cuz the kid had sex in his body!) to make him the butt of the joke, and a lot of bad unfunny humor (no more poop jokes please god)...all for the kid to get one cool moment where he finishes the exorcism with dean. i don’t want him to get a cool moment because i fucking hate him. what was even the point of any of this. like it’s INSULTING. i’d rather they not made it at all.

#10: 10.09 The Things We Left Behind / &10.10 The Hunter Games - i have a whole tag for how much i hated these episodes.

#9: *12.08 LOTUS - i just think it is SO stupid that we wanted to give lucifer a redemption arc to begin with but ESPECIALLY by having him POSSESS the tr*mp stand-in and have sex with his secretary or whatever like that’s rape on two counts, by possession and by deception. like i don’t think supernatural should attempt political commentary at all ever either and you can tell this season was written with politics in mind. like they were writing it during 2016 and a great deal of it was written after the 2016 election and like. when half your writers room and audience are republicans. it just went over like a lead balloon. particularly fucking hated the clumsy and offensive comparison of the bmol to, like, maga. that was bad. but anyway their shitty half-accidental political commentary (which never addressed the whole genocide issue??? hello???) got started here and this was definitely one of the most cringeworthy episodes. 

#8: 12.05 The One You've Been Waiting For - (warning for discussions of hitler & nazis) i just feel like we shouldn’t be re-animating hitler on supernatural. like i don’t think supernatural has the subtle touch needed to tactfully cover “zombie hitler.” you know like i’m not jewish maybe i’ve got it wrong but that just feels offensively bad to me. if sam and dean had actually been canonically jewish in a way the narrative acknowledged that might have ruled but as it is it’s two non jewish dudes boasting about how cool they are for killing hitler and letting a NAZI walk because they figure the other nazis will kill him. like, holy shit, if you can gun down zombie hitler and pat yourself on the back for being a hero you need to go ahead and take care of the other ones too!!! it was just. so cringeworthy. (edit: i got an ask about this here that link’s to op’s post that covers it much better than i ever could.)

#7: *12.21 There's Something About Mary - i DON’T like how joining the bmol is like, oh it’s a cult, oh you’ll get brainwashed, oh it’s no longer your fault if you do horrible things. people who join maga are innocent victims they didn’t know how bad it was all they wanted was monster genocide which is fine because monsters aren’t real people :) anyway i also don’t like seeing mary tortured needlessly because i stan her, i don’t like seeing ketch at all bc he’s my least favorite spn character and i ESPECIALLY don’t like seeing him smug. the fight scene near the end of that episode fucking rules though. and they also played the family theme in minor chord during the final scene which is like. ok. points made.

#6: *10.21 Dark Dynasty - charlie. and it wasn’t even a good death it was the most contrived forced bullshit...other people have said it better but like. charlie.

#5: 9.05 Dog Dean Afternoon - dean dead ass wanted to fuck that poodle. like i can’t say any more than that. also this episode introduced the FALSE canon that dean is allergic to cats - until now we’ve seen him be around cats many times (3.03, 4.06, 8.08) with NO issue. like dean canonically doesn’t LIKE dogs and he hung out with one/as one this entire episode because nobody in carver’s writing room can be bothered to remember continuity. and then fandom took this as oh dean hates cats because he’s allergic and he likes dogs he would totally adopt that FUCKING DOG FROM 15.19 THAT BUCKLEMING CREATED like this sends me into a blind rage every time. people who like this ep don’t respect herstory and they don’t respect ME

#4: *9.03 I'm No Angel - i don’t want to talk about it we don’t acknowledge 9.03 in this house

#3: 14.17 Game Night / 14.18 Absence - i did quite literally ragequit when mary died and i think it was CRUEL to show her death offscreen and then make us wait a week thinking maybe she survived and then at the end of that week tease her resurrection for the ENTIRE episode after that like...i get that the general audience hated mary but holy shit that was almost as bad as the cas baiting in 15.19. like that’s how 14.18 made me feel. 

#2: 7.08 Season Seven, Time For A Wedding! - the thing i remember most about this episode is that i was watching it live in a chatroom with a group of friends from livejournal. and when sam, a rape survivor in canon, after the huge season-long deal they made of his hell trauma, woke up with no pants tied to a bed for LAUGHS, someone in our group, and actual rape survivor in real life, got triggered and had to stop watching and go outside. like the internet ruined the word triggered but you know?? and like. this was supposed to be funny. i can’t even get mad about like...i have my usual anti-becky agenda but that pales in comparison w/ the insult dealt to sam and rape survivors in general. but it’s funny when it’s a woman and a man, right?!?!?

#1: 9.13 The Purge - i don’t want to talk about this one extensively either but like it’s 40 minutes of fatphobia start to finish and it made me feel REALLY shitty and upset like i felt bad about myself for weeks after it aired and i still haven’t totally warmed up to donna - whenever they show her eating i like her less. the actors in it weren’t even fat donna’s actress was like a very hot and skinny pregnant woman! like it was so toxic and awful. this is the only episode i’ve only seen one time and i’m never EVER watching it again. nicole snyder can die by my hand.

honorable mentions, in chronological order:

*1.13 Route 666 (love and light cassie is great but she alone cannot save this episode this was buckleming’s first and it should have been their last)

3.06 Red Sky At Morning (sam and the gilf)

5.09 The Real Ghostbusters (becky.)

5.11 Sam, Interrupted (i can't even go into it i'd need a whole new post but wow this almost made the bottom 15 list. short version sams anger issues only get brought up when people remember them and also i hate mental hospitals and also the stereotypes in this show are always offensively bad but those were REALLY bad)

6.15 The French Mistake (sorry it’s just too much about the actors like love and light but i don’t care)

*7.05 Shut Up, Dr. Phil (buffy cast WASTED on a fucking BUCKLEMING episode)

8.06 Southern Comfort (i'm from the south and i’m allergic to civil war content if you were from here you’d understand)

*8.15 Man’s Best Friends With Benefits (please ENOUGH bestiality jokes i am NO longer asking like what is WRONG with buckleming)

8.16 Remember The Titans (rick riordian should have written this and then maybe it wouldn't SUCK the disrespect to artemis counts as aphobia i think and i’m only half joking)

8.22 Clip Show (rip sarah, they killed her and for What)

9.08 Rock and a Hard Place (literally what the FUCJ)

*9.09 Holy Terror (rip KEVIN the fact that buckleming killed him and charlie AND eileen...)

9.15 #thinman (boring and a paper-thin metaphor and also not the end i would have wanted for these characters)

10.05 Fan Fiction (sigh. you know)

10.06 Ask Jeeves (STOP making old women grope sam for laughs he is a RAPE SURVIVOR it wasn't funny in 3.06 either. also the bobby backstory in this was extremely unflattering and felt ooc)

11.22 We Happy Few (even jarpad was right to be mad about this one yeah i said it and i’d say it again)

12.14 The Raid (ha ha genocide is fun kids!)

*12.17 The British Invasion (wow i don't care about any of the bmol at all not even mick like rest in pieces you genocidal shithead i can’t believe they had the nerve to put beautiful perfect wonderful eileen in such a bad episode)

12.20 Twigs & Twine & Tasha Banes (THEY KILLED ALICIA??? this is the only yockey episode i don't like i guess nobody’s perfect)

*13.13 Devil’s Bargain (danneel deserved better than to star in buckleming’s lucifer redemption arc fantasy)

*13.18 Bring ‘em Back Alive (SABRIEL QUEERBAIT LMAO)

& all the other buckleming episodes i forgot to list, though unfortunately there are some exceptions

[spn masterpost]

[triffysells]

KHDDD Riku Plush Crochet Pattern

The second entry in my KH character plushie series, Riku KingdomHearts!! (again) (but this time he’s sleepy)

This pattern and the resulting doll was my entry to March Caprice 2021!!

The main parts of this pattern are inspired by SirPurlGrey’s free bunny pattern, found here! This pattern would have been SO impossible without the solid base his work provides, so check him out if you like the style!

MATERIALS:

- crochet hook (I use a F5 3.75mm)

- tapestry needle

- worsted/size 4 yarn (blue, black, skintone, silver, white, yellow, teal recommended) though larger yarn means larger Riku (I use mostly Caron Simply Soft yarn because it’s very soft, but it tends toward a light 4 weight)

- stuffing/polyfill

SKILL LEVEL: intermediate, but I doubt skill level has ever stopped a Riku stan

GLOSSARY:

ch = chain

slst = slip stitch

sc = single crochet

hdc = half double crochet

dc = double crochet

tc = treble crochet

inc = increase (two of the most recent crochet into a single stitch)

dec = decrease (one of the most recent crochet in two stitches, only pulling through after both)

d3c = threecrease (one of the most recent crochet in three stitches, only pulling through after both)

“front of chain” = the V-shaped loops

“back of chain” = the single loop not a part of the V-shape

isc = in the second chain from the hook

HEAD in hair (A) and skin (B) color

 note: your hairline may vary based on the gauge of your stitches - feel free to freeform where you change colors, it doesn’t make THAT big a difference

1. A 6sc on magic ring  (6)

2. A 6inc  (12)

3. A (sc, inc) x 6  (18)

4. A (2sc, inc) x 6  (24)

5. A (3sc, inc) x 6  (30)

6-7. A 10sc, B 9sc, A 11sc  (30)

8. A 8sc, 2inc, B 9sc, A sc, 2inc, 8sc  (34)

9. A 12sc, B 10sc, A 12sc  (34)

10. A 12sc, B 3sc, inc, 2sc, inc, 3sc, A 12sc  (36)

11. A 12sc, B 12sc, A 12sc  (36)

12. A (4sc, dec) x 2, B 4sc, 2dec, 4sc, A (dec, 4sc) x 2  (30)

13. A (3sc, dec) x 2, B 3sc, 2dec, 3sc, dec, A 3sc, dec, 3sc  (24)

14. A (2sc, dec) x 2, B (2sc, dec) x 2, sc, A sc, dec, 2sc, dec  (18)

15. B (sc, dec) x 6  (12)

 slst to finish off, leave a long tail for sewing

BODY in light blue (A), black (B), white (C), and yellow (D)

  For neat color transitions, slst and finish off at the end of Round 7 and every round after

1. A 6sc on magic ring  (6)

2. A 6inc  (12)

3. A (sc, inc) x 6  (18)

4. A (2sc, inc) x 6  (24)

5-6. A sc around  (24)

7. A (4sc, dec) x 4  (20)

8. B (8sc, dec) x 2  (18)

9. (C 7sc, D 2sc) x 2  (18)

10. (C 7sc, D dec) x 2  (16)

11. (C sc, dec, 2sc, dec, D sc) x 2  (12)

 slst and finish off

ARMS (make two) in skin (A) and wristband (B) color

1. A 6sc on magic ring  (6)

2. A (sc, inc) x 3  (9)

3. A sc around, slst and finish off  (9)

4. B dec, 7sc  (8)

5. B slst around, slst and finish off  (8)

6. A sc around  (8)

7. A (2sc, dec) x 2  (6)

 slst to finish off, leave a long tail for sewing

LEGS (make two) in black (A), yellow (B), white (C), and light blue (D)

1. A 6sc on magic ring  (6)

2. A 6inc  (12)

3. A sc, (sc, 2hdc) in next st, (2hdc, sc) in next st, sc 

  this round is left intentionally incomplete, to shape the shoe

 slst and finish off

4. In back loops only, B 2sc, 2dec, 5sc, dec, 3sc, slst and finish off  (13)

5. C 7sc, (d3c) x 2  (9)

6. C 7slst, dec  (8)

7. C sc around, slst and finish off  (8)

8. D sc around  (8)

 slst to finish off, leave a long tail for sewing

HAIR (top) in hair color

1. ch4. Into the back of the chain, 2sc and inc. Turn, into the front, 2sc and inc.  (9)    You should now have an oval. The inc from the back of the chain and first sc into the front are effectively into the same stitch, with the yarn tail pulled under in between them to keep it neat and out of the way.

2. Skip one stitch, (inc, 2sc, inc) x 2  (12)

3. (inc, 3sc, inc, sc) x 2  (16)

4. (sc, inc, 4sc, inc, sc) x 2  (20)

5. (2sc, inc, 5sc, inc, sc) x 2  (24)

6. (3sc, inc, 6sc, inc, sc) x 2  (28)

 Now We’re Into The Spikes Oh No

S1. 3sc, ch9, into the front of the chain isc 2sc, 3hdc, 3dc, then slst onto main hair

S2. sc, ch5, into the back of the chain isc hdc, dc, 2inc, on main hair skip one then slst

S3. Turn the hair over, then onto S2 sc, sc into the closer loop, ch2, turn the hair back rightside, isc sc, then into the already made portion of S3 hdc, dc, slst onto main hair

S4. Turn the hair over, then onto S3 sc, sc into the closer loop, ch3, turn the hair back rightside, isc sc, hdc, dc, inc, on main hair skip one then slst

S5. ch4, into the front of the chain isc sc, hdc, dc, slst onto main hair

S6. ch6, into the front of the chain isc 2sc, 2hdc, dc, slst onto main hair

S7. sc, ch9, into the back of the chain isc 2sc, 3hdc, 3dc, slst onto main hair

S8. sc, ch6, into the front of the chain isc sc, 2hdc, 2dc, slst onto main hair

S9. sc, ch7, into the back of the chain isc sc, 2hdc, 3dc, on main hair skip one then slst

S10. Turn the hair over, then onto S9 4sc, sc into the closer loop, ch1, 2sc into the already made portion of S10, 3hdc, slst onto main hair

S11. sc, ch7, into the front of the chain isc sc, hdc, 4dc, slst onto main hair

S12. sc, ch7, into the back of the chain isc sc, hdc, 4dc, slst onto main hair

S13. sc, ch6, into the front of the chain isc sc, 4hdc, slst onto main hair

S14. Turn the hair over, then onto S13 3sc, sc into the closer loop, ch2, isc sc, 2hdc, dc, inc, on main hair skip one then slst

S15. sc, ch6, into the back of the chain isc sc, 2hdc, 2dc, slst onto main hair and finish off

 Sew together S11 and S12 to make one U shaped spike!

HAIR (bottom) in hair color

1. ch13, isc sc12

2-4. ch1, sc11

S1. ch4, into the front of the chain isc sc, hdc, dc, on main hair skip one then slst

S2. slst, ch5, into the back of the chain isc 2sc, 2hdc, slst onto main hair

S3. ch6, into the back of the chain isc hdc, 2dc, 2tc, on main hair skip two then slst

S4. ch5, into the front of the chain isc 2sc, 2hdc, slst onto main hair

S5. slst, ch4, into the back of the chain isc sc, hdc, dc, on main hair skip one then slst

 ch1, cut, and pull to finish off

ASSEMBLY

I don’t imagine there’s a wrong way to sew parts on, so beginners can relax - as long as it’s attached it’s probably fine??? Just don’t tie any knots until you’re sure you’ve placed the part correctly!! (I know this from experience…) Note that you can add the face details before stuffing so that you can reach the other side to tie any knots better, but I prefer to add the face after so I can use the hair as a guide.

Body: Stuff and attach the head and body! They should have the same number of stitches at their openings, so they can be attached evenly. You can sew partially then finish stuffing if you find you’re having trouble keeping the stuffing in. Make sure the face side of the head matches one of the white sides of the body, not the yellow!

Limbs: Stuff and sew the arms and legs onto the torso; make sure the legs are positioned well to keep Riku sitting up rather than tilting to the front or back!

Hair: Godspeed. The hair is tough to assemble - first sew on the bottom hair (flat piece) on the back of Riku’s head, ensuring the little bottom spikes are positioned to your liking near the back of the head. Then use his bangs and the spikes that frame his face to position the top hair. Sew down whatever spikes you feel are pointing outward too much! You can use the hair colored yarn, or a same-color thread. Just a few knots here or there will secure it well enough.

DETAILS

Face: For the eyes, you can use yarn, thread, or sew on felt or buttons! I embroider with some teal thread, but you could creatively swap for yellow or Dream Eater pink! For the mouth, you can use a little bit of black thread or fray apart some black yarn. You can also add some eyebrows with hair color yarn if you want an expression like angry or sad.

Shoelaces: Riku has his shoelaces wrapped around his shoes! You can mimic this by taking a 12in piece of black yarn and wrapping it around his ankle a few times before tying a bow on top. A longer piece of yarn will allow for more wraps around.

Collar: His big dumb popped collar! You can use black yarn to ch16, isc inc, 13sc, inc, leave a long tail to sew it around his neck

Sigil: Riku is literally a Dream Eater! He turned into one! Wild! Love that for him. You can cut a little Dream Eater sigil out of felt or another fabric and sew it on! With my Rikus, it needs to be about 1/2 inch tall - very small and hard to cut! You could also try to embroider one on with yarn or thread.

Wings: I LOVE designs for Dream Eater Riku that take Rising Wing and his association to Komory Bats to a whole new level. If you also are a being of taste, consider adding some wings to your Riku!

That’s it!! You’ve finished your very own plush Riku doll! He is small and squeezable and snzzzzzz...

If you have any questions about any part of this pattern, you can contact me on my twitter!

————————————————————————

If you want to link/share this post, please do! But if you want a version of this pattern on some other site, please do not repost it. Contact me, and I’ll see if I can work out posting it on wherever else. Thank you!

I make this and all future such character doll patterns free because everyone deserves a little plushie of their fave, but if you wanna support my work you can buy plushies from my Etsy or buy me a coffee! <3

[hannah-deserved-better]

The Union of the Companions Chapter One

Part one of my Dungeons and dragons style four fandom crossover. 

Summary: The land of Faerun is just one of Chuck’s many realities, as is Middle Earth, and Kenshin’s Meiji era Japan. He’s been toying with Kenshin, Drizzt, and Fili, and Kili just like he toys with the Winchesters. Now, as the Winchesters rebel against him, he’s decided to bring them all together for one final showdown. 

This is a dungeons and dragons style story of eight companions traveling Faerun, looking for a way home and encountering many villains.

Pairing: Castiel/Hannah. This will be the only romantic pairing as this fic will focus primarily on platonic love and brotherly love. The characters will be Drizzt Do’Urden, Kenshin Himura, Sam, and Dean Winchester, Castiel, Hannah, and Fili and Kili. 

Fandoms: Rurouni Kenshin, Supernatural, The Hobbit movie verse, The Legend of Drizzt Dark Elf Trilogy by R. A Salvatore

Warnings and tags: fandom typical violence, massacres, blood, and gore. Tags may change as the story progresses as I haven’t planned details for that far ahead. Note that this story does fall within a canon timeline, it is AU. For Supernatural, it takes place shortly after the events of s15 e03 “The Rupture.” For the Hobbit, it takes place after the battle of the five armies except for an alternate ending in which Fili and Kili survive. For Drizzt, it takes place during the early events of the book “Sojourn,” and for Kenshin, it takes place after his fight with Shishio in season two of the anime. Although for Kenshin, this will be a blend of the anime and the live-action movie trilogy.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948202/chapters/73718643

FFN Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13837115/1/The-Union-of-the-Companions-The-Eight-Companions-of-Faerun

Chapter One

“How long will they pursue me, Guenhwyvar?” Drizzt lamented as he peered down into the ravine to see the small band of adventurers who had been on his trail for days. No matter how he tried to evade them, they pursued him, spurred on mostly by a large burly human and his dog.

That human wanted revenge on Drizzt for their encounter which had ended the life of one of the man’s dogs, and had left him without an ear. Drizzt hadn’t wanted to hurt him, and it pained him to have to kill such a loyal companion. After all, where would he be without Guenhwyvar? His faithful black panther had stayed at his side and accepted him where no other had. 

But the human had left him with no choice. He’d been cornered, and forced to defend himself. His need for acceptance and his distaste for violence hadn’t yet extended to the idea that he should sacrifice himself to such principals. 

After all, he’d avenged the bloody murder of the farming family, a murder scene that he still couldn’t get out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the terrible slaughter, the children dead in their beds.  

As Drizzt stood on the lip of the ravine, peering down at the humans, shrouded from their view by a copse of trees, he imagined himself being accepted by them. If only they could see past his drow heritage. Belwar the gnome could attest to that. Of course, it would help if Drizzt could speak their language.

The sun was beginning to set and Drizzt was getting tired. He was still wounded from the barghests. His chest ached, although the bite of pain was less than it had been before. He was healing, but he continued to walk with a limp. 

“Let’s find a secure place for the night,” Drizzt said to his panther companion as he struggled towards the mountains, searching for a cave. When he rounded the sheer cliff and came upon a thick growth of trees, he saw a twinkle down by the trees. Kneeling, he picked up a thick blade laying in the grass. It was broken in two, but the hilt bore a strange insignia, and the design was reminiscent of a goblin.

Looking further, Drizzt saw what seemed to be blood smeared in the grass. With a frown, he exchanged a glance with Guenhwyvar before getting to his feet and putting a hand on the hilt of his one remaining scimitar, moving slowly into the forested grove, cautious and alert. 

He ventured further into the forest, the trees dimming the light above. He walked a few feet until he came to a small clearing, and there, he discovered a travesty. Bodies were scattered everywhere, spears impaling some corpses, and others were hacked to bits. Drizzt counted about six prone bodies.

Upon closer inspection, Drizzt discovered that they were elves. Four females and two males. The image brought up haunting memories. The last time he had witnessed such a sight was after his own kind had murdered and massacred an entire village of surface elves. Drizzt squeezed his eyes closed, silently praying to any gods or goddesses who were just, that this was not the work of his kin. 

He opened his eyes, steeling himself, and examined the torn bodies, looking for the telltale sign of drow weapons. There would be the slashing wounds caused by swords of the Underdark, and crossbow bolts. There certainly would have been a priestess in the party, so Drizzt looked for signs of enchantments.

He let out a sigh of relief upon finding no signs of such weapons. The bodies were surrounding the remains of a campfire. A few feet away lay an overturned cart and two dead horses.

“Traders, perhaps,” Drizzt murmured to himself. He wasn’t sure what kind of creatures could have caused this atrocity. He was unfamiliar with the creatures of the surface world. He thought perhaps they could be gnolls or goblins, as he recognized the spears. But he couldn’t be sure. One thing he did know is that he would have to remain in the region for longer than he had hoped if he was going to ensure that nothing threatened this village.

The villagers may hate him and they may blame him for their recent calamities, but Drizzt bore them no ill will, and he was determined that before he could leave the region and search for a new home and possible acceptance, he would have to find the killers of these magnificent elves, his cousins.

Drizzt had hoped that he would meet elves upon coming to the surface. He’d been curious about them ever since the massacre more than ten years ago now. They were slender, agile, light on their feet, with ears shaped like his. The only thing that differed was Drizzt’s dark skin and white flowing hair. 

And indeed, one of the members of the party currently chasing him was an elf. Drizzt longed to make contact with him, talk to him. But he did not dare get close. He knew his pursuers were likely after his life, spurred on by hate and a need for revenge over the massacre they assumed he had caused. 

But here, strewn across the forest floor, were more of his elven kin. Silenced forever by some unseen foe. Drizzt promised to himself that he would avenge them. One way or another. Silently, he slipped away and further into the forest, searching for tracks that could lead him to his new enemies.

**

Chuck watched as Drizzt set about burying the bodies of the slain elves and then limped off in search of shelter. The smug deity smirked. There were only a few of his worlds left. He thought he should be upset at all his failed projects, but this was all the Winchesters’ fault, after all. 

He’d saved the last couple of worlds because they were his favorites. The drow elf experiencing the surface world for the first time, the samurai who vowed never to kill again, the dwarf brothers who followed their uncle into battle and saw more than they were prepared to, and of course, those pesky Winchesters. They’d always been his favorites. 

But lately, his favorite creations were causing him far too much grief. He was the writer after all, and they were only his creations. How dare they try to control themselves? He had ultimate control. 

As he wandered through the woods, he wondered where the story should take him next. Juggling this many projects at once was challenging, even for a god. He had been indifferent to all the others, but these last few were the most challenging, with characters as willful as these. Writing was hard after all. And Amara was being a total bitch to him. Well, he hadn’t bothered to tell her of these other projects that he’d kept. He fully planned to get around to destroying even these last few worlds, but he wanted them all to go out with a bang. 

Then, just as it always had, inspiration struck. He grinned as the idea came to him. Maybe instead of juggling these projects separately, he’d put them all together! But that would take some major planning. There would need to be a plot, a setting, and of course, plenty of conflicts. But it could work. When he glanced around at this world, he couldn’t think of a better setting for his master plot. The world of Faerun was certainly one of his masterpieces. He’d created the entire reality just so he could watch his favorite pet in this particular reality- Drizzt. Unlike Sam and Dean, who were a constant thorn in his side, Drizzt wasn’t even aware of his existence. Sure he knew of all the other gods and goddesses who had stepped in to help him with this place, but he didn’t know that he was simply a playing piece on Chuck’s massive chessboard. And he certainly didn’t know how many chess boards Chuck had.

Well, maybe now was a perfect chance for his favorites to meet each other. Chuck rubbed his hands together as he set about putting everything together Prepping this world for the others would be quick work for a god, but it still took perfect planning.