#supernatual fic

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 11

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, angst, crack, implied smut, unwanted pregnancy & mentions of abortion, fluff, a break-up, one-sided pining by an idiot

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Here we go... 🤓🍿 By the way, for the assholes who are planning to send me some lecturing ask about this, here’s a lesson for you: I. NEVER. LEARN. Chances are you’re only gonna make it worse, so... Enjoy the drama, babes! 🖤

<< 10 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

11. Glory Days

Sometimes it only takes one little mistake, one drunken decision, to completely ruin your life.

In Y/N’s case, that mistake definitely was sleeping with her best friend’s husband. She paid direly for that error of judgment. And still, the punishment doesn’t seem to be over. Life just loves to screw her.

Oh God, no pun intended…

Groaning loudly, she lets her head fall into her palms as she sits on the cool edge of the dirty bathtub in a motel she calls her home these days and ponders where it all went wrong. Why does it never seem to stop?

“Y/N?”

The young actress startles as she hears the director burst into her room and call for her. Two nights ago, they camped out together by the pool, and it was nice. She’s caught another glimpse of the real Dean, the one that’s hiding underneath all the cynicism and white powder. And she can’t lie – she really likes that guy. That Dean is incredibly smart, quick-witted, and, most surprising of all, kind.

And maybe in another world, another life, Y/N could see something more than a collegial friendship with him. However, she clearly seems to be stuck in the wrong universe.

The bathroom doorknob rattles before being met with resistance, causing her to frown as the director’s voice chimes outside, “Hey, why is it locked?”

“Dean! I’m-… I’m busy here, okay? Why would you just barge into a bathroom that isn’t yours?!”

“Busy, huh?” Y/N can hear his smirk even through the door, her frown only deepening. “Doing some self-love in there, sweetheart? Want some help?”

“No, I’m-… I’m not feeling well,” she splutters and lets a sigh past her lips.

“Oh, uh… you want me to get you something? I can run to the pharmacy,” he offers, and admittedly, it’s the sweetest thing he’s done so far. So sweet, in fact, it cracks her heart a little when she has to push him away.

“No, I’m good. Thanks… Can you-, uhm… can you just leave me alone for a little while, please?” Y/N presses lips and eyes tightly together during the beat of silence, forcing herself not to sob like a baby and make a fucking noise. He won’t leave if she does.

“Yeah, uhm… sure.” He doesn’t have to say a lot for Y/N to know he feels defeated. “Just… I’ll be in my room if you need anything, alright?”

“Okay, thanks, Dean.”

And once she hears his footsteps fade into the distance and the motel room door close again, she releases the sobs she’s been holding in.

Life in paradise was good for a little while. After their cozily intimate sleepover by the pool, everything was perfectly fine and better than ever between the director and the actress – new heights. Then, forty-eight hours later, according to Dean’s clock, Y/N inexplicably withdrew herself. The last two nights, she declined to hang out with him because she wasn’t feeling well. Aside from that, she talks less, she’s quieter and less vivid than usual, and she sticks mostly to herself, even around the other girls.

He may be reading too much into the situation, and she might just really feel under the weather. Women do get moody sometimes, so maybe it’s just that and nothing personal against him. Dean’s noticed mood swings with the other women before as well. So far, he has identified two cycles of the moon and avoids each cluster of pack sisters accordingly whenever the time comes. Still, he wants to make sure he hasn’t accidentally upset Strindberg with his attitude again, so he planned a little bonding trip for them today to get to the bottom of this issue.

It’s sleuthing time.

So, in the early morning hours, Y/N’s knuckles tap on his door as she peeks her pretty head inside his office. “You wanted to see me, boss?”

“Yeah, uh, you wanna go see a venue with me? Cas is MIA, and I could use a second opinion,” Dean explains, offering her an inviting smile. “Pilot’s just around the corner.”

“Sure,” she beams excitedly. “I’d be honored to have a say in the decision-making process.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna have a say, sweetheart. I just need someone to disagree with, so I can clarify my own instincts,” Dean quips and eagerly grabs his leather jacket from the chair, joining her by the door with a cheery smile. A work excuse was the best option to get her to agree to spend time with him. She never says no to more work.

“Oh, uh, of course, boss,” Y/N nods, ever the pleaser. “I’d be happy to do that, too.”

Dean stops inches in front of her and wets his plump lips, a daring smirk shaping into form as he leans closer and pins her in the doorframe, her small body caged in by his strong arms. “What else would you do for me, huh, sweetheart?”

The director’s flirting has become more brazen recently, loving how he always makes her squirm. God, all he wants to do is fuck her, please her, and praise her.

Shit. Maybe that’s why she’s been avoiding him. Dean was under the assumption she’s grown accustomed to his flirtatious nature at this point in their friendship and knows it’s only fun and games, but perhaps he was wrong.

However, Y/N’s easy reply only leaves more question marks behind in his mind. She smirks teasingly and pats his chest, “I’d give you CPR if you overdose. C’mon, tiger, let’s go location scouting!”

“We had a booking cancel at the last minute – Styx. But you didn’t hear it from me,” the vixen event manager in a short skirt and a lot of cleavage gossips with a wink as the pair tours the grand theater Downtown.

“Whoa,” Y/N gasps as her mesmerized eyes roam the theatrical decor of the giant hall, sparkling gold and velvet purple adorning its walls, carved with beautiful and extensive ornaments.

“Good, right? Used to be a porno theater,” Dean adds with a sly grin.

“Well, it must’ve been the golden age of whacking off,” Y/N giggles. “Was it Aztec porn?”

“Mayan, actually,” the event vixen tells her. “This used to be part of the Mayan Revival movement of the 20s.”

“Huh. Did it involve blood sacrifice?” Y/N quips and barely holds in her snort as the vixen shoots her a glare.

“Your girlfriend is quite the comedian,” the woman grits and aims her death stare at him now.

“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend,” Y/N throws in quickly. Too quick. She could hesitate a little, you know? Do the awkward dance with him of who gets to say it, but instead, she even sends him a wink like she’s his fucking wing woman, trying to score him a date with the vixen. No thanks. Why does she never understand that he wants to spend time with her and her alone?

The woman then informs them about the price and excuses herself with great relief, leaving the pair to look around on their own.

“I mean, the place looked great in Indiana Jones,” Y/N notes jokingly.

“What’s the matter with you? You’re here as a benign sounding board,” Dean grunts, feeling strangely attacked. He knows he’s only overreacting because he still doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. He doesn’t like being ignored, and it’s clearly messing with his brain chemistry. “You’re not the director. You don’t have my vision.”

“Fine, calm down.” Y/N only rolls her eyes in amusement over his defensive grumpiness. She knows him too well already, and it doesn’t help to erase the twinge in his heart. “What are you picturing? Tell me about your vision.”

“Well, alright.” Enthusiastically, Dean steps into the center of the huge theater and rubs his palms together, explaining his next vision of pure genius, “So, we’re gonna put the ring right in the middle, get rid of that stage, and change out those shitty ropes we have and make ‘em pink.”

His grin is only getting wider the more he talks about it, close to giddily jumping on the spot. The director is in his element, and it only helps that his muse intently hangs on every word that leaves his lips, an impressed smile and admiring gaze following his movements.

“Now, there’s gonna be people up there-,” he thumbs over his shoulder to the gallery, “-so we’re gonna put a stationary camera up here, maybe add a camera on a jib, moving around... But I’ll leave enough room around the sides of the ring, so I can get in with the handheld, and the audience can feel the struggle, the drama, the victory, the defeat… I mean, this could either feel dinky or it could feel epic, so let’s go big. Let’s make it visceral, let’s make it like a-... a fucking rock show!”

“Dean, this is amazing,” Y/N beams a bright, thousand-watt smile, and his heart is close to detonating when she looks at him like he’s a goddamn genius. The massive effects her tiny bit of admiration and praise can have on his dick are astounding. “This is perfect!”

“Told ya,” Dean winks cockily, but his ears and cheeks are blushing scarlet red, feeling the eagerness of the butterflies rushing through his stomach and conquering his heart. They’re downright somersaulting in there. “Hey, uh, I was thinking since we’re already on the road, why not make a day out of it? Let’s grab some greasy lunch, maybe drive to the pier, see a movie…”

“Dean, I-, uh, I can’t,” Y/N tells him with a remorseful look and chews her lip almost bloody.

Jesus fucking Christ, that woman really knows how to crush a man’s soul. She’s a true heartbreaker, which means she’s completely unaware of her evil spell. They’re the worst kind.

“C’mon, why not? We’re friends, right? You said you liked our friendship,” he reminds her with a playful smile.

His boyish charm coaxes a small giggle out of her, but the reluctance remains, “I do, but–”

“Then, let’s hang out together! I promise it’s not weird. I’m your boss, so I should know, alright?” How did he instantly make this weird again? She’s not supposed to think of him as her goddamn employer. Why the hell does he keep mentioning it? Well, aside from the kinky little fantasy he has buried in the back of his brain… On second thought, that’s probably exactly why he mentioned it. Never mind.

“It’s not that. It’s not about you. I’m just not feeling my best this week, okay? We can do something next week,” Y/N explains, her look pleading with him to just accept her flimsy answer, but he can’t. He’s stubborn like that. “I was actually hoping you could give me tomorrow off?”

“What, why? You can’t just have the day off,” he snaps with a stern brow. Why is she trying to avoid him? What, now she doesn’t even wanna come to the gym anymore? She loves that filthy place, and she never has anything better to do. That woman breathes nothing but work. “Look, I know I said we’re friends, but I can’t just make exceptions for you.”

“It’s something personal I have to deal with, okay? I’m ahead of everyone else, anyway,” Y/N argues with a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna make sure you stay ahead because I’m the fucking director,” Dean barks and scratches the nape of his neck, the crazy thoughts itching his snowed brain. “Is this about me? It is, isn’t it? Look, if you don’t wanna be friends and hang out with me, just fucking say so. Don’t give me some bullshit excuse. I’m a grown man. I can handle rejection, okay? What, you think I’m gonna fire you like some pathetic child?”

“Dean, what? No–”

“Is this because I said I liked you?” he continues his spiral of conspiracy theories, not paying attention to her in the slightest as he starts to pace the theater floor, arms wildly gesturing. “I’m sorry, okay? I think our wires just got crossed… I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I like you as a person, alright? I’m not trying to fuck you or weasel my way into your goddamn pants, sweetheart.”

Oh boy, that’s a lie if he ever heard one. It’s all he does, day and night, but he has a reason for it, you know? And it’s not just plain horniness. He actually likes her personality, which is rare. He usually hates most people, but he supposes hate always comes easier than love.  

“I know that. It’s not–”

“So, this is about the kiss again? I thought we already talked about that shit and were good,” he huffs and shakes his head, feeling at the end of his wits. What else could it be?

“We are,” she reassures him through gritted teeth. Why is she suddenly so angry?

“Then what the hell is going on with you, huh? Why the fuck are you ignoring me and don’t wanna eat lunch with me? It’s just goddamn lunch, Y/N! You always act like I’m such an unbearable monster. I mean, yeah, sometimes I’m a little inappropriate… But still, I’m a pleasant person to be around, okay?! I’m adorable! There’s a lot of people, women specifically, who love spending time with me–”

“OH MY GOD! WOULD YOU SHUT UP?! I’M PREGNANT!”

As the remnants of her sentence echo through the deathly silent theater, his throat closes and cuts off all air supply to his lungs. He gapes at her like a fucking idiot, close to hyperventilating, while Y/N waits patiently for his shock to subside. His heart isn’t racing, though. It’s a steady, strong beat that ticks like a time bomb in his ribcage, the countdown ringing in his ears.

And then, his mind does something incredible. It begins to think about offering to raise the kid with her, conjuring up a perfect, suburban life with a white picket fence. Y/N has zero dollars in her bank account, while Dean owns a small home in Burbank. It’s big enough for three, and he’s certain her bestie’s husband is not going to volunteer for that job. All of a sudden, there’s a warmth spreading in his gut and climbing to his frozen heart, growing and festering around his beating muscle like poison ivy. His right knee also gets the weird urge to bend down.  

“Oh, uhm…,” Dean stumps, which is probably better than proposing on the spot.

“You don’t have to say anythi–”

“Is it mine?”

“Especially that,” Y/N finishes her sentence, mouth agape, her eyebrows drawing together and meeting in the middle – the only possible reaction to a moronic question. “Dean, how-… how could it be yours? We never even… You know that, right?”

Dean runs a palm over his freckled face, barely believing his own stupidity, and squeezes his eyes shut with a pinch of his nose, nodding, “Yeah, yeah, I know… I was just-… never mind.”

As if he needed a damn reminder that he never had sex with her.

“I mean, your kiss was good, but I don’t think you can get women pregnant from it,” she jokes lightheartedly. “Although, as cocky as you are, I can see how you would believe that.”

Dean places his hands on his hips, swaying back and forth on his heels. His mind races, repeating her words over and over. His lips purse before a nervous smile appears, “So… the kiss was good?”

Y/N’s look darkens to an irritated scowl, “Read the room, dude!”

“Right, yeah,” he swallows hard and scratches the scruff on his throat. “So, uhm, the married guy got a shot in?”

Don’t blame him. His social skills end with small talk about the weather. He’s not emotionally equipped for these kinds of conversations.

Folding her arms over her chest, Y/N clicks her tongue and bites the insides of her cheeks in discomfort. “I don’t know. Probably.”

His brow furrows, “Probably?!”

“I-….” She flails her arms helplessly, her pupils wide and gleaming with desperation. “There were two others I was seeing. They all sorta… There was some overlap, okay?”

“Look at you being so slutty,” Dean teases her, broadly smirking. He’s trying to keep the situation light, even though he admittedly feels the jealousy bubbling in his chest. While knowing it’s wrong and misplaced, he can’t help but wish he would’ve gotten a chance with her instead of those three losers. They didn’t even appreciate what treasure, what fucked-up little angel, they held in their filthy palms, or else they’d be here and not him.

“Well, thank you for that,” Y/N mutters with an offended scowl, bitterly tightening the grip of her arms over her chest.

“Wha-… I didn’t mean… I-I was just making a joke, okay? As if I would ever judge you,” Dean frowns. He’s the sluttiest of them all! “Three is nothing. Three is like my weekly ratio.” Nope, that sounds worse. “I mean, it used to be, you know? When I was your age…”

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

Y/N only lets out a long sigh in response, shaking her head at his idiocy before finding his eyes. She prompts, “Ever knocked someone up?”

“Uhm, I-, uh, I’m-,” he splutters and clears his throat a few times, trying to cough up the lump. “Uh, not that I know of, no? I mean, no one ever told me, so… Kinda have that advantage, you know?”

Y/N blows a raspberry, her head in one constant shake at this point. “I really hate your gender,” she tells him then and sounds more defeated than angry.

“Yeah… Yeah, I get that,” Dean admits and rubs his mouth. “So, uh, what are you gonna d–”

“It’s not a big deal, okay? So, let’s not make it one, alright?” Y/N announces.

His head tilts in confusion like a lost puppy’s. “It’s not?”

Y/N hesitates and swallows with a harsh intake of air, eyes stubbornly focusing on her sneakers. “No, it’s not,” she confirms and insecurely meets his gaze. “I-, uhm, I have an appointment tomorrow at ten, so…”

“Oh.”

Honestly, Dean feels nothing but relief, and it’s not because it’s someone else’s goddamn kid. He doesn’t give a shit about that; he would’ve raised that fucker like his own. But he knows the possibility of Y/N quitting the show and disappearing from his life forever is more likely than her playing house with him. The latter was just wishful thinking on his part. The reality is: The show would fall apart without her, and so would he.

“Please don’t try and talk me out of it,” she begs him, a pouty look adorning her features as she roughly bites her lips.

“No, of course not,” Dean quickly assures her and sees her exhale a breath of relief. “I’m fully supporting your choice here, you know? I mean, if I were you, I would’ve already, you know… like yesterday…” God, he really needs to stop blabbering and shut his cakehole. “And you should take the day off tomorrow. No problem. You know what? Take the whole week. You’re perfect, anyways. You’ve trained enough, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I need a whole week,” she says with a smile of amusement. Yeah, Dean would laugh at himself as well if he were her.

“Well, if you want the week, you can have it, okay?” Dean offers her nonetheless. “Ten, right? I’ll drive you. Gonna knock on your door at nine sharp.”

“You don’t have to–”

“No, no, I want to,” he swiftly brushes her concerns away. “You shouldn’t be alone for this, alright? I-… I don’t want you to be alone.”

A grateful smile shapes on her pink lips upon his proposal. It’s cute. “Thank you… Can you just, uhm, not tell anyone? Keep this between us? I haven’t told any of the girls. I don’t want it to get back to, uhm… Jo,” she explains, swallowing nervously.

“Yes, absolutely, sweetheart,” Dean assures her with a firm nod and offers her a warm smile, “This stays right here between us. Just you and me.”

The words inappropriately make his heart flutter – you and me. God, he’s a mess.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, smiling gratefully. She then wraps her arms around his torso and buries her head in his chest, squeezing the oxygen right out of his lungs.

Dear God, his entire body goes rigid. What is this? Is she hugging him? This is a hug, right? What is he supposed to do? Aside from not getting a goddamn boner, of course.

When was the last time he ever genuinely hugged someone? He honestly can’t remember. She’s so warm, and her frame is so small and fits perfectly into his like a matching puzzle piece. Can he hug her back?

He supposes he can and greedily slings his arms around her, one hugging her shoulders and the other hand cupping the back of her head. Then, he even goes one step further and rests his chin on her crown, her lemon coconut shampoo filling his nostrils.

Fuck, this feels fantastic. Can he hug her now all the time? Is this a new development in their friendship? God, he hopes the answer is yes.

“Dean, I-I think you can let go,” she giggles and winds herself out of his embrace.

Oh, he so doesn’t want to but fine. He also doesn’t want to make it weird and risk never receiving these glorious hugs from her again.

“So, uhm, I’ll be here tomorrow at nine, waiting for you, okay?” Dean reassures her for what feels like the millionth time as he slowly kills the engine in the motel parking lot. He’s stalling, doesn’t want her to go just yet.

Y/N smiles softly, “Okay. Thanks, Dean.”

“Dean!” Their heads turn out the windshield, watching Bela rush to the Impala and vividly wave her hands in the air.

Dean sighs deeply and falls back into his seat, wanting to disappear under the floor mat. “Shit… I’m-, I’m gonna break up with her. I’m gonna do it now,” he announces determinedly. If Y/N can master the hardships of life with her head held high, he supposes so can he.

“Uhm, I don’t wanna be here for that, so I’m gonna go, but, uh… good luck. Be nice,” Y/N says and then quickly flees the car, just in time before Bela slides into the passenger’s seat like a game of tag between the women.

Dread immediately spreads through his whole body. He’d rather spend the day with Y/N. They could be at the pier right this minute, waiting for the sunset, waiting for his lips to find hers in the golden glow. Instead, he has to be here and talk to the girlfriend he never wanted. What a waste of a beautiful day. All because that fucking wimp husband couldn’t wear a fucking condom…

It only takes one asshole to ruin the playground for everyone else.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Bela starts with a stern look on her face, all puckered lips and crinkled brow. Oh, how he loves that particular sentence, especially from a woman’s mouth. “I don’t think this is working between us.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna do it for me? Okay.” Honestly, he loves that solution for him. Life is still good sometimes.

“Do what?” Bela’s eyebrows quirk together in question, and he knows he should probably do a better job of hiding his grin.

“Uh… nothing. Please continue, sweetheart,” Dean smiles innocently.

“I just feel like this isn’t working, you know? I don’t think I can do this with you any longer, Dean. You disappear all the time. Donna even thinks she saw you hiding in a bloody locker two days ago, so I’m ending this,” Bela shares her feelings. She looks at him ruefully as if she even has the power or authority to break his plastic heart. He tries not to snort.

“Fantastic,” Dean accidentally lets slip. The fucking coke’s at it again today.

“Fantastic?”

“Yeah, you know,” he nods bravely, trying to remain cool, calm, and collected, “I know you were just fucking me because you wanted shit like-, uhm… a bigger part, or-, uh, or a horse, right? I’ve been around this block before. It’s okay.”

Bela frowns and rolls her eyes, groaning in annoyance. “Dean, I wasn’t shagging you because I want things! You’re so bloody paranoid all the time… I mean, I do want a horse, but that’s not why I was sleeping with you. It’s like I told you after the party – I saw your dating video and thought you were sweet. You’re funny and really, really smart. And handsome and sexy… I really fancied you.”

“Whoa…” Dean’s brow furrows in disbelief while his dick tingles. “Really? You like me?” Well, color him surprised. Maybe he underestimated her a little. Plus, a woman praising him is his goddamn weakness – the cross on his back. Between Y/N hugging him and Bela schmoozing the shit out of him, his blue jeans are getting uncomfortably tight. Fuck, he needs sex right goddamn now.

“Yes,” Bela nods like it’s obvious.

“Okay, can we-, uh, can we just reset, maybe?” Dean suggests with a flirty smile and wiggles his eyebrows, shifting closer to her on the seat.

“Dean!” Bela frowns deeply, shaking her head in irritation. “I’m not some sex robot. You can’t just push a button and reboot me.”

“Look, I’m not good with this stuff. I have a shitty history with women, alright?” Dean bats his eyelashes and shrugs sheepishly, hoping he can smooth things over with the brunette. Just one more time. All he needs is three thrusts max. Promise. “We-, uh, we can go over it if you like, sweetheart. Does that sound like fun, huh?”

“Dean, you don’t actually like me. It won’t work,” Bela rebuffs him and rolls her eyes. He’s just baffled at this point. “Besides, you’re obviously in love with Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, what now?” He’s thoroughly stumped for good, green eyes blinking at her rapidly like the wings of a hummingbird.

“You should tell her. I think she likes you, too,” Bela says her final words, kisses his cheek in a sweet goodbye, and hops out of the Impala, joining a few of the women by the pool.

What the fuck?!

12. The Warrior

Get ready for some really terrible, terrible jokes in the next part. I went all out ‘cause if we’re already here, why the fuck not, right? 😂🤷‍♀️ *throws shit into the fan like it’s confetti*

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad​ @siospins2 @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278​ @xlynnbbyx​ @wayward-dreamer​ @foxyjwls007​ @smellingofpoetry​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​ @ladysparkles78​ @leigh70​ @4getfulimaginator2022​ @globetrotter28​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @deansbbyx​ @yeahmynameiscool06​ @luci-wiggles​ @eevvvaa @darkened-writer​ @mimaria420​ @estelle127

[writethelifeyouwant]

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Welcome to my masterlist for @kinktober2023! I'm not sure I'll get to post something for every day this month, but I am going to be posting as much as I can. This year, all of my Kinktober 2023 content is going to be exclusive to my website subscribers as a thank-you for being the best and having my back this year when things have been rough.

Day 1 - Leather & Latex (Sam Winchester x Reader) Day 2 - Roleplay | Titfucking (Cordell Walker x Stella Walker) Day 3 - Hate Sex (Sam Winchester x Reader) Day 4 - Teratophilia | Rimming | Prostitution Day 5 - Omorashi | Collaring | Sweat Day 6 - Dubcon | Frottage | Chastity Day 7 - Virginity | Waxplay | Stuck in Wall Day 8 - Breeding | Gore | Master & Slave Day 9 - Glory Hole | Lactation | Stripping Day 10 - NTR | Fucking Machine | Praise Kink Day 11 - Petplay | Humiliation | Sensory Deprivation Day 12 - Medical Play | Somnophilia | Costumes Day 13 - Menophilia | Size Difference | Heartbeat Day 14 - Armpit | Orgasm Denial | Cloning & Selfcest Day 15 - Noncon | Shotgunning | Temperature Play Day 16 - DP in One Hole | Gags | Public Day 17 - Threesome / Moresome | Fisting | Vore Day 18 - Body Modification | Spanking | Olfactophilia Day 19 - Uniform | Exhibitionism & Voyeurism | Feet Day 20 - Watersports | Mind Control | Foodplay Day 21 - Panties & Lingerie | Tentacles | Tickling Day 22 - Lolicon & Shotacon | Intercrural Sex | Bondage Day 23 - Collaring | Scat | Deepthroating & Facesitting Day 24 - Sex Toys | Oviposition | Crossdressing Day 25 - Human Furniture | Pregnancy | Edgeplay Day 26 - Masturbation | Grooming | Overstimulation Day 27 - DP In Two Holes | Emeto | S&M Day 28 - Daddy & Mommy | Body Worship | Cockbulge Day 29 - Incest | Breathplay | Feeding/Stuffing Day 30 - Free Use | Overstimulation| Sounding Day 31 - Combo / Free Day

[supernaturalkickparty]

Sam Week has begun!!!!! Day one is - (April 26th): Fusions: your culture, field of study, science, space, favourite music/books, interest, etc, & Sam Winchester

So I've always envisioned a latino supernatural. I've posted about it a few times and about samjess in this au.

This fic is a one shot, it was a labor of love and I'm very happy that I got a chance to write this.

Esta Es Mi Vida

Playlist

Hope y'all enjoy this🖤

[winchesterszvonecek]

Librarian - [ Sam Winchester ]

Summary: You and Sam finally introduce yourselves to one another after he’s been frequenting your library for weeks

Word Count: 1392

Warnings: reader insert - [ was written with a female reader in mind but there is no mention of pronouns/description so it can really be read by any reader ], fluff

Masterlist | Sam Masterlist

You always loved working in the library. You loved the peaceful atmosphere, the smell of new books mixed with that of the old ones. You loved seeing which books people checked out and getting to hear their thoughts about those they’d returned. You loved recommending your own favourites to people and you always got so excited when they returned them with a smile on their face as that usually meant they enjoyed it, something you couldn’t help but puff up with pride over.

But most of all you enjoyed it because you got to see him. That tall, handsome, broad shouldered, brunette guy who’d often come in and sit alone in the corner, flicking through rather old and fragile looking books. You never could quite see just what he was reading but you knew it had to be interesting as he barely ever looked up from the browning pages beneath him.

You didn’t know his name. You’d never spoken to him, never so much as even seen him look back at you, but there was just something about him that you couldn’t quite shake. You knew it from the first day you saw him, and from the next day when you arrived at work dressed a little nicer than you usually did as you secretly wanted to impress him. Wanted him to notice you. But like every other day, this mysterious man never so much as uttered a word. He just sat in his usual spot, flicking away through enough books to start his own library.

It was the same almost every day, until today.

You’d been waiting for him to show up, your chin resting on your hand as you anxiously tapped your nails against the desk. He always arrived at the same time everyday but today he was a little later, something that intrigued you as he struck you as the type of guy with a routine. You were almost about to give up, to go back to sorting the newest additions to your tiny library when the door opened, the bell above it jingling softly as it did.

You didn’t know whether the shiver you felt was from the draught of the mid-autumn air that seeped in or whether it was from the sight of him walking in, but whatever it was, you didn’t care. He was here, only this time… He wasn’t alone.

“Why am I here, Sam?” His friend asked, peeved, as he gestured around him. After all this time you’d seen him, you’d never once heard his name. Sam. He looked like a Sam.

“Because, Dean…” Sam replied gruffly, grabbing Dean by the arm and dragging him towards his usual table that was tucked away in the corner. You couldn’t help the feeling you got over his voice. His deep, smooth voice that you could listen to for hours if he’d let you. “I’m sick of doing research by myself.”

“What are you talking about? You love research.” Dean protested, shaking his arm from Sam’s hold as you raised your eyebrow at his words. Research? You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of research he could be doing, especially when you’d taken a little peek at the books he’d returned yesterday and noticed they were all related to the supernatural.

You straightened, subtly fixing your hair as you began to busy yourself, stealing looks towards the two men in the corner of the room. The men you couldn’t help but think were brothers now, given the way they kept bickering towards one another, something that you couldn’t help but chuckle quietly over as you scanned new books into the system.

You were so deep into your own thoughts, one’s that may or may not have involved Sam, that you hadn’t even heard him approach the desk, not until you turned around and spotted him, his sudden presence making you jump in your skin.

“Sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sam chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head as you lowered your hand from your chest, where it had landed after he’d almost scared you half to death.

“No, no. It’s… It’s okay.” You breathed out, setting aside the book in your other hand as you gathered yourself. You couldn’t help but blush a little, the tips of your ears redder than the shirt that covered Sam’s chest. “Can I- Can I help you with something?” You asked, praying you didn’t seem as nervous as you felt.

“Yeah, actually…” He began, clearing his throat as his eyes shifted around him before they landed back on yours, sending a flutter throughout your stomach. “I was wondering, and this is gonna sound a little… out there, I guess, but uh, do you have any books on necromancy?”

“Necromancy?” You repeated, his request making you forget the nervousness you felt around him as you eyebrow raised, before it fell into a furrow as you couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja-vu. You moved closer, leaning your palms on the table before you asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know Bobby Singer would you?”

“Uh, how did you, uh, how did you know?” Sam asked, feeling as flustered as you might have felt had he not asked you for such a request.

“He used to come in here a lot, asking for all sorts of books on the supernatural world… Not to mention the half dozen different bible versions he would ask me for.” You said with a chuckle, hearing the rather nervous one leave Sam’s lips as nothing more than a breath. “Anyway, I uh, I should have what you’re looking for, somewhere that is… Follow me.”

You cocked your head in the general direction of the supernatural section, one that had grown exponentially after youl first met Bobby, as he always seemed to tell you that you needed to upgrade your collection, something you were glad for otherwise you’d have had to disappoint Sam.

The two of you walked in silence towards the back of the library, where you soon began scanning the shelf before your eyes landed on a specific old leather-bound book that sat amongst the other, you guessed it, old books. You pulled it out, being mindful of its weight and delicacy before you blew off a thin layer of dust and held it out towards Sam.

“Sorry about the dust… This section doesn’t see many guests other than you and well, Bobby… Although I haven’t seen him in a while.” You said with a touch of curiosity.

“Yeah, he uh, he usually just sends me now.” Sam chuckled, taking the book from you with a smile. “Says it saves him the trip.”

“I see.” You nodded, your smile wide enough to send a flutter through Sam’s chest. You folded your arms, glancing down at the ground before back up at him, your face heating terribly under his soft gaze. “Well, I’ll leave you to it but just let me know if there’s anything else you need… You know, books on witchcraft or whatever other weird and wonderful things you guys seem to like.”

Your words made Sam laugh softly, something that had your stomach tie itself together, in a good way obviously, but you just prayed it wasn’t showing on your face.

“Thanks, uh…” Sam began, his brows knitting together a little, forming a line between them. “You know, I’ve been coming here for a while now and I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh.” You seemed a little surprised that he seemed interested in learning your name, as like he said, he’d been coming here for a while now and had never asked. But when you heard him repeat your name, in a way you very much liked as it rolled off his tongue so velvety smooth that it sent a chill up your spine, you couldn’t help but wish you’d gathered up the courage to talk to him sooner.

“That’s a pretty name.” He said with what almost seemed like a flirtatious tone, one that would have had you on the floor had it been any stronger. He smiled once more before he turned on the spot and began to walk away, which made your stomach drop out of disappointment until he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder towards you. “My name’s Sam by the way… Sam Winchester.”

Like this? Apply to my Sam tag list here!

tagging: @sancochillo

Like my work? Consider buying me a coffee!

[miss-madness67]

Advent Calendar 2022: Day 5 (Dean)

Christmases with the love of your life, Dean Winchester.

25 days of Christmas and fluff.

Day 4

“You know I can pop in the second you tell me to, right?”

Going to college had never been your first choice. Independent of what other people might think, you like life as a hunter. Sure, it wrecked your family, driving your father to suicide and your mother to alcoholism, but you didn’t exactly blame hunting, more like the lack of balance they didn’t have. Thus, you decided that college was a good opportunity, especially since you had a full ride. What you didn’t count, however, was the loneliness you would feel on your first holidays away from your surrogate father, Bobby.

“I’m fine Bobby, you’re not about to drive across 4 states, and you know flights ain’t cheap.”

Bobby’s grumpy voice is sure nice to hear, “you idijt, driving isn’t a problem.”

“I told you, it’s fine, got lotta things to do here anyway.” Lies, of course, but you really don’t want him to leave the boys alone after John dumped them again this Christmas. “How are Dean and Sammy?”

The man grumbles something unintelligible that sounds like ‘breaking my balls’. “Here, Dean has been nagging to speak with you.”

There are some other noises on the other side of the line, and the next voice that greets you brings a smile to your face. “Hey, sugar.”

Day 6

Tags: @sweetwerewolfqueen @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @perpetualabsurdity @deanswaywardgirl @seppys-return-to-madness @desimarie12 @hobby27 @mrspeacem1nusone @fluff-lover @melannie77

[anamelessfool]

Violence & Gentleness Chapter 13: Gates of Waste

Chapter 13 AO3 Link 18+ MDNI (Whole Fic Link Here)

Young Primo x OC Papessa, Primo &"Emeritus" Family Tags: 1970s, Satanic Panic, Dark Magic, Bodyguard/Musician Romance, Noir Mystery, Assassins, NonVerbal Ghouls, Nameless Ghouls OC, Secondo and Primo cosplay the Winchester Brothers, Mr. NamelessFool wrestled me to make this chapter possible, the most horrifying part of this chapter is all the damn microfiche

Primo and Secondo's search deepens after leaving Copia's sigil-ridden possible birthplace. Secondo recieves an education he'd rather forget.

Chapter Art/Collage By Me, Photo Collage Below by the incomporable @ghuleh-recs

Tag List Below The Cut! (let me know if you want to join)

Taglist: @historian-crown @monkberryghouldelight @ghuleh-recs @fishwithtitz @can-of-pringles @in-cardi-c-we-thrust @riptide-kid

@thew0man @kabukiaku

[moccahobi]

A FAE’S BREW TO TAKE YOU AWAY [CHAPTER 23]

Summery: Photography: Taehyung loves it. Specifically he loves film photography. He even spent an entire day hiking and taking photos in a meadow (there was a woman there at first but she left soon after). For Y/n though, Taehyung’s trip to the meadow was the start of something bad. Something real bad.

Pairings: Taehyung (BTS) x Reader, Yoongi (BTS) x Hoseok (BTS)

Rating: Teens and up

Chapter warnings: injury, character death

Series warnings (I update as I figure more stuff out): horror, injury, threats, character death, major angst, emotional distress, alcohol, verbal fight, anxiety

Word Count:  1.7k words

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fae AU!, College AU!

Tag list: @youarejesting, @i-am-moonchild, @oddinary4bts​

Chapter 22 >> Masterlist << Chapter 23

Taehyung watched nervously as Jungkook climbed back up the hill and just passed his line of vision. Even though he couldn’t see Jungkook well, he could hear fragments of a conversation starting to happen, voices loud and angry.

chirp

chirp

chirp

He jumped at the sound of some strange animal, already too on edge from all that has been happening. Today was such a mess. Y/n moved in his pocket at the strange sounds and when he looked down, he saw her clinging closer to him than before. She must be tired and spooked as well.

“Don’t worry. I will keep you safe and protect you from all that’s happening. How about I find you a place in the woods to hide while all this goes down. No one will see you.” He whispered, hoping that she could hear his sincerity. 

chirp

chirp

chirp

The strange animal sounds grew louder as he neared the forest line. Normally, Taehyung might’ve been curious, but today with all that was happening and the pelting down rain, they struck fear in him. Looking around, he was met with an army of frogs… or toads? One of them and it didn’t matter which. They were so vibrant that they stuck out like a sore thumb and Taehyung found him involuntarily leaning closer to try to get a closer look. 

He stopped when he felt frantic movement in his pocket and looked down to see Y/n shaking with fear and trying anything to hide from the frogs. Looking them over again, he wondered if they could eat her. 

It was that moment of hesitance, of pondering an intrusive thought, that led to even more chaos breaking loose. In her frantic movement, she somehow managed to only rise in Taehyung’s pocket before eventually falling out, a piercing ringing (similar to tinnitus) leaving her small body all through the fall. As if the frogs were waiting for this, they lunged and she ran farther away, leaving Taehyung scrambling after her and the frogs, mud clinging to him while doing so. Yet, despite their size, they were so much faster than Taehyung and he was forced to watch as they got dangerously close to the swelling river. Y/n’s body shook with each harsh gust of wind, Taehyung wincing each time. A particularly harsh gust of wind in combination with a big curtain of rain and she was gone, the river now much larger. 

Taehyung’s body froze as his mind raced to try to figure out what had happened. The frogs. The river. 

Had they eaten her? 

Did the river sweep her away? 

Was she still alive? 

At some point in his frozeness, the frogs returned and were jumping on him, their slimy bodies rubbing against Taehyung. Their tongues lolled out and were lapping at his pants as well. 

Were they trying to attack him? 

An angry chuckle left him at that. They’d possibly just eaten Y/n and now they were trying to eat him!?

He shook one off, cringing as they bounced against the ground and started hopping towards him again.

The toads start trying to attack Taehyung with their tongues but that doesn't do much… it itches a little but doesn’t do much. If it wasn’t for the horror of this situation, he just might’ve laughed at a frog licking him and thinking it’ll hurt him. Not as he starts hearing some loud pitched squeal. Not as Hoseok’s voice starts rising above the storm. Not when Y/n is missing and potentially drowning. 

Something in the woods flickered bright red. 

It sounded like the squeal was coming from that direction. 

Taehyung staggered back as the bright red thing flew at him fast and hit him squarely between the eyes. It was definitely the squealing thing he heard and this close to it, the squeals sounded more like tiny screams. 

“Screw you!”

“You’re one of the humans who…” 

“My Y/n!” 

He was able to pick up some of what the screams were saying but couldn’t pay attention to any of them as he tried to dodge the flaming ball of speed and energy that kept bumping into him harshly and the frogs that were still trying to jump on him as well. His legs were shaking and he stumbled many times as he tried to dodge the tiny beings attacking him.

Only… his legs weren’t keeping him up well. 

One small misstep into some animal’s abandoned home and he found himself plummeting, searing pain ripping through his body as a scream ripped its way through his body. He couldn’t get up or move his foot. He was stuck and in some of the worst pain of his life.

Next thing he knew though, the only sensation he could still feel was the harsh wind and rain, no flaming red ball or frogs and in the change, he found himself sinking to the floor, tears flowing. 

“Are you… ok?” 

Taehyung’s head shot up and took in one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen before. Kind eyes, soft mouth, broad shoulders. He looked sad and worried and Taehyung had no energy to question it. 

“I… I… Yes? I don’t know. I… I’m stuck. Can you help me up?” 

The man nodded, crouching down and helping him up. 

Taehyung came up easily with his help.

And his foot wasn’t stuck.

It had swollen to an angry red blistery color, blood seeping from an open wound… and worse of all, Taehyung saw white. 

Bone. 

If possible, Taehyung might’ve cried more then but he didn’t have it in him. He didn’t have any energy in him and it seemed the mysterious man didn’t either for after helping Taehyung out of the hole, he set Taehyung down. The man seemed skilled in triage though as he went about gathering materials to cover and support Taehyung’s foot. As he did that, Taehyung looked around and was faced with a fae lying on the ground and unconscious (Taehyung didn’t want to think of the possibility of them being dead). They had scorch marks on their body but overall, looked like they might have been sleeping right now and Taehyung didn’t want to think otherwise. 

He had propped himself up on the ground to try to reduce his contact with the muddy ground around him but as the mysterious man elevated and worked on Taehyung’s ankle, all energy seeped out of Taehyung. He rested on the ground and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of louder and louder arguments, angry rain and wind, and the man working. The mud seeped into his shirt and hair, filling every possible crevice it could but Taehyung couldn’t bring himself to care. 

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 12

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, coarse language and a lot of very dark jokes (😂), abortion & unwanted pregnancy, smoking & mentions of drugs, heart to heart, flangst, pining, comfort

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Say what you will, but this chapter made me fall hard for our train wreck with a heart. Don’t tame my animal style, babes 😏🖤 (ALSO MAKE SURE TO READ PART 11 FIRST! It posted Friday & Tumblr has been messing up tags like crazy lately 🙄)

<< 11 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

12. The Warrior

Dean’s fingers nervously drum against the steering wheel, Led Zeppelin flowing out the stereo at the lowest volume as he smacks his lips in boredom. The motel parking lot is tranquil, palm trees softly swaying in the breeze. All the women left for the gym two hours ago, while the California morning sun warms the golden freckles on his skin as it beams through the windshield.

It’s punctually nine o’clock when he spots Y/N exit her motel room and jog up to the Impala before sliding into the passenger’s seat. He’s been in the car since 8am, though – just in case she needed him sooner. Of course, she didn’t because she’s a true fighter, but he wanted to be there for her, nevertheless. He even forwent the booze and coke last night and this morning, wanting to be as clean and sober for her as possible. He swears he hasn’t been this clear in his goddamn head in months.

It’s fucking weird.

As soon as the young actress sits comfortably, Dean hands her a cup of the blackest coffee and swiftly offers her a smoke. “I also have vodka here if you want. I even rolled you a joint if that’s more your style. And, uh, we can stop by for breakfast sushi on our way there, huh?”

As stupid as it sounds, Dean’s trying to make this a fun experience for her. Feeling quite helpless, there isn’t much he can do to make this situation any better for her, but he can always make her smile, right? So, that’s his goal today. He doesn’t want her to feel sad, guilty, or ashamed, even if his methods are a little wonky and admittedly could use some fine-tuning. Still, they seem to do the trick as his strategy casts an appreciative smile on her lips.

“Thanks, Dean.” Chuckling, she accepts the coffee and lights her cigarette, taking one drag before handing it back to him.

“Atta girl,” he smirks and starts the car.

“I think the coffee and the smoke will suffice, though,” Y/N ponders playfully, “Don’t wanna overdo it, you know?”

Dean chuckles lightly and jokes, “So, I should cancel our trip to Magic Mountain?”

“Definitely,” she laughs, the melody causing his heart to swell twice its size. “You know, I wasn’t sure you were the right person to bring to something like this, but now I’m convinced I made a wise choice.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wiggle of his eyebrows, his cheeks blushing furiously as his heart hammers outside his chest like a cartoon character. Was there ever an episode where Squirrel fell for Natasha?

As Dean steals glimpses at Y/N from his periphery, he can’t help but think she’s stunning, even on rainy days like these. Sometimes, it’s even hard to grasp that he could end up this lucky at all. “So, uhm, I broke up with Bela yesterday,” he shares, swallowing. Would it be weird if he asked Y/N out on a date immediately after an abortion? Probably, right? Is there a protocol here? “I-, I tried to be nice, but, uhm, she got a little emotional… I think I broke her heart, you know?”

Good plan. He’s making himself more desirable, you know? Besides, who wouldn’t wanna be with him, right? He’s a total catch. Cas tells him so all the time. Perhaps, someone should’ve told his ex-wife that, too.

Okay, alright, stop laughing. He doesn’t need to explain himself to you…

Y/N’s head bobs musingly, pursing her lips. She then gives him a casual shrug of her shoulders, “She seemed fine when I saw her this morning.”

“Oh, good,” Dean clears his throat with a lack of subtlety and ignores his dented ego. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, make it awkward…”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m sure…,” Y/N hums. Does it feel a little like she’s mocking him? Dean swears there’s a trace of a smirk on her lips. “She also wished me good luck,” she adds, frowning, and suspiciously cocks an eyebrow at him. “Did you tell her about–?”

“No, I promised you I wouldn’t, so I didn’t, okay? I would never do that to you,” Dean assures her, the panic rising in his ribcage because, unlike Y/N, he knows precisely what the British blabbermouth meant by that careless comment. “It’s, you know, just Bela. She’s nuts. Don’t pay attention to her, alright?”

“Uhm, sure.”

Dean’s not so sure, however, if she bought his poor excuse of a deflection. But whatever Bela thinks she knows, she’s wrong about it. He’s not in fucking love with Y/N.

Arriving at the clinic in Inglewood, Dean accompanies the young actress to the receptionist, stubbornly never leaving her side, even when Y/N protests and tells him his efforts aren’t necessary – as if he would ever wait in the fucking car.

“Y/N Y/L/N, 10am?” the nurse at the reception counter checks, barely gracing them with a glance. Y/N nods softly, and the older nurse shoves a clipboard with a form at her, looking rather grimly, causing Dean to wonder who spit in that woman’s coffee this sunny morning. “Fill this out for me, okay? The doctor will answer any questions you or your boyfriend might have.”

“Oh, we’re not–”

“I’m not her boyfriend,” Dean cuts in and then corrects the nurse with a smile, “I’m her husband. Common mistake, you know? Kinda like having sex without a condom.”

The nurse seems a little taken aback by his prickly commentary but stays polite, muttering, “Well, it’s good that you’re here.”

“Yeah, just wasn’t the right time for us. I could’ve pulled out but… got too lazy,” Dean feigns a sigh and wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close to him. Surprisingly, she leans into his shtick and nuzzles into his embrace. So naturally, he places a loving kiss on her crown for the best possible show. “Sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she pats his chest in gentle comfort. “It happens. We’ll go anal next time.”

Strindberg never fails to impress him with her acting skills.

“Yeah, lucky for us, we hate children,” Dean grins broadly at the nurse, who looks unamused at best and absolutely fed up at worst.

“Please take a seat,” Nurse Ratched tells the pair dryly, the two of them giggling under their palms like stupid teenagers as they settle down in the dreary waiting area.

“You know, I’m glad you came with me today,” Y/N says, smiling gratefully, and starts filling out her form, her fingers white-knuckling the pen. “I mean, if I had asked one of the girls, well, it wouldn’t have been like… this. It probably would’ve been more…”

“Depressing?” Dean offers knowingly, nodding. “Yeah, you’re welcome, sweetheart. I mean, this place isn’t helping,” he remarks as his green eyes disdainfully scan the sad interior, walls painted in a suicidal gray. “Jesus fuck… Would it hurt them to hang up some nice pictures or, you know, some motivational posters or some shit? Even the fucking fern is plastic… You know, they could offer women tequila shots when coming in or something like that. Who gives a shit, right? Maybe make a little cozy bong area over there for ultimate relaxation, have a buffet with raw meat and fish over here, offer shuttle rides to Disneyland after, so women can truly appreciate what horror they’ve escaped from…”

Y/N loudly snorts next to him and hides half her face in her gray hoodie. Her cheeks are burning red, her eyes are full of unstoppable tears, and her laugh strangles her windpipe. “God, Dean, stop,” she begs him through her giggles, clutching her stomach, and wipes the wetness from her glowing dimples. “The nurse is already looking at you,” she whispers warningly and yet still can’t stop chuckling, nudging his arm with her elbow.

“Oh, let her,” Dean scoffs and dismisses the nurse’s glare. “She wouldn’t get it. Just look at her. That old hag hasn’t been fucked properly in centuries.”

“Dean!” Y/N swats his chest and clasps her mouth to keep the laugh from spilling out, her eyes wide.

“Alright, I’ll stop,” the director chuckles devilishly, although he greatly enjoys making her smile. What can he say? He’s a lover of all the beautiful things life has to offer, and her smile is one of those gorgeous things he can never get enough of.

“I’m sorry. I know you probably had different plans for your morning,” Y/N says then and gives him a self-effacing shrug, which he can’t let slide with a clean conscience.

“What? Nonsense. Happy to be here. Anything for my wife,” he assures her with his widest grin and pats her thigh comfortingly, the contact causing a jolt of electricity to storm his blood and infect his heart. “Besides, while you’re in there, I might get some donuts.”

“Ooooh, can you please pick me up a pink frosted one?” Y/N inquires with the cutest pout. How the fuck could he resist that?

“Pink frosted?” Dean’s brow furrows in a teasing manner. “What are you, six?”

“I’m a girl. I like pink things,” she replies coyly, her pout only getting more adorable. If that girl isn’t careful, she’s gonna be pregnant within the day again.

Dear God, he feels like the worst human being on this godforsaken planet. The last thing she needs today is another horny dude lusting over her.

“Mhm,” Dean hums and tries to bite back the comment on the tip of his tongue, failing miserably. “Maybe if you liked pink things a little less, we wouldn’t be here.”

Y/N drops her pen onto the clipboard in her lap, her lips pressing into a thin line that’s supposed to hide the smile. Her eyes find his, crinkles of amusement visible around her orbs as she nods, “Fair... But luckily, I don’t have to worry about that for a while.”

“What, are you gonna become a nun or some shit because of one wimpy little douchecanoe?”

Oh, Dean can’t let that stand, either. That should go without saying. Even if Y/N gives up on all mankind, he’s not giving up on her.

“There was more than one,” Y/N mutters bitterly and focuses back on her form.

Dean pauses for a moment, pushing the anger and the urge to strangle those motherfuckers down into the depths of his soul, although there are probably girls out there who would say the same about him. With a small exhale, he then leans closer, angling his body towards her for more privacy. “I think this is the part where I’m supposed to ask you if this is what you really want. You know, as your husband…”

Y/N carefully meets his gaze but gives him a determined nod, not an ounce of worry, fear, or insecurity gleaming in her orbs. Eye of the tiger. “Yeah, this is what I want. It’s not the right time… or the right guy… or the right baby,” she assures him, and then her little nose scrunches, brow knitting. It’s adorable to watch. “Besides, Sammy Jr. is a biter.”

“Yeah, I know… That kid is Satan’s spawn,” Dean agrees heavily and points his index finger at her belly. “Can you already feel teeth growing in there?”

Y/N laughs softly and shakes her head, “They don’t have teeth yet... I think.”

“Well, this one might,” he quips under his breath.

“Dude, stop it,” she snorts and whacks his arm in a scolding attempt, which really won’t do anything. It’s her own fault for bringing an untamed animal into a public place. Then, a small sigh leaves her ample lips, “Jo and Sam are actually trying to save their marriage. They’re going to couple’s therapy twice a week now.”

“It’s not gonna last,” Dean scoffs darkly, the usual cynicism lacing his voice. “What was it about that douche, anyways? Are you in love with him?”

“No,” is her instant reply, which comes out in a snort. And while her answer should’ve brought him relief, the tone of her reaction carries the same dark cynicism, leaving him with worries instead. “I’m just a sucker for non-threatening, unavailable men who compliment me,” she jabs herself. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in love. I just-… never had that feeling, you know? Like missing someone or needing someone so much you might stop breathing… Not sure that even exists.”

“Hmm,” he hums pensively, postponing his quest to find her reason behind it to another day. There are more pressing matters at hand right now. “I know cheating husband is out of the question, but what about the other two knuckleheads? Maybe they wanna do this with you?”

Y/N lets out a dreadful sigh, and Dean only feels more relief when she answers, “Yeah, maybe… But I don’t wanna do this with them. I mean, one’s an alcoholic park ranger, and the other a stand-up comic with a severe heroin addiction.”

“Wow, you were right. You really don’t know how to pick men,” Dean whistles lowly, albeit her bad taste might eventually pay off for him.

“Told you. Nun life is just a wise decision at this point,” Y/N says in agreement, which was absolutely the last thing he wanted.  

Licking his suddenly chapped lips, Dean rubs his beard and takes a deep breath to calm his jittering nerves. “You know… I’m an option, too,” he suggests weakly, his fingernails clawing into the armrest of the withered faux-leather chair.

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, I-.. I have a house. It’d be big enough, y’know? I could help you. We can even do that whole marriage thing… I mean, if that’s something you fancy. You know, for your parents or some shit. I-, I don’t mind,” he stammers and bites his tongue so roughly he tastes the metal. Wait, is he smelling burnt toast?

Of course, he doesn’t mind it. He’s practically begging her on his knees to accept his proposal.

Y/N laughs lightly, her cheeks blushing rosy pink, “That’s awfully sweet of you, but I’m gonna have to decline. Kinda wanna get married for the right reasons, too. I’d actually like to be in love with my husband, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I get it…,” Dean chuckles his lie and uncomfortably scratches away at his throat. “That’s why my first two marriages happened. Just didn’t work out, so, you know, thought I’d give this a shot. Can’t hurt, right?” Jesus fuck, he feels like a cracked egg on the sizzling hot asphalt. “I’m just sayin’, I guess… I’m here for you… Anything you need, sweetheart. Doesn’t matter what.”

Y/N smiles softly, “I know. You’re a pretty awesome guy. Thanks.” For a second, he’s not sure if there are tears of gratitude shimmering in her orbs, but they’re gone by the time she leans up and presses a kiss on his cheek. The softness of her lips on his scruffy skin ignites the spot where they touch, match meeting fuse, a warm glow swarming from this exact point through his veins and overtaking his entire body like a wildfire.

“Yeah, uhm, anytime,” he gulps, the tips of his ears turning beet-red as he tries to shake off the fluster. “You know, I’d make a great option, in fact. I’m nothing like those losers you’ve dated. We’d have fun, you know? I’d treat you well, pay attention to you, make sure you cum every time when we fuck…”

“Oh, so sex was included in this deal, huh? If only you’d said that before, it might have persuaded me,” Y/N says with a cheeky smile. “I’m sure you’d do that completely selflessly, too.”

“Duh. Told you. Anything you need – and free of charge,” Dean smirks widely, causing her to giggle.

“Well, thank you for your tremendous sacrifice, Mr. Winchester,” she retorts playfully and then bites down on her lower lip, teasing him with a playful twinkle in her orbs, “Not sure you’d make a better choice, though.”

“Whoa, hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m a catch,” Dean defends, chuckling, albeit his heart disagrees with him and stings quite a bit.

“Oh, yes, totally… But you also drink too much and have a coke addiction. If anything, you’re the last two guys combined. If you were married as well, we’d be in serious trouble now, my friend,” Y/N jokes completely innocently, so he forces a laugh from his throat, even though she hit a sore point.

Yeah, Dean truly isn’t any better than those previous losers. He’d probably drag her down to the gutter with him – it happened before with someone he loved. Y/N deserves a nice guy without any issues and mountains of baggage. She’s the best fucking person he’s ever met in his entire life. She’s not supposed to end up with a dumpster fire like him. He should count himself lucky he’s even allowed to take a breath in her proximity at all.

“I don’t have an addiction,” Dean counters nonetheless, coolly shrugging off her accusations, defensive yet calm. “So I snort an occasional line from time to time. It’s not a big deal. I can stop anytime I want. I’m in complete control, you know?”

“Uh-huh, prove it and stop.”

“What?!” His head snaps to her. Shit, he didn’t count on her challenging him.

“You heard me. Prove it,” Y/N shrugs simply as if she knows how to push his buttons as well. “Unless it’s not as easy as you say it is…”

“Pffft, what? No, it’s super easy. I’ll do it. No problem,” Dean agrees in default cocksure attitude, albeit his Adam’s apple bobs with a nervously thick swallow. “But just coke, not the booze,” he adds quickly.

“Deal,” Y/N accepts and holds out her hand, grinning.

“Deal.” He shakes it in accord and pretends the terror and anxiety in his ribcage don’t exist and aren’t consuming his entire being. However, when he gazes at her, he realizes the bitter truth.

Fucking Bela…

How the fuck could she have known? Is it that obvious? But Dean’s never been surer – he’s head over heels in love with the radiating girl next to him. There’s no denying it anymore. He never would’ve agreed to this insane deal otherwise. There’s a yearning inside of him that demands him to be better for her. It’s not filthy lust and simple debauchery he’s longing for. It’s fucking love.

Shit.

“You know, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks… Maybe I will go to New York after the show,” Y/N says with a soft, almost shy smile as if she still isn’t entirely sure it’s a good idea.

Dean gives her an encouraging smile, “Yeah, that’s a great plan, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods and squeezes her thigh reassuringly. “‘Sides, if you don’t leave this shithole on your own, I’ll throw you into Baby’s trunk and drive you there myself. Gonna kick your ass all the way to the Yankees, sweetheart.“

“Thank you,” Y/N mouths quietly, her gaze drifting to his palm that still lingers on her thigh. He’s about to pull it back, realizing he probably overstepped his appropriate time limit, when Y/N suddenly takes hold of his hand and interlaces her fingers with his.

Fuck. When was the last time he actually held hands with someone? God, it was probably with his high school sweetheart – Robin. The actress actually reminds him a lot of his first ex-wife, both too sweet and good to ever fit into filthy Hollywood. Bringing Robin here when they were only nineteen and naive has always been his biggest regret, so maybe by getting Y/N out of this hellish city, he can finally right a wrong.  

“Ms. Y/L/N? We’re ready for you,” the nurse informs her.

Dean watches her as she bravely rises from her seat and follows the nurse, head high and shoulders straight like the true warrior she is. He’s never been prouder of her. That’s his fucking girl.

“You got this, honey!” Dean hollers after her through cupped palms like the man-child he is, several heads turning to him with irritated glances. He doesn’t care, though. His job is to make Y/N smile, not an audience. “Afterwards, we’re gonna fuck like bunnies! Probably gonna be back here next month, baby girl,” he smirks cunningly, and when the nurse shakes her head at him with a glare, he sends the grim woman a wink to top it off.

Y/N disappears inside the small room with the doctors, Dean still hearing her infectious laugh when the blue door closes. The sound warms his heart and soothes his worries a little. He then waits a beat for any last-minute decision changes before exiting this goddamn depressing shithole to grab a fucking pink frosted donut for the woman he loves. 

13. Gimme All Your Lovin’

Hope you enjoyed this little weird bonding experience! As a reward for bearing with me here, you’re getting some smut in the next two parts 😉

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration​ @jessjad @deans-spinster-witch @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28 @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansbbyx @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @eevvvaa @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @estelle127 @samanddeansannoyingsis

[lilprincegoo]

Seashells on the Seashore by bundtkookie

taehyung/jungkook

Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Separations, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Jeon Jungkook, Alternate Universe - Magic

11.9k words

rating: T

Magic had a price. As a Sea Witch in a city of merpeople, Taehyung used his magic and witchcraft to try and improve the lives of those around him. He lived a good life- merman Prince Jungkook was just there to add the excitement.

[lanechester]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Smallville, Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lois Lane/Sam Winchester, Lois Lane & Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Lois Lane, Clark Kent Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 4 of Svnatural AU Summary:

Lois and Sam are both in for a shock when he comes into town to tell her about his father's death, finding her in the hospital after her own plane crash.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

And when they say it's "sentinel and guide," there's a 40% chance they aren't aware that they're just writing the plot of a nearly forgotten, queer-baity as hell, 90s show from UPN.

And I love all of you who learn that.

the thing is when people say a specific fanfic trope comes from supernatural they usually mean "it was invented by the supernatural fandom in a fanfic". on the other hand, when people say a specific fanfic trope comes from star trek, they mean "it was the plot of at least one star trek episode"

[hotel-casifornia]

just realized i never posted about my fanfic! i wanted to update and say i started working on it again! feel free to check it out

[rocksaltandmountainash]

Waking up in Beacon Hills - pt. 23

* Author: Ellie @rocksaltandmountainash​

* Summary:  Derek cares for Kara while she recovers from her injuries and everyone prepares to fight the Nogitsune. Set during Teen Wolf season 3, episode 23.

* Previous parts: can be found here.

* Warnings: descriptions of injuries. Chris Argent is a heart breaker.

* Gifs: not mine, credit to the owners/creators linked here: 

One | Two | Three 

* Word count: 2.4k

Derek drives you home in silence, politely tries to ignores the sadness emanating from you. He’s gentle when he helps you down the entrance to his loft. Patient as you have to turn and step awkwardly, try not to bend your knee too much. Leads you to his bed on the main floor so you don’t have to negotiate the staircase. 

Feeling grateful, you apologize for the intrusion and then settle on the mattress. He’s pulled an end table closer, set it up with tissues, a water bottle, and a phone charger. The thought and effort bring a smile to your face.

When you sit, the tiniest movements cause searing jolts of pain to shoot through your thigh, making you gasp. Derek kneels in front of you.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yup. But I got these…” you pull the brown package of medications out of your bag and read the labels “Advil, Amoxicillin, and oh…Tramadol…nice.”

“You shouldn’t take those on an empty stomach.”

Derek heads to the kitchen, bustles around, trying to be as quiet as possible. He returns and bashfully hands you a sandwich.

“Hope it’s okay? Ham and cheese?”

It shouldn’t make you tear up, but it does. The kindness. The shy way he’s looking after you, the napkin folded neatly on the side of the plate. Because as much as you can’t admit it, you really need someone to be nice to you right now, to care. 

Everything hurts, your wrist is itchy inside the brace, your neck is throbbing and you can detect a headache settling into the base of your skull. There’s a ringing in your ears and your leg is switching between thrumming with pain or tingling numbness. The lunch that Derek has made for you is your favorite, but with stomach tied in knots, you're uncertain if you can even take a bite.

And then there's your heart, which you're pretty sure is broken.

Fuck.

You choke back a sob that threatens to break through. Derek moves closer, ready to siphon off some of your sorrow.

“Can I ask you something?”

Derek agrees instantly but regrets it, anxious you’ll ask for relationship advice.

“Do you feel it?”

He doesn’t respond, unclear what you’re asking.

“I know you can sense when people are in pain. But do you feel it…all of it?”

His eyes go wide. No one had ever asked him that. No one ever cared if he said yes. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Huh…And when you do the thing?” you gesture hands being held together, and Derek nods, realizing you’re talking about when werewolves take people’s pain.

“That sounds awful.”

Derek turns away from your sympathetic stare, he hadn't thought about it in a long time. It has become expected, conditioned in him to help. Seizing the moment, you cram the corner of the sandwich into your mouth. You shove the water toward Derek to hold, understanding his need for busy hands, while you pop the tops off the pill bottles. 

“I don’t want you to do that for me.”

Taking back the water, you tip your head and swallow the tablets. Derek’s troubled by the thought he’s overstepped the bounds of your growing friendship. He wasn’t skilled at this; closeness, friendship, always his way to be too much or not enough. 

“Let modern medicine solve this one, Derek.”

Smiling softly, you remind him, “Not everything’s on you.”

You hope he takes your point. Recently, guilt has raced across his face, and you’d caught the unreadable glances between him and Chris when he picked you up. Something happened, you don’t know what, but you know it’s not his fault. You guessed the Nogitsune had its hooks in him. In a perverse way, the fact dulled the anguish you felt. Helped to melt the icy touch of failure burrowing its way into you.

Derek lets out a brief sigh, uncomfortable with your caring, and promptly shifts the focus of the conversation back to you.

“You should rest.”

You hum in agreement. Derek busying himself with moving things off the bed while you unlace your boots, dizzy when you’re done, the warmth of the pain pill flooding over you. You let him tuck you in, mumble a “Thanks.” as you roll over. Asleep before you can even think to ask what your friends are doing, where they are in the search for Lydia.

The urgent pings of your phone wakes you, and you grope around the bedside table to bring it to your face. With one eye still closed, you read messages from Stiles, long paragraphs filled with apologies that make you bolt straight up in the bed. You dial his number, need him to hear you, can’t waste time on texts that risk being misunderstood.

“Hi.”

It comes out sad, and it makes your heart stutter.

“Stiles. Don’t be a dick. It wasn’t you.”

He’s silent while he processes, his heavy burden only slightly lifted at your familiar, no bullshit tone. But still hesitant, with a lingering doubt that you had forgiven him. He can’t fathom that to you, there was no cause for forgiveness.

“Stiles?”

“I’m here.”

“How are you?”

“I’m alright.”

Only half awake, you’re blunt; “Are you lying?”

“Maybe,” he confesses, knows there’s no point in trying to hide the truth from you.

“Put me on Facetime.”

You wait as he presses the button, his face coming into view.

“Right. Listen to me. It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

“But you don’-”

You cut him off, anticipating what he’ll say; that you can’t possibly know that. He’s right, there aren’t guarantees. Still, you’re adamant as you remind him about the Darach, how your healed wounds had reopened without reason, weeks after it attacked you. That they’d returned to scars once Jennifer had been dealt with.

“Weird shit happens with these things Stiles. They get in your head and fuck with you, but I swear, you’ll be better soon.”

His mouth tugs into a faint smile. The knowledge he still has you, that you harbour no hatred toward him, alleviates his fears.

“When he’s dead?”

“Yeah, kid. When we kill it.”

Stretching in Derek’s bed, you consider what strength it’s going to take to get up. Hopeful that Derek won't mind the fallen crumbs, you munch on the rest of your sandwich.

Outside, the last of the daylight is fading away, bathing the loft in a washed out yellow glow. It’s time. If the others haven’t found Lydia yet, the Oni will lead you to her and the Nogitsune.

You need to get ready, had meant it when you told the Nogitsune you’d kill him. Your determination to fulfill that promise had only grown after the sharp bite of the blade piercing your flesh, narrowly missing your bone.

You take a few more Advil, gulping down water before taking a few tentative steps. It aches, but you’re not as dazed or unbalanced, and the buzzing in your head has dissipated enough for you to concentrate on the job ahead.

You rummage through the bag Allison had brought to you in the hospital - fresh clothes, your wallet, a set of knuckle dusters, plus a box of ammunition. Bless her. You wonder if Derek has weapons, your Desert Eagle and a few knives don’t seem enough. What you wouldn’t give to be holding the Winchesters’ demon killing blade right now.

Abruptly, the loft door slides open, Derek rushing in and depositing someone on the couch. You hadn’t even noticed his absence, though you can’t blame him for not sticking around to watch you passed out.

“Ugh,” you can’t conceal your hostility when you see who’s he’s dragged in with him. “What happened?”

“Not sure. Someone tried to kill them.”

"Should’ve left them," you mutter unkindly, distracted as Argent enters the room, hauling the other twin, “They killed Boyd.”

Chris tilts his head in greeting, but avoids your gaze, wiping black stained hands on his trousers, as Derek pulls him away.

“Like you’ve never killed anyone.” Aiden, or Ethan, - you don’t particularly care which - spits your way, making you realize you had spoken aloud.

"Happy to add two more to the list," you say dismissively, your attention shifting to Derek and Argent's animated conversation.

“I found these.”

Derek produces spent shotgun shells from his pocket as you join them, clarifies for your benefit, “They’re filled with wolfsbane.”

“Oh.”

Possibly it’s the grogginess of your concussion, but you’re oblivious to why he’s surprised. If hunters were after the twins, it makes sense for them to be armed and know tricks of the trade. It was an added complication that you absolutely didn’t need right now, but surely not a reason for Derek to panic.

Hearing your phone ring, you shuffle toward the bed, one ear still trained on their discussion.

“This wasn’t Araya, was it?” Chris asks.

“I don’t think so - they don’t look like hers.”

You’re too slow, and your phone rings off before you make it over to the nightstand. Frustrated with your limitations, you round up your gear - gun, knife, ammo, get stuffed into your bag, phone clutched in your hand. Glancing over to where Chris is studying the shell further, something in how he spins it round and round, eyes narrowing as he examines it, piques your interest.

“It’s not possible…”

Shit. He’s definitely disturbed. But if it’s not the Nogitsune, or finding Lydia safe, it’s not your priority.

“It was Allison,” you tell Argent, waving the phone as you return to him and Derek, “Should I call her back?”

There’s no chance for him to reply before his phone starts, and he smiles at the picture instinctively.

“Allison.”

You only hear Chris’s side of the exchange, his hurried demands for her to wait for him. She won’t. Says there isn’t time and hangs up, leaving Chris shaken.

“Go,” Derek urges, “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Chris nods, strides to the door.

“Wait! I’m coming.”

You trail behind him, in a lagging pace, desperate not to slow him down. He spins and starts to object.

“Please.”

A single plea - the rest are wordless. Please, let me help. Don’t shut me out. Please, let me be useful. Let’s go get your girl, let’s find Lydia. Let me fix my mistake. Please, let me kill him.

He says nothing, just steps back to allow you to pass. Almost lays a helping hand on the small of your back before remembering.

Chris starts the car, tone clipped as he asks “Can you check the map?”

“Course.”

You navigate out of downtown and direct him towards the rural road that leads to the Oak Creek camp. Then you stop talking and start chewing on your nail, calculating how much time you have, if he can beat the Oni there.

“Sore?” Chris asks, drawing you from your thoughts.

“Drugged.” you smile over. It’s so automatic to tease him, makes you swallow hard with regret.

With determination, he keeps his gaze fixed on the road ahead, his jaw clenched tightly as he fights back the urge to pull over and beg for forgiveness.

He presses, acquainted with the way you deflect concern; “Honestly... Are you okay?”

"I'm good," you promise, the confidence in your voice genuine. The combination of sleep and medication has worked wonders, reducing the pain in your leg to a level you can cope with, manage as an inconvenience. Still nauseous and a barely audible, far off drone echoes in your ears, but that’s a concussion for you.

Your reassurance calms him, and you spot his grip relaxing around the steering wheel. Feel glad you’ve not become a hinderance. The satisfaction brought by reading his moods so effortlessly is bittersweet. You want to detach from your feelings for him, spare yourself the agony.

You sneak a glance, guessing at his thoughts. Suspect he must despise you for what you said and how you hurt him, right? Unaware of his struggle and his talent for compartmentalising, you wonder how he’s so okay. Think you may have distorted the entire thing between you. “Relationship” seems like a stretch. And if you weren’t together, then ending it wasn’t exactly a break up.

Oh.

It dawns on you the situation might be worse than you thought. That just like with Sam, you had misjudged and made the same mistake. You thought you had discovered a kindred spirit, but it turned out that the bond you imagined was one-sided. That’s why Chris is being so unnervingly civil with you. He pities you. You’ve never felt so pathetic.

Sighing, you shake your head, deciding to prepare yourself to fight the Oni instead. Focus on something you can unravel, something you’re good at.

You begin with breathing exercises you’d learnt long ago, a habit to centre yourself. Rotate your wrist in the brace, testing your range of motion, before removing it altogether. The sprain isn’t serious, and you’d prefer not to signal your weakness to an opponent. You think of ways to compensate for your shaky leg.

Thankfully, you’re a southpaw, so your default of having your right foot forward would serve you well. You’ll have to dampen your instinct to move constantly.

You’d usually lead with your right - jabs and hooks - work them around the ring and follow up with left crosses - your strongest swing. But with your leg mangled, movement and shifting your stance could tire you out prematurely.

As you visualise, a tremor of excitement passes through you, muscles twitching in anticipation.

You’ll adjust, be more defensive, plant yourself and take the hits. It’s vital to make your punches count and inflict the most damage you can. The Oni’s masks were unyielding, rendering headshots pointless so you’ll wear the brass knuckles and go straight to the body. Powerful crosses, you might throw in a couple of bolos where you can, they always hurt. A few kidney punches for good measure.

It's akin to dancing, makes you sway in your seat as you envision the fight. Bob and weave to dodge the Oni. A few pulls to get them off kilter, counter and keep your head up. Pushing and driving to the part you love the most. Wild brawling. Training and skill going by the wayside, moves unsanctioned. Brutal. Glorious.

* * * * *

You were too late.

Allison.

[miss-madness67]

Advent Calendar 2022: Day 11

A story of 25 christmases with the love of your life, Dean Winchester.

(These are not stand-alone drabbles, you must read them as a whole). Leave your love in likes and reblogs <3

Day 10

“Being friends with you has become awkward,” your voice cracks in the silence of the salvage yard.

It is nearly midnight, you should go back to the house to wish Bobby Merry Christmas. Nevertheless, this conversation with Dean cannot wait another minute. Ever since last year's kiss, things haven’t shifted back to normality with your friend. First, there was some sort of mutual silent agreement not to talk about the kiss; pretend as if it didn't happen. It worked well enough, mostly, but your build-up feelings for him were too strong to ignore. That's when your friendship became uncomfortable. You decided to take some time apart from him, hunting on your own.

Being with Dean while being aware of your feelings was awful, but being without him was torture. Ultimately, you decided to go back to him in spite of the consequences. Thus, you've been managing to gather the courage for this conversation ever since. It's something that must happen for you to either move on or learn his true perspective on the matter.

“I know,” he agrees instantaneously. You dare to look back at him, but his attention is elsewhere. He's looking at the light snow covering the cars and ground. When he turns around to meet your gaze, you don't look away. “So, let's not be friends anymore.” Your heart freezes for a second, and not because of the cold. “I want to be more than that.”

Day 12

Tags: @sweetwerewolfqueen @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @perpetualabsurdity @deanswaywardgirl @seppys-return-to-madness @desimarie12 @hobby27 @mrspeacem1nusone @fluff-lover @melannie77

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

Or alternatively, Danny is so unbelievably chill about anything supernatural happening so long as it's not trying to kill him, but Castiel has been hardwired by heaven to react so so strongly to non denominational death magic that he freaks out in his own special way.

Danny: hey hunters maybe don't kill me

Sam: how do you know we're hunters?

Dean: probably the salt gun and sharpened stake, Sammy.

Castiel: *vibrating*

Danny Phantom and Supernatural crossover is the funniest idea ever to me tbh I feel like the halfas can see the true form of angels, and they have no say in the matter, but nobody fucking knows this because no halfas and angels ever interacted

[captainsherlockwinchester110283]

New content?

I’ve started a side blog here  where I just dump my thoughts. Think of it as a personal diary... thats on the internet... so it’s not so personal... 

point being is I’m trying to get back into writing but I find it easier to write about my thoughts then create plots at the moment. SO if you want content that’s semi-continous and it’s not fanfiction or storyline based. This is the place. I will resume writing here just need to get the juices flowing again

https://www.tumblr.com/rantingofasmallorganism