#spn it’s page 10

[skaterflz]

we all collectively know what page on ao3 where the fics become traumatic right?

[seasononesam]

supernatural meme: (1/9) relationships | sam and ruby 

Why are you following me? I'm interested in you. Why? Because you're tall. I love a tall man. And then there's the whole antichrist thing.

[stupidirl]

Hello supernatural fandom ! I just started supernatural and I am currently on season 3. I've been struggling with finding a topic for my bachelor in media science (Medienwissenschaft). I had an idea to analyse the depiction of masculinity (in Sam and Dean), which has been done a lot, but I thought I could compare Season 1 and the last, most recent one, to see if the depiction has changed. Now I haven't seen the last season yet and don't want to spoil it, if it's not worth it, so my question: is there even any change ? (Things like: do they show more emotions, are they less closed off and is Dean less of a womaniser?) I'm curious and appreciate any input! Thanks :)

[girl-bateman]

How does one get assigned as sam coded / dean coded ? Do I need a doctors note ? A psych evaluation perhaps ?

[wishbonedean]

oh shit, am i going to write a fanfiction again? It's been like 10 years, what is happening to me?

[stargazedwinchester]

Peace | Sam

This is a rewrite of a 10 (yes TEN) year old imagine I wrote back in 2014. If you find the original PLEASE don't tell me, it's horrifically cringy and I have missed writing so bad so I think doing a few of these rewrites will get me out of my slump so I can rejoin the SPN community again <3

I'm so Sam starved it's UNREAL lol!!!!!

I'll start a masterlist for my rewrites, the link will also be on my page :)

Word count: 702

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

These sombre, late October mornings make it almost impossible to wake up as early as you need to be, but sleeping next to Sam makes it even more so.

The wind whistles and blows excessively through the small crack in the window and the motel room is exceptionally smaller than the ones you had been in before, so trying to sleep next to a 6’5 man makes you feel very clammy.

Although you can’t get much sleep nowadays, watching Sam is your favourite pass time. His features remain calm. At peace. Which is out of character for him recently. Being able to witness Sam that tranquil is the best thing you could observe up close.

You had been sharing beds together the past few nights, since Dean snores like a Bulldog with a blocked nose. And the fact that the motels you have been travelling to haven’t had 3 rooms spare at all. The amount of times that Sam has offered to sleep with Dean or even sleep in the armchair is ridiculous, so you had to tell him it’s okay to share a bed together. He insisted, but had eventually given up because he couldn’t get comfy enough in the armchair.

You quietly lay yourself back down so you are eye level with Sam. His breathing is light, but obvious that he’s in a deep sleep. His shoulders rise and fall, a hand tucked underneath his head.

You’ve been on the road with the brothers for quite some time. This started off as doing a favour for them saving you, then them returning the favour for saving them, then… it eventually lead up to you travelling with them and never leaving their side. You all got along surprisingly well after the first encounter you endured. Dean was more than willing to end your suffering after assuming you were in with the bad guys, but after some convincing from Sam, he let you go. It only took one more run in for them to accept your help for their hunt.

You like watching him sleep. The experiences they shared in their daily lives must be exhausting. They both had admitted they’ve done this since they were young, their father forcing them to move city to city every other week because he had an enormous case he was attempting to solve. They spared you the details but admitted that their father passed to save Dean's life. It was heartwarming hearing that, but the rest just makes you feel parental guilt toward them.

You remove the strands of hair that laid astray in front of his face. Not helping yourself, you grazed Sam’s cheek, caressing with your thumb.

Sam groans, his eyes squinting tiredly.

“Morning,” you whisper, a small grin appearing on your face. He smiles back. “What time is it?” He raises his arm up and stretches, exposing his bare chest. His tattoo peaks through the sheet and you can’t help but admire his upper torso. The veins leading up from his hand to his arm are prominent against the early Texas sun.

“It’s six.” You reply, lauding at his features and how they correlate together with the sunlight. He’s gorgeous, obviously, but right now… it’s more obvious than ever. He groans again, pulling the sheets over his face. You giggle, pulling them away. He glances into your eyes, and you stare back. You can’t help but feel a certain way about him. Ever since laying eyes on him when you first met him, you knew he was different. And the way he’s looking at you now makes you feel different.

Sam observes your face, moving down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He licks his own lips and pauses. “What?” You ask gently, your heart warming at the thought of what’s about to happen. Your cheeks flush crimson as he smirks. “Can I kiss you?” He uttered, and you nod. You move forward and place your hand on his shoulder, moving your hand down to his bicep. Your lips barely touch before you could taste him, your heart fluttering and your stomach turning. He hesitates, but then pulls you in carefully but passionately.

This morning couldn’t get any better.

[midnightsilver]

👻😱🎨 The Eldritch Reverse Bang is here! 🎨😱👻

Artist sign ups are now OPEN for the Spn Eldritch Reverse Bang 🎉

➡️ What is a reverse bang? A Reverse Bang is where an artist creates a new piece of art about a set topic, and then submits the artwork to the bang by a given deadline. All the art will be displayed anonymously. On claims day, Authors will choose a piece of art to write a story for. The story and art work will then be revealed to the public on a set posting date. 🙌😄 and we all get to enjoy the awesomeness 😁

➡️ What does Eldritch mean? Eldritch means weird, eerie, strange, or unnatural, especially in a way that inspires fear. Think classic horror, cryptids, dark gods, psychological terror and the stuff of nightmares 😁. You can find out more on the LJ Spn Eldritch Bang page.

➡️ Who can take part? A reverse bang is open to artists and authors of all levels and experiences. Art can be traditional or digital, including creative manips and video edits but it must be your own - no AI. The bang is open to all pairings or Gen works for Spn or Spn RPF ideas, however the focus must be on the spooky/horror aspect, and works can’t include underage sexual situations. You can find the full list of rules and FAQs on LJ.

➡️ What is the schedule? Artist sign ups are now open! Hurry and sign up and begin work on your art! 😁. Submission are due 10 Dec, author sign ups close 16 Dec, Claims take place 20 Dec, posting begins from 1 Apr 2025 (dates correct at the time of writing but keep an eye on the bang page or discord for more information)

🎉➡️ I’m already convinced 🙌😁 How do I sign up? If you have an LJ account go to the ‘Eldritch Reverse Bang Is Open Post’ on LJ and leave a comment under the post, providing an email address and confirming you have read the rules. Don’t have an LJ account? Don’t worry, I got ya. Send an email to spneldritchbang@gmail.com saying you would like to sign up as an artist (or author) and confirming you have read the rules. Then come join the Eldritch discord, as that will be the easiest way to get bang information and keep in contact with other bang participants.

👻😄 Well?! What are you waiting for? Run don’t walk!! 😁

[spnscripthunt-inactive]

We're doing our last fundraiser for RIP Medical Debt and our goal is to raise $5,000 so we can erase $500,000 in medical debt here in the USA.

Just one $10 raffle entry erases $1,000 in medical debt with no tax burden to the recipient.

If you want the John Oliver segment to explain how this works:

All the details, including direct donation links to RIP and the link to submit your receipt to enter the raffle:

Raffle closes on November 5, 2023 at 11:59pm (EST)

Update 11/02/2023 @ 6:14 PM (Eastern): "$7,179.50 of $5,000 goal"

We added a separate tier of X-Files scripts and added a question on the Google form so we can pull those entries out for a separate drawing:

2X05 Duane Barry (Blue)

2X25 Anasazi (White-Full)

4X05 The Field Where I Died (White; Blue-Pages only)

4X14 Leonard Betts (Salmon-Pgs; 2nd Blue-Pages only)

5ABX19 Folie a Deux (Blue-Full)

🚨FOUR MORE RAFFLE PRIZES ADDED🚨

Supernatural: the complete blu-ray box set, donated by HanmeiCui (Twitter)

12.19 "The Future" (pink draft) signed by Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins donated by Kreespa (YouTube)

Curse Box (7.5") made by @thegreencooler

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done essay collection donated by @fangasmspn and signed by J2M, Gil McKinney, and Meg Donnelly.

Necklace made by @thegreencooler "Hey, Lunatic" - Amethyst flakes like a shattered bunker wall with a steel Men of Letters pendant. Adjustable: 17.5 - 22 inches.

[mittensmorgul]

Hi everyone! I just need like two minutes of your time.

Have you enjoyed all the scripts that the @spnscripthunt has posted over the last few years? Have you screenshotted them and written meta and made gif sets or just cried over your favorite scenes again? Have you supported the group in any way?

Would you like to OWN one of those scripts, autographed by the stars of Supernatural?

Maybe you miss participating in GISH, doing some wacky fun good in the world and the style of fundraising we learned there-- that many people making small contributions can come together to change lives.

Well, we are down to our last little stack of scripts now, with no new scripts coming on the horizon. This project has been thrilling, and we're trying to send it all off with a bang. We're giving away the final portion of the collection, all signed by the cast and crew, and hopefully doing a little good in a very big way.

We picked RIPMedicalDebt as our final charity, because of the exponential power of increasing how far our donations will go. $10 donated pays of $1,000 of medical debt, free and clear with no tax burden to the recipients! With a small donation, you could literally change someone's life.

We get that folks outside the US might not understand how completely messed up the US healthcare system is, so for some perspective, 65% of people who file for bankruptcy in this country do so directly because of crushing medical debt. We know personally how horrifying the medical insurance system is in this country. One illness, one accident, can be financially devastating. But we can save a few people from having it completely destroy their lives.

We got the idea from John Oliver. This entire episode is eye-opening about debt in the US in general, but the part we're specifically interested it begins around 17 minutes in.

We're already a quarter of the way to our goal! Thank you to everyone who's already donated! What we need now is to spread the word!

If you've spent any time at all enjoying the work we've done, the scripts we've collected and shared with fandom, we're hoping you'll consider sharing our posts widely with anyone who might be interested. Our contact network has been demolished as twitter collapses (and historically the vast majority of our contributors have come from twitter), and we're practically begging just for a signal boost.

All the details on how to donate, and then enter the raffle can be found right here:

You can also see all the prizes we'll be making available, too! And if for some reason you're not interested in a prize and just would like to support the campaign, that's fine too, of course!

(but the prizes are super cool... at least we think so...)

You only have until November 5, 2023 to enter the raffle, and our final group of prizes will unlock when we hit $5000 donated (which could pay off half a million dollars in medical debt!)

Please help us spread the word, and good luck!

[dazai-fan-page]

yall help i started merlin and ik im like 10 years late to the party on most of those shows (spn sherlock dw yknow the ones i mean) but in my defense i was 5-6 in 2014 i doubt i couldda run a very fun blog but the point is im here and i am aware this page is for anime and ill link it back, trust, and i just binged a season of a show that called two dudes each others other half and they kinda have a red/blue color scheme if you squint and one is lanky w/ dark hair the other has light hair and is one lf the best fighters and they bicker so the biggest question i have rn is when tf is arthur gonna find out about merlin of skk whos merlin and whos arthur??

[researchgate]

introductory post [forever wip]

so, I have this blog for like over 5 years now, and I've been on Tumblr for like 10 years (I moved blogs several times lol). Maybe it's time I introduced myself a little.

— you can call me offi

— I'm Jewish

— 23

— language enthusiast but suck at the

— tagging aficionado**

— heterosexual

— I'm not really a radfem, because I think feminism requires activism of some sort, and I honestly am not yet in a place I can do any impactful activism.

— I used to be somewhat known in certain spn circles as a broccoli enthusiast. One of my favorite bloggers made a special gifset for me with broccoli. supernatural truly has a gif for everything.

— I was known in the men's soccer (football) fandom for my tagging system. Or maybe it was also the supernatural fandom? Idr. I love tagging, not just comments but also the content, so I can find it later. I always dreamt of having a navgation page when these were a thing.

DNI: Idrc who interacts, it's not like ppl interact with most of my original posts anyway 🤧

** I do need to edit my tags though

-🎗️-

selected tags [wip]

my posts (all) · asks (all) ·

not feminism (all);

Humor · memes · languages [German · Hebrew · English · French · Arabic]· health and environment · linguistics · supernatural [dean winchester] · harry potter · sports [soccer · women's soccer · men's soccer · ] · guyposting [Jared Celma · Luigi Mangione · men] · personal [uni life] ·

feminism (all):

misogyny · rape · prostitution · pornography · violence against women · violence against girls · men in women's sports · men in female spaces · beauty industry · pedophilia · male degeneracy · awful moids · abortions · reproductive health · medical misogyny · j.k. Rowling other · feminism adjacent

— —

[laf-outloud]

Not to mention all the psuedo-journalists that use every interview with anyone remotely associated with Jensen to ask about him. What was it like working with him? Do you just stand there in awe every time you're in a scene with him? How do you survive being in his Royal Hotness' perfect presence all the time?

Sam highfill and Monica are about to be living their best lives. No more of Monica asking Kale and other Walker actors what Jensen was like for that one week they kinda got to know him, maybe. Sam can stop writing weird random spn pieces that are rehashed from 10 year old articles just so she’ll have an excuse to praise Jensen. At least they won’t have to pretend TW was the best show ever anymore I suppose?

LMAO! How did you know those two were exactly the ones I was referencing? LOL! (...and whoever's in Jensen's back pocket at TVLine - seriously, it's been 24 hours, you can remove his post from the main page.) We also know that Monica will ensure Jensen gets the nomination and win for best actor for the least-respected awards show out there,

[zepskies]

Writer Tag

Thank you so much for tagging me @venus-haze! As always, your responses on this were really interesting and got me thinking about my answers. (Here's the original post.)

So these first questions are geared toward Ao3 stories.

How many works do you have on AO3? 48 and counting.

What's your total AO3 word count? Aw geez. According to the statistics page, 1,022,400.

(But I have more fics listed in Tumblr thanks to headcanons and things not yet posted in Ao3.)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Every Loyalty - (Jon Snow x OC)

And So It Goes - (Butcher x OC)

Never Say Goodbye - (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Break Me Down - (OC Version | Soldier Boy x OC)

Checkerboard - (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! Always. I love getting feedback and engaging with the people who take the time to read my work. 💜

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Ooh, it's gotta be this imagine in SPN fandom: "Sam crosses the line." In which he's in love with Dean's girlfriend.

(Sequel to "You are Dean's one exception.")

What the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Well, most of my stories have happy endings. But probably Never Say Goodbye (Dean W. x Reader). It's a soulmate AU, so very rom-com and fluffy, despite all the drama they went through.

Though I could also say the same of the last story in the Midnight Espresso-verse: In Bad Weather.

Do you write crossovers? No, I don't. I've enjoyed reading a few though.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes, unfortunately lol. It's inevitable for as long as I've been writing though.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh yes lol. I'm a romantic though, so it's often a mix of fluff, straight up romance, occasionally dashed with angst and/or hurt/comfort.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge. (I hope not!)

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope, but I've received solicitations lol.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yeah, when I was a teenager just starting out writing, I used to write with one of my best friends growing up. (We're still good friends to this day.)

What's your all-time favorite ship? That's pretty much impossible. 🤣 It depends on the fandom! Nowadays I tend to write for OCs or reader inserts though.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? Ooof, nothing recent. But I finally finished And So It Goes, which took me 3 years for some reason. 🙃

Though I do have both a Jason Teague x OC series and a Smallville Clark Kent x OC series outlined that realistically, I probably won't get to. 💔

What are your writing strengths? I've been told I'm good at dialogue and keeping canon characters in character, which is always amazing to hear! I try my best.

What are your writing weaknesses? Action scenes and smut scenes are my biggest writing challenges, though I've been told I do a decent job at them. I know I tend to use adverbs a lot lol (I'm trying to curb that).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? So I try to minimize use of this, but, I've gotten critiqued (putting it mildly) on this before for two reasons. Admittedly, I've had to revise myself in certain use cases, but also, there are slang words and phrases in certain Spanish cultures that wouldn't make sense to another Hispanic/Latino culture that doesn't use the word/phrase. So sometimes, it's not that it's wrong grammatically, but that it's slang.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Oh jeezus, probably Chronicles of Narnia fandom when I was like, 10 and brand new to writing. 😂

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? Ooh a tough one. I feel like there are so many! I do have a story I had outline years ago now for Steve Rogers/Captain America back in the MCU fandom (which I've written in before). But that fandom is a bit intimidating. 😂

What's your favorite fic you've written? Also really tough for me. I think it's a tie between two series:

Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Midnight Espresso (Dean W. x Plus-Sized Latina!Reader)

One totally took me by surprise by how much I enjoyed writing the series and the characters (and figuring out how to write Soldier Boy/Ben 😂).

While the other allowed me to be a little more indulgent with myself, writing from my personal experience and my culture.

The responses on both stories have been amazing and incredibly heartwarming. 💗

No pressure tags:

@thatonewriter15 @waywardxwords @impala-dreamer @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @deanwritings @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @kaleldobrev -- and whoever else wants to join! 💜

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 9: Fairytales

||The Prophecy Series||

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Warnings: the usual SPN, language

Episode mapping: Between episode 9 of season 10 "The Things We Left Behind" and episode 10 of season 10 "The Hunter Games"

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

The boys have been really quiet today. I  can hear them whispering every time I pass near the library opening. After they had returned from the case that Castiel needed help with, they had focused all their efforts to find some way to get rid of The Mark. They are trying to keep me away from it and I don't actually have any intention of getting involved in this. But the whispering and the conspiratorial looks are a little annoying. And I'm really bored. It's the middle of December. The holidays are near and I need some distraction to keep me from thinking about my family. So… a couple of days ago, I decided that I'm going to randomly sneak on them, just to annoy them.

They are looking at the screen of Sam's laptop. I see the webpage of a local museum. "We need to figure out a way to get in there. It will not be easy. Those museums have some serious security systems in place. And there is no way we can go in unnoticed in the middle of the day." Sam says. "I can get you in." I say and both of the Winchesters jump from their seats. Sam quickly closes the laptop and looks at me. "I'm serious. I can get you in." I repeat. When no one replies I continue. "I'm not asking why or what or any other question about the specifics… I'm just offering my help." The brothers look at each other, have their private silent conversation. I used to do the same with my sister when we were little. I think we lost this ability a while ago. "Ok." Sam says. "So… where is this museum?" I ask "How far away from here?" "35 miles give or take." Dean answers. "I need exact distance." "37 miles, which is 59.5 kilometers from here." Sam answers this time, quickly realizing the line of my questioning. "What are we talking about? A creature or an artifact?" "You said you are not asking questions…" Sam protests. "An artifact." Dean replies quickly, shrugging his shoulders. "Looking or stealing?" "Stealing." "Do you know where it is?" "Yes. In a private office on the second floor." "Ok…"  My mind is working quickly formulating a plan. I miss this part.  Creating a plan… Doing something… "This should work."

"This should work." Ema says.  I can literally see the wheels in her brain spinning.  She sits in front of Sam's laptop, opens it and starts to type quickly. Then she reaches for the phone in her pocket and dials some number without explaining anything. "How do you plan for us to get in?" Sam asks and she points to the laptop's screen where a page about a Christmas Gala is opened. "Hello! My name is Mariana and I'm a personal assistant of Lady Allina Starcoff." She starts talking to someone on the phone using a perfect Eastern European accent. "She is very interested of your charity and she would like to help about your cause." She is deliberately making some small mistakes while she is speaking.  "A Christmas Gala? Let me check her schedule. Yes. She has no event in this day."  … "Yes." … "We have some security conditions. You understand…" She presses some keys on the keyboard. "I just send you an email." … "Yes… Two. Is that a problem?" … "Ok. That's wonderful. I'll inform her." … "Thank you and good luck with the gala." She ends the call.

"Lady Starcoff will be escorted by her two bodyguards to The Annual Christmas Gala of The Museum of Foreign Art." She announces. "Who, the hell, is Lady Starcoff?" I ask, not getting what exactly is happening. "Lady Allina Starcoff, princess of Moravia, at your service." She curtsies. "Wait a minute! What?" Sam asks with wide eyes. "You are planning to steal the identity of a European royalty? There will be press there. And someone may know her. The Moravian royal family may not be the British one but they are still popular with all their charity work." My jaw drops and I stare at my brother.  What the hell is going on here?  He knows how this princess is.  How?  He looks at me and begins to explain.  "Moravia was a country in Europe that existed in the 9th and 10th century, but its royal family is still around and kinda beloved. Princess Allina was presumed dead for 10 years. Her parents and she were in a car accident when she was little and everyone believed they all died. But then about 12 years ago she reappeared again." "They all died." We both look at Emilia waiting for an explanation. "Allina Starcoff is one of my aliases. And no matter what happens, it should not be burned. So… I'm taking a risk here and I trust you not to do anything to expose me." She looks at us from head to toe. "You will need suits - black. Black shirts. Black ties. Black shoes. All black."

Tonight is the night of The Gala and we are gathered in the library to go over the plan for the last time. We are going to The Gala with Ema's Jeep. She and Sam agreed that it is more appropriate for a royal. That's the first time they have agreed about something and I'm pissed that it's about my Baby. When we arrive at the Gala, one of us will stay with her, the other one will 'walk the perimeter' and then will go to the office and take the book we need. After an hour or two, we will leave and no one will ever know that we took this book. It sounds easy.

"How many bodyguards does a fake Moravian princess need?" I joke.  I'm standing in the library dressed all in black. Sammy just rolls his eyes at my attempt at joking. "Well… It looks like exactly two." Ema's voice sounds behind us and we turn around to face her.  My breath stops in my lungs when I see her.  I'm used to seeing her in grain stained jeans and graphic t-shirts. I have never denied that she is a beautiful woman but now… now she is breathtaking.  She is wearing a long satin dress in a deep green color with thin straps and a long slit going way above her left knee, and I mean way above it, showing her long leg. And high heels shoes.  Fuck me!  How am I supposed to concentrate on the plan tonight when she looks like this? "Dean, stop staring at me like you haven't seen a woman in a dress. And close your mouth before you start drooling all over the floor." Emilia says and passes by me heading to the stairs. "Well… I haven’t seen you in a dress… You look kinda different from what I'm used to…"

Created with Microsoft Designer

The back of the dress is low showing her soft pale skin. Her coppery hair is twisted in an intriked way and gathered in the low of her neck leaving her back completely exposed. I have the strange urge to trail the length of her spine with my fingers… or maybe with my… Wait a minute! Coppery?! Ema’s hair is warm brown… "Your hair…" "Temporary dye…” Sam slaps my shoulder and brings me out of my daze. "Let's go!"

Created with Microsoft Designer

"Are those daggers?" Sam asks through clenched teeth, referring to the embellishments entwined in Ema's hair. We have arrived at the museum and now Emilia is climbing the stairs to the main entrance of the building. There are photographers everywhere and some of the journalists seem to recognize her. She smiles and waves at them assuming the role of a princess without an effort. "No! Those are throwing spikes." She answers while smiling at the cameras barely moving her lips. "I'm not going completely unarmed on an infiltration operation when I don't even know what to expect of it." "Silver?" I ask. "And steel… the rings do not look well with that dress…" She smirks at me. This woman and her blades… It's… kinda sexy… We go inside and Sam is quick to give the invitation to the doorman. I hear Emilia's sharp intake of breath and see her posture stiffening. The man's eyes widen when he sees the name on the invitation and looks at Emilia with adoration. "Milady, thank you for supporting our cause. It means a lot to us." "It means a lot to me too." She smiles at him warmly.  The man clears his throat and then he announces with a slightly trembling voice. "Her royal highness, Allina Starcoff, princess of Moravia." Every single person in the room turns to look at her while she descends the stairs. "Ok boys… Game on…"

We are greeted by an overly excited woman that makes an attempt of curtsying. She starts explaining with too many hand gestures the program for the evening. I had stopped listening to the woman but when I notice Ema's back going tense I start to pay attention to the conversation again. "He is?" Ema's voice is pleasant but I notice the hint of coldness in it. I know this voice. She uses it when she is in soldier mode. "Yes!" The woman answers and her excitement grows with every word. "He arrived about half an hour before you. I hope it's not too awkward for you… But I can't believe we have not just one but two royalties here tonight." After another five minutes the woman leaves us alone in search of the head of the museum so she can introduce him to Emilia. "Do we have a problem?" Sam asks before I can even formulate a question. "No." Emilia says quietly. "Who is this count?" Sam insists. "My ex… sort of…" Before Sam, or me in that matter, can ask any more questions, the woman returns with a bald man and introduces him to Emilia.  They start talking about the museum and the work they do and that is the signal for one of us to leave and get the book. We check the coms that Emilia had given us and I tell Sam to go.  I'm not leaving her out of my sight...  Not when she looks like that...  Not when her ex is here…  Sam looks at me with a 'We need to talk about this later. I know what you are doing'  look and goes to the stairs.

"We have a problem." I hear Sam's voice in my ear. "The b… the artifact is locked with some kind of biometric lock. We will need the director of the museum to open it." Ema is talking with yet another one of The Gala attendees but she looks at me and I understand her without any problem. "Looks like Em can open it." I say to my brother. "Dean, we had talked about this." Sam says. "We don't have a choice, Sammy… It's either her or we need to kidnap the director of the museum in the middle of The Gala…"  He has no other choice but to agree with me and when he appears he stations himself on the other end of the hall. A man approaches the small group gravitating around Ema. "Allina!" I hear him through Ema's com. This must be the count. "I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?" I can hear the venom hidden in his voice. Well… it looks like the separation was not smooth at all. "I'm well." Emilia's reply is polite but drained of any emotions. "How are you? It's really been a while since our last meeting." I can hear that there is more meaning behind their words. Things about the last time they have seen each other that only they know about. "Will you grant me the honor to dance with me?" "It would have been my pleasure, you know I can not refuse you, but unfortunately you will have to excuse me tonight. I'm not in the mood to dance." She curtsies barley and walks away from the group excusing herself. She makes her way to the hallway and Sam and I follow her. "What was that?" I'm quick to ask. "You mean, the hidden language of the court? I hate this part. But let's get that book of yours and get out of here before I'm forced to talk with Anton again." She starts climbing the steps to the second floor and we follow her. When she is on the top of the stairs she glances at Sam and he points her in the right direction. I enter the office after her and close the door. Sam stays down the hallway ready to warn us if someone is approaching. I point the glass library shelf to Ema. "It's the small brown leather one with the strange gold symbol embossed on the spine." She turns her back to me, pulls her phone from her clutch bag, connects it to the lock with a cable and starts typing on the screen. After a minute the phone beeps and the lock clicks open. I approach the shelf but before I can reach she grabs the book. "Incoming." Sam says in my ear. Emilia quickly closes the glass door of the library shelf and turns around bumping into me. We hear the door handle moving and she grabs me by the collar of my jacket and pulls me to her. I instinctively grab her by her waist, pinning her to the shelf behind her. My fingers are digging to her lower back, my other hand on her bare thigh, her leg is wrapped around me, our bodies so close that I can feel every rise and fall of her breasts pressed against me. My mouth is millimeters from the silky skin of her neck. Her skin is hot, her breathing - uneven and shallow.

Created with Microsoft Designer

"Emi…" I breathe out, moving my hand even higher on her thigh. I try to grasp every inch of bare skin I can find. "What are you…" Fuck! I want this woman! Here! Now! The door opens and quickly closes and then opens again. "Look what we have here!" "Fuck!" Ema curses in my ear and her breath causes a shiver to go through my body. "Please, don't do anything stupid. I'll handle him. I can not burn this alias." She pleads. "Isn't that my gorgeous fiancée? With her bodyguard… again!" Now I recognize the voice.  The count.  Anton.  Ema's ex…  Fiancé? Ema gently pushes me away and straightens her dress. "Wait for me outside." She tells me looking straight in my eyes with determination. I straighten my jacket and that's when I realize she had put the book and her phone in my inner pocket. "You have forgotten two really important adjectives there." She says passing around me and strolling to the man. "Ex, and more importantly - fake, fiancée." I stop at the door but do not open it, deciding to remain in the room. "It looks like your poor taste in man has not changed a bit." The man continued speaking. "And I bet yours haven't either. Are you still fucking every pretty servant working for your parents? At least, I can bring mine to events like this…" He grabs her by her waist and pulls her flush against his chests. "You fucking tease… I'm going to show you…" Before I can move to stop him, she is already twisting his arm behind his back, bending him over the desk. "I have tried to be civil with you but I'm done trying." She says in his ear. "We had a business arrangement. And I had told you, from the very beginning, it would be just business. I would have never slept with you and I will never sleep with you. This is not happening! So keep your hands to yourself. And if you ever try to touch me again I'll break your fingers one by one. Are we clear?" He just nods frantically, clearly too scared to speak. "Are… we… clear?" Emilia repeats slowly, emphasizing every word. "Y… Yes." He manages to whisper. Damn! This woman is hot as hell! Emilia releases him and turns to the door. By the look on her face I see she hadn't realized I was still in the room. I just smile at her and open the door for her. She smiles back and walks out of the room.

It took us another hour after we took the book before we had managed to leave The Gala. Despite my interaction with Anton the night was not a total disaster. We have the book and my cover is still intact. "I can't read any of it." Sam says from the passenger seat of my Jeep. "Let me see." Dean says and shifts his eyes from the road to the book in his brother's hands. "Nope. Me neither." "Hm… Interesting…" I look over Sam's shoulder. The two of them turn around looking at me. The irony doesn't escape me. This all ended like it started. "It's some kind of a Slavic dialect. An old one but I can still read it." "Give her the book." Dean command.  Sam hesitates for a long moment but then gives me the book. "How can you read it?" Sam asks "It's close enough to my native language." I realize that I have never told them where I'm from but they also had never asked.  "You still believe this is all just a coincidence?" Dean asks his brother. "It's just legends and fairytales." I tell them while going through the book's pages with adoration. "It's written around 1825. That makes it extremely valuable because of the period. But I don't think you will find the thing you are looking for in it." "Can you translate it anyway?" Sam asks me and when I look at him I see the plea in his expression.  I nod in confirmation.

Chapter 10: Good Morning, Princess >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[onthewaytosomewhere]

First Lines Tag Game

tagged by @typicalopposite - thanks luv 💚

Rules: post the first line(s) of your 10 most recent wips (i did the ten i was last in that actually had a first sentence and not just nonsensical rambling)

Alex Claremont-Diaz has always thought of himself as a bit of an enigma, even before he became a werewolf and opened an all-night coffee shop, Moonlight Coffee. (all night spn coffee shop -dark & cozy)

When Philip sees Alex and Henry under the cake at his wedding, he can’t help but think about another time that Alex was covered in frosting, at least parts of him. (ooops this one is now out of the bag lolz - pip had alex first)

Surprisingly, Liam has never had a one-night stand before, so he’s never needed to learn the proper etiquette for how this is supposed to go. (another liam/pez one night stand series fic)

Henry is, quite frankly, fucked.(that one from the 2 friday ficlets that grew a life of it's own)

Alex is nearly bouncing out of his seat on the plane, and Henry can’t quite figure out why. (firstprince olympics proposal fic)

Henry is a young man, as far as anyone can tell, fair of complexion with his flaxen blond hair, and strong of body. (seeking the (sex) services of a witch)

Alex is on stage at their new regular gig, and well, he can’t seem to take his eyes off the blonde walking the floor, greeting patrons, and helping out behind the bar. (the one where alex is in a cover band and tries to seduce henry through 90s/early 2000s cover songs)

Henry unlocks the doors of his bookshop, Lost in the Pages, just like he does every day, although who knows for how much longer if business doesn’t pick up. (hockey and books)

Henry is absolutely enraged, how Alex could have done this to them is beyond him. (um ... yeah firstprince and that's all ur getting for now)

Alex meets Beatrice Fox the first night he goes to his new favorite bar, he is walking home and almost walks past it, before he decides to walk in. (what to do when ur bffs bro is hot - really just an excuse to write bea & alex as friends and henry a silly boy lolz)

ok it was kinda fun to actually see which were the last 10 i'd been in that actually had first lines and not just a bunch of rambly nonsense lolz

(no-pressure) tag ur it! @adreamareads @tailsbeth-writes @taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie

@duchessdepolignaca03 @sparklepocalypse @kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius @everwitch-magiks

@cricketnationrise @orchidscript @thesleepyskipper @blueeyedgrlwrites @getmehighonmagic

@priincebutt @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @thinkof-england @suseagull04 @porcelainmortal

[senashenta]

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: NC-17 (in future chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: This is my first time writing Destiel OR SPN (though I have written SPN AU in other fandoms) so please bear with me while I get my footing.

Also HH was originally supposed to be like a 10-page one-shot and the next thing I knew it was 79-pages-of-11-pt-Arial-and-counting and I was looking for places to divide it for chapters so. Yeah. This storyline kind of just took over my brain and became a THING.

Top Dean and Bottom Cas which I know is the reverse of how 90% of the fandom writes them, but I am tentatively planning a sequel to HH (depending on how well it does or doesn’t go over) that will flip them around so be patient shhhh.

Cas is younger than Dean in this AU by like… six months. Dean’s official birthday is January 24th, and I used Jimmy Novak’s birthday for Cas, which is July 10th. Since they’re both in the same grade that makes Cas younger. Just accept it and move on.

I have never been to Jacksonville or Florida, so everything contained within this fic is completely fictitious; business names, street names, school names, place names, everything except Jacksonville, Florida itself. :D

ALSO, before anyone corrects me on stuff, I am CANADIAN and I know the CANADIAN high school system/curriculum. I really have very little idea of how the US school system/classes work so like. I’m just making it up as I go. :D;; (Literally how many classes do US high school students have in a day?? Up here it’s FOUR.)

Please excuse my interpretation of jorogumos, I took a LOT of liberties.

Chapter Two will be posted next Friday, if you're into that sort of thing. You can also read this HERE on AO3.

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter One By Senashenta

Dean Winchester crept up the steps of Caspar High School in Jacksonville, Florida, and ducked under the line of police tape that marked off the area, heading for the little tent that had been erected just to the side of the building, near the bushes. The whole scene was theoretically being guarded by the police—but the officer they had left behind was asleep in his police car out front.

Bang up job, Jacksonville P.D.

That aside, Dean was good at his job, so sneaking into a crime scene was no big deal for him, guarded or not. And this was just your basic body check, there wouldn’t be any fighting or anything to wake the cop up—or that was the theory, anyway. (Even if there was, it wouldn’t be his first time being caught and or arrested, either, but they would probably just chalk it up to him being a nosy kid regardless.)

This was the first time his Dad had trusted him enough to drop him in a town to take care of a case alone. Of course, Sam was in Jacksonville with Dean while their Dad headed to Utah to look into a recent spate of killings there, but Sam was pretty much confined to school and the motel on this outing, as per their father’s orders. Still, Dean was going to be keeping a close eye on him: Sam had been known to rabbit in the past and he didn’t want to have to call his Dad and explain that he had lost his little brother (again.)

Now, Dean stealthily unzipped the tent flap and stepped inside, letting it fall closed behind himself.

What he was confronted with when his eyes adjusted to the darkness wasn’t a body so much as a cocoon, an oblong, rounded object the size of a person and wrapped in layers and layers of what looked almost like off-white cheesecloth or gauze. Dean leaned down and tapped at it with his fingers. It was soft, like silk.

Well that would explain why the police hadn’t taken the body away yet; there was no body, per se.

“Let’s see what’s inside you.”

Dean pulled the buck knife out of the back of his jeans, unsheathed it, and got to work cutting the cocoon open. The wrapping, though soft, was tough and sticky, hard to slice through, but eventually he hacked a seam lengthways along the cocoon, at which point he set his knife aside to pull the damned thing open.

Inside was the actual body; male, probably, and curled in on itself, shrivelled and desiccated and dried to a withered husk. At least it didn’t smell. Dean still made a face, even as he released the cocoon and picked up his knife, tucking it away again before exiting the little tent and heading off down the street, making for the motel he and Sam were staying at.

The Seafoam Motel wasn’t exactly high-class, but then none of the places they stayed at ever were. But it had walls and a roof, good locks on the door, it was cheap, and nobody asked too many questions about the occupants of the rooms, and those were all the important things. The Seafoam Motel ticked all the boxes for a financially strapped Hunter—and for his kids, too. Not that you would know it from Sam’s complaining.

At least it had wifi, the kid would have pitched an absolute fit if it hadn’t.

When he got back to the room the door was predictably locked (good job, Sammy), and Dean banged on it a couple of times, calling out, “Sammy, it’s me, open the door!”

After a moment of silence there was the sound of the chain lock and deadbolt being unlocked, and then the door was yanked open. Sam stepped aside to let Dean in and then closed and locked the door behind him, just like it had been drilled into him so many times in the past. “What’d you find?”

“Cocoon.”

“Come again?”

“Cocoon.” Dean repeated as he crossed the room, pulling his knife out and setting it on the little kitchenette table, then dropping into one of the rickety chairs. “You know, like the movie? The body was inside it. Wrapped up in this tough, sticky… I don’t know what. But it sure looked a hell of a lot like a cocoon to me.”

Sam was already heading for his laptop. “That gives us a place to start, at least.”

“Oh no, no no.” Dean headed him off at the pass, practically diving over and snatching the computer before Sam could get to it. “You’re not doing research all night, we have freaking school in the morning.” And then, “…I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Yeah, because you care about school.” Sam rolled his eyes and made a grab for the laptop, but Dean held it over his head where he couldn’t reach. “Dean.”

“I care about the girls at school.” He informed his brother with a grin, then added, “and it’s nearly two a.m., we’re going to bed. Research tomorrow. Sleep now. Besides, I have to check out the school some more anyway, just a cocoon isn’t going to give us much.”

Sam grumbled, eventually agreed, but still held his hand out for his computer. Dean deposited the laptop safely into his grasp and then started stripping down, falling into bed once he was in just his boxers and a t-shirt. “Get the lights, Sammy.”

Sam flicked the lights off with a long-suffering sigh.

-- --

Castiel Novak wasn’t having a great first day at Caspar High. He was relatively used to being the New Kid, his father’s job had them moving around a lot so he switched schools on a regular basis, but the hazing at Caspar was particularly mean spirited, he was finding, not to mention the building itself was an absolute maze, and he had been late for literally all of his morning classes simply because he hadn’t been able to find them and no one had been willing to help him out.

Now he was seated in the cafeteria, by himself but surrounded by the rest of the bustling student body, unsure what to really do with himself.

This wasn’t his first time being the New Kid. He and his father moved around a lot for his father’s job and Caspar High was the third school he’d transferred to since September. It was now January. His father promised that the moving would slow down, though; he could see how much it wore on Cas, even if the boy never said anything about it. He was going to start travelling for his seminars, instead, now that he felt Cas was old enough to stay home on his own. So Cas could potentially be at Caspar for a while.

He probably should have been worried about making friends. For most kids his age that would have been top priority, but Cas had always been a little different, and he thought he was fine on his own, if it came down to it, especially considering the first impression he was getting of the other students so far. It figured that the High School he was likely to actually graduate from would turn out to be full of nothing but jerks.

He was also possibly a little jaded from all the moving around he’d done in the past.

For the time being he just dug his lunch—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple and a bottle of water—out of his backpack, unwrapped the sandwich and began to pick little pieces of it off and eat them, rather than taking proper bites as he usually would. He wasn’t really all that hungry, considering there were at least a hundred pairs of eyes on him at the moment.

And then—

“HEY NEW KID!”

When Cas looked up, a basketball was flying at his face and he had no time to duck out of the way—but at the last possible second hands shot out of nowhere, snatching the ball out of the air before it could hit its’ target. Blue eyes blinked, and his head swivelled sideways to take in the stranger that had just saved him from a black eye at the very least.

The guy wasn’t overly tall—probably around Cas’s height, give or take—with short, tousled brown hair. He was sporting a t-shirt and a flannel button-up under a worn black jean jacket. He was also wearing ripped jeans. But Cas was most taken by his eyes, which were a sharp, beautiful forest green. As he watched, the other boy eyed the kid across the cafeteria who had thrown the ball to begin with—then abruptly pitched it back at the offender. The ball slammed into the other kid’s head, sending him flying backward out of his seat and causing laugher to erupt all across the cafeteria.

Then his rescuer just looked down at him for a moment before dropping down to sit next to him, straddling the bench. “They tried that on me my first day here, too. Same thing happened then. You’d think they’d learn.”

“Thank you.” Cas offered with a blink.

“No problem.”

“I’m Castiel.”

“That’s a mouthful. I’m Dean.” And then, “the fact that you’re wearing a tie right now isn’t going to help your popularity. Also,” he reached over to physically pull the tie off Cas’s neck and dropped it on the table in front of them. Cas allowed it, somewhat baffled. “You had it on backwards. Honestly, dude, just wear t-shirts like the rest of us.”

“I can do that.” Cas agreed. He owned t-shirts. He grabbed his tie to stuff it into his backpack. Then he returned to looking at Dean, taking in his features and mannerisms. He was exceedingly good-looking, Cas decided almost absently. At the same time, Dean was looking him over as well, seeming to take stock of him, gaze alert and analytical. Scrutinizing.

Eventually Cas shifted a little and asked, “are you new, too?”

“New-ish.” Dean shrugged, “I transferred in two weeks ago.”

“That’s why you’re nicer than...” Cas trailed off and glanced around the cafeteria.

“Literally everyone else here?” Dean suggested with a laugh.

“I didn’t want to say it, but yes.”

“It gets better. After a few days they forget. They’re dumb like that, the masses.”

“Zombies.”

“Uh,” Dean hesitated, but then allowed, “yeah, sure, kind of.”

“You don’t sound very certain, Dean.”

“Well, Cas, I just think zombies are probably different than in the movies.”

Wait. “Cas?” He called himself ‘Cas’ in his head, but no one ever called him that out loud except his father.

Dean gave him a little amused look, “’Castiel’ is a lot.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“As long as it’s fine with you, that is.”

Cas nodded and offered a smile. “It’s fine with me.”

Dean gave him a little grin back. “Great.”

The rest of lunch hour was spent with Cas actually eating his lunch properly while he talked with Dean and they got to know each other a little. No one else bothered them for the rest of the time they were in the cafeteria, and Cas was hoping he would have at least one of his afternoon classes with Dean, but when they compared their schedules, it sadly wasn’t to be. Cas resigned himself to hazing throughout the day for at least the next week or so—until the rest of the student body moved on.

It was a novelty to talk with someone who overlooked his innate strangeness. Cas was so used to people giving him odd looks that Dean chatting with him as freely as he was now, was… almost baffling. Dean seemed like the kind of guy who could be popular, have tons of friends easily, and instead here he was wasting his time with Cas. It was… weird. Not that Cas was complaining.

When the bell rang to signify the end of lunch hour, Cas was mildly disappointed that their conversation had to end. He shifted in his seat a bit before asking tentatively, “you could sit with me again tomorrow, If you wanted?”

“I’ve already got a spot where I spend lunch hour, usually. Not in here.” Dean replied casually, making Cas wilt a little, then; “but you can join me if you want. Meet me by the gym tomorrow at the start of lunch, okay?”

Cas brightened again, nodding. “Okay.”

“Cool.” Dean stood up and brushed the nonexistent dust off himself with a grin, “then I’ll see you tomorrow, Cas.”

Cas smiled back. “Mm, see you tomorrow.”

He didn’t know where Dean was going, but he was off to calculus class—assuming he could find it.

-- --

“Hey, New Kid.”

Cas was really getting tired of being called that, but at least this time there had been no malice behind it. More curiosity, if anything. He was seated in calculus, having found it with (relative) ease, trying to keep his head down and out of trouble when the voice spoke up from in front of him. He reluctantly lifted his head.

The girl in the seat in front of him was twisted around in her chair to face him, a wide smile on her face. Her hair was the reddest red that Cas thought it could possibly be. She gave him a little wave. “I’m Charlie. What’s your name?”

Cas hesitated before offering, “Castiel. But just Cas is fine.”

“Wow, yeah, ‘Castiel’ is…”

“A lot.” Cas echoed Dean’s words from earlier in the day. He was starting to relax now that Charlie was turning out to be friendly. He sat up a little straighter. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Charlie glanced around, “I know most of the population of his school are jerks, but calculus is a pretty safe class, so you can relax a little. Oh!” She gestured to the side at another girl, “this is Jody,” and then to the boy sitting in the seat beside Cas, “and this is Garth. They’re cool too.”

Jody had short brown hair and dark eyes, and almost a maternal smile; Garth was tall and lanky, kind of goofy looking but gave him a greeting grin that Cas couldn’t help smiling back to. He was definitely feeling more comfortable now, in this class, at least.

“I saw what happened at lunch,” Charlie said, pulling his attention back to her, “Dean Winchester saved you, which, like… what was he even doing in the cafeteria? He always vanishes at lunch time. No one knows where he goes. It’s a mystery.” She wiggled her fingers a little, “he must like you, ‘cause he usually just keeps to himself, or he has since he transferred in, anyway.”

“Mn, he said he was new, too.”

“Yeah, by a couple weeks. No one dares pick on him, though, he’d kick everyone’s asses.”

Cas coughed out a little laugh. “I got that impression.” Then, after a slight hesitation, “he said I could sit with him at lunch tomorrow. So.”

“Ooh, exciting! You’ll have to tell us where he eats lunch, then!” Charlie grinned at him, then rolled her eyes slightly, “aaaaaaall the girls have a crush on him. He’s handsome and mysterious and blah blah blah.”

“You think he’s over-rated.” Jody informed flatly, though her expression was amused.

“Over-rated?” Cas questioned.

“Charlie is gay.” Garth explained. “Like, so gay.”

“So gay.” Charlie agreed.

“Oh.” Cas shrugged. It didn’t bother him. “I’m not entirely straight myself.”

Charlie just grinned. “So you don’t think Dean Winchester is over-rated.”

He cleared his throat and glanced down a little. “He’s not unattractive.”

“Yeaaaah that’s what I thought.”

“I like girls, too, though, I just… I like who I like. I don’t care about their gender.”

“That’s valid.” Charlie gave him a reassuring smile, then just changed the topic entirely; “where’d you move from?”

Cas blinked. “Wichita, Kansas. My Father and I move around a lot for his job… or we did. Now that I’m older I guess he trusts me to stay home alone so he’s going to start travelling instead. So I’m stuck here.”

“It’s not so bad here once you settle in,” Jody reassured him.

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded, “and you’ve got us now, so it’s not like you have no friends.”

“You just have weird friends.” Garth laughed.

Cas couldn’t help the little grin that crept across his own face. He was actually perfectly okay with having weird friends.

-- --

In history class, after calculus, somebody tripped him on his way to his seat and Cas fell flat on his face. The rest of the students laughed. Cas just got back up and continued on, pretending nothing had happened. That was the best way to deal with bullies, he had learned, over his long and sordid history of transferring from school to school. Ignore them until they give up and go away.

Or, alternatively, have Dean Winchester throw a basketball at their face. That apparently worked, too.

In any case, after the incident in history, the rest of the day passed easily enough, until Cas found himself standing outside the school after final bell, just taking deep breaths of the fresh air and looking up at the sky—soaking in the fact that he was free, at least for the rest of the day.

“You going left or right?”

Cas blinked at the familiar voice and turned his attention to Dean, who had come up beside him while he was distracted with the general out-of-doors. He glanced toward the route he had to take to get home. “Right. Why?”

“Me too. I’ll walk with you.”

“Oh. Okay.” And then, “thanks.”

“Don’t gotta thank me. I’m walking that way anyway.” Dean nudged him to get him moving, and Cas headed off with the other boy by his side.

“No, I mean,” Cas waved one hand in an absent sort of gesture, “I mean for earlier. In the cafeteria. You really didn’t have to do that. And one of the girls I was talking to later said you don’t even usually go in the cafeteria, so I just… thanks. For going out of your way. I appreciate it.”

“You were gossiping about me?”

“I—” Cas began, then clapped his mouth shut again and shook his head in a quick negative. When he spoke up once more it was to mutter, “of course not.”

But Dean was already grinning, looking overly amused. “It’s fine, Cas, I’m used to being gossip fodder. What was she saying about me?”

“That all the girls here think you’re handsome.” Cas told him easily, but conveniently left out the part where he agreed with them. There was no sense in telling a guy he’d just met that he was already developing a crush on him, especially when he might be moving again any day. He really wasn’t sure he trusted his father’s promises that they were going to stay put this time. “And that no one knows where you disappear to at lunch time, apparently it’s a big mystery.”

Dean laughed. “Well you’ll know, starting tomorrow.” He pointed out, “you’re still gonna join me, right?”

Cas actually gave him a surprised look. “I didn’t think you actually—”

“—meant it?” Dean finished for him. His smile softened for just a second before returning to his previous jovial expression. “Mmm… I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. And besides, you’re different from all those other assholes, I can tell.”

“I like to think I am, anyway.” Then, “you are, too.”

Dean grinned again. “I think we’re going to be friends, Cas, I really do.”

Cas offered up a smile of his own, “I’d like that, Dean.”

They walked together for a few blocks, until they got to James Street, at which point Cas paused and gestured down it. This was his turn off, he had to walk down James to get to King Street where he lived, and it was… well, the term “sketchy” came to mind. James Street was all run-down houses, broken fences, guard dogs and probably drug dealers. Dean looked down the street, giving it a thorough eyeballing, before declaring—

“Nope!” He gave Cas a little push toward the street, but then followed him, falling into step beside him as they headed down James. “No way are you walking down here by yourself, dude, that’s just asking to get axe-murdered. Or worse.”

“Worse than axe-murdered?”

“Oh, trust me there are so many worse things than being axe-murdered.”

Cas would have to take his word for it. He couldn’t personally think of any, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. For now he was just going over and over in his head how this guy he had just met was walking him all the way home through a dodgy part of town, even though he didn’t have to. His tiny, newborn crush on Dean Winchester was probably growing teeth already, and it hadn’t even been a day.

“When’s your birthday?”

“Huh?” Cas blinked back to reality at the question and actually had to fumble for a response before managing, “July.”

“January.” Dean was paying very close attention to their surroundings while also trying to maintain a conversation and that was obvious. “So I’m older.”

“Only by six months.” Cas pointed out.

“Still counts. Means you have to do what I say.” Dean grinned at him fleetingly, “those’re the rules!”

“I don’t like those rules.” The younger teen gave a token protest. “I think you made those rules up.”

“Possibly, but they’re important.”

“Why?”

“Could save your life one day.”

Cas laughed softly at that, but Dean didn’t, instead falling silent until they were past James Street and out of the sketchy area that Cas had very much walked through unescorted on his way to school that morning. Dean relaxed visibly as soon as they were back to “normal” neighborhoods, his steps easier and his shoulder slouching a little, where they had been tense and taut only a moment before.

Honestly, Cas wasn’t entirely sure what was up with Dean, but clearly something was going on inside his head. He would love to have picked Dean’s brain about it, but he really didn’t think Dean would be up for sharing. Maybe he had an incident in his past, something to do with a neighborhood like James that had him acting like he was now. Cas thought possibly once they got to know each other a little bit more, he might ask, but for now…

“I live on King.” He gestured down the street in question when they neared it, “I really can walk from here, I… um. But thanks. Again.”

Dean’s steps slowed to a stop and he glanced around, as if checking the surrounding neighborhood before deeming it safe. “Okay, Cas. I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Be careful walking that way on your way to school in the morning.”

“I will.” Cas gave him a little smile, “thanks, Dean. See you tomorrow.” Then he turned and headed across the street to King, where his father was likely waiting to hear a rundown of his day.

-- --

Lunch time the next day found Cas nervously waiting outside the gym, half expecting Dean not to show—that it had all been an elaborate prank.

Cas’s morning had gone alright, though, everyone seemed to be steering clear now that it had circulated that Dean Winchester was looking out for him. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, Dean had done to garner his reputation, but whatever it was it had been effective.

“Hey.” A hand clapped into his shoulder and when Cas glanced up, Dean was standing there, “c’mon.”

Cas just stared at him. “You actually came.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean gave him an odd look, then gestured for him to follow and headed into the gym. It was empty right now, except for them, and Cas trailed after Dean as they walked around the side of the bleachers—and Dean ducked into the back of them, then dropped down and settled with his back against the wall. He waved a hand for Cas to join him.

Cas clambered in behind the bleachers as well, taking a seat beside Dean and setting his backpack beside him. “This is where you spend lunch?”

“Yeah. It’s private. Quiet, usually.” Dean shrugged, “I don’t mind you being here, though.”

Cas blinked at that, not quite sure what to say. “I—thanks?”

Dean tossed him a grin. “You don’t have to thank me for everything, Cas.”

But it was the polite thing to do. Cas opened his mouth—then closed it again. After a moment he just shrugged almost awkwardly and dug in his backpack for his lunch, unwrapping his sandwich and beginning to eat. He was so severely unused to having friends that this was difficult for him—socializing. He didn’t really know how to do it.

“Hey, what’s your family like?” Cas glanced over when Dean spoke up. The other boy had his head leaned back against the wall, his hands laced over his stomach and his eyes were staring off somewhere into the middle-distance.

“My family?” Cas swallowed a bite of sandwich and resisted the urge to shrug again. “It’s just me and my Father. He adopted me when I was five, but I don’t remember anything before then. It’s always just been the two of us.”

Dean smiled a little and looked at him. “I’ve got me, and my Dad, and my annoying little brother. But we get by okay.”

So neither of them had Moms. That was interesting. Cas took another bite of his sandwich and asked, “how come you transferred here? Does your Dad move around a lot for work or something?”

“You could say that.” Dean agreed, “what about you?”

“Same.” The younger teen nodded, in-between bites of food, “my Father is a motivational speaker, and he does series of seminars all over the place. The last couple months we were in Kansas, and Oregon before that. Now we’re here.” Another bite of sandwich and he continued, a little muffled, “he says we’re going to stay here, though, now that I’m old enough to stay home on my own. He says he’ll start travelling for his work instead.” A shrug, “I don’t know if I believe him or not.”

“Your Dad lie to you often?”

Cas sighed. “No, it’s just… I think it’s a stretch. That he’s suddenly decided all this.”

“Mm.” Dean seemed sympathetic, though Cas wasn’t entirely sure why. “Sucks that it’s this school that you’d be stuck at, after everything.”

“That’s what I was thinking yesterday.” Cas admitted, balling up the wrap from his lunch and dropping it back in his bag. Then he hesitated before offering, “but then I met you, and… things got better.”

Dean grinned again. “Yeah. I think we’re gonna be good friends, Cas.”

Cas found himself smiling back—and then Dean lifted his arm to run his hand through his hair and Cas’s eyes caught on a tear in the cuff of his jacket. He tilted his head curiously. “What happened to your jacket?”

“Huh?” Dean lowered his arm to peer at the rip. He shrugged. “I don’t even know, honestly, half my stuff has holes in it and I never know where they came from.”

Cas was already digging through his backpack again, and this time came up with a spool of black thread and a needle, much to Dean’s obvious surprise. He waved one hand toward the older boy, “take it off and I’ll fix it for you.”

Of all the ways this lunch hour could have gone, this was not one Dean would have predicted. He looked at Cas almost blankly for a moment, then let his eyes flick down to the other teen’s backpack. It was covered in vibrant patches—a cartoon PB&J sandwich, a pizza box, an LGBTQ flag, angel wings, etc.—all obviously hand-sewn on. And oh. So sewing was a thing with Cas. Okay.

Dean pushed away from the wall just enough to shrug out of his jacket and handed it over, watching curiously as Cas measured out a length of thread, then snapped it off with his teeth, threading the needle and knotting the thread a second later. He was obviously practiced at this particular skill. So was Dean, but for different reasons.

A few minutes of concentration later and Cas was finished with repairing the rip in his jacket, knotting off the thread and snapping it with his teeth again, then tucking the needle and thread away before sheepishly handing the jacket back to Dean.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s much better, right?” He asked almost shyly.

Dean gave him a genuine, grateful smile. “Thanks, Cas. It’s great.”

Cas watched him pull his jacket back on, smiling himself now. “I like to sew. It gives me something to do with my hands when I’m feeling… I don’t know. Antsy, I suppose. Like some people play with pencils or fidget toys, I have a needle and thread…”

Dean was inspecting the newly-sewn spot on his cuff, and looked up with a grin, “I play with knives.” He informed Cas, only half-joking.

Cas, not knowing any better, laughed anyway. “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for… being nice to me. Thanks for this. For… being my friend.”

Dean almost told him he didn’t need to thank him again. Instead he just smiled, almost fond, and said, “you’re welcome, Cas.”

-- --

“What do you mean you’re not going to tell us where Dean Winchester spends lunch hour?”

This was from Charlie, who had one hand clasped to her chest and a positively shocked and scandalized look on her face. The entire thing was an act and Cas knew it, even having only known Charlie for two days. “Charlie.”

“What do you mean you’re not going to tell me where Dean Winchester spends lunch hour?”

“Aaaaaand there it is.” Jody drawled. Garth chuckled.

Cas just smiled apologetically. “It’s kind of a secret. I don’t think he wants people to know.”

Charlie pouted, “you just want him all to yourself, that’s what I think.”

Cas coughed and glanced down at the same time as Garth commented, “as if you care. You couldn’t be less interested in Dean Winchester if you tried, Charlie.”

“Not true!” Charlie insisted, “he is, indeed, a mystery that I am interested in solving! Just… not in, like, a romantic sense. Because ew.” Then she paused before adding, “I mean, objectively I can see where you would find him attractive, Cas, but just… no thanks.”

A soft laugh from Cas, faintly embarrassed. “Sorry, Charlie. I’m still not going to tell you.”

The girl heaved a suffering sigh. “You disappoint me, Castiel Novak.”

Again. “Sorry, Charlie.”

“You are not.”

He wasn’t even a little.

-- --

It became habit that Cas met Dean outside the gym every day at lunch and they spent lunch hour behind the bleachers, talking and laughing and becoming better friends, Cas’s minor crush on Dean growing into a huge monster of one very quickly.

Dean never had anything to eat at lunch and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Cas, though he had thus far neglected to say anything. But the longer he knew Dean and the more time he spent with the other boy the more it bothered him. He wasn’t bringing anything from home, obviously, and never bought anything from the cafeteria, he just sat through lunch hour watching everyone else eat and going hungry himself, scribbling in a battered notebook that he carried in his inside jacket pocket.

And that didn’t sit right with Cas because some days it was obvious Dean was hungry from the way he watched Cas eat out of the corner of his eye. But why he never had food was probably a sensitive subject and Cas didn’t feel he had the right to ask.

He could, however, do something about it.

So the next time Dean plunked himself down on the ground behind the gym bleachers at lunch time, Cas sat down next to him, then swung his backpack around and fished out not one but two sandwiches, each individually wrapped in cling-film. He blinked at Dean and held one out. “Here.”

Dean just stared at him. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“Feeding you.” Cas stated matter-of-factly, and when Dean didn’t immediately take the offered sandwich, he just set it in the older boy’s lap and returned to his bag, digging out two apples and setting one next to Dean’s sandwich. This was followed by a pair of bottles of water. Then he shrugged. “Someone has to do it.”

“But—I—you—this is—”

Cas could sense where this was going. He headed it off at the pass. “It’s not charity, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s as easy to make two sandwiches as it is to make one.” He was already unwrapping his own sandwich, and paused to glance sideways at Dean before taking a bite; “we’re friends and friends help each other out, right?”

“We are, yeah…” Dean continued looking at him rather oddly while he started to eat, like he was having trouble with the idea of someone doing something so nice for him and not wanting anything in return. Eventually, though, he glanced away, as if suddenly shy, and carefully picked up his own sandwich, unwrapping it and taking a huge bite right off the bat. He was obviously starving. Once that was chewed and swallowed, he cleared his throat and offered, “uh… thanks, Cas.”

Cas shrugged again but gave him a smile. “As long as you don’t mind peanut butter and jelly, I don’t mind sharing with you.”

“…I am not eating the apple. Apples belong in pies.”

The next day Cas started bringing him a fruit cup instead. “It’s close to pie.”

“It’s not even.”

Despite his protests, Dean ate it anyway.

-- --

On top of eating lunch together, it had also quickly become habit for Dean to walk Cas home—mostly because he was very suspicious of James Street and that neighborhood in general, and he didn’t want his only friend to be snatched up by some monster, or even a common-place serial killer. A life of being a Hunter’s son had made him more than a little paranoid when it came to things like that.

Usually Cas made it outside first, and just waited around by one of the retaining walls until Dean emerged from the school a few minutes later, at which point they set out. Cas kept telling Dean he really didn’t need to walk him home, and Dean kept doing it anyway.

Because aside from his paranoia, he really did like Cas, and enjoy spending time with him, possibly too much, really—but walking Cas home also got him away from the crappy motel and his annoying little brother for just a little while longer, which was always a bonus. He was a Hunter, and he had a job to do, his dad drilled that into him all the damn time, but he was also not-quite eighteen and needed distraction every now-and-then.

“You’re quiet.” Dean was always quiet when they were walking down James Street. Cas always tried anyway. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking it’s going to rain.”

Cas glanced up. It was severely overcast, with storm clouds overhead and the humidity was through the roof. Dean was probably right. “Yeah, probably.” He agreed. “Hey, do you want to walk all the way to my house today? I could introduce you to my Father, if he’s in. We could hang out.”

Dean flashed him a little smile. “I can’t. I’ve gotta get home to Sammy.”

‘Sammy’ was Dean’s younger brother, thirteen from what Dean had told him, and attending Bedwin Junior High. Bedwin was Caspar’s affiliated Junior High, so if they were around long enough, Sammy—Sam—would go to Caspar as well. Dean seemed to feel that they wouldn’t be around that long, though, which was… disappointing. Upsetting, even.

Cas was used to moving around, himself, and in the beginning he had been young and hadn’t known better, he had made friends wherever he went, and then inevitably had to leave them behind. When he got a little older, he started purposefully avoiding making friends, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of losing them.

Now, at Caspar, he had dropped his guard again, and even if his father kept his word and they didn’t move again, and he was able to stay friends with Charlie, Jody and Garth, Dean… he and his brother were in the same boat as Cas had been in previously. So, Cas had gotten to be friends with Dean without even meaning to, gotten close to him, developed a huge crush on him—though he never let it show—and Dean could be leaving any day. It was only a matter of time, really.

Cas had thought that he had hardened himself to the reality of losing friends, considering how he’d grown up, but the thought of Dean taking off just… put a lump in the pit of his stomach. He really had it bad for the older boy, had since Day One, probably, Charlie was right about that much.

But Dean was funny and smart and so attractive, so of course—

Something heavy slammed into Cas’s back right at that moment, the blow cushioned only by the fact that he was wearing his backpack, and Cas yelped out a startled noise even as he tumbled to the ground, landing roughly on the hard pavement.

Whatever had crashed into him was still on top of him—a person, he thought—and scrabbling at him, one hand holding him down by the chest while the other grabbed at his hair and shoved his head to the side. Then they lunged forward and bit into his neck—Cas gave a sharp cry—and abruptly Dean’s voice shouted something unintelligible and he yanked the person off, flinging them away.

When Cas looked up, the person who had attacked him was standing a few feet away, wiping at his mouth and spitting. Dean was between him and Cas and had a huge buck knife in one hand (where had that come from?), holding it at the ready. When the stranger stopped gagging and lunged toward Dean, Dean braced himself and full-body tackled the man, knife flashing—first silver and then red—as he stabbed it into the man over and over again.

After that onslaught, though, and despite being stabbed several times, the stranger wrenched himself away and took off, fleeing into the oncoming storm.

Dean stood where he was for a moment, heaving, before wiping the knife on his jeans and tucking it into the back of his waistband, where Cas assumed it had come from to begin with. Then he hurried back over to Cas and crouched down, hands hovering uselessly. “Shit, Cas, are you okay?”

Cas brought one hand up to the side of his neck where he had been bitten, wiping there before dropping it again to look almost blankly at the blood on his palm. That was about when it started to rain. Dean reached to help him up, and together they got Cas back to his feet. He actually didn’t feel too bad, all things considered.

Dean was already checking out his neck, ignoring the fact that rain was pouring down on them now. “It doesn’t look too bad. It didn’t get you too deep. Could’ve ripped your throat out, you’re lucky.”

“It—what—he bit me—and—you stabbed him and he didn’t even—"

“Cas,” Dean looked him in the eye, deadly serious, and told him firmly, “that was a vampire.”