#thank you Dean for showing me this!!! i always enjoy when you send me things 💕

[fivie]

I keep thinking about how well grantaire and anna would get along (before she gets re-brainwashed)... i know you've moved away from spn canon with UMW but do you have thoughts on how your characters would theoretically interact with spn characters?

ah yes, the re-brainwashing was very unfortunate 😔

my main headcanon re. UMW characters meeting SPN characters is that if Enjolras and Grantaire met Sam and Dean, based on Enjolras's personality and him having the sword, they would absolutely assume he was the angel of the pair 😂 Dean would probably commiserate with Grantaire about the challenges of hanging out with a socially challenged angel, and Grantaire would absolutely go along with it. Then Cas would show up and be like 'hello brother 😐' and spoil his fun.

I think Enjolras and Dean would butt heads, but Sam and Combeferre would probably get along quite well. I hope the spirit of Victor Hugo can't see me typing this.

Ages ago I actually started writing a little crossover story just for fun but I found it really weird 😂 I don't know if I'll ever write any more of it so I'll put what I have under a cut here if anyone wants to read it lol

(it is definitely not UMW canon 😂)

Grantaire is in a long-abandoned barn in rural Belgium, idly sweeping up the ashy remains of the shapeshifter that had been terrorising the nearby village in the guise of a local cryptid legend, when Combeferre pops into his mind with a bemusing prayer:

Don't come back to my apartment right now.

Grantaire pauses, awaiting further details. If Combeferre were in danger, he's sure he wouldn't bother beating around the bush, so Grantaire isn't overly worried, but Combeferre has never told him to stay away before and so he waits, curious. A minute or so later, an even more bemusing continuation:

Or if you do, make sure you come in through the front door like a human would.

Sometimes Grantaire desperately wishes that the prayer communication line went both ways. Combeferre feels distracted, like there are many other things demanding his attention and he is snatching at quiet moments to send Grantaire fragmented intel. Finally:

Other hunters here.

With that, the pieces slot together. Grantaire personally thinks it would be kind of funny for him to drop in on a room full of Musain hunters, especially the ones who'd written him off as a drunken waste of space years ago, and he could always erase their memories after if it was going to cause problems, but he supposes that Combeferre's solution of just keeping him away for a while is simpler. He finishes his clean up and is just about to return to Jehan's house when Combeferre reaches out again.

Could use your expertise for this. Come back if you're able? But please be discreet.

Grantaire snorts. He thinks he'll enjoy having a conversation with Combeferre later about why it's okay to pretend that he's human to other hunters, but not to Enjolras or Combeferre himself. He's well aware of the difference and the reasoning, of course, but he does like watching Combeferre wrestle with a moral quandary.

Enjolras is here, too.

This last part sounds like a warning, and Grantaire supposes it is, and one he should be thankful for. He braces himself before flying back to Combeferre's building, going up the stairs with pointed emphasis and hoping everyone in the apartment can hear his very normal, very human footsteps approaching. He opens the apartment door, calling out a greeting, and he steps inside and the world stops.

The other angel in Combeferre's living room stares at him, his human face registering only mild surprise even as his luminous true form roils and sparks in shock and alarm and, of course, horrifyingly, recognition. Grantaire stares back for a wild, world-tilting moment, and then he flies in a mad flurry, grabbing Enjolras and Combeferre and taking them to the furthest side of the room, pushing them behind him. Combeferre, who had just expressly told Grantaire to be on his best and most human behaviour, calls his name in confused dismay, and Enjolras is saying something too, demanding to know what he's doing, and there are two other humans here too, making their own noise, but then—

"Hello, brother," Castiel says, and all the humans in the room fall deathly silent.

Grantaire doesn't answer. His hand instinctively twitches to curl around the handle of a blade not currently in his possession. He can feel the presence of his sword burning in Enjolras's coat pocket and he wonders if the split second it would take for him to get to it will mean fiery death for all of them.

Three thousand years, he thinks. Three thousand years he successfully kept his head down, and then Combeferre goes and invites another angel into his living room—!

"Aw no, brother?" one of the new humans repeats. Grantaire doesn't dare take his eyes off Castiel, but the human sounds exasperated. He also sounds American, which raises many questions but also answers the one of why they are all here and not at the Musain. Grantaire can only imagine the Musain hunters' reaction to Americans descending upon their home base. "Cas, are you serious?"

"He's pretty clearly serious." The other human puts himself in Grantaire's line of vision, stepping between him and Castiel with one hand raised placatingly. He's uncommonly tall and more than broad enough in the shoulders to be considered physically imposing by human standards, but his posture and expression are currently extremely non-confrontational—he looks nervous, and sort of concerned. He looks at Grantaire first but then, clearly finding no invitation in his stony face, tilts his head to look past him at Enjolras and Combeferre instead. "So, uh. Got yourselves an angel."

"As do you, it would seem," Combeferre says with measured calm. It's strange to hear him speak English. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees him take half a step forward and hisses back at him, "Don't."

"Hey, who are you? Do we know you?" the first human says suddenly. "Are you an old douchebag in a new meat-suit?"

"Dean," Castiel says in quiet admonishment.

"What? It's not like we can tell."

"You don't know him," Castiel tells him before turning back to Grantaire. "This isn't necessary. I'm not going to harm you or these humans. You should calm yourself."

"And if you want to harm Cas then we're going to have a problem," the tall human says.

Grantaire makes no attempt to calm himself. "Are you alone?" he demands of Castiel, whose vessel affects a faintly puzzled expression.

"I'm here with Sam and Dean," he says slowly, and Grantaire scowls.

"I mean," he says, "where is your garrison?"

"I no longer serve Heaven, Rachmiel," Castiel says in oddly gentle tones, as if he's just realised why Grantaire would be so horrified to see him.

"Do not call me that," Grantaire snaps with a sharp shake of his head. "You—what do you mean?"

"I am...fallen." There's a strange mixture of pride and shame in Castiel's voice as he says it. "My loyalties were tested and I found them to lie more with humanity than with our brothers and sisters."

"You…" Grantaire's mind, emerging from the initial shock, starts to piece things together, starts to remember. "I saw you. Last year. You were killing angels and humans. Hundreds of them."

"Hey, that wasn't Cas," one of the humans, Dean, starts to protest, while Grantaire hears twin sharp intakes of breath from Combeferre and Enjolras as they apparently make the connection between the God-Monster they'd seen on screen all those months ago and the mild-mannered man standing before them now.

"Look, okay, let's...We didn't come here to fight," says the other human, whom Grantaire assumes, through elimination, to be Sam. "It's complicated, okay? But Castiel is with us. He's not the bad guy. He's saved our lives more times than I can count and—hell, he helped us stop the apocalypse."

"Did he say the apocalypse?" Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter behind him.

"What did you two have to do with the…?" Grantaire looks at the two strangers properly for the first time and feels a fresh wave of hysteria. There is a lot to be read from their souls that he will unpack later, but most pressingly, he can see who they are—what they are. "You're the vessels." His undoubtedly wild-eyed gaze swings back to Castiel. "You're walking around with Michael and Lucifer's vessels? You brought them here?"

"Michael and Lucifer are both in the cage," Castiel says. "I do not expect they will be coming looking for their vessels."

"And they already know that they do not have consent to take either of us for a ride," Dean says with a grimly sardonic smile.

Grantaire's head feels like it's going to explode, which wouldn't kill him but would undoubtedly be very distressing for Enjolras and Combeferre to witness. He wills his vessel to hold it together.

"Grantaire," Combeferre says quietly—even that makes him jump. Combeferre speaks to him in soft, rapid-fire French that the Americans clearly do not understand and that Castiel politely pretends not to hear. "If he's really broken with Heaven, isn't that a good thing? For you to not be the only one?"

Grantaire casts a somewhat tortured glance back at him, not anywhere near ready to accept the idea that running into anyone from his family could ever be good, before looking inevitably back to Castiel, unable to keep his eyes from returning to the perceived threat in the room.

"It is good to see you," Castiel says, horribly earnest. "I believed you dead."

"Yeah, that was the idea," Grantaire snaps. Castiel tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"You've been in hiding," he hazards finally.

"Pretty successfully, up until now," Grantaire says.

"Hey, just like Gabriel," Dean remarks. "You gotta wonder how many other angels flew the coop."

"Gabriel," Combeferre repeats in tones of disbelief that match Grantaire's own feelings. "The archangel? He also…?"

"Gabriel is dead," Grantaire says bluntly.

"Yeah, but he had a good run hanging out down here pretending to be a trickster god," Dean says with a smile that suggests not-so-fond remembrance. "What've you been hiding out as? Some other deity?"

There's an agonising sort of pause, and then it's Enjolras who says, not without bitterness, "A human."

Dean whistles. "That's a bold choice."

"Rachmiel," Castiel says, and Grantaire wants to scream. "Heaven will not hear of any of this from me. You and your humans are safe. Please. I—Here."

He puts one hand up as if in surrender while his blade falls from the sleeve of his coat into his other hand. He holds it up, slowly and demonstratively, before setting it down on Combeferre's coffee table and stepping back.

There is a very strange, very awkward moment where Castiel and his two humans look at Grantaire expectantly, waiting for him to return the gesture and disarm. Finally, Enjolras steps forward. He catches Grantaire's eye questioningly and, at his nod, takes Grantaire's blade out of his own coat and lays it next to Castiel's. Dean and Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Castiel gives a slow, considered blink, but mercifully all three of them refrain from saying anything about the matter.

[lover-of-mine]

gg here

so this is going to be long

you and the people reading your blog need to understand something: the people shipping bt are mostly destiel, i don’t know how may of you have seen spn or ship destiel but this knowledge is important

when we got tommy kissing buck most people compared this to destiel, buck to dean and his bisexuality and the now diehard bt stans started comparing misha and lfjr saying how their characters even if supposed to be on the show just for a few episodes they were so loved by the fans that the screewriters decided to keep them and this really happened with misha/castiel but this character was added in a show where there wasn’t major ship (the only one was wincest but even you can understand how impossible was even the thought of canonizing a romantic relationship between two brothers) but mostly castiel was a brand new character while tommy has a past and not a very beautiful one so two different scenarios but that’s not all because they started comparing the parasocial relationship misha has with his fans with the one lfjr has with his stans

i don’t know how many of you were or are on twt since the start but pictures this:

we have lou this brand new actor for our little silly weewoo show he’s kissing ostark, thanks to tommy we have bi buck, people are celebrating, people want to see how this will play out but we still ship buddie we are just enjoying it (bree/kinarscoffee made a post saying how she was happy that tommy could help with buddie canon) then lfjr started interact with them: at the beginning he was shy and not so bold he was the one spilling the beans about tommy/eddie, he was the one telling how bt was a stepping stone for buddie and how tommy was aware that something was happening between buck and eddie (mind you at the time his cameos where 50$)

then he started seeing his fanbase grow, he started responding to hc, telling them if they liked his idea about the chin grab, talking about the sexy times between tommy and buck, he started telling sob stories about tommy, started sending videos on their discord about bt so they finally found the same thing they had with misha

they started contacting con organization to ask them to have lou because they wanted the m&g, the photo, cosplaying him, proposal in front of him dressed like buck and tommy (im not criticizing who wants to go to the con, i went to a spn one years ago but it’s not my thing so not a critique), being recognized by him (if you watch the video they post on tt you will see to how many con they went to see misha) and lfjr is the only one who could give them this kind of relationship because ostark, rg, aisha aren’t interested in cons especially ostark

then they started buying the famous LOUniform, a shirt he had in one of his pic, a limited edition just 500 pieces; they went to pride, to disneyword (making photo with disney characters and tagging lou)

they started interacting with his sister and she started interacting with them

they went so far to defend and protect him, they made video defending him, saying that he was just a baby (30yo) sharing funny memes and how everyone did it, they called queer ppl homophobe, called black and poc racist, they stomped on their beliefs for him

they got blocked by people, they got a bad reputation, they are hated and always treated like stupid, they aren’t acknowledged by ostark and now lfjr stopped being friends with them

so they payed a lot of money for him, they bought his shirt, they did so many things for him and now he is ignoring them so they are shocked how dare him act like this when they made him? when they did all of this for him? other are just chanting “his mental health his poverty mental health” like a justification for the fact that he isn’t playing with them anymore

Hello, love, when I tell you I read the word destiel and almost poured myself actual tea to sip while reading this, I'm not kidding, that first paragraph legit made me go "oh they're trying to emulate Misha" and then strapped in for a ride.

The thing is, I kinda get the Misha comparison, I was never in that deep in the supernatural fandom, but I did watch the show as it was airing until season 7 and adjacently followed for the rest of it, so the whole being brought in on a season after a strike, a shiny new love interest, someone else to try to interact with. But like you said, supernatural didn't have a established ship because you can't really make incest a thing, so Cas was a a breath of fresh air. And like, anything is more compelling than shipping literal incest. Cas brought in something the show didn't have. Tommy was never gonna be that, because we have Eddie and you can't really replace Eddie with Tommy. What happened with Misha is a once in a lifetime situation, you can't recreate that.

Also, I can't believe the cameos were 50$ when this madness started. But I do remember the initial interactions with him, the chin grab and stuff like. But damn, this was a ride from start to finish. But I feel like something clicked in my brain, they make sense to me now. I'm still speechless but...

[le-trash-prince]

....apologies in advance for how unhinged this is probably gonna be.

no real need to talk about what kinks babe and charlie have since the show did it for us 😌

North and Sonic, in the bedroom, with a camera. it's canon to me. also when they're even just hanging out with the rest of x hunter they'll send each other ~sexy~ photos. my headcanon is that before they even got together they'd like. review/critique each other's thirst traps, and more risque photos.

ALSO I like to think that they think as the young cool hip members of the team they should be having wild freaky sex all the time but most often they end up having sweet vanilla sex. they're like we bought all those toys/outfits/paraphernalia for NOTHING.

since rewatching the show I've been having A LOT of peteway feelings. service! top! Pete!!!! sorry but that scene where Way is all whiny and pouty and Pete just takes care of him is printed indelibly into my mind. Pete has almost kind of a saviour complex - he clearly still thinks of Kenta as his responsibility even all those years later - which works very well with a Way who needs someone to build him back up from being broken. (and Pete also makes Way get a therapist)

I think they both like using - or specifically Not using - their powers in bed. Way for sure likes that he doesn't HAVE to say what he wants, Pete can just know. but definitely sometimes Pete makes him say it. and to make sure Way doesn't get frustrated and use his powers on Pete his hands have to be tied up you know?

also have NOT stopped thinking about body worship and Way getting overwhelmed by it since you mentioned it.... GOD.

anyway hot rich housewife Way😌as he deserves😌no chance Way can cook BUT as demonstrated in the show he very clearly understands food as love SO. consider Way (more atticwife than housewife in this s2 AU scenario but Way would love it) checking exactly when Pete is getting home - of course Pete is always hurrying home these days, but what can you expect, he's heartbroken obviously he doesn't want to hang out - and making sure he's either ordered dinner or put together the pre-prepped meals Pete gets delivered from a variety of different services so nobody notices he's going through twice as much food as he should, and has it ready and waiting on the table for when Pete gets home. and maybe as a thank you Pete rails Way over the table too. just as a sign of gratitude, you know.

okay I know we've talked about the polycule and kinks but all over the place so let's try and consolidate lol.

Winner likes it when people pay attention to him (obviously!!) but turns out he also gets a little hot when people ignore him completely. also he likes to use his height/size to his advantage (also just to be a little bit of a dick you know for fun) like instead of leaning down he'll make the other person go up on their toes.

do you think Winner's into being gagged. I don't think he's into being tied up but he can certainly appreciate it when someone else is EVEN THOUGH it means they can't touch him back. thought about humiliation but does Winner have the ability to feel that.

is giving blowjobs a kink because it's like Dean's favourite thing (consider the different ways the other three treat him when he's on his knees <- I have thoughts but this is already so long lol) aside from the OBVIOUS FROM SPACE praise kink. <- genuinely my brain derailed for a bit here thinking about Dean's praise kink I'm coming back now I'm normal. Dean would also be down to be a hot rich housewife I think as long as everyone tells him how pretty he looks and how well he did whatever housework.

Kenta ALSO has a praise kink and - as you have delightfully talked about - very much enjoys being tied up. more than anything Kenta likes doing a Good Job and being told he's doing a good job. also. body worship but they have to walk a fine line and not lean into objectification. also I think Kenta should pick Kim up. maybe while Kenta's wearing pretty lingerie and his collar!

Kim likes to collar all his boys!! and they love it too. we love gentle dom Kim 😌 who sometimes likes to just get wrecked as well. he likes to take care of his boys! I still very much enjoy the headcanon that he demonstrates that it's okay to like something by having it done for him first. he likes tying people up and driving them out of their minds with how good they feel.

all four of them are stupidly possessive over each other idk if it's a kink so much as they're all just a little unhinged. well it's a kink if they're Into It I guess and for suuuure at least one of them is.

uhhh also since Winner and Dean hooked up a bunch of times pre-canon in the bar bathroom the first few times they sleep together sober feels kinky. okay I'm stopping now.

first of all i'm obviously seconding everything we've talked about before

yes, i think the whole world is aware of charlie and babe's kinks by now ^^

oh north and sonic absoLUTELY have a cam kink. north probably goes through ten levels of crisis wondering if it's okay to jack off to a picture of your bro in lingerie except he can't STOP thinking about it. also i feel like north would be a crier.

ldfgdfg they WOULD be into experimentation just for the principle of it, but mostly they just want skin to skin contact and giggles and cute outfits

pete is 100% a service top and he spoils way both in the bedroom and outside of it, but i also think that further down the road, he would admit to wanting way to use his power on pete in the bedroom sometimes, just so he can stop having to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

i really need to see way in an apron and nothing but an apron if he can't cook he can be the dinner please and thanks

i think winner is maybe a little into being gagged. i feel like he runs his mouth so much he's asking for someone to shut him up. also i think he does experience humiliation, which is part of why he hates babe so much bc he doesn't know where to direct that energy. (edit: also i think winner would look great in a muzzle)

dean giving blowjobs and being told how pretty he looks and how good he's doing is probably his favorite thing in the world. i bet he'd have to goad kenta into being rough with him bc kenta would be so restrained unless he's properly pissed at dean

yes i think kenta should pick kim up and oh, sorry, my brain is derailing thinking about benz riding garfield. uh yeah anyways something something he's not allowed to come until kim does

kim deserves all the doggies 😌😌😌

the foundation of this ship in my mind was them being a little bit terrible and unbalanced. i just know dean is into getting down with strangers on the dance floor just so at least one of his boys can drag him off and mark him

"sober feels kinky" gdfgdfg FOR THEM IT WOULD LMFAO

also i think alan also has a praise kink and jeff loves to exploit this. he'd also be into cuffing alan's wrists to the bed. i can't picture alan suggesting anything that wasn't vanilla, but i feel like every single time jeff suggests trying something, alan is so absolutely into even just the thought of it.

[asecretvice]

Hey. I just really want to thank you for “And This, Your Living Kiss”. I’m guessing you may be a bit tired hearing us talk about it, what, 4, 5 years after you published it? I just need to express some gratitude. Your poem “Perfect” was probably the first poem ever to make cry, and I still read it occasionally when I’m down. It’s honestly probably my favorite poem ever. For me it captures this delicate, still very anchored kind of happiness that just hits so deep. Kind of like the opposite of melancholia. I hope you get what I’m saying and that I’m not just talking out of my ass, and if I am, I was hoping you’d share some of your thoughts about this poem?

Also, this story is truly my favorite story ever. Has been for a very long time. A question I have for you is, is there any place where we can read more of your poetry? And if not, I was also wondering if you’d be willing to share with us some of your favorite poets/poems?

Firstly, thank you for your patience; sometimes it takes me a while to get to asks.

But mostly, thank you so much for these kind words. Do not ever doubt yourself when taking the time to extend your positivity to others; I—and I daresay the vast majority of people—do not get tired of receiving these small kindnesses. It’s a reminder that life can be full of connection, a reminder that when I send a little bit of my heart out into our raging, grief-filled world, there are those who accept and understand and, hopefully, keep passing that love forward. And thusly we make the world a better place. So please receive my gratitude for reaching out.

That you love “Perfection” means so much to me. It was the first piece of the fic I wrote, you know, and pretty much became the basis for who Dean is in the fic thereafter. I don’t feel you’re talking out of your ass at all. Dean is such a complex character, and I think that’s why so many of us relate to him; we see our own complexity and contradictions reflected back at us through him. There is of course happiness there among the rest—a boy/man who is at his happiest when with his family (blood or no). Underneath it all is that deep thread of love we (and Cas!) admire and strive toward within ourselves.

Unfortunately I don’t have poetry published anywhere else. Maybe someday.

Several of my fav poets/poems appear in the fic already, though they’re among many others. However because I’ve been thinking about her lately, I hope you’ll indulge me if I talk about Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her masterpiece Sonnets from the Portuguese.

In the modern day EBB’s words most often show up in the guise of “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” It sounds a bit hokey, doesn’t it? I know I always thought so; especially to my teenage ear it was sickly sweet if not downright simpering. Spoiler: I was wrong. Context changes everything.

Do you believe that some books or stories come into your life at just the right time? Fast forward to when I’m 18 or 19. I’m in a town I’ve never been to before, visiting people I barely know. My host needs to work and offers to drop me off in the town center to explore. I agree because the weather’s fair and I’m desperate for a break from polite company, as it were. Happily it’s a pleasant area, full of green and not far from a large canal. After wandering along its edge for a while I aim back toward the local stores and window-shop up and down the streets. At last I stumble upon a used bookstore right next to a gelateria! Well you couldn’t have put two things together that more matched my taste if you tried. Naturally, I resolve to find a book and then go next door for some gelato and spend my time enjoying them both.

The bookstore is in an older building, for sure, with hardwood floors and the type of wainscoting that make me think it’s from the early 20th century at least. It’s split into multiple rooms and connected by open doorways; I wonder if it used to be a home. Many, though not all of the bookshelves are built into the walls and painted a pleasant white, stuffed to the gills with books in every color. The only other soul in the building is the man behind the front counter, and aside from a swift exchange of polite smiles I am left alone. I start by going to the left and poking around the shop and its little book-filled rooms counterclockwise, determined to choose at least one thing before I leave. What type, what genre? What length, what mood? I don’t know, but am sure I’ll know it when I see it. I’m free to choose whatever I like, you understand, because rarely had an English teacher in my past convinced me I couldn’t teach myself better, and I’d resolved never to take a class in the English department in college if I could help it (and for better or worse, I never did).

I take my time twisting in and out of the treasure-filled corners, no rush and no fuss. Yet no book sings to me. At length I near the back of the shop; on the far side beneath a window is a short, two-shelf bookcase. With waning hope I crouch in front of the shelf and begin reading spines. Aha! It’s filled with poetry. Perhaps there is some hope after all…then there it is: Sonnets from the Portuguese. Definitely faux-fancy binding, but still pretty. It looks like this:

I flip through, and every sonnet is accompanied by a different piece of silhouette art. It’s lovely, and it sings to me. A small pencil mark on the inside indicates it only costs a couple bucks, so I rummage in my wallet, stop by the front desk, and leave the store with the book clutched in my hands. With the rest of my cash I go to the gelateria next door and pick a couple of unusual flavors and again, alone, I choose a rickety metal table outside and sit with nothing but birds and sunshine for company. I skip the introduction and open the book immediately to the first sonnet:

I thought once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me.  Straightway I was ’ware, So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair, And a voice said in mastery while I strove, . . 'Guess now who holds thee?'—'Death,' I said, But, there, The silver answer rang . . 'Not Death, but Love.'

What do you glean from the poem? It is slow and sad, a bright mythologized ideal set against a woman sunk deep in dark grief, a darkness that swiftly shifts into horror as a Shape appears behind her, physically pulls her from her weeping, and demands a response. She is so sure that her own death has at last come upon her, except what’s appeared…is love? Love, of all things? Love?

This is not at all what I am expecting to read. I fill up with another spoonful of gelato and eagerly turn the page.

And turn, and turn—Reader, I’m hooked. I’m strapped into a rollercoaster and freefalling down the first slope, on a wild ride built by a woman who’s been chronically ill since childhood, who’s lived through the death of her mother and beloved brother, whose father keeps her in his house and firmly under his thumb even long into her thirties, who still manages to write and get published and yet still lives lonely in her dark room…Sonnets from the Portuguese is an epic journey via the most astonishing set of 44 sonnets about how love completely changed her life, sonnets which her husband later touted to be the best in English since Shakespeare (and I agree). If you haven’t read the sonnets I encourage you to do so before reading on, link here, but if you’d rather I walk you through…

Even reading them again now I am in awe. How baldly and boldly she talks about how she and Robert, because of course it’s about her famous courtship with Robert Browning, are not meant to be. Not just her circumstances at home, not just her poor health, not just the fact that she thinks herself so below him and his worth, but also her grief. The darkness that lives in her! So many lines from these poems are woven into the tapestry of my life, like from sonnet V: Behold and see / What a great heap of grief lay hid in me. She warns that it could ruin him. Stand further off then! go! it ends.

And yet the next one (VI) begins: Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand / Henceforward in thy shadow. It is too late. She’s already been changed. The world and her perception of it are already shifting. Read how the beginning of VII illustrates this:

The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink, Was caught up into love, and taught the whole Of life in a new rhythm.  The cup of dole God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink, And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.

She was sinking into oblivion, death her companion, until he stood between them and she was caught up into love, no longer to go through her days sitting simple and still in her room, content to wallow in the sorrow she’d been given. Yet…that still doesn’t matter, because how can she reciprocate? And, crucially, does it make her a bad person that she can’t?

am I cold, Ungrateful, that for these most manifold High gifts, I render nothing back at all? Not so; not cold,—but very poor instead. (VIII)

Have you ever been there? Found yourself wondering if you’re even capable of love and kindness toward others given all you’ve been through, and how horrible it feels to think that ability’s been stolen from you? Is what little you can eke out even worth anything in comparison? Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass. (IX)

But she continues turning the idea of love over in her mind. Could it be that love is fully worthy, no matter where it comes from? There’s nothing low / In love, she reasons, when love the lowest (X). Still it does not seem that she herself could be worthy—and if this is worthy love, anyway, would she have even known how to do it if she’d not first been shown by him?

And thus, I cannot speak Of love even, as a good thing of my own: Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak, And placed it by thee on a golden throne,— And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!) Is by thee only, whom I love alone. (XII)

It seems that Robert persists in his own love, because then an earnest plea: that he love her for love’s sake, because people change in time. She herself is changing now because of him! Do not even love her because he loves taking care of and comforting her, because his love could lessen her need for that comfort! (XIV)

Regardless she is not without feeling, as sad and calm as she outwardly seems. She’s just not like him. But…could his love and his will be strong enough to overcome all these obstacles? Why, conquering / May prove as lordly and complete a thing / In lifting upward, as in crushing low! With such success, she says, I at last record, / Here ends my strife. (XVI)

But of course, nothing can be quite so simple. Her first question is how she can be useful to him. This does not feel like a full partnership:

How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use? A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse? A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine? A grave, on which to rest from singing?  Choose. (XVII)

That theme of death, too, is still ever-present. Even as the next couple of sonnets talk about how they’ve exchanged locks of hair she speaks of it. In XX a sea-change is further revealed, however, when she compares her life before Robert to the one after knowing him, how link by link, [I] Went counting all my chains but now, in contrast to VII’s cup of dole, she drinks from life’s great cup of wonder! She begs him to keep saying that he loves her (XXI), continuing the theme that his love will teach her, lift her, allay her many fears. But the next again ends with the death-hour rounding it.

Robert’s response? That her death would harm him. She admits to marveling at this revelation. If it is to be believed,

Then my soul, instead Of dreams of death, resumes life’s lower range. Then, love me, Love! look on me—breathe on me! As brighter ladies do not count it strange, For love, to give up acres and degree, I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange My near sweet view of heaven, for earth with thee! (XXIII)

So first we learn that it is Love, not Death that has grabbed her; then we know that she feels Robert’s soul has slipped between her and the brink of death and thus she begins to question her constant sorrow; she is changing by his love; she will stop worrying about her worthiness and be of use to him and bask in what love he is willing to give her; but only now, finally, does she give up death itself in order to live her life. She is choosing to live!

The next few sonnets double down on this, about how all her hope had become despair, about how for so long she only had visions for company, and didn’t know they were mere shades in comparison to a reality of actually living, how Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well. Also important? His saving kiss (XXVII).

We’ve come far, but progress isn’t an even trajectory. The rollercoaster dips again: now that she wishes to live, she wishes to live in his presence. She is both touch-starved and starved for company. Because their letters—one of, if not the most famous set of love letters in the English language—are to her all dead paper, mute and white! She speaks of how they fixed a day in spring / To come and touch my hand…a simple thing, / Yet I wept for it! (XXVIII) So we got the first mention in the last sonnet of his kissing her, and now a memory of when he first touched her hand. She goes on to write about how thinking of him is no longer enough; she needs to be near him. She then wonders, when he is gone, if she has embellished his feelings for her. Can you blame her? I certainly can’t. Her dark thoughts are now manifesting in these doubts about her perception, rather than her abilities.

But upon his next visit, she admits, I erred / In that last doubt! (XXXI). His presences reassures that all is real, not dream. And while she has always found it unlikely that their bond could have formed so fast (Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe, XXXII), now that she knows him she knows it was wrong to think that of him. She then brings up her childhood and draws parallels between the bright happy love she felt then with the love she feels now…even though, given the life she’s lived, the love she feels really can’t be the same. Her thoughts are no longer that of a child’s, which can be lightly turned aside, but for him she can and will turn from her dark, lonely thoughts when called.

This all decided, that their love is deep and true and as real as the loves she used to feel, and that she wants to be with him, an important question remains: If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange / And be all to me? Simply reading the poems and knowing their time period (Victorian) it could be enough to assume that it’s a regular leaving of your childhood home to create your own. But remember what I said at the beginning? The control her father exerts over her? She knows he would never approve. Hell, it was difficult enough for her siblings to make lives for themselves within his shadow. Going with Robert would mean truly leaving everything. She knows it won’t be easy: For grief indeed is love and grief beside (XXXV).

This great fear invites more doubt. She admits she has grown stronger and more confident, but that doesn’t make her troubles disappear. She knows she does their love a disservice in so doubting and in so fearing, but she can’t help it. But then…she returns to the physical, to his presence. In XXXVIII she speaks of their first three kisses: the first on her hand, the second for her forehead, but half-landed on her hair, and the third upon my lips was folded down / In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed / I have been proud and said, “My love, my own.”

She goes on in the next sonnets to say how grateful she is that he truly sees her and knows her beyond all the layers of sorrow and sickness she labors under. It should also be noted that, uncommonly for their time, he at 33 or so was courting her at 39/40. And so she is grateful, too, that he thinks it soon when others cry “Too late.” (XL). She then thanks all who had ever loved or listened, but again thanks Robert for listening to her even when it was difficult. She doubles down, now, on her decision to live:

I seek no copy now of life’s first half: Leave here the pages with long musing curled, And write me new my future’s epigraph, New angel mine, unhoped for in the world! (XLII)

And then—only now, as the rollercoaster shoots us upward and onward in joy and hope for a good, loving future—does she begin sonnet XLIII with How do I love thee? She asks this, not as some young girl with no life experience about a boy she’s seen across the room (I mean, how else was I supposed to interpret it, given how it’s used in the modern age?). She asks this as a woman full four decades into her life, a life full of chronic illness, an authoritarian home, and familial grief. She asks this after months of courtship during which she fought for every inch of belief, and hope, and joy. Where she at last came to know her own strength of heart and of will. Because she does leave her home, dear Reader. She elopes with Robert Browning, gets married in France, and lives out the rest of her life in Italy, where death finally catches up to her at 55. Keep all this in mind, as you read the sonnet in full:

How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

There is one more sonnet, where she brings back flowers, a motif I didn’t spend time on in this post, to talk about how their souls are intertwined down to their roots. I bring it up now not just because flowers end this glorious cycle of forty-four poems, but because I think of her grave.

A year or two after I fell in love with these poems I was lucky enough to be in Italy myself. Some friends and I were walking around Florence and I insisted we had to find the English cemetery. I remember it as being this island of a hill in the middle of some busy streets, all fenced in with a little building at the entrance. When we scurried across the street and inside, there was a nun there who greeted us warmly. I told her I was looking for Elizabeth Barrett Browning and she lit up. She motioned for us to follow as she told me that they do their best to take care of her grave, and have always done so (I don’t know if she means just those who work there or Italians in general, as EBB was loved by Florence in her time). But, she said, they did not look kindly upon Robert, because he spent all this money on a beautiful tomb but he never, ever came to visit. She said this with the authority of someone who had witnessed it herself, though of course that was impossible. This was clearly a story deemed important enough—or perhaps simply so full of strong feeling—to stand the test of time.

The tomb is indeed beautiful. The pictures when I did a quick lookup on the internet do not do it justice; forgive me for not having the energy now to dig up where I’ve saved the old files of the pictures I took myself. At the time it was absolutely surrounded by tall, enormous roses, deep red in color. After I had my fill the nun was kind enough to take us on a tour of the rest of the cemetery, which was lovely. But I’ve never been able to shake the memory of that story, the one where the nuns lived and died resentful of an absent Robert.

It wasn’t until about a year and a half ago, when I read Fiona Sampson’s recent biography Two-Way Mirror: The Life of Elizabeth Barrett Browning that it finally made sense. Robert often avoided grief in this way, it seems, afraid to travel back to England when family members were ailing until it was too late. Whether you agree with his actions or not, his absence we can at least hope is from his great love turned to great grief, rather than a lack of feeling on his part. He himself died in Venice; their only child died in Italy also. Robert is, however, still separated from Elizabeth in death: he is buried in Poet’s Corner, Westminster Abbey, London.

If you’re hoping for a neat bow on the end of this post, there isn’t. I think of her often not just because I love her poetry but, I suppose, because each year is slowly, inexorably bringing me closer to the age she was when she decided she would live her life again, and though I haven’t found a soul-shaking love like she has, I am trying, trying, trying to live, too.

[monstermoviedean]

I am so here for the Sam Indictments. Like no I love Sam the character of SPN fandom's creation but that's not the Sam we get on the actual show. That guy's just a plot device with a first and last name. Cardboard cutout man. Least character of all time. I once saw someone on here call him "a shock collar that makes Dean do things" and honestly??? Yeah.

i kind of took this as an opportunity to ramble so thank you and also sorry! I really appreciate you sending this ask and having this conversation!

i do want to say that my goal here isn't sam indictments, just noting and sometimes examining the things he actually does and says and believes. and sometimes those result in criticism, and i think that's okay. i've said before that i don't enjoy the all-criticism-all-the-time kind of discussion that we get sometimes, but i think there can be value in occasionally saying "hey, this is a fucked up thing, let's honestly talk about it." sometimes sam does some really fucked up things and it feels like nobody talks about them - and i wonder if people avoid those conversations in order to protect fanon sam/avoid looking at canon sam.

i came back to spn after a while away, and fanon reoriented me to the show. so when i started to rewatch i started looking for the sam everyone was talking about, only to find that that sam does not exist in the show. which, hey, that's fine, we all fanonize to some extent! but sometimes I find myself frustrated with how drastically removed fanon is from canon, especially when fanon directly contradicts canon and it's unclear if people forgot the canon or are intentionally ignoring it.

my preference when examining characters is to look at their actions, behaviors, personality in canon, and try to imagine/understand how that core character would function in different scenarios. and for me, i still have a hard time understanding who "core sam" is. i think core sam is really clearly defined in seasons 1-4, but in a way that still allows for a lot of neutral mask-ism, a lot of blank space to project onto. but the amount of blank space just seems to increase over time, while the core definition seems to get smaller and fuzzier. it becomes incredibly difficult to pick out the throughlines for sam, and the things that make him tick. and it's completely reasonable and fine if people find that compelling, but it is not especially compelling for me personally.

as for the shock collar - holy shit. yeah. i mean. yeah. wow. i have this theory that the show gives dean more and more "plot power" beginning when sam is soulless - and by plot power i mean the ability to make decisions or take actions that advance the plot. someone always has to have plot power, but it shifts further and further out of balance over time until dean is the only one responsible for it. this is frustrating to watch because he doesn't want it at all, and because when you're the only one doing plot you're necessarily going to fuck up more because the story forces you to. so dean takes the brunt of the criticism solely because he's the only one making active choices (even when the choice is inaction). and it doesn't seem to matter whether it's someone guiding his hand or a shock collar forcing him to do it, the blame still lands on him.

I don't know how to summarize but tl;dr sometimes fanon sam is bad especially because there's often no evidence (or even counter-evidence) for the fanon. and sometimes canon sam does fucked up shit AND sometimes canon sam is no one at all. and i think we can acknowledge that without it being "samcrit"!

[keiththecat]

Admissible (Part Five)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader (You)

Summary: You've always hunted alone. That is, until Bobby sends you on a hunt near the Winchester brothers. How will things change when they come to help?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, cursing, groping/ almost sexual assault, self-doubt/ self-esteem issues, character death, injuries, hurt/comfort

Author's Note: Here's part five! A bit shorter than usual, and I'm hoping to have another one to you all later this week to make up for it. Hope you're enjoying so far! Feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about anything. Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love so far! <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.

Part One

AO3 link here

You sit for a few moments, feeling like your brain has shut off and time has stopped. I have to tell them. But what if we’re being watched here? What if our phones are being watched?

Calmly, as if nothing has happened, you get up from your seat and walk to the library. You find some paper and a pencil, then set out to find either of the Winchesters. Castiel, if you’re available and can be discrete, we might need some help at the bunker.

You’re walking down the hallway toward the bedrooms when Sam comes out of his room and notices you. “Hey, settling in okay?”

“Yeah, this place is great. Actually, I’m glad I found you, can I get your help with something?” Stay calm, act normal.

“Sure, what’s up?” He asks.

“I need to grab a few things first, but can you show me to the shower room again? This place is huge.” Surely if there are cameras here, there won’t be any in the bathroom.

“Sure, no problem,” He gives you a smile.

“Great, thanks. Give me a second.” You step into your room, leave your phone on your bed, and grab some clothes and a towel, tucking your paper and pencil inside. “Okay, I’m ready. Lead the way?”

Sam nods, leading you down the hall. When you get to the door of the shower room, he stops and gestures, “here you go.” 

You wrap a hand behind his neck, pulling him down so your lips meet. Catching him by surprise, it takes a moment before he kisses you back, but once he snaps out of it, he is kissing you with fervor and grabbing your hips to pull you even closer. As his tongue works its way into your mouth, your arms wrap around his neck and you use them to pull him with you into the shower room. Once the door closes behind him, you reluctantly pull back and place a finger on his lips. He opens his eyes to look at you in confusion, lips swollen and reddened from your attack. God, I want to do that more. I hope Dean is right, and I really hope kissing him like this doesn’t ruin my chances. You gesture with your finger for him to wait, and you grab your paper to write a message: “Please trust me. Don’t speak yet. Turn your phone off.”

He reads the message with furrowed brows, and you look at him with pleading eyes. He nods, doing as you asked. You write another message: “Cameras in here?” He shakes his head no. You turn on one of the showers, hoping it’ll swallow any noises that could be picked up from the hallway.

“Okay, I definitely want to talk more about that kiss later,” you keep your voice low. “But I needed to get you in here because I think someone might be watching us, or at least me. The bunker does have security cameras, right?”

“Oh- uh- yeah, yeah it does,” Sam stutters out, his brain trying to catch up, “Everywhere except the bathrooms and bedrooms.”

“Do they have audio?”

He shakes his head, “no, just video.”

“Okay, good,” you turn off the shower. “I got a call from an unknown number and I didn’t recognize the voice, it said ‘vedimus te. Venimus ad vos.’ But it wasn’t even like the voice came from the phone, it felt like it came from my head.”

“Shit,” Sam runs his hands through his hair. “Can you think of anything that would be after you?”

“No,” you answer, “nothing big, anyway. I don’t make a habit of going after the big stuff, that’s more your thing.”

“Well- yeah, that’s fair. If it is something big, it would have to be really big to get in here past the wardings-”

You cut him off, “-unless it managed to power down the wardings when it hacked the cameras. Also the voice said ‘we,’ I’m thinking it isn’t working solo.”

“Okay, so multiple somethings speaking Latin that can see inside the bunker and they are coming for you. We need to let Dean know.” He pulls out his phone, turning it back on.

“Sam, what if they’re watching your phones?”

“We have a code, don’t worry, Y/N.” He says, texting Dean. “I’m thinking that if we can get Cass here, he can blow out the cameras. That way, no one sees us turning them off and we have something to blame it on.”

“Okay, but what if that makes them come inside the bunker since they don’t have eyes on us anymore?”

“Well,” he says with determination shining in his eyes, “we’ll just have to be armed and as ready as we can be. Plus, we’ll have backup.”

“What if it’s not enough though, Sam? We don’t even know what they are. I don’t want you guys to get hurt because of me. I mean, they called me, not either of you. What if I go find them, give them what they want-”

“No,” he stops you, placing his hands on either side of your face, “absolutely not, Y/N. We can handle whatever this is, but we’ll handle it together.”

You stare into his eyes, tears forming in yours at how sweet and selfless Sam is. One tear manages to escape, rolling down your cheek until he wipes it away with his thumb, and then his lips are back on yours. The kiss is sweet but strong, your feelings for each other pouring into the passionate embrace. He pulls away slightly, placing his forehead against yours. “We can talk later about that kiss, too,” he says, grinning.

You smile and nod, pulling away and wiping your face for any other tears. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Sam’s phone dings, signaling that he got a text. “Cass is here. You ready?” he asks.

You reach out, taking his hand. “Let’s do this.” He squeezes your hand, leading the both of you out into the hallway and toward the War Room. Dean and Castiel are standing there. Cass gives you a small nod when you enter, and Dean looks at your hand in Sam’s, a small grin forming on his lips. Sam nods at Cass, whose eyes then shine with a bright white light, and you see sparks flying from several spots on the walls.

“All cameras in the bunker have been destroyed,” Cass affirmed, his eyes returning to their normal blue. His head tilts to the side and his brows furrow, “the wardings are down. Do you all have weapons?” 

In response, the brothers each draw their pistols. “Shit,” you respond, “my stuff is in my bag in my room.” You drop Sam’s hand and jog down the hall, heading for your room to grab your weapons and cell phone. You grab your usual knives and pistol, but your phone rings with another unknown number as soon as your hand touches it. Coincidence or can they somehow still see me? But Sam said there weren’t cameras in the bedrooms.

You lift the phone, intending to answer it, but you hear a breath behind you. Shit. As you turn to face your attacker, you feel a sting in the side of your neck. Your hand instinctively goes to the spot, finding a syringe. Your vision immediately blurs, your muscles seem to turn to liquid, and you collapse. You register a blurred figure bending over you before you lose consciousness.

*

Feeling halfway between awake and asleep, your limbs dangle lifelessly and feel as if they are made of lead. You’re being carried over someone’s shoulder. Staying as limp as you can manage in the hopes of not alerting your attacker, you struggle to pry your eyes open slightly. Seeing that it is too dark to make out any surroundings, you let them drift closed again. Your thoughts feel like they’re moving through molasses, and awareness slips through your grasp again.

Part Six

[kimberly-stocks]

So happy that you answered my ask and are open for prompts.I have no problem with your favorite phase of Literati.I too hate Logan with a passion.I do enjoy fics in which he is proven to be the asshat that he is and Rory/Jess ride into the sunset together though.

Some prompts:

Dean never moved to SH.Jess shows up as usual in early season 2.

Rory and Paris lose the election at the end of season 2 and Rory spends the sumner in SH.The kiss still hapenned.

Rory decides to keep going to public school in SH.What happens when she crosses paths with Jess a lot more.Maybe they even have projects they need to work on together...

What if Luke and Jess moved into the appartment in season 2?Luke still has the habit to stay above the dinner for deliveries and hook ups with Nicole. How will the lovebirds use the space and privacy once they figure their shit out in season 3?.

It's all I got for now.

Thanks again and take care.

My god, this ask stayed in my inbox for a while because I didn't know how to answer it. I mean, all of these prompts are AMAZING ideas for a full length multi-chaptered fic, not for short ficlets that I had in mind when asking for prompts.

I mean, I wanna read all of those stories! Please, somebody write them!

And what's good about them is that they are all unique, and I don't remember seeing anything like this already published on AO3 or FF.

If Dean never moved in SH, Jess could've been Rory's first boyfriend. It would completely change their dynamic as a couple. Jess wouldn't have to feel less than, when Rory was constantly comparing him to Dean, like how Dean always called when he said he would, and had plans and whatnot.

If Rory and Paris lost the election, she would've spent the entire summer in SH, while Dean was in Chicago. I think I remember reading something along the lines of Rory sneaking around with Jess and him teaching her sexual stuff 'to be a better girlfriend for Dean', but that concept seems kinda far fetched to me. I can't even imagine what that summer would've looked like. It needs some serious thinking.

Rory staying in SH high would be an interesting thing to explore, when Jess shows up. They could be friends, but all of those girls who painted their nails in class in a pilot episode would definitely be all over him. How would that go, I don't know either.

And Luke actually buying an apartment to move with Jess would be such an amazing concept to explore. Jess having his own space, his own room. Rory would definitely stay over a lot, and some nsfw things would definitely happen 😏

My god, these are all amazing ideas. I don't even know where to start. I would love to write long fics for all of them, but I don't know if I have a mental capacity for it at the moment. I mean I can't even finish the next chapter of Things I'd never say. We'll see how it goes. I'm definitely gonna think about these ideas. Thank you for sending these. Have you thought about writing them yourself? I would love to read them ☺️

[supernatural-jackles]

i have a few questions for you about yoru book and not about you're book..... why write a book instead of fanfics? why did you decide to go that road instead of the road so far in dads car? are you just writing one book or are their going to be more? what does arc mean? will the contests be available here? will your book have any triggers? and will you come back to write dean/jensen again?

sorry for the oerbearing amount of questions! its just rare you post and i want to ask everything i can! i hope your having a good day jen! we miss you here💚

Hi there! I'm happy to answer any questions you have! I do check in to Tumblr a couple of times a week. I'm just quiet about it, is all!

Why write a book instead of fanfics? I fell in love with reading again a couple of years ago. I mean, really fell in love with it. It's always been on my list of things I want to accomplish. The timing just felt right and it has been an amazing process for far! Don't get me wrong, I loved writing fics, but this was a journey I wanted to take myself on to really test my limits and see where it got me.

Why did I decide to go down that road? (I love the way you worded this!) I wanted to be able to share my writing with more people. Specifically, my IRL friends so they don't have to watch 15 seasons of a show in order to understand something. I want to be able to share my writing with more people in my life. Not my mom! Definitely not my mom! But my friends who have always supported my writing as an "outsider" and have been dying to read something.

Am I writing one book or will there be more? There will be more. Mutual Benefits is one book out of four in an interconnected series. All will be different hockey players on the team. All friends. All will be introduced in the first book.

What does ARC mean? Advanced Reader Copy. So the books I will send out before the release date in order to gain some traction and interest in the book, along with some early reviews.

Will the contest be available here? Yes. There will be a contest on here you can enter which will include a signed copy of the book and other goodies!

Will the book have triggers? YES! Like my fics on here, there is an author's note/ warning page before you start the book that will list all triggers, or it will have a QR code for you to scan/click which will take you to a page with a full list of them. My reader's safety is a priority!

Will I come back to write Dean/Jensen? Probably! I do have some odds and ends I want to finish up and share. It won't be for a little while though.

Thank you for your list of questions! I enjoyed answering them! You guys will see the cover next week when I reveal it. I don't want to spam too much with my book content on here so most of the little teasers will be shared on my Instagram/Instagram stories!

I hope you have a great weekend! 💜💜

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hi, I know you probably get a ton of these and that you’re probably really busy, but I was wondering if I could get a BOB and TP ship?

My pronouns are she/her. I’m 5’3, midsize/curvy girl with brown eyes and short, curly brown hair. My favorite fashion styles are alt, dark/grunge/chaotic/green academia, and cryptidcore.

I’m an INFP, HSP, and a Capricorn. Basically I’m really sensitive and empathetic. I love reading, writing, video games, animation, music, history, nature, and animals. I’m not a fan of conflict/fighting. I prefer to talk things out and find a more peaceful resolution. Another thing is that I’m an introvert and prefer more quiet and chill activities as opposed to loud and energetic ones. I need a fair amount of alone time in order to recharge.

A “hobby” of mine(if you can call it that) is over analyzing different characters, events, and worlds from different video games, movies, tv shows, books, etc. I also like hiking/nature walks, and self/skincare.

I would say my love language physical touch. I love to cuddle and I’m very affectionate. Like I said before I don’t like conflict or yelling, so an ideal partner would like to calmly communicate with me if we had any disagreements.

Anyway I hope this enough for you. Again I understand that you must be busy with all these requests so take your time. Love your work. Thank you.

Thank you for your request! Also i'm just going to do the BoB ship first. Just because I want to make sure it's perfect, but please send me your description in my asks and I will definitely do your TP ship separately!!

I ship you with…

Carwood Lipton!

song recommendation: Everybody Loves Somebody - Dean Martin

Alright let me start off by saying that I think you guys would go along so well together. Like physically, but also emotionally you guys would really compliment each other.

You are so his type. So when he sees you he's sure it's love at first sight. Your curves, your pretty hair, You're so beautiful to him. He can't help but stare at you like a maniac because he's just in awe with you.

You aren't really short, but he thinks your height is so cute. Like he can just look down at you and completely melt. He definitely calls you his "fun sized gf" Lol

both of your styles are quite different, but I still think that you guys would look so nice with one another. He thinks all of your styles are super cool and stylish, he's pretty plain and simple about style so maybe you can give him some types on clothes shopping.

He understands your emotions really well actually. It doesn't matter if you're feeling really emotional that day, or if you are just feeling kind of down. It doesn't bother him at all. He's actually a really good boyfriend and would try to do anything to make you feel better. And the more that he dates you he understands what helps you better and some stuff that you don't like when you're having a bad day.

He's super thoughtful when it comes to you. He will always be thinking of you and how you feel at any inconvenience or even in general. What you think and what you like really matters to him. He loves you bunches and is willing to do anything to prove that to you.

Along with that with all of your hobbies and interests, he's of course supporting them by making sure you are completely spoiled with the things you need to enjoy your down time. For example, he'd definitely take you to the bookstore and tell you to get whatever you'd like. Just because seeing that cute smile on your face is totally worth it.

I think he'd see you play video games and become super interested in them. Like he would watch and be like, "how are your hands moving so fast?" and would be super fascinated with it. (he might even ask you if you can teach him how to play it) *cue the romantic montage music*

Okay now, you guys can really get along with both liking nature and animals. I mean he's really like a male snow white when it comes to animals, so getting a bunch of pets is a NECESSITY for the near future. And he'd love going on bunches of hikes or outside picnics. Even just taking a nice walk around if it's nice outside.

He's not a big fan of fighting with you either. He hates it every time you guys get into an argument and he hates seeing you get sad or mad because of something he did. If you guys do get into a conflict, he'll never raise his voice at you, he just can't do it. He prefers sitting down and talking about the situation maturely instead. And afterwards he always will apologize, ALWAYS!

Lip is the perfect person you can relax and enjoy quiet time with. He enjoys it almost as much as you do. So just staying cozy with one another inside is always preferred from you both, occasionally he'll ask you if you want to go out, but it honestly doesn't matter as long as he's spending time with you.

Whenever you need alone time or just some space away to recharge your social battery (which we all do sometimes) he'll always give you your space. He's super respective of your space and so if you need some time away he's willing to give it ofc.

Okay, idea, I think one night, before you guys go to bed, he'd see you doing your skincare and immediately want you to try it on him. He's a bit of an old school guy, meaning he just uses a bar of soap and water to wash his face. But when he sees you put so many extra products he finds it really interesting and will ask you if you can try it on him too lol.

HE ABSOLUTELY LOVES when you ask him for cuddles. It's his favorite thing ever. Just holding you and feeling you in his arms is so amazing. His favorite cuddle position would have to be whenever you lay your head on his chest. HE just loves holding you. Especially after the war because he has hard trouble going to sleep, but when you guys cuddle he can finally get the rest he needs.

But he loves whenever you're affectionate in any way possible. He's affectionate too. HE loves your curves so he'll always take any chance he can get *respectfully* to grab, hug, and kiss on you.

Overall, he's just a super sweetheart for you and is totally in love with you!!

Thank you again for your request lovely, I hope you enjoyed this, much love! <3333

[ivyial]

hii, how are you? I stumbled upon your page and I started to check it out, upon doing that I came across one of your eagleone posts, and how you view the ship or how you view people who dislike the shop entirely for no reason at all. and to be honest I couldn't agree more. your choice of words and how you describe just makes my heart feel hope again. hope that there's actual human beings that are using a gift called a brain for once.

it honestly drives me crazy to see people literally sending death threats and literal racism to those who ship a ship that isn't quite popular. another account just a few days ago that speaks alot about eagleone and analyses their scenes and dialogues, got literal death threats that would me a grown adult puke from how disgusting to know such human beings exist.

( didn't realize to be that long LMAO )

anyway I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all your eagleone content literally makes my day <3

i- 🥺🥺❤❤ omg thank you so much anon

i've never been one for ship wars. what bothers me the most about the eagleone discourse (and the current cleon discourse on twitter as well) is how likening characters to siblings (eagleone) or saying one views the other as a kid (cleon - insane take but anyway) eventually becomes "these characters are LITERALLY siblings, they are so sibling coded to me that it essentially makes them actual siblings" and creates a breeding ground for harassment and accusations of proshipping.

shipping has always been a matter of personal taste, and it's one of those few things in fandoms where there's no need to debate about conflicting ships. in the end, you can just agree to disagree. i like X for those reasons and you like Y for those. that's it. ships are usually better enjoyed with fellow shippers. it only risks becoming an echochamber when people start to take it so seriously that their group of shippers decides to hate on everyone else, and eventually, to harass them.

which is unfortunately what is happening right now. i'm very aware of the death threats and everything else, and it's sad and infuriating to realise that fandoms will never change. idk how old you are anon, or if you were around on tumblr when it happened, but a few years ago, the voltron fandom was a big thing around here (i apologise in advance to everyone who had to live through that lmfao). klance was arguably the biggest ship in the fandom (keith x lance), so the shippers were actively campaigning for it to become canon. it got to the point where klance shippers sent the show creators cupcakes filled with glass shards to convince them to canonise the ship. I WISH I WAS FUCKING KIDDING

this stuff's not new, bullying fellow fans isn't new unfortunately, and bullying actors or producers isn't either. if i remember correctly, when supernatural s4-5 (i guess) were airing back in the 2000s, dean's love interest jo was removed from the show supposedly because fangirls lost their shit and sent hate mail to producers. but that's all speculation, i can't find a reliable source for that.

i wish people would stop taking everything so seriously and get this nasty over fiction. however, it's unlikely that it will happen, because fandoms are filled with kids who don't know any better, are sometimes fully raised by the internet and then turn into immature adults. it's rare to find spaces in fandoms were you can genuinely have fun and create content without being policed by 12 year olds, but when you can, it makes the fandom experience a lot better.

i don't put much content out there, but i'm glad to see that the few posts i write are appreciated!! i'm working on an eagleone fic rn so it definitely makes me want to keep working on it regularly and create more content 😭

[skylarmoon71]

Castiel (Supernatural/Grimm) - Short Story - Chapter 8 - Final

There is nothing that can express your feelings other than pure happiness. 

It’s been roughly a month since Castiel showed up and you’re both taking each day in stride. You were a bit impressed when he showed you the cute little house he’d secured in Portland. 

When he informed you it was a replica of Sam and Dean’s current home, well it made a lot of sense. Everything about his space reflects that of..well an angel. Everything is so delicately colored. A beautiful blue hue that seems to compliment his eyes. 

He’s such a beautiful person. You can stare at him all day. Those cute expressions he always wears. The way each discovery provides a subtle amazement in his eyes. 

The perfection of his lips. 

His tight little ass that you’d like to-

“So you must be jumping that angel every other day am I right?” 

The sound of your sister knocks you out of your little daydream. 

“Damn it.” 

That’s right, you’re at the precinct. 

Diana has dropped by for a visit. You would think a lawyer would have less time on her hands. Deciding against entertaining her, you just look away. Castiel is grabbing lunch. You had planned to join him, but he insisted that he wanted to run the errand for you. 

The first time he’d successfully figured out how to work the vending machine and brought you a snack, he looked so proud of himself and happy with your praise. It was the purest thing you’d ever seen. All he had to do was give you that puppy dog look and you were mush. 

Your silence must have alerted Diana that something was up.

“You guys have done stuff right?” 

You keep your gaze fixed on the computer before you. 

“You’ve at least kissed right?” 

You falter and she stares in disbelief. 

“Are you kidding me!!” 

Her yell draws the attention of passers by in the precinct and you send a deathly glare. She giggles, covering her lips. 

“I can’t believe this, what the hell have you two been doing, it’s been weeks.” 

You look away. 

Truthfully, you’re not sure. You’ve been doing all the mushy couple stuff. You hold hands, talk, cuddle and you’re partners so you see each other literally everyday. You just get distracted sometimes staring at him. 

Whenever either of you visit the other’s house when it’s time to leave you exchange love struck smiles and then ultimately leave. You can’t believe that you haven’t realized until now that you haven’t truly shared a kiss. It’s just so hard when he looks so cute all the time. 

You get distracted by his perfectly angelic face.

“I swear you guys are hopeless. I bet you’ve just been staring at each other this whole time.” 

It’s really irritating how well she reads you. 

“Just mind your own business Diana, don’t you have a job to get back too?” 

“I’m on break.” She smirks and you just sigh. 

“I wonder if you ever get tired.” 

“Never.” She hums. 

You’re about to make another remark, but you catch sight of Castiel’s coat and you straighten. She seems a bit confused at your adjustment, until she spots him. 

“I bought lunch.” 

He places the bag on your table with a smile and you blush with a nod. 

“Thank you Castiel.” 

He looks content with your smile. 

“Of course.” 

He just stands there as you both shamelessly stare into each other’s eyes. 

“This is weird, is this really all you guys do?” 

Diana’s words break the spell and you send her a venomous look. 

“Would you just leave!!” 

“Fine, fine, I can take a hint.” She stands, giving Castiel a pat on the shoulder and a playful smirk. 

“You might want to ease up on the smiling angel boy, you might give her a heart attack.” 

Diana walks away and Castiel turns back to you panicked. 

“Are you experiencing chest pains?!” 

There's a level of urgency in his tone and you sigh, shaking your head as you explain the metaphor. 

Diana is a menace that will never change. 

Aside from Diana’s little nosy interventions, you and Castiel are just enjoying the peace. Some weekends he’ll head back to visit Dean, Sam and Jack. When he comes back there’s always a crazy story of something that Dean’s done. 

Apparently he’d started a bucket list of all the things he wanted to do if the world weren’t in constant peril. Now that they're done with hunting, he’s literally just doing a wild cross country trip. Sam has joined to ensure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself. 

This time however when Castiel comes back, he seems a bit more quiet, even for Castiel. Sometimes he’ll send you these looks as if he wants to ask something, but he never really does. You’d like to confront him, but you don’t want to pry, especially if it’s a delicate subject. You hope that he’ll finally share what’s worrying him. 

“Castiel?” 

He looks unusually distracted. He blinks, and you shift closer on the couch. He’s not paying much attention to the movie. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine.” 

His stoic expression is still planted on his face. Like his trenchcoat, that seems to be an integral part of him. You smile. 

“You know you can tell me anything right?” 

You take notice on the way he seems to relax a bit more. It’s clear that there’s something on his mind. 

“I don’t mean to worry you, it just seems that recently I’ve begun to have certain..cravings..” 

You lift a brow.

“Cravings? Like food?” 

He shook his head. You’re still trying to make sense of it, but when those beautiful blue eyes connect with you, well, somehow you seem to understand just exactly what he’s referring to. 

“I confided in Dean and he informed me that it’s normal, but nothing about us feels normal. I’ve never been consumed by such a need before.” You swallow. 

“I..”

You can’t truly voice what you think. Honestly your head is empty because his eyes have darkened considerably and you barely process the fact that he’s much closer than before. 

One of his hands moves to your cheek. You seem to get a whiff of his scent and you’re surprised you haven’t melted into a puddle. There’s something intoxicating about having him this close, feeling his touch.

“Can I?” 

He’s asking and it makes you weak. 

You nod, a bit desperate and his lips descend on your own with an eagerness that proves he’s been longing to do this, hold you, kiss you without restraint. His lips are a bit insistent and you find yourself fighting to match his pace. Your cheeks are the definition of a cherry and you feel the way his fingers grip into your shirt as he pulls you closer. 

His free hand slides to the back of your head and when he deepens the kiss, a moan shamelessly slips out. For an angel he sure seems to know what he’s doing. His lips are soft and the subtle amount of stubble provides the perfect amount of friction. Your hands are clenched into his trenchcoat and you finally pull away when you need to gather a breath. 

Castiel is apparently on a mission, because his lips merely change course, leaning in to leave those taunting kisses against your neck, along your shoulder. You’re a mess. At some point his hand has slipped under your shirt. The combination of his hands and his lips have you quivering. 

“C-Castiel..” 

He adjusts himself and now you’re laying back on the couch, breathing labored. The softness of his expression and the desire in his eyes are your undoing. His trench coat is hanging off a bit sloppily on one side. You hadn’t even realized that you’d been pulling at it. 

“Are you alright, your heart is beating erratically.” 

You would have laughed if you weren’t so flustered. How can someone be this devastatingly horny and oblivious at the same time?

“I-I’m okay.” You assure. 

He tilts his head in that way that typically conveys slight confusion. 

“That’s a normal reaction?” 

You nod. 

“It’s a little hard to keep my heart rate under control when you’re kissing me that way. You’re a sneaky angel Castiel.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

This time you do laugh, nodding at him. 

“A very good thing.”  

Your hand reaches for his tie as you pull him down for a kiss. He groans when your legs wrapped around his waist as you work to return every searing kiss he’d given you.

[zepskies]

Look at you, getting all caught up!! Proud of you! 🤣🤣

In all seriousness thank you for reviewing each chapter. I really does mean the world to me! 💕

[On the opening scene]: Aw yeah, you already know she was a puddle that morning lol. But also I thought Dean just chillin' next to her would be a more unique and sweet "morning after" than him even making breakfast for her (though he does later).

But oh no. Reading his text messages, I do not agree with. I get being in love sends you a bit crazy and she did have those talks with Meg and Jo but she needs to talk to him not scroll his history 🙈

Yes, she was very wrong in this situation, despite Meg and Jo and her fears. But she's human and flawed just like all of us, so while she was wrong, I could understand why she was weak in that moment. She does preface that she's never done that to a partner before and it isn't usually in her nature.

Dean handled it about as well as he could've, but ultimately I didn't want this to end up being a huge drama between them. Though it's a good test of their relationship that allows them to get certain things out in the open and move past it! As you know from being married for a while, it's not "do you argue," it's "can you argue" and come out the other side of it.

I’m glad Dean got to show some of his cooking skills because he honestly always seems so happy in the show when he’s cooking.

Ikr?! This won't be the last of Dean cooking. 😉

I also want her to ask Dean about her car because I adore it when he goes into protective mechanic mode 😂

Oh yes, girl! the subject of her car will come up again soon, though not in the way you might expect...

You know Sam secretly shipping dean and the reader is my absolute fav Sam and you didn’t disappoint. I loved this line “Sam’s brow quirked. Mr. Serial Bachelor was joking like that already?” Cackling! But in all seriousness again, I love how far they’ve come already to even joke about something like that! “He continued to sip his coffee, all the while hiding a certain smile behind his mug.” Yes Sam 😏

Hahaa we love a supportive, knowing Sam! The way Dean jokes about kids is going to tie in again, albeit much later on, to why he started trying to seriously date for the first time.

Sam was very wise with his take on the reader reading the texts and I do see his point. I still think she went a bit far though 😂

We got Sam offering his words of wisdom from Team "Happily Committed for a Long Time" lol. She did make a mistake, despite her understandable fears, but she owned up to it at least!

Hmm I was a bit sad at the conversation with Andrea. I really loved their friendship at the start but it feels like they’re drifting and I agreed she didn’t seem as invested in the readers relationship as her own which is really sad. I’m interested to see where that goes.

Ikr? Sadly this comes from my own personal experience (one of my ex-best friends was the "Andrea" in the situation). We have a lot more story left to go though, and Andrea will be an integral player throughout!

I’m glad Meg apologised at the firehouse. Yeah she was a bit drunk but it was still out of line. And the conversation with benny, I loved that she got the comments in their to give Dean some ammunition 😂

Haha yeah, the reader deserved that apology! And my personal favorite from that Benny exchange was "Oh Captain, my Captain over here needs to find a parrot." 😂😂

But of course he takes her to his office. What’s going to happen there i wonder 😂😂 in all seriousness I liked the little bit with Mary and dean saying he thinks she would have liked the reader. That was really special. But what?! You left it there! Haha you’re killing me girl.

Hmmm I wonder? 🤔😂 But thank you for highlighting the Mary tidbit. I'm happy you thought it was special because think it further shows how Dean sees the reader already as someone special.

LOL sorrrryyyy. 🤣 You know me and my cliffhangers!

I'm so glad you enjoyed this chapter!! I legit cannot wait for you to see (and am also kinda scared lol) what's coming up in these later chapters...

Until Friday! 💕💋

Smoke Eater - Part 8

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥Series Masterlist

AN: Just wanted to say thank you so much for all the amazing feedback on the last chapter! I work hard on all of these, but I agonized over Part 7 in particular lol. Really wanted to get that balance right. 😉

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, suggestiveness, implied sexual harassment, and a (sort of) cliffhanger.

Part 8: “Likewise, Baby”

You woke feeling delightfully warm. Your eyes cracked open. Though the room was dim, the window behind you had horizontal blinds that were letting in a bit of light.

You cradled the pillow beneath your head, with your hand tucked under your cheek. And you weren’t alone.

Dean was sitting up against the headboard beside you.

He was already dressed in a faded gray Fire Department shirt and sweatpants, with his long legs crossed over the navy comforter. He sipped at a mug of robust-smelling coffee while holding an iPad in the other hand, occasionally scrolling with a finger.

A slow smile cleared some of the sleepiness from your mind. You should’ve known he’d be an early riser, considering his job, but you were pleasantly surprised that he was just sitting with you, waiting for you to wake up in your own time.

Breathing in deep, you stretched out your legs under the sheets. The sound earned Dean glancing away from the screen, and then his smile aimed at you.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted. You hummed sleepily in response.

“Sleep good?” he asked.

You nodded and braved swimming through the sheets to snuggle closer to his side. After setting aside his mug and iPad, Dean welcomed you over with a hand soothing down your back. You curled against him, resting your head against his chest.

He dropped a kiss onto your wild hair. You still wore his shirt from last night and nothing else, but you felt the warmth of his hand through the fabric, rubbing up and down your back. You slipped an arm comfortably around his middle and let out a soft sigh.

“I see you’re not too chatty in the morning,” he teased.

You made a sound of agreement. “You wore me out, Lieutenant.”

And you hadn’t felt this relaxed, this warm and comfortable and safe, in a very long time.

You also felt Dean’s chuckle reverberate through your chest. His hand came up to pet your hair, and he pressed another kiss on the top of your head.

“Likewise, baby,” he replied. Cheekiness colored his tone. “That record’s gonna be hard to beat.”

You smirked and huffed against his chest. After trying some of the cake last night, he’d given you another sample of his talented fingers, right there at the table. Then you’d tried to start cleaning up the kitchen, only for Dean to distract you once again.

That time, he’d settled behind you at the kitchen sink and goaded you with sinful lips along your neck and wandering hands, until you decided that your earlier promise of “next time” was right now.

You’d turned in his arms and finally found out what he tasted like, after you sunk to your knees and dragged down his sweatpants and took his waiting cock into your mouth…

Needless to say, it was a while before you both made it to a shower, and finally to bed for actual sleep.

Remembering it all made you blush, biting your lip. He let out a quiet laugh as you hid your face in his chest. His fingers slipped into your tangled hair and gently massaged the back of your head.

“Want some coffee?” he asked. You nodded.

“Need some,” you replied. “Let me freshen up first though.”

So you slowly got up, reluctance pulling at every muscle in your body. While you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth and fixing your ridiculous hair, Dean cleaned up the rest of the dishes from last night and poured you a steaming cup of coffee from the carafe. He didn’t remember how you liked it, but his intuition said you liked a bit of sugar and creamer.  

He found himself smiling like an idiot, until something Meg said rolled through his head again.

Goddamn. I am twitterpated.

With that thought, he immediately shook his head to rid himself of it.

You padded back into the bedroom to find your dress…and your panties, for that matter. While you were getting dressed, a phone buzzed on one of the nightstands beside the bed. It was Dean’s phone.

You went over to it curiously as you fixed the straps on your dress. The screen showed a missed text message from last night, around 10:00 p.m., and another one this morning. You read the latest one with a sinking feeling in your chest.

From Marissa: Surprised I didn’t hear back from you last night. The offer still stands. 😘

You knew it was wrong, but your finger scrolled to see last night’s text preview.

From Marissa: Hey, been thinking of you… ❤️ I’m free tonight if you want to come over. You always look so good in my bed. 😉

You were beginning to feel sick to your stomach. You forced deep, even breaths through your nose as you sat down on his side of the bed, and you contemplated doing something you knew you’d probably regret.

You’d seen Dean unlock his phone enough times to remember his passcode. Your thumb hovered over the keypad…

Again, you knew it was wrong. You’d never, ever done this to someone in your life, and if he caught you at this, he’d probably be pissed.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You unlocked his phone, and you found the girl in his text messages. While you saw that he hadn’t even looked at the message, and hadn’t even spoken to her in a couple of months, the previous text messages were a sick siren song that you couldn’t help but fall into.

However, you could only read a few of the old ones before you became disgusted, and you quickly minimized his text messages. You reminded yourself that you didn’t have a right to be reading this, or to be jealous, for that matter.

Those messages were before he even met you. It just didn’t change the fact that reading them, and hearing his voice in your mind while talking explicitly dirty with another girl still stung. 

Another thought whispered in your mind. You’re already here. Might as well…

Biting your lip, your thumb shook as you went into his contacts. You saw familiar names: Benny, Cas, Dad, Eileen, Gordon, Jo…but those were followed by unfamiliar ones. Haley, Jackie, Kat, Lisa, Lauren, Marissa, Nadia, Olivia, Priya, Rachel, Serina…

What the fuck! He’s got the whole damn Kansas Directory of Sluts in here! you thought in both alarm and disgust.

So consumed were you that you didn’t hear Dean coming down the hall, nor did you see him appear in the doorway to his own room with a fresh mug of coffee. 

“Hey, so what do you want for breakfast…” His question died on his tongue the moment he saw you with his phone (and an angry, perturbed look on your face). His brows furrowed as he entered.

You were caught red-handed, and you knew it. Guilt and hurt and anger radiated under your skin in equal measure, though you set his phone down for him on the bed and met his eyes.

“You got a booty call from Marissa,” you said. “She misses you in her bed.”

“So you snooped through my phone?” Dean levied at you. The warmth in his tone was gone, though his still handed you the mug of coffee and grabbed the phone. His contacts were still open on the screen.

“I shouldn’t have,” you testily agreed. “Believe me, I regret it now.”

You stood, set down the mug on the nightstand, and began searching the room for your sandals. You didn’t think you could stick around for breakfast.

Dean’s jaw locked, and he let out a sharp breath as he watched you.

“So you’re leaving?” he asked incredulously.

“Why, don’t you need to check on your side piece?” you shot back.

Dean huffed in irritation. You bent over to put on a sandal and nearly toppled over as you lost your balance. He got up, but you managed to catch yourself and held up a hand against him helping you.

You straightened and looked up with him with steel in your eyes, where last night had been all softness and fire. It reminded him of when he saw you square up against your boss. No nonsense, no inches given. He remembered then that you were a real pistol when you needed to be.

“Okay, Nancy Drew. I’m sure you saw that I haven’t hit up that girl in months!” he said. He wanted to be patient with you, but his temper was already snapping at the invasion of his privacy.

Yours was snapping right back, as your hands went to your hips.

“Dean, you’ve got an entire catalogue of ‘Pussy On-Demand’ in your phone!”

Frowning, Dean held his hands out wide in a what do you want from me gesture.

“Look, I was honest with you about my past,” he tried, but you cut in quick.

“Is it your past?” you asked. Your heart pulsed with pain at the thought, but you had to ask. “Or were you still talking to these girls, even seeing these girls while you were ‘wooing’ me? I mean…I guess I don’t have a right to complain. We never explicitly said we were exclusive—”

“All right, stop. For the love of Christ,” Dean said in sheer frustration. He approached you with caution. You were still frowning and testy, but you allowed him to grasp your upper arms.

“First of all, I didn’t even see that text. Because I was preoccupied with you. Second, no I wasn’t seein’ anyone but you after our first date. And third…” His lips pressed together.

This last one was tough for him to admit, even embarrassing. You were waiting for him though, probably with the last shred of benefit of the doubt you had left for him.

He sighed, brushing your arms with his thumbs. “Before last night, I hadn’t had sex in a couple of months.”

Your brows went high at that one, only because the weight in his voice told you that two months was a big deal for him. (For you, it was child’s play.) Remembering that laundry list of names, though, you had to agree.

You eventually relented, your shoulders relaxing a little.

“I’m sorry I looked through your phone,” you said again, more sincerely this time. “I’ve never done that to anyone, ever, and it’s not who I am. It’s just…you’re making me a bit crazy.”

A smirk pulled at Dean’s lips. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

You reluctantly smiled and pushed at his chest with a half-hearted hand. Sighing, he pulled you in close. You allowed yourself to rest against him, and even slip your arms around his middle and tangle your fingers into the back of his shirt. Dean pressed his lips to your hair.

“I might be playing a lot of this by ear, but I told you. I’m not playing around,” he said. “I want to try being with you. Just you.”

After a moment, you nodded. You looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest.

A smile tugged at your lips.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re my boyfriend.”

Dean’s smile grew as well. “I mean…yeah. If you’re on board.”

You nodded and leaned up for a kiss. “I could be persuaded.”

He met you there with both passion and sincerity as his lips glided over yours. Your fingers dug into the muscles in his back, spurring him to hold you tighter against him. The weight of his hands felt deliciously good against your lower back. 

“Stay for breakfast,” he said between heated kisses and panting breaths. “I’ll cook this time.”

You remembered that you had to check on your grandfather. You’d texted him before going to bed that you were staying over at Dean’s place. George had already been asleep, but he answered you this morning that everything was fine. Still, your instincts warred between wanting to make sure, and staying here a bit longer.

Your curiosity was piqued, however.

You paused against Dean’s lips. “You cook?”

He looked down at you with offense at your surprised tone.

“I’m a damn good cook,” he said, his brow waggling. “What do you want? Pancakes, eggs and bacon, or something more chill, like oatmeal or something?”

Your stomach began to percolate at the mere mention of food.

“Yes,” you replied with a grin.

Dean’s amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Someone’s hungry. Worked up an appetite, huh?”

“Starving,” you admitted. Your hands moved down his back, feeling how some of the muscles there contracted. Looking up at him through your lashes, you added, “But I’ll take whatever you give me.”

Dean laughed and kissed you again. 

“Oh, I’ll give you plenty, naughty girl,” he promised against your lips.

Thank God it’s Saturday, you thought. You inhaled the coffee Dean made for you before taking another sip. It was delicious, and you had to make a mental note to buy the same brand the next time you went to the grocery store.

You peered out the small kitchen window while the smell of food continued to stir your appetite. Really is a cute neighborhood. The building overlooked a nice little park. Already there were people jogging, walking their dogs, parents with their children heading to the playground.

You liked where you lived as well, but the two-story house was a bit much just for you and George. It also needed some work done, of which you hadn’t gotten around to taking care of with how busy you’d been lately. Not to mention your car, which was occasionally starting to shake when you accelerated past 50 miles per hour.

I really should ask Dean to look at it. Bet he’d relish the challenge of reviving an old car.

Then a small ding alerted you to the toast, now ready to be buttered. You were helping with the smaller things while Dean worked on the eggs and bacon.

You also heard the front door unlock. Soon enough a tall man with dark, long hair down to his shoulders entered the kitchen with a workbag on his shoulder and a small overnight bag. He wore a smart-looking, but simple suit, chestnut brown.

“Hey,” he greeted Dean, but his hazel eyes widened a fraction when he saw you. “Oh, hi there.”

Dean turned his head and smiled.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said. “Come meet my uh…my girlfriend.”

Your face heated up at the way he glanced at you with that smile.

Hear that? Official girlfriend status.

You also tried to hide your excitement as you introduced yourself to Sam Winchester. He shook your hand with an amiable look.

Dear God, you thought, noting his height, and his broad shoulders that rivaled Dean’s. Winchesters are massive.

“Finally. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said.

“Same here,” you agreed, matching his smile. “Really good to meet you, Sam.”

“And how is it you always make it right on time for breakfast?” Dean teased. He was pouring the scrambled eggs out of the pan and into a large bowl.

“Just good timing,” Sam replied, smirking as his brother rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, how’s Eileen?” Dean asked.

“Good. She had her students help her decorate the classroom for the fall this week,” Sam said.

He fished out his phone and showed you and Dean the pictures. The two of you had your heads bowed close to the phone. Dean wore a smile at the sight, while you cooed at the adorableness of Eileen with her students.

They seemed to be elementary school age (between seven and ten years old, if you had to guess). They’d done the Thanksgiving turkey hand for arts and crafts, even though the holiday wasn’t for a couple of months. One of the boys had taped it to his forehead.

“They’re so cute!” you gushed. “I remember doing that in elementary school.”

Dean shot you a grin. “You like kids, huh?”

Sam’s brow quirked. Mr. Serial Bachelor was joking like that already? 

Meanwhile, you sent Dean a narrowed look, despite your blushing smile. Never mind that you two had just established the seriousness of your relationship about five minutes ago.

Honestly, you were surprised that having kids was even on his radar…but for the first time, maybe it was starting to be on yours too.

And that alone was a shocking revelation, considering how career-driven you’d been up until now. It was even somewhat scary, just how quickly this man had buried his way into your heart.

“Yeah, and what if I do?” You laughed and carded your fingers through his hair, but you made sure to tug on it a bit. “Clearly I need to be careful with you.”

“That’s probably best, as a general rule,” Sam interjected. He smirked at Dean’s flat look.

“All right, all right,” Dean waved at him. “Help me get the plates.”

The three of you talked and joked and laughed all throughout breakfast. You and Sam had a fair amount in common, speaking of your respective experiences in college, with him following into law school and you with culinary school. He told you more about his work at the District Attorney’s office, and about how he and Eileen had met.

Then you and Dean told the story of how you two met, from each of your perspectives. You recounted how it had been Nick’s fault that you’d been in that elevator to begin with, grabbing his latte, of all things. You remembered how goddamn hot it had been in that elevator, how no one could hear you, how you’d been doing your best not to freak the hell out.

And then you heard his voice. “Fire Department!”

The save was pretty standard, from Dean’s perspective. But he’d noticed you, even in your coffee-stained blouse and skirt. He remembered the way you lost one of your shoes.

“And I mean, ridiculous fucking high heel,” Dean said to Sam. He held his hands apart several inches, making you laugh at his gross exaggeration. “I got no clue how she walks in ‘em.”

Dean also relished retelling the moment you later stood up to Nick with gusto.

“I thought she was gonna chuck it at the guy’s head, Psycho style,” Dean said. He mimicked holding the shoe like a knife stabbing from above.

You laughed and covered your face with your hands. “I wasn’t that bad!”

Dean chuckled, but he rubbed your shoulder.

“Nah, it was awesome. I remember thinkin’, this girl’s a badass.”

You lowered your hands and glanced over at him, letting your smile peek through.

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

“Class and style, baby,” he said, giving you a wink. You shook your head, despite your amusement, and how his words touched you.

“Says the guy who literally rappelled from the roof like Batman,” you said with a smirk.

“Ooh, Batman. Here that? I’m taking it.” Dean’s brows rose, and he shot Sam a grin.

To which his younger brother rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re Batman.”

You giggled into your hands. His brother’s sarcasm was nothing new, but Dean enjoyed seeing you laugh after all the tension this morning. He took one of your hands away from your face so you couldn’t hide anymore.

You looked over at him. When your eyes met his, somehow you were captured again.

Sam watched carefully from his side of the table. He watched his brother, and was hardly able to believe what he saw. He continued to sip his coffee, all the while hiding a certain smile behind his mug.

You left the apartment a short while later, despite offering to help clean up. Dean knew you wanted to get back to your grandfather and didn’t want to hold you up, but he still walked you to the door and made sure you had everything you needed before you left (including a leisurely goodbye in the doorway that had his old neighbor Gladys tsking as she walked by).

He eventually returned to the kitchen to help Sam finish cleaning up, thumping him on the back while Sam was trying to wash the pans in the sink. Sam uttered a grunt, but his lips edged at a smile at Dean’s obvious good mood.

“I take it last night went well?” Sam asked knowingly.

“Yeah, good thinkin’ on staying at Eileen’s,” Dean smirked back. His mind rewound the evening: having you cook for him, the shenanigans that interrupted your baking lesson, and also the baking, and the cleaning up.

His smile only dropped a bit when he remembered the arguing part.

“Well, there was a rough patch,” he admitted. At Sam’s questioning look, Dean explained how you’d looked through his phone…and what you’d seen on it.

“She apologized, but it was a tough go of it for a second,” he said.

Sam had finished the dishes by now. He stood leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. He sighed through his nose.

“You want my advice?” he asked.

Dean quirked a wry smile. “Something tells me I’m gonna get it anyway.”

Sam nodded. “You just need to take the ‘L’ on this one. Don’t hold it against her.”

Dean’s brows knitted together as he frowned.

“Oh yeah?” he said in full sarcasm. “Is that what I need to do?”

He loved when his brother when full Dr. Phil on him.

“Listen,” Sam said. “Yeah, what she did was wrong, but her concerns were understandable.”

Dean took that in, carding his fingers through his hair.

“You can’t assume that she can read your mind, Dean. On your intentions, on how you feel—any of it.” Sam leveled him with a more serious look. “She’s taking this as it comes, just like you are. And she’s taking a chance on getting hurt, just like you are.”

Damn it, Dean thought. He especially hated when his brother made sense.

He was quiet for a moment, until something occurred to him.

“You think Dad would like her?” he asked.

At that, Sam’s smile broke free. Dean’s gaze flattened in annoyance.

“What?” he asked.

“If you’re willing to subject her to Dad, I know you’re serious.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He stole the last leftover piece of bacon from Sam’s plate and headed for his room.

I think he’d like her.

“So how’s it been going?” Andréa asked you.

The two of you were finally getting a chance to have lunch together in the staff breakroom, for the first time in about a month. You blamed it on your busy schedules, but you knew it also had to do with the fact that you both had new men in your lives.

You had been reaching out to your friend a couple of times a week to check in, sometimes even offering to grab dinner or catch a movie after work, but Andréa always seemed to have an excuse. You didn’t think she was pulling away from you intentionally… It did hurt though.

You just supposed you should be grateful that she showed up out of the blue in your office, asking if you had time for lunch.

“Work is…well, the usual,” you replied.

Nick was still an asshole who made your life harder and more stressful with every interaction. He changed his mind on deadlines, or better yet, forgot them entirely. He often got drunk while schmoozing with CEOs and representatives of potential accounts.

He also sucked at paperwork, which meant you often had to redo it, or get his assistant to do it. And he still pitted you and Josh and other teammates against one another (Paul had quit last week due to the pressure).

But all that, you could handle. What bothered you more were the “harmless” comments threaded with innuendo. The lingering looks he gave you, seizing you up from breast to toe.

You’d taken to wearing pants exclusively, instead of skirts, and flat shoes instead of heels, just to try and put him off. You maintained your professionalism and always kept several chairs between you and Nick in meetings. Though you dreaded moments where you had to be alone with him. Those were the times you were on your guard the most.

Thankfully, he hadn’t done anything outrageous since the last time he was drunk before a meeting. As in, you hadn’t had to threaten going to HR again…yet.

And these things you kept to yourself. You didn’t want Andréa to worry. Or worse, for her to try and get involved, and earn Nick’s eye on her next.

“What about with Dean?” Andréa asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

You brightened with a smile. That you would happily share.

“Good. Like really good,” you said. “I mean, we had our moments this weekend, but…I really think this could work.”

Andréa shot you a sly look, though her smile said she was happy for you.

“Oh wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so smiley,” she teased. “What is it with these firefighters at Firehouse 25? God sprinkled them with something special, I swear.”

You eyed her with amusement. “Oh yeah? How are you and Benny doing then?”

And that seemed to be the exact question she was waiting for. She turned to you fully and grabbed your hand.

“Oh, girl. I have so much to catch you up on,” she said.

You smiled at her indulgently. You truly wanted to hear everything she had to say. You wanted to hear about her disastrous first meeting with Benny’s family, especially with his father. You wanted to hear about how she was able to turn it all around with a bit of charm and a few funny stories.

You wanted to hear about their impromptu sailing trip last weekend, and the plans they were already making to go to Greece next summer if all went well. Andréa and Benny were clearly a whirlwind romance in the making, the stuff of good old-fashioned rom-com legend, and you wanted to hear the story unfold.

You just couldn’t help a small thought in the back of your mind…that she wasn’t quite as invested in your life as you were in hers.

A couple of weeks later, you parked your old Camry on the side of the road. You didn’t want to block any part of the driveway at Firehouse 25.

Oh good, they’re not on a call, you thought. The truck was there, along with the Squad truck and the ambulance. A full house.

You smiled and first smoothed down your sweater dress. It was mid-November with a chill on the air, and it also gave you an excuse to break out one of your favorite dresses, made of warm brown wool, but still cute with your knee-high boots. 

You pulled out the large plastic dessert carrier resting on the passenger seat. It held not one, but two large cakes. You wanted this treat to last a little bit longer than a few hours this time.

You walked up the driveway, smiling as you greeted the Squad men playing poker at a square table just outside the building. A couple of them eyed you in curiosity, and maybe even with recognition. Though you had to swallow a bit of nerves as you pushed past the familiar glass doors of the firehouse. 

The first person you saw (that you actually recognized) was Meg. She sat in the common room with her feet crossed and perched on the dining table. She was reading a book, but her head perked up when you came in. She stood and left her book on the table as she waved you inside.

“Hey there,” she said.

Remembering what happened the last time you met the paramedic at the Roadhouse, your smile was a bit thin.

“You must be real special,” she’d remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

Despite the less than stellar memory, you tried to be polite.

“Hey, Meg. How are you?” you asked.

“Sober,” she answered frankly. Her head tilted as she let out a short, self-deprecating sigh. “Uh, sorry about last time. I have a bit of a mouth when I’ve had a few.”

Your smile became a bit more genuine. Before you could say, That's okay—

“Oh no, that’s her resting state,” a familiar voice wryly interjected.

You brightened when you saw Dean striding in from down the hall. He met you with a grin, as well as a kiss that lingered on your lips. Meg’s brow rose.

He eventually pulled away, but his hand stayed on the small of your back. He looked happy to see you, and it secretly warmed you down to your toes.

“To what do I owe this surprise?” he asked, his green eyes gleaming. He noted the dessert carrier hanging from your hand with interest.

“I come bearing gifts.” You raised your offering. Dean took it from you with both hands and boyish glee.

“Mmm, I do love me some cake,” he said, licking his lips.

You had to laugh. Firefighters do love food.

Or maybe it was just Dean.

“Remember, you’re meant to share,” you teased.

“No promises,” he muttered. But he still brought it over to the kitchen. Even Meg followed the two of you, peeking over his shoulder in curiosity.

“What kind is it?” she asked.

You gave her a smile. “Orange, cranberry, and poppyseed, with an orange glaze.”

Her eyes widened, but you could tell she wasn’t sure if she was intrigued or not.

“Trust me. It’s like lemon poppyseed, just more orangey,” you promised. “And even a bit sweeter.”

Dean grinned at his friend. “She went to culinary school.”

He said it proudly, which warmed you. Though you bit your lip in slight embarrassment.

“You don’t have to say that,” you said with a nervous giggle.

“Why not?” he protested. “It’s true.”

Meg surveyed you both with a knowing smirk while Dean set up your cakes with a cutting knife and some paper plates.

“It’s still early, but the droves will come soon enough,” Meg said wryly, and she nodded at Dean. “Have you shown her around yet?”

His brows rose. “Around the house? No, as a matter of fact…”

He turned to you with a smile and offered his hand. “Got time for a quick tour?”

You smiled. It was Saturday, and you had a rare morning where you had nowhere else to be.

“I do now,” you agreed. And you took his hand.

Dean led you past the humble kitchen to the barracks, where there were several rows of cots. They were empty and made up with white sheets and dark green comforters.

“We’re all busy by now, but we stay quiet around here,” he explained. “Especially during night shifts, of course.”

He showed you where the bathrooms and showers were, along with passing by a large, closed office. Through the frosted doors, you could see a man talking firmly into a desk phone.

“Is that the Chief?” you asked.

Dean nodded. “Yep, that’s his office. Good ole’ Bobby.”

A scoff made both of your heads turn. Benny gave his friend a wry brow raise.

“Only this one gets away with callin’ him that,” he said. Though he gave you a kind look and touched your shoulder. “How are ya?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you smiled at him. It was just a bit weird for you, knowing he was dating your best friend.

You felt like you knew him from everything she’d told you, but you hadn’t actually been around him that much in person. Everything you knew about him had been pieced from stories you’d heard from either Andréa or Dean.

“I hear ships are sailing with you and Dre,” you quipped.

Benny chuckled with an imaginary tip of his hat. “Well, you’ve heard right.”

At Dean’s slightly curious look, Benny filled him in about his and Andréa’s sailing trip last weekend.

“Who the hell goes sailing in Kansas?” Dean remarked.

You had to laugh a little. “Andréa’s family owns a yacht club. They go boating on the river, mostly. But she goes to Greece every year…and I hear you’re planning to join her.”

Again, you looked over at Benny with good-natured teasing. He took it with a smile and a nod, even taking Dean’s raised eyebrows. His growing smile told you that his friend would be taking some shit about this later. And Benny knew it too.

“All right, I see you guys were in the middle of somethin’. Let me not get in the way,” Benny graciously bowed out with another chuckle. 

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, Captain, my Captain over here’s gotta find a parrot,” Dean ribbed.

Benny just rolled his eyes and gave a lazy wave as he departed.

You gave your boyfriend a bemused look. “What is he, a pirate?”

Dean shrugged. His grin was contagious.

“I just can’t picture that dusty lumberjack on a yacht,” he said. “God, what’s the world coming to?”

You shook your head and bit your lip against a giggle.

“All right, what’s next on the tour?” you asked.

Dean hummed, but after a moment, he brightened with an idea…and a sly look. He took your hand and led you over to a small side room behind the barracks. He opened the door and led you into what was essentially a cubicle, complete with a desk, chair, desktop, and a document filing unit, except it also had a cot in the far corner.

“Step into my office,” he said, gesturing with a hand. You gave him an impressed brow raise as you ventured inside.

“My man’s got his own office? Complete with a bedroom, I see.”

“Yeah. Benny’s got one too, since he’s Captain of the Rescue Squad,” said Dean.

You made note of this with another impressed hum. You then sat down in his comfy office chair and twirled around, before you began perusing his desk area. It was a bit cluttered for your tastes, but you had a feeling Dean was an “organized chaos” kind of guy.

Dean remained standing with casually crossed arms. He watched you trace a finger around one of the picture frames he had on his desk, though he had a few.

There was one of him and Sam after he graduated from law school, cap and gown and all. Another was one of Sam, Dean, and John on one of the rare camping trips they did when they were kids, for Dean’s 13th birthday.

“That’s my dad,” Dean supplied. He pointed at the man, handsome, salt-and-pepper beard, dark eyes, and broad shoulders. Your brows raised of their own accord as your eyes blinked wider.

“Wow, look at that silver fox. I see where the handsome genes came from,” you teased.

Dean’s lips curved in amusement. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

You gave him a sidelong glance and playfully jabbed at his side. But you returned your attention to the last frame.

The picture inside was of a beautiful blonde woman, holding a newborn baby bundled up in her arms. You could see his small pink face peeking out, as well as a little boy cheese grinning over her shoulder. Your attention lingered on this one.

“Is that…”

“Yeah. That’s my mom,” Dean confirmed.

“She’s beautiful,” you said softly.

“Yeah, she was,” he said with a nod. And a thought filtered through his mind, one he spoke without really thinking about it. “Wish she could’ve met you.”

You turned to him more fully then, with a bit of wonder hidden behind your eyes.

“Yeah?” you asked.

Something in Dean’s chest clenched, but he grazed your cheek with his thumb and nodded, giving you a reserved smile. It hadn’t been that long at all since he met you. Just a couple of months. He couldn’t deny it though. It was true.

“I think she would’ve liked you,” he said with a shrug. Like it wasn’t such a big deal.

You both knew that wasn’t the case.

You stood out of his desk chair and went to him, gripping the front of his gray lieutenant’s shirt. You leaned up on your toes for a kiss that almost immediately deepened. Dean cradled your cheek with one hand and pulled you in close by your hip with the other, but you were the one who licked sensuously into his mouth.

He hummed deep in his throat, pleased and a little surprised when you pushed at his chest. He took your cue to step back, leading you along with him when he sat down on the edge of the neatly made cot. He guided you down by your hips, but you didn’t sink down into his lap the way he expected.

Instead, you slotted his right thigh between your legs and took a comfortable seat. You slid up his thigh with slow friction, giving him a small smile as you twined your arms around his neck. A smirk graced his lips as he held your hips.

“Don’t pretend like this wasn’t your plan all along,” you said.

You’d caught the look in his eye before he led you into his office. It made you wonder (with a tremor of unease) just how many women he’d given the “grand tour” of his office…

But you couldn’t let yourself fall down that train of thought. It was a futile thing that would ultimately just upset you, and no doubt would frustrate him. Whatever he did before he started dating you was his business. You just had to focus on the here and now…

And right now, you could already see the half-pitched tent in your boyfriend’s uniform pants as he began to touch you.

“You’re the one who came prepared, Little Miss Easy Access,” Dean remarked. His hands slid up your thighs, bunching up your dress the farther he went. Your lower belly clenched in anticipation when he brushed the edge of your panties. “Maybe I wasn’t the only one with a plan.”

A more amused smile grew across your face, despite the blush warming your cheeks. Something had just occurred to you.

“There’s no way we’re allowed to do this here,” you whispered, but Dean’s grip on your hips was already encouraging you to rock against his thigh.

“No one’s gotta know,” he replied. His voice was deeper, laced with grit. “Just try to stay quiet.”

AN: ...🫣 Sorry for leaving it there lol. But hey! Official girlfriend status! 😂 And how'd you like how they dealt with the Marissa of it all, and the reader meeting Sam for the first time?

Of course, there will be more in Part 9.~

Next Time:

“Where’re you goin’?” he teased.

You let out a quiet laugh. “I think we’ve pressed our luck enough for today.”

Dean leaned in to kiss your cheek. His lips then veered off toward your ear.

“But see, I’m pretty damn sure that pussy’s still on fire,” he said.

The depths in his voice made you shiver. Your spine undoubtedly prickled with arousal again. He smiled.

“You understand, I can’t let you go just yet.”

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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[myloversgone]

Let Me Change Your Mind

Pairing: Dean x Y/N; Dean x You; Dean x female!reader

Warnings: +18. Lots of sex. Unprotected sex (be smart, this is fiction); P in V; oral sex (male and female receiving). Dirty talk. Dean being the hottest motherfucker on Earth (this is a real warning). Pure filth. There’s barely a plot, I really should be ashamed of myself. 

Summary: Dean thinks shower sex is complicated and dangerous. Can you change his mind about it? 

This takes place during season 8, around the time the Winchesters found the MoL bunker, but it doesn’t exactly follow the show’s storyline.

A/N: This is my entry for the lovely @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone ​ Make-Me-Horny challenge. I hope I was able to accomplish that 😁 Unfortunately, tumblr is stupid and I can’t post the hot AF gif she sent me to inspire this fic, unless I wanna be flagged, so if you want to see it, just send me a message and I’ll send it to you. I did my best to describe it, though (the description is highlighted in the story). 

I wanted to post this work sooner, but life has been kicking my ass lately and, to make it worse, I’ve been sick for the last two days.🤢 So, please, if this sucks too much, you can blame my stomach bug.

I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is highly appreciated! Thanks for reading!

"Come on, Dean, you said we could try anything."

"I know what I said, sweetheart, but shower sex is complicated."

"Well, apparently I'm gonna have to take your word for it, 'cause it doesn't seem like I'll be trying it any time soon!"

You were really pissed off. For the last 30 minutes, you've been trying to convince Dean to have sex with you in the shower. But, to your surprise, he vehemently stated he didn't want to, saying it was complicated and even dangerous.

Since your boyfriend found out how boring your sex life was before him, you both agreed you should try some different things every once in a while. Dean had already shown you so many good - and very, very naughty - things you didn't even know existed, so you thought his idea was great.

Lately, you’ve been wanting to try shower sex, and you were adamant about convincing him to do it.

"Baby, don't be mad", Dean pleaded when you got up from his lap and turned your back to him, ready to leave the small motel room where you found yourselves in while working on a case. 

"I'm not mad. Just frustrated", you explained, pouting and turning to look at him. "I've been picturing us doing it and I think it would be great". You bit your lower lip, looking up at Dean from under your lashes, knowing very well how much it drove him crazy. He couldn't deny you anything when you made that face.

"Y/N", he said your name as a warning. "We can't do it here or in any other motel we’ve ever been to. It's too dangerous, believe me. Those tiles are slippery and there's nowhere to hold, one of us will end up hurt, maybe both of us". Dean explained, walking to you and placing his hands on each side of your waist, bringing your body close to his.

"But", you tried again "we’ve already showered together more than once, and we never got hurt". You knew you were whining like a child and being a pain in the ass, but shower sex has been your most recent fantasy. You wanted it badly.

And you were telling the truth. You and Dean had showered together many times, and what sometimes started as just an innocent shower after a particularly gruesome hunt, always ended up in heavy make out sessions, but it never got to the “main attraction” because of Dean’s caution, which was part of the reason you wanted it so much. Plus, just the thought of holding onto his massive shoulders, his skin glistening with the drops of water while he thoroughly fucks you under the shower, is enough to make your lady parts clench.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll find a place safe enough so we don’t end up with a broken leg”, Dean winked at you, pulling you back from your daydream and kissing you, one of his hands travelling from your waist to your ass, squeezing a buttcheek. 

You kissed him back, your tongue invading his mouth to taste him. “I hope you’re right. Plus, it’s your loss, you know. Sam said he’s gonna be out for at least two hours until he can find the witness. We could use the time to have fun”, you bit his lower lip, using your tongue to soothe the bite while pressing your crotch against Dean’s body.

“You’re a naughty girl, teasing me like that”. It was his turn to kiss you, sucking on your upper lip. Holding the back of your head, he pulled you closer, owning you, making you gasp. It was his promise you wouldn’t have to wait until you could find a “safe shower” to have great sex.

 —--------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later

“I think we’ve found the Bat Cave”, said Dean while looking at the thousands of books available in the Men of Letters’ bunker library. 

None of you would’ve guessed the place would be so intact when Henry Winchester told you about the bunker. Still, it was surprisingly inhabitable. In fact, it had everything you needed.

The three of you started to look around and, as Sam and Dean opened doors, switching the lights on and getting increasingly impressed with the place, you went to the kitchen, quickly assessing the room and thinking you’ve finally found a place where you could cook a decent meal for a change.

Proceeding to explore the other rooms, you passed through the bedroom Dean chose to be yours and his and continued down the hall. Opening the last door to your left, you felt like your jaw had hit the floor.

You found yourself in a huge bathroom. It had black and white tiles covering the walls, two sinks with large mirrors right above them, a bathtub, and, the most important thing: two shower spaces with benches attached to the walls. Big benches that could definitely fit two people sitting side by side and even a person lying down comfortably. You couldn’t believe your luck.

“Dean, get your ass over here! I wanna show you something!”, you yelled from the door, practically jumping in excitement. 

You heard Dean’s footsteps quickly approaching. “What’s up, sweetheart?” He stopped beside you, voice dying and eyes widening when he realized what he was looking at.

“I guess we’ll have to test the hot water, huh? See if it lasts as long as we need it to”, you grinned, patting Dean’s chest and leaving him open mouthed.

Sadly, as the events unfolded, new hunts stopped you and Dean from enjoying the bunker, its bathroom especially.

A week later, your boyfriend finally returned from a hunt he and his brother went to. On their way home, Sam took a detour and went to help Garth, which meant you and Dean were alone, with the bunker all to yourselves.

“Hey, sweetheart”, Dean called from the top of the stairs, closing the door behind him.

“Hi, baby. How was the hunt?”, you put aside the book you were reading to go meet him in the middle of the room, standing on your tiptoes to give him a welcome kiss.

“It was ok, a simple salt and burn, but we had to dig like three graves. I need a shower ASAP. How about you join me?”, Dean offered, giving you a naughty smirk.

You felt your stomach tighten in excitement. Finally. You’ve been away from Dean for too long, you missed him already. “Sure.You can go ahead and I’ll be with you in a minute”. You kissed him again, quickly nibbling his lower lip. Dean went in the direction of the hallway while you put the books back on their shelves and proceeded to your bedroom, where you undressed completely and wrapped yourself in your boyfriend’s Dead Guy Robe. You ran your hands through your hair, tidying the strands. You knew Dean wouldn’t mind if it was a mess, but you wanted to be pretty for him. After all, you promised to change his mind about shower sex, and you intended to do just that.

As you left the bedroom and approached the bathroom door, you could hear the shower running. Your heart started to beat faster. It didn’t matter that you’ve been dating Dean for almost a year; you still got excited with the perspective of having sex with him. He always took good care of you, always put your needs first. He truly is amazing.

You opened the door to find Dean in the first shower stall. His back was turned to you and his arms were up; he was washing his hair. You closed the door and stopped for a moment to admire him. His arms were bulging with the movement he was making to spread the shampoo on his hair. Even from a distance, you could see the muscles on his back move under his flawless, freckled skin. Your gaze went down his spine, focusing on the dimples on his lower back and then on his ass. His perfect, muscled, rounded ass. It was one of those moments when you could barely believe a man as beautiful as Dean could even exist.

Already feeling your pelvic muscles clenching, you called his name, since he didn’t seem to notice your arrival. “Hey, Dean”.

He turned around to look at you. You couldn’t help but stare between his strong legs, seeing his cock semi erect, his substantial size catching your attention. Dean’s body reacted quickly to you, it always did, which was very flattering and just one more reason for you to be head over heels for him.

“Hi, baby girl. Is that my robe?”, he asked, his gaze taking in your entire body.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’m taking it off now”, you explained while doing just that, exposing yourself completely to him.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous”, Dean bit his lower lip, his eyes fixed on you as you approached the stall, putting a little swing on your hips just to keep your boyfriend interested.

Standing under the shower, you let the warm water cascade over you as you placed your arms around Dean’s neck and touched his body with yours. You felt your nipples harden as they touched his skin. He leaned down to kiss you sensuously, his lips parting yours as his tongue entered your mouth. Holding you close, one of his hands was supporting your lower back as the other ran up from your hip to the side of your breast, caressing the delicate skin.

Reaching between your bodies, you closed your hand around his cock. The contact was enough to make it fully erect for you, and Dean groaned, his face buried in your neck, kissing and sucking the skin. When he removed his hand from your breast and started to run it down your body, reaching the folds between your legs, you let go of him, making him stop.

"Today is about you, baby. Just sit down and relax", you told Dean while pushing him to sit on the bench attached to the shower wall.

He kept looking at you, admiring your body as he walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the bench. He sat and you kneeled in front of him, between his muscular bowed legs.

"Whatcha gonna do, huh, baby girl?", he asked, voice deep with lust.

You took him in your hand again, massaging his length up and down and watching the wide tip get redder, precum already leaking from it.

Looking at Dean from under your lashes, you leaned forward and kissed the head of his cock, making him hiss with the warm feeling of your lips. Then you hollowed your cheeks and did your best to take him inside your mouth. He was too big, so taking ⅔ of him was all you could do. His length was already down your throat, and you swallowed around him as much as you could. He moaned loudly, leaning his head against the wall behind him and reaching for your wet hair.

"Fuck Y/N, you look so good with my cock in your mouth", he praised while you sucked and bobbed your head up and down, letting him hit the back of your throat every time. You hummed, sending shocks of pleasure through his member. You grabbed his thighs to steady yourself, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

You kept sucking and ended up letting him fuck your mouth, holding your hair in a ponytail and guiding you, until he told you he couldn't take it anymore. "I wanna come in your pussy, baby girl, come here. Sit on my lap".

Giving one last wet kiss on the slit of his beautiful cock, you gladly got up. Your knees were starting to hurt.

Grabbing his thick length covered with your spit, you positioned it in your entrance, spreading your legs to take him easier. You were very wet, not only from the water, but because sucking Dean's dick turned you on every time. Rubbing the head on your folds, you took him inside you, lowering yourself on his cock, feeling every delicious inch penetrating you.

"Oh, God, Dean", you whined when you finally took all of him, his pubic hair tickling you. Dean looked down to where you were joined, finding it hot to watch his cock being completely swallowed by your pussy.

You started lifting your hips, bouncing up and down on his lap, the back of your thighs hitting the front of his with a slapping sound increased by the water pouring over both of your bodies. You held onto the nape of his neck, your mouth forming an O with how deep he was hitting you. 

Placing both palms into each side of his body for leverage, Dean started to lift his hips from the bench, meeting you halfway. The movement enhanced the muscles of his arms, his biceps bulging. He couldn't take his eyes off of your face, entranced by the absolute pleasure on your features. You weren't able to form words, knowing soon you would be tired of bouncing like that, but enjoying it immensely. It didn't bother you to be making most of the effort this time; Dean was always the one to do everything his powerful body allowed him to bring you pleasure. Now, it was your turn.

"Is that good, baby?", you asked him, panting. 

"God, yes. You're perfect, Y/N", he grinned, tilting his head up to kiss you. His warm tongue slipped inside your open mouth, tasting you and deepening the kiss. You moaned with the feeling and Dean gave a particularly hard thrust, hitting just the right place.

"F-fuck, Dean", you lost your rhythm, feeling your legs getting tired with the up and down movement, so you fully sat on his lap, stopping for a while.

With Dean buried inside you to the root, you started grinding on his lap without moving up, just using your hips and the muscles on your lower belly to squeeze him, keeping him as deep as you could.

“Jesus, fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing around me”. Dean had to close his eyes; he was afraid he was gonna come before you if he kept looking at your beautiful body, at the movements of your hips, your tits bouncing as you rode him. “Keep riding me, sweetheart. I love when you do that”, he pleaded, gritting his teeth to keep control.

“You’re so deep inside me, Dean. I’m gonna come with you there, ok, honey? You’re just in the right place”. You knew Dean loved when you were vocal during sex, being it dirty talk or not. He was always amazing, knowing exactly where to touch you and sometimes knowing your body better than yourself, so you didn’t have to guide him through what made you feel good. Still, since you started dating, he freed you of your inhibitions, encouraging you to be as loud and talkative as you wanted.

“Yeah, come for me, baby. Come on my cock, c’mon”. He pulled you closer, kissing and biting your shoulder, which was enough to turn you into mush. You came hard, the pleasure scattering through your body as a fire while you moaned and called Dean’s name like a pornstar. Except you weren’t faking it.

The noises you were making and the sight of your body shaking in pleasure did it for Dean. He came too, hot and hard, throbbing inside you as you felt him filling you with his seed. Breathing hard, you two remained enlaced, your legs and arms wrapped around Dean’s body as you kissed, enjoying the aftershocks of your orgasms.

A few minutes later, when your breathing returned to normal, you leaned away from Dean, intending to move, but he seemed to have a different plan.

"You hard again?", you asked in awe. You could feel him hardening and lengthening inside you, your slick walls once more stretching to accommodate him.

Dean didn’t even bother answering. He just held your legs firmly and got up, turning around so your back was against the wall and he could start thrusting. "Gonna make you cum again, baby girl", he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking while you held on to him, his biceps slippery from the water. 

A dozen thrusts later, he throbbed inside you, burying himself deep and definitely leaving bruises on your hips where he held you. You would wear his marks proudly. Dean's cum filled you once more, and he pulled his cock off of you to gently lay you on the bench, holding your spread legs and using his thumb and index finger to open you and watch his seed leaking out of you.

"Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot", he said, kissing your still sensitive pussy and then sucking your clit, making you whimper. You were 100% sure you would be soaked in sweat if it weren't for the shower. You felt hot all over, your body tingling and still recovering from your last orgasm. 

“Gosh, Dean, that’s so fucking good”, you praised breathlessly. Your hand reached for his head and you used your nails to scratch his scalp, giving him the perfect opportunity to bury his tongue inside you, making you arch your back and moan loud. 

He felt amazing, soothing the soreness between your legs while guiding you through your third orgasm. You obviously didn’t last long, and Dean cleaned you of your juices, drinking every drop you had to give.

You were so spent you didn’t feel like moving. Getting up, Dean kissed you, long and passionately. With your eyes closed, you heard him turning the shower off and opening the towel closet. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed”. He wrapped you in a big towel and carried you, bridal style, to your bedroom, where he dried your hair and dressed you back in his robe.

You felt tired in the best way, laying on your side on the big bed, facing your hot boyfriend. “Dean, that was so amazing. Thank you”, you said, pulling his face towards yours to give him a quick kiss.

He chuckled, kissing you back. “I think I should be the one thanking you, Y/N/N. You really did change my mind”.

“Yeah? What do you think about shower sex now?”, you asked, teasing him.

“I think it’s awesome!”.

THE END

—————————————

If you came this far, thank you for sticking up with me! I don’t have a tag list yet, but I’m gonna tag some lovely people who always support me with their likes, reblogs and comments. Please, if you don’t want to be tagged on future posts, just let me know, no worries! Or, if you weren’t tagged but want to be, you can message me too 😉

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior , @avanatural, @charred-angelwings, @itsthemegacoven , @eevvvaa , @ejlovespie

[startanewdream]

Fic prompt! Hinny + "how did you not realize we've been dating for over a year now?"

Thank you for sending a Hinny prompt! 💖 Here's some sort of HBP Missing Moment:

*-*-*-*

“I heard it was your fault Dean and I broke up.”

It’s not the undeniable truth that makes Harry splutter his drink, but rather all those other feelings that come with Ginny’s presence as she sits next to him, twirling the end of her ponytail between her fingers, her lips curved into an amused smile.

“Sorry,” she adds, patting his back, which, of course, does not help to calm his racing heart. It’s stupid because this is not the first time Ginny sits next to him (Harry is very grateful for the fact they enjoy having meals around the same time and the Gryffindor table isn’t that large), but this is the first time since her new single status.

Which means this is the first time since forever — fine, since October — that Harry has a chance of actually asking her out.

But since the Great Hall at breakfast — and with her brother sitting just a few seats away — isn’t the best place for it, Harry just coughs, hoping to not look that much guilty.

“My fault?”

“Oh, yeah.” She extends her hand to grab the toasts in front of Harry, oblivious to how her hand brushes his arm. “Apparently we have been secretly in love since last year.”

His heart skips a beat even as his eyes sweep guiltily over to where Ron is sitting, still oblivious to them.

“No one told me about it,” he murmurs. Things would have been easier if this was true.

Ginny’s head snaps up to watch him; it’s difficult to keep her gaze when she is so close and her eyes are shining with mischief.

“Oh, Harry, how did you not realize we've been dating for over a year now?”

She laughs and because he cannot resist it, no matter how much his heart aches for her words to became true, Harry joins her; and because the universe knows that Harry Potter cannot have a moment of peace, this is the moment that Ron decides to notice their interaction.

“Who are you dating?” He asks, brows already furrowed, glaring at his sister.

Ginny rolls her eyes, tossing back her hair and shifting in her seat; Harry can’t help but notice that this movement creates a rift between them that wasn’t there before.

“It depends on who you ask,” Ginny says dignifiedly. “Apparently people cannot break up a relationship unless they are in love with someone else.”

“So you are—”

“I’m single, that’s what I am.”

Ron’s eyes meet Harry’s for a brief second before Harry decides that his plate needs his full attention.

“You could fancy someone else, come on, someone better—”

“What about you?” Ginny asks suddenly. A quick glance at her direction shows Harry that she looks flustered. “How is your bachelor life? A new love interest on the horizon? How about—oh, good morning, Hermione!”

Harry looks up again. Ginny gives Hermione her brightest smile before turning her eyes to Ron; there’s a silent battle between them, something that Harry decides he wants no part of, and he just shrugs when Hermione throws him a questioning look.

And then Ginny and Ron are suddenly fine.

“Anyway,” Ginny says calmly as if nothing has happened, just as Ron turns to Hermione. “It’s not really a rumor, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t… worried.”

Ginny gives him a sympathetic look. “I know you don’t like when people talk about you. And there’s been some gossip about the break up, but… no one mentioned your nome at all, that was just Luna mixing things.”

“Luna?”

“Yeah.” A pink flush colours her cheeks. “When I told her I wasn’t dating Dean anymore she said she was glad you and I had finally decided to declare our feelings for each other.” It takes a beat longer than necessary before Ginny shakes her head at him, clearly intending it as a joke.

Harry breathes slowly. Luna always saw better than anyone he ever knew, but if only she was right on both sides this time… “That’s Luna,” he mumbles. And because he doesn’t want to be questioned about Luna’s usual brightness, he adds: “Gossip is bothering you?”

“It’s just Hogwarts, soon this will be old news.” She sighs, standing up and gathering her things. “I don’t know why people are even interested in who I am dating, honestly.”

Harry blinks, looking around with sudden mistrust. The fact that Ginny is single now has been very well registered into his brain — and heart — but only now he realizes that everyone else knows it too. And he is not, by any chance, the only one that might be smitten with her, that might realize how funny and gorgeous and charming she is… If someone else asks her out first, if someone else is smarter — and braver — than him…

“Ginny—” He calls, suddenly desperate; she turns back to him at the same time Ron lets out a laugh about something Hermione is saying, and then Harry's courage falters him. “See you later at practice?”

Her lips twitch, amused. “It’s Monday, Harry, we have no practice today.”

“We—we should. I mean, Katie is back and the final match is coming—” He glances at the books on her hand. “If you can, of course.”

“You are really asking me to choose between my education and a few hours outside?” Ginny grins at him. “You are the worst influence, Harry.”

He has to smile. “Considering you grew up with Fred and George, I doubt it.”

Her eyes widen for a brief moment before Ginny laughs. It’s not possible with all the morning talks around them, but he swears he can hear every note of her laugh, can separate the bells of her voice from every other sound in the hall.

His heart beats in tune with her laugh.

“You are right." She admits. "See you later.”

And Ginny winks at him. Harry watches her go, lips trembling with the unsaid things he wants to tell her, and then —

“Oh, damn it,” he curses, picking up his things, and ignoring Hermione’s knowing look (she could team up with Luna, Harry thinks grimly). “I need to go schedule the field for practice tonight!”

[impala1967dwinchester]

If that's possible I'd like to do a request for Castiel x child reader, where she was his first adoptive child who had power over souls but got killed but the British men in season 12. When souless Jack appear in the Eden she is the one who helps him, they talk and she ask him to give a message to cas (something cute or hopefully)

Castiel- True Words

Pairing: Castiel x Adoptive!Daughter, Jack Kline

Pov: Reader

Warnings: Death/Murder, At peace, messenger

Summary: After years of not seeing her adoptive father the one that taught her everything she'd able to send a grateful and much needed message back to him.

A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers, This is for @gabrielasilva1510 I hope you enjoy it.

WC- 1.1k

Main Master List // Request Master List

I met Castiel when I was a teenager. He had popped out of nowhere. I could tell he wasn't one like the others. A human I mean, he was different. Something more calculated and closed off from the rest.

I was a girl that was stuck in the cycle of being adopted and then being brought back to the orphanage. A great cycle. But there was a trick that I had always had. I read a person or at least that what's the people always said about me.

Castiel told me that day, A twelve-year-old. "You, will one day save the world." Then as quickly as he was there he was gone. I just stared at the empty spot. I had never gotten a feeling like that from anyone.

He was right though ten years later. There he was standing between two larger men. They were called the Winchesters. "Dean, just give her a moment. The website said that she could help us." The taller said.

They were standing in front of the help desk. I had made a business out of my talent. For a service price of course. "This is just a spoof, Sam. A waste of money if you ask me." I heard the shorter brother say.

I stepped from behind the door. "Hello, Do you have an appointment?" I asked, smiling as I saw Castiel. My angel. "Castiel it's good to see you after so many years," I said.

"You know her?" The shorter one asked. "Is that how I found her?" The taller one asked. Castiel didn't speak, something that was common for him. I could feel the vibration from the three of them.

"Yes, I told Y/n many years ago that she'd save the world. It's been written for ages now." Castiel said matter of factly. "If you wouldn't mind coming in," I said. The boys followed behind me.

"So what do you do anyway," Dean asked. It was easy to read him, he was broken. A shattered man by the faults of his mother and father. "I read souls." He huffed and rolled his eyes. A jab from his younger brother went into his chest.

"Look now, you both know that you believe enough to know that there are things out there you don't know enough about. Dean your trust issues are a leading issue in solving anything. Sam, you can't trust yourself but trust everyone else. The two of you are the brothers that everyone fights for, yet nobody says 'thank you for saving our world'." I said

A stream of shock rolled over both of their faces. Something I don't think either was prepared to hear. Castiel butted in, "You said you can read a soul. Can you read the soul of a person from a picture?" He asked, diverting the hot attention of the boys and onto what I could gather was their reasoning for showing up.

After Castiel showed me the picture, he gave me further detail. An Arthur Ketch was who they were after, a whole party of hunters but from over the sea.

I was able to help, and the boys left. Castiel was nice enough to help and stay. Cleaning up alongside me. "You know I thought of you every day after I saw you Castiel," I said grabbing something from the table. "I know I heard your prayers every night." He said.

"I adopted you when you turned seventeen, but I wasn't prepared to thrust you into a life for which you'd have to come back to eventually," Castiel said. There was a serious tone behind his words. A kind tone as well, something that I didn't need to be able to read to control souls to understand.

He asked me if I'd like to join them, Something that I was no doubtfully confused about. The only reason not to was my own fear, and I didn't need fear in my life not with my abilities after all.

A long lifetime couldn't spare you from all the damages you were given by being near the Winchesters. My life ended not shortly after staying with them. I was caught and used as bate to lure the Winchester, and Castiel into a trap by the British men of letters I learned before my fate ended my life.

Where I was sent was a beautiful garden, one filled with the green life, and budding flowers. One at peace and tranquility. My Eden, I called it. I sat there for ages, years in the silence of my new home. Awaiting anything new and bright. Awaiting the promise of new life.

One day that was given to me. A young boy came walking into my Eden. A pair of glasses clouded me from seeing his whole face, but it never mattered. "You must be wondering where you are?" I asked.

The boy stood still, "You look similar." He said. I turned my head, "You must be confused, I have been here for years boy." I said, "My name's Jack."

"Jack Winchester." He said stripping himself of the glasses. The bright blue eyes of the ocean staring back at me. I smiled "You must know Castiel." I said. He shook his head, a goofy smile on his face.

"He talks about you a lot ya'know." Jack said. "I bet, now would you like to go back, I imagine that's why you're here to help him and the Winchester brother," I said speaking softly.

"Yes, I'm afraid they still need my help down there," Jack said. He was so gentle with the plants he started to walk around Eden. "alright Jack, whenever you're ready and I'll send you back." I said to Jack.

I thought of how I missed Castiel, nothing could be changed now, but it would be wonderful to let him know that I'm okay, at least as far as heaven is concerned.

"I'm ready." He said a flower he must have plucked was his hand. "Jack, can I ask a favor from you?" I asked. He turned his head slightly, something that Castiel did many times before...

"Would you give a message to Castiel?" I asked, he shook his head happily. "Tell Castiel, that I will do whatever I can here in Eden to protect the legacy of him and the Winchesters. Tell him that I can't thank him enough for the home he gave me when nobody else would."

I said sadly. Jack closed his eyes, "He'll be more than happy to hear from you." And with that, I snapped my fingers and send Jack Winchester back home to Castiel and the Winchester brothers.

Maybe I did save the world, but Castiel saved me when I was much younger. He saved me and truly he was the one that saved the world.

Posted on: 04/16/2022

Completed on: 04/11/2022

Baby Angels: @sapphireplums @kazsrm67 @dilfloverr @silverose365 @alexxavicry

Requests: @nicodarling @Onethirstyunicorn @silverose365 @alexxavicry

[winchest09]

Lights Out - Chapter Seven

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Word Count: 3857

Summary: Y/N was different from the rest; living in a quaint lakehouse, on the edge of one of the most rich and prosperous towns in America. She was surrounded with the elite, the wealthy and people who never took responsibility for their actions. Money gave them everything, while in turn, it had taken something from her. In result, she kept her distance, never wanting to get involved with high society, until one fateful night changed her life…forever.

Rating: 18+

Warnings:  Angst, slow burn, sex talk, sex language, swears.

A/N: Guys, I am severely sorry this is late. I had a severe migraine that started late Friday night and last all the way through till not long ago. I couldn't look at screens or anything. Bleugh. Don't get them often but they SUCK! Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry again!  I also want to say a massive thank you to my wonderful @deanwanddamons​​​​​ for being my wonderful beta, and for kicking my ass where needed. __________________________

Get five weeks ahead on Patreon! __________________________

Lights Out Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Let me know your thoughts!

Letting a long sigh pass his lips, Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror as he straightened out his suit, and the black mask that rested upon his nose. It covered his face from just above his brow to the top of his cheekbones, his shaped stubble and cushioned pink lips being the only features on show. He couldn’t really describe how he was feeling at that moment as his emotions were a cocktail of different things. If he was honest with himself, he wished he was still standing on the old fisherman dock, enjoying the sound of peace and quiet instead of the party ambience that he would soon be surrounded with.

Once he returned from his trip to Singer’s Salvage Yard, he had managed to dodge his cousin and the event coordinator while heading to his room to shower. He was not in any kind of mood for more scolding, especially from his cousin. Just the thought of it was getting him all riled up again, causing him to roll his shoulders under his shirt as he turned away from his reflection. This was his event and he was in control, Dean was not having anybody telling him what to do in his own home. If that happened again, he would be more than happy to throw Christian out himself, knowing he would take great satisfaction in seeing the disgruntled expression that would be undoubtedly staring back at him.

Pulling him from his deliberations, was the text tone that rang out from his pants pocket. Without hesitation, he retrieved the device and looked at the bright display screen that was glaring back at him to see a message waiting to be read.

Sam: Good luck for this evening, and with dad. I’d be there if I could.

“Yeah, of course you would Sammy,” Dean muttered, a little chuckle leaving him as he replied back and let him know his thoughts. “Sure you would much rather be here than on the beach drinking your pina coladas.”

After he pressed send, he couldn’t help but smile slightly. It was times like this, that he truly missed his little brother. They made a good tag team, and no-one ever questioned his motives or authority when both Winchester boys were together. He got lucky; scouting Thailand for new properties was something that sounded like a lot more fun than hosting this event. His sibling had a beautiful woman on his arm that loved him dearly too which was basically the icing on the cake.

Was Dean jealous? Maybe. He had never really thought about falling in love and having the fairytale romance that Sam had, and didn't really think that he was worthy of it. Besides, all the women that have been around him have always been after his money, or his cock; never his personality, as cliché as that sounds. He had never been with anyone who remembered what his favorite band was, or noticed any of his little quirks. Hell, he didn’t even know what his quirks were, no one had ever told him. Still, he didn’t like to dwell on that, never spending no longer than a few minutes wondering. He had his business, his house, his car; what more could he need? He was happy, he had money, he had friends, there was a constant supply of sexual interest; he didn’t need somebody to play with his hair after a long day, or cook him apple pie because it was his go to desert. No, he was fine just the way he was.

“Mr Winchester, the event is about to begin.” The loud, Scottish interruption was accompanied by a few strong knocks on his bedroom door and he could only let out a deep sigh as he began to walk in that direction.

“I’m coming, Rowena,” he fired back, double checking he had what he needed before he opened the wooden barrier to reveal the strong willed redhead that was waiting.

“This isn’t a function where tardiness will be ignored,” she stated harshly, a clipboard in her hand that was being held tightly against her chest, her own eyes glaring at him through her mask. “Your father–”

“--I know what my father expects,” Dean interjected, slamming his door behind him before he began to walk towards the stairs. “I don’t need you to tell me about my own family.”

“With all due respect, I am merely trying to advise you on what awaits,” Rowena argued, attempting to keep up with his large strides, her feet moving as fast as her long black velvet dress would allow. “This isn’t my first Lights Out Masquerade.”

“Neither is it mine,” he argued, stopping in his tracks to turn and face the woman who was hounding him. “Now please, do your job and make sure my staff are in position.”

“That means I need you in the main hall,” the redhead stated, tapping her forefinger against the paper on the clipboard, giving him a pointed look.

“And I’m going,”  Dean told her, rolling his eyes before he began to continue to move further down the hall.

“Oh and by the way,” Rowena shouted after him, “your girlfriend has already entered the building, she didn’t want to wait in line.”

“My girl–” he started, before cutting himself off, rubbing at his brow when he realised who she meant. “Bela,” he muttered, taking a deep breath in preparation of greeting her. “Great, thanks.”

He tried not to sound too resentful when he answered, but the idea of the brunette already standing in his main hall, waiting on him because she didn’t want to stand in line, was an irk that was already irritating the shit out of him. That and the fact that people kept assuming that they were official. He had never mentioned anything about being exclusive, had tried to make it very obvious that the only time they would ever be together was when they would be within the sheets. He needed to make it very clear to Miss Talbot that he was only interested in her mouth, and the honeypot between her legs; nothing more. If the speculation continued, then he would have to find himself a new woman to roll around with. Dean Winchester would not be tied down.

As he descended the stairs, passing waiters and other staff on his journey, his gaze landed on the lonely woman who was standing in the middle of the hall. Her brown hair was curled and bunched off her shoulders, her eyes covered by a silver mask that contrasted wonderfully to her silver and black gown she was wearing. Yet, before he could reach her, his stride was interrupted by a voice that sounded from behind him.

“So he finally makes an appearance,” he heard someone snark, and turning to look over his shoulder, he was met with the smug face of his cousin. “How was your afternoon adventure? More important than this event?”

“Fuck off, Christian,” Dean warned, his voice low and authoritative as he stared him down, he did not want to deal with his shit right now.

The other man got the message pretty quickly, turning to walk back down another hallway as the green-eyed Winchester let out a small sigh. If his whole evening was going to be filled with shit like this, he didn’t know how long he was going to last sober. It was then that his thoughts then wandered to Joanna Harvelle, the little slice of normal he had as the ace up his sleeve. She wasn’t part of their society, she was unaware of all the rules and strings attached to this event which made her the perfect escape. He would be able to have a conversation with her without having to wonder just what he could offer her in return. He was worried that with his invitation would mean she would be initiated into it all, but that was a bridge he could cross at a later date.

Pulling out his phone once more, he traversed the last of the stairs as he opened the text message application and typed out a quick sentence to send towards Jo. It was just something simple and to the point; he could only hope that his friend would see it and respond.

Dean: Looking forward to seeing a familiar face. Well, half of one at least. Let me know when you’re here and I'll come find you.

His loud footsteps upon the polished wood floor was the sound that alerted the waiting woman in the room to his presence, and within seconds, he heard her sultry tones echo off the walls. “Well I must say the place, and the host, looks exquisite.”

“Bela,” he greeted, forcing his lips into a smile as he watched her walk closer towards him. “How did you get in here?”

“Through the kitchen, told security how I needed to be on the arm of my man for his big night,” she almost sang, stepping ever closer before she slid her hands up his chest, resting her fingers upon shirt.

“Hm,” Dean hummed, looking between her eyes as his thoughts whirred.

Had she been the one that was telling all she could that they were official? The ‘my man’ comment certainly made it seem like it was so and he did not like that. The idea of this woman making a decision about his future, without consulting him, was a major red flag. One that he could add with the rest of them that he had collected ever since he had met her. He needed to be smart about his next move, had to work out how to let her down gently and inform her that they weren’t a thing without rocking the boat. Her father was pretty important in this town and he knew his father would never forgive him.

“Dean!”

The deep, gravelled shout of his name caused his focus to shift, and land on the couple that were now moving ever closer towards him. Within seconds, he recognised them as his parents. John and Mary Winchester. Speak of the devil.

“Dad,” Dean greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake before turning to the blonde. “Mom, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, honey,” Mary replied, leaning in to kiss her son on the cheek before she rested herself back against her husband's arm.

“Are you not going to introduce us to the enchantress beside you?” His father spoke aloud, his gaze on the brunette at his side. She was currently looking up at Dean with the biggest puppy dog eyed look he had ever seen, and that was saying something considering his brother did the same thing all the time.

“Er sure,” Dean spoke, a little hesitant. “Bela, these are my parents which I’m sure you know.” He placed his palm in the middle of her back while the other stayed lodged inside his pocket. “This is Bela.”

“You never told us you had a girlfriend!” His mother gushed, playfully slapping the chest of her son before her attention fully focused on Miss Talbot.

“She’s no–”

“--it’s all fairly new,” Bela cut him off and it took all the strength he had to not shout out the truth there and then. Yet before he could rectify the situation, his father had already ushered him away from the gossiping women, and towards the bar that was waiting to be used at the other side of the room.

It had been kitted out in true lights out fashion. There were standing candelabras, a string quartet, a fully stocked bar as well as servers waiting with their silver trays in which they would offer appetisers. The food would be served in the adjoining space, where large round tables were waiting with a lantern filled centre. He had to say, he was proud his home was able to be transformed into something so elegant, but at the same time, he hated it.

“Have to say son, the place looks good,” John complimented, as he glanced around the space they were currently standing in.

“I told you I had it under control,” Dean muttered, looking anywhere else but at his father as he waited for the reply. He was trying to bite down his annoyance, not wanting to fall out with the paternal figure in his life.

“Really?” His dad scoffed, shaking his head as he signalled for the barman. “Because Chistian told me you did a disappearing act this morning.”

“I had to sort something out with the Impala,” the green-eyed Winchester stated, standing his ground as he tried to swallow down the fury that was bubbling like lava in his stomach. “Everything was fine here.”

“Dean, you are part of a legacy, and that legacy has a reputation to uphold,” John continued, signalling to the staff member he wanted a bourbon. “You want to keep your status, your money, your privileges? You need to step up like your cousin did.”

That statement threw the younger of the two men, a frown creasing on his brow upon hearing his dad’s word. “What?”

“He took over the preparations, worked with Rowena to get this night arranged,” John explained, eyeing up the tumbler that had been placed in front of him on a fresh white napkin.

“That’s bullshit!” Dean exclaimed, his voice deep and resonating as he stood his ground. He was ready to erupt, wanting to find Christian before beating seven rounds of hell into him. That fucker.

“Is it?” His father shot back, licking at his bottom lip before he took a sip of his drink. “I can’t hold your hand through this, Dean. I have relationships I need to withhold. So I need you to stand up straight, put a smile on your goddamn face and make this night a success. You got that?”

Sure, Dean could argue. He could stomp his feet, scream from the rooftops and plant his fist in his cousin's face but he knew that wouldn’t achieve anything at this moment in time. If anything, he would be blamed for bringing shame to the Winchester family. So instead, he bit back the comments, and fought against his instincts.

“Yes sir.”

“Oh and before I forget,” John added, just as he was about to turn and walk back towards where his wife, Dean’s mother, was standing with Bela. “Keep Miss Talbot happy and on your arm. Her father and I are in the midst of securing a merger. She’s an attractive young thing, surely won’t be too hard for you to keep her satisfied. Don’t mess it up.”

Before he could put across his opinions on his fathers choice of woman for him, one of the security detail from Dean’s team had come marching towards them, one finger on the earpiece in his ear as the other stayed in position in front of his stomach.

“Sorry to interrupt sir, but the guests are entering,” he informed the green-eyed Winchester and Dean could only nod in acknowledgment before turning back to his dad.

“Good,” John smiled, his silver grin clear through the edge of the glass he was holding to his lips. “Let’s have an amazing evening shall we?”

“Yeah,” he muttered in response, taking a deep breath before his father slapped at his upper arm.

“Get a drink, son,” John urged, “You can do this.”

Could he? As he watched the paternal figure walk back over towards his mother, he had to question himself. There were always all these expectations, always these unwritten rules that he had to follow and now he was being told to continue to ‘date’ the woman he wanted to pull away from. Still, as he watched his father wrap his hold around Mary’s side, he could only think of everything he had to thank them for. Not going hungry as a kid, being given a career which had allowed him to buy his own home, having a car that felt like an extension of himself. The least he could do was play happy with Bela if it meant his dad could secure more business. It wasn’t all bad, at least the brunette knew how to satisfy him and he could definitely have some fun while waiting for the merger to go through.

So, doing as John had suggested, he forced his lips to upturn as he watched how the young woman came sauntering towards him. He began to fall into his role, already beginning to play into his role as he extended his arm for her to slot right into his side.

“Here they come,” Bela smiled as she looked towards the main entrance where guests were walking in, the music of the band now beginning to play. “I always forget how many people are a part of our little society.”

“It might do you some good to network, strengthen your connections,” he advised, his fingers gently squeezing at the skin under his fingers. “You’ll never know when you’ll need them.”

It was the truth, the whole purpose of this evening was to do just as he had suggested. The society was a key part in remaining in a good social standing, to getting the best properties and the most excellent healthcare. To have the best lawyer in your pocket, or even the most exquisite table at the top restaurant in town. It was a membership which could only be renewed by attending these events, by socialising and ensuring your name was still well known within their small community.

“Can we not just skip straight to the good part?” Bela returned, her tone sultry as she looked up at him from under her lashes. “Head downstairs?”

“Patience Bela,” Dean chuckled, a smirk now pulling at his mouth. She was always so needy. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Is that a promise?” Her hand began to snake around Dean’s hip, her fingers dancing along the hem of his pants as her pupils widened.

“Only if I get good things in return,” he almost growled, lowering his head towards her ear as placed a gentle kiss just below her lobe. He knew exactly how to play her, could push all the right buttons that would allow her to melt in his palm and do exactly as he said. This was one of them.

“Oh don’t you know it,” Bela purred, arching her body against his as her words left her in a breathless manner. Delicately rubbing his stubble against her cheek as he pulled back, Dean gave her a grin before he manoeuvred her against the bar next to him.

“Get yourself a glass of champagne,” he almost ordered, staring at the barman as he signalled his head towards the brunette by the side of him. “Start this night as we mean to go on.”

“Alright,”  she replied softly, before threading her fingers through his hair as she pulled him down to meet her mouth. He couldn’t say he was surprised, but his eyebrows raised all the same. Her tongue was teasing at his lips, but he was in control here, not her.

“I’m going to go greet everyone,” he spoke against her lips as he pulled back, and she could only nod in response. He’s still got it.

Turning away from his faux girlfriend, as Dean refused to call her the real deal as he had no deep interest in her, his eyes scanned the growing crowd for any familiar faces. Of course, one by one, he noticed some of the most important figures in their society. Crowley, the valley's ruling judge, had just walked in with a woman on his arm. The green-eyed Winchester didn’t need to ask for his name, the bald spot on the back of his head, and the short stature gave him away entirely. Then there was Zachariah, the family and the rest of the society's lawyer. The way the light was shining of his crown, and the small pudge of his stomach were his giveaways.

The rest, he couldn’t really put his finger on and that was where the networking played a massive part. He hoped to catch a few of the guests before they headed down to the lights out floor, knowing that a few wouldn’t emerge for the rest of the night if any of the rumors he had heard were true. So, he planted a wide grin on his face as he began to disappear within the crowd. He held out his hand for the men to shake, and he politely kissed the backs of the women who had offered. Of course, he had told them who had asked who he was, wanting them to know he was the host and if something wasn’t to their full approval, to let him know immediately. However, so far, so good.

After about fifteen minutes of greeting, laughing and drinking the one glass of champagne that was given to him by one of the attendees, he felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He excused himself politely, and eagerly discarded the flute full of half drunk alcohol to the nearest surface as he grimaced. The sooner he got a beer or whiskey inside of him, the better. Pulling out his cell, he was greeted with a notification of a reply from Joanna and he couldn’t help but feel the small wave of relief that flooded through him.

Jo: We’re here. I’ll stay close to the main doors. I’m the one in black sequins.

Automatically, Dean craned his head and looked in that general direction. He was curious as to who the blonde meant by ‘we’, knowing that he had added a plus one to the invitation. A part of him had thought she would bring her mother along, but that was something he would find out in due course. Once his gaze locked onto his target, he grinned and began to weave through the bodies that were still walking towards him. But he wasn’t anticipating having his attention stolen by the woman who was currently striding off towards the bar, her body covered in long red dress, the silk hugging every curve, rippling across her body like the waves of a gentle sea.

Like a moth to a flame, a hummingbird to the sugar water, he was drawn to her. It was almost as if everyone else in the room became blurry and she was the only one in focus in the entire room. He swallowed hard, his palms already clammy as he willed his body to move towards her. Enchanted, his eyes were pinned to her movements, almost as if he was scared to lose her at any given moment.

Well fuck, he wasn’t expecting her.

——————————————– Chapter Eight ——————————————– A/N: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. I can’t wait to share the point I’m at now with writing it! I hope you enjoyed this one, thanks so much for reading! <3 Tag list is open! If you want to be step into the darkness with me, then let me know HERE :)

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