#the best in the business; bobby singer

[katherine-multifandom]

This

Is about her

[spnx67]

𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 — 𝒔. 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

❥ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : you and sam are ‘just friends’.

❥ sam winchester x reader, any gender, sfw

❥ features: suggestive but doesn’t contain nsfw, fluff, light flirting, dean getting pissy, yearning 💔

❥ word count: 1,907

❥ a/n: hi guys, this is my first peice of writing on tumblr so i apologise if it’s not the best! if you do like this though pls lmk (i’m also in the process of writing a story on wattpad and have lots of c.ai bots- link for these in bio) okay ANYWAY i hope you like this cos i love sam! i also might make a part2 if i feel like it!

❥ master list

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You met Sam and Dean Winchester about 6 months ago through Bobby Singer, he’d asked you to help the boys out on a simple salt and burn case. Dean, being the womaniser he is, of course tried to flirt his way into your bed within minutes of meeting you. You honestly found men like that annoying and degrading so Dean was already off the table. But Sam?

Sam…

For you he was like a breath of fresh air, he was without a doubt the funniest and most goofiest guy you’d ever met. Despite all his upset. He could make you laugh until you felt like catching your breath was the hardest thing in the world but you could also have deep and intellectual conversations with him. And that’s just his personality. He was absolutely gorgeous too, his brown locks never failed to fall into a perfect form. His nose that pointed at the end which you just found adorable, those puppy dog eyes that you just melted under every time. And the dimples that appeared when he smiled- to sum it up he was perfect.

You adored him, admired him and he was the man of your dreams. But he wasn’t yours, he never could be. Just over a year ago, his dear Jessica died. Since then he found it extremely hard to connect with anyone, let alone be in a relationship with someone. So, when you one day drunkenly confessed your feelings for him, he had to shoot you down. It hurt him, because honestly he felt the same way about you. He loved everything about you- your laugh, your hair, the faint freckles across your nose. Down to the minute detail, everything about you was perfect.

But you had to be just friends. Just. Friends.

Today you were in a dingy, 3 bed motel room with Sam and Dean. Dean was busy cleaning their guns and sharpening tools whilst you and Sam were researching on the current case you were on, well, more like flirting with each other. Despite the decently big table you chose to sit right next to Sam, your leg brushing up against his every so often which made your heart skip a beat everytime. Sam kept whispering things in your ear, joking around with you about random things just to hear that laugh of yours and how you were covering your mouth so Dean didn’t get annoyed at the fact you two weren’t doing your job.

“He looks like he’s gonna pop, look at how he’s grabbing the gun.” Sam whispered against your hair with a smile. Which caused you to put your head on the table to suppress your laughter. It was true, Dean looked beyond pissed at the two of you for flirting. Especially when he has to hear from both of you how mind numbingly obsessed you both are with eachother yet won’t make it official.

“Right enough jokes, let’s actually do our work.” You said smiling. Sam rolled his eyes playfully before cracking his knuckles and beginning to look through books. That only braught your attention to his hands though, how big his hands were and how every vein seemed to just perfectly aline. It made you wonder was it only his hands that were that bi- NO. You shook yourself out of that, you couldn’t think about Sam in that way. But you also couldn’t stop yourself from saying something.

“Why are your hands so freakishly large.” You said with a small chuckle, you loved teasing him about how tall he was and how he was- your words- built like a tree.

Sam rolled his eyes again, he was so bitchy sometimes. He smiled at you. “My hands are not freakishly large, yours are just freakishly small.”

You gasped dramatically, faking offence. You then put your hand out for him to put his against yours to compare hand sizes. It sent a small wave through Sam, he didn’t know whether you were doing it to purposely touch him or if you were genuinely curious. Either way he didn’t care. He smiled and put his palm against yours. As he did the soft skin of your palm and the rougher skin on Sam’s touched, you were practically holding his hand. Which okay- wasn’t like you were on his lap making out with him- but it still sent a small shiver through you. Sam too, he looked at their hands, then at you. He hadn’t missed the small inaudible gulp you did.

For a moment it’s like the room just went silent, the only thing that mattered was the feel of your hands touching. You found yourself slowly sliding your palm up his, Sam spread his fingers a little all while you two were making eye contact. You were about to intertwine your fingers before you both were taken out of the trance by Dean.

“Hey, love birds! You deaf?” He said gruffly, from the angle Dean was at he couldn’t see your hands touching. All he could see was you two looking at eachother, starry eyed.

You both quickly moved your hands away from eachother and you turned around to look at Dean, who was sat on his bed.

“Hm?” You said casually.

Dean let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head as he gestured towards the laptop in front of you and Sam. “I said did you two actually find anything useful?”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to control the heat that was rushing to your face. “Relax, Casanova. We’re getting there, you go back to cleaning your pretty toys.” You said playfully, you and Dean were close friends so it was all just friendly banter. As you turned back around to face Sam you saw he was looking you, you quickly looked away as your heart slowly stopped pounding in your chest.

Sam, on the other hand, watched you as you spoke to Dean. He could only see your side profile but you were so beautiful that it took his breath away so when you turned back round he looked away at a book. Trying to play off the fact he’d been caught staring, again. His knee brushed against yours again- whether it was intentional or not, you couldn’t be sure- but it was enough to make your breath hitch for just a second.

But Dean hadn’t missed them looks. “Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath as he stood up and grabbed his coat. “I’m going out for a beer- i need a break from all the damn cupid bows and love songs.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as he slammed the door behind him, Sam laughing just because you were- which usually was the case. “He’s so dramatic.” You pointed out. Sam scoffed lightly and smiled, holding your gaze. “Yeah..” He said softly.

For a moment, the room felt too quiet. The air between you was thick, almost heavy, and you could feel the tension hanging there like a thread just waiting to snap. Sam’s eyes were gorgeous, truly. Different shades of greens and browns mixed in to create your new favourite colour. After what felt like 5 hours (it was only around 15 seconds), you looked away and so did Sam as you carried on doing the research. Doing anything to distract yourself from him and how you could practically feel the heat radiating from him because of how close you two were. Sam needed to break the silence, it was too much for him.

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t blame him for being so dramatic though, we’ve not exactly been productive.” He said with a grin.

You smiled, nudging his knee with yours. “Well maybe if someone stopped distracting me, i’d have done more work.”

He lifted an eyebrow, he loved the playful banter between you both. “Oh so this is my fault now?”

“If the boot fits, Sam.” You quickly shot back, smiling as you turned your attention back to the laptop. But no matter how much you tried to distract yourself it was impossible with Sam Winchester so close to you.

For a few moment the only sound was the soft rustles of pages turning and clicking of a keyboard. But once again, Sam felt the urge to have to speak to you. It was hard for him to be this close to you too, you smelt so good and even when you were doing nothing you were beautiful.

“So…” Sam’s voice softly cut through the silence, slightly teasing. “What’s the deal with my hands?”

You glanced up at him, surprised but smiling. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, not being able to control the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. “Earlier- you said my hands were freakishly large. Seems to me you were pretty interested in them.”

A laugh slipped from your lips, it was the truth though, but then again everything about Sam interested you. “I mean, they are big. It’s an observation.”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned forward a little, his voice lower now. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

You rolled your eyes, but his teasing and low tone did make your pulse quicken. “Don’t flatter yourself, Winchester.” There wasn’t much bite to your words though.

Sam chuckled lightly and without really thinking you stretched your hand out towards him like earlier. “Still pretty freakish though.” you said with a teasing smile.

He didn’t hesitate to press his palm against yours, his hands dwarfing yours in comparison. His skin was as warm and rough as before, for a moment you both stared at the way your fingers barely lined up with his.

It wasn’t suppose to be serious, it was another way to tease him but the second your hands touched the air shifted like it had before. The teasing faded, replaced by something else. Something unsaid, wanting. Yearning.

“Your hands are really small.” he said softly, his voice quieter not to disturb the moment. His thumb brushed lightly against your pinky as if to test the waters, see how you’d react.

“I-“ you cleared your throat. “Or yours are just huge..” you said quietly back. Your heart pounding in your chest as you saw his eyes flickering from your gaze to your lips, was he about to kiss you?

But he didn’t, instead he pulled back slowly, his fingers slowly slipped from yours as he put his back to his chair again. You tried not to show your disappointment, but Sam could see it in your eyes. It was always there when they had a breathtaking moment like that and he ended it, he just couldn’t let you get too close to him. He couldn’t loose you too.

Sam cleared his throat softly. “We uh.. we should probably focus on the case.”

“Yeah,” You agreed quietly, forcing a smile as an attempt to cover how heavy your heart felt. “You’re right.”

You turned back to your laptop and Sam his book, but you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. You were so sure he’d lean in, you imagined how his lips would’ve felt against yours. Meanwhile Sam was stealing glances at you, a part of him wishing to god he’d given in too.

But he couldn’t, not now.

And maybe not ever…

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TYSM FOR READING!!

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!

PLS LMK IF YOU WOULD LIKE A PART2!!

[shelbgrey]

✨Pookie😏✨Mother Pinecone🥳✨Fellow Simp🤩✨ can I request some lovely shrexy headcanons for the one and only Sammy Winchester😳 I just need some fluff and steamy steamy spicy headcanons please🥹 I’ll pay😉🫴💰💳💵

Dating Sam Winchester Headcanons:

Paring: Sam Winchester X Singer!Reader

Summary: headcanons about Sam dating Bobby Singer's kid. -SMUT warning!

💚MasterList ML2 💚MoodBoard

Between Sam being John's kid and you being Bobby's, you spent a lot of time together as kids.

You were always closer to Sam, you and him bonded over books and you were both the quiet ones.

It was obvious there was something between you two even when you were kids, but you were both completely clueless.

“the only two people who don't know Sam and y/n like each other are Sam and y/n” - Dean

But then he went off to college, you guys talked through letters and Emails for the first few months. Then he met Jes and you guys talked less and less.

Deep down Sam knew he dated Jess just to get over you, but then he felt awful to think that way after she died.

He never would have expected that you'd show up with Dean, telling him John was missing. Sam honestly hated to see the skilled hunter you have become, he always thought you deserved better.

Deep down he knew he stayed for you. College didn't matter much to him anymore and neither did finding his dad. He rekindled his friendship with you and wanted to protect you.

Hell, he would take you away from the hunting life if he could.

Before you knew it the three of you were a trio again. Saving people and hunting things together.

Then before you knew it you and Sam both fell back in to your original, clueless act you had with each other. It pissed Dean off, because he knew you guys liked each other.

Dean also knew neither one of you had the balls to admit your feelings. So he took matters into his own hands.

“Hey, y/n, you busy Saturday night?” Dean asked one night. “no?”

“Sammy, you sure as hell ain't busy” Dean joked, Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. “yeah... I'm not”

“good, because I am... You two go out and have a good time” Dean told you both.

Yeah Dean asked you out on a date for Sam. Both of you had mixed reactions, you didn't know how to proses what what just happened and Sam was just annoyed Dean was getting up in his business. Dean didn't stop you guys from going out.

he is sweet and gentle when he kisses you. The kisses you and him share are always sweet and full of passion. He pours everything into his kisses when his lips are on yours.

He definitely said 'I love you.' he said it after he had to save you from a vampires nest he told you he couldn't lose you and he loves you.

Sam would be the one to encourage you to go on rants or nerd out about things your passionate about. He'll listen beginning to end. If your like: “sorry if I'm talking too much” Sam will say: “no, no, keep going. I'm listening”

Not being stuck in his Tuesday time loop, but helping the best you can.

Sam's Hugs are warm and tight. Since he's so much taller than you he usually picks you up and holds you to his chest as your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck holding him tight.

he promised to himself and you that if you were to get hurt by anything and he did mean anything at all, he would kill it. Even the smallest cut or bruse on you, he would freak out and with a gun in his hand, he would go after the very thing that dared to put a wound on you.

Sex with him has always been on the Adventurous side, but he learns your limits quickly and wouldn't do anything to hurt you. But when soulless Sam shows up there's no slowing down.

Even though Soulless Sam is hot one of the things he cares about most is sex and it might seem that's all he wants at the time, but the moment you get hurt the person or thing that hurt you is in a heaping pile of blood and broken bones.

Research dates all the time, you think it's boring as hell but your happy just to he able to spend time with him.

He's a health nut so he's always getting on to you and dean about your eating habits. “you know those things could kill you, right?” Sam asks as he watches you drink a monster energy drink, you'll just shrug him off.

You appreciate his concerns and you do back off on some stuff and let him cook you a healthy meal.

“what is that?” you asked staring at the blender in Discussed. “it's a smoothy, its good for you” he said pouring you a cup. “it's green goop”

✨Forehead kisses✨ he's a giant after all, so it's easier and convenient to just give you a little kiss on the forehead. He also loves it when your setting in his lap and giving him the same treatment.

Matching bracelets. Jack went through a friendship bracelet making phase and you made a couple with him. You and Sam both have one, he refuses to take it off. “you don't have to wear it”

“no, I'm gonna wear it forever. Back off”

You and Sam are literally Jack's parents, you probably end up adopting him at some point.

Never giving up on getting him out of hell, you hated the fact Dean when to live with Lisa. So while he got a girlfriend you were threatening crossroad demons for awnsers.

Making dirty jokes with Dean all the time to annoy Sam.

If Dean pranks Sam, you'll help get back at Dean. One time you convinced Sam to have sex in the impala just to piss Dean off.

Lucifer has the undying love for you and hits on you all the time, it pisses Sam off to no end.

Getting to see Sully first hand because he knew how much Sam ment to you and Sully just really wanted to meet the person that made Sam so happy.

Jody being a mother to you.

He absolutely loves feeling your fingers run through his hair. He'll kill to have his head on your cheat while you play with his hair after a rough hunt.

If your a smut book you get really secretive about and he'll notice quickly. “What you reading?” you blush and hold the book away from him. “nothing”

If he gets a hold of the book and reads a steamy part if the book, he'll probably want to try what he read too.

This man need physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

He wants to hold your hand all the time too, if your walking around the bunker or a town your hands will be locked together, or sometimes hell just hold your had while doing research.

Communication won't be a problem in your relationship. You both just find it so easy to talk to each other.

But if you get into a fight, your fight loud and mean. There will be the silent treatment.

He's a bed hog so get used to sleeping right on top of him or right up against him because there's no room for personal space when you share a bed, especially if it's a motel bed.

He also hogs blankets.

You have bad sex in the bunker library, do with that information as you will.

You steal his flannels all the time, they're just so big and comfy.

He's good at turning you on😏

NSFW headcanons:

Sammy has a size kink, he loves the fact you are shorter than him. It makes it easier for him to manhandle you and throw you around without even trying.

likes to pretty much fuck you stupid. like to the point your shaking, you only can think of his dick and babbling his name. you probably won't be walking the next morning.

he's ✨skilled✨ with his hands, those big massive hands. it doesn't matter what he's doing with them, in between your legs, your face, around your neck, in your hair, I don't matter he knows what he's doing.

Hair pulling, he loves feeling your fingers in his hair or he'll tangel his fingers in yours and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

He didn't realize how much he actually liked it untill you started pulling on his hair while he was eating you out. “Damn... Do that again... Please”

Biting, he's loves marking you up. There has been many times you had to cover your neck with makeup, but most of the bite marks are on your thighs.

But he also lives for the moments where it's just sensual and gentle. He secretly loves just holding you and kissing you slowly.

He wants to see if he can he make you scream louder than he did the last time. He loves the noises you make.

He well bend you over the table in the bunker library and take you from behind.

The desk will creak from the force he uses and his large body will presse you hard against the desk.

He loves hearing the moans and gasps coming out of your mouth.

Part of him will want you to be louder, even though he knew you aren't supposed to be sometimes.

He'll mark your thighs with his teeth and biting hard enough to leave a light bruise.

Sam loves being dominate towards you. Choking you and edging you. “come on, Baby. Cum for me again”

He has big chocking kink, he won't be too rough about but he loves wrapping his fingers around your neck and feeling your pulse when he's ramming into you.

He has a tendency to grip the headboard when he's close to cumming.

“that’s it baby, there you go. takining me so well, honey.”

Sam loves the way his hands look on your body. Even better if you’re smaller than him, he just wants to be touching you all the fucking time.

He love getting head. I feel like he’d like having you on your knees. Plus, feeling your lips around him pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth.

If you’re struggling to take him in or taking long to adjust, he’ll whisper reassurances that you’re doing a good job while rubbing his hands on your back and thighs.

Sam first thought after sex he's always checking on you, making sure it felt good and your not sore. He is very gentle, cleaning you up and giving you anything you need before even thinking of himself.

[cherrymoonmotel]

✧dean x bobby's daughter

✧its been a couple years since dean and sam have come by the salvage yard. everything is exactly as he remembers it.....except for her.

✧tension, smut, no use of y/n

✧word count: 2.6k (like ok yeah i got carried away)

Lucky You…

it's been a couple years since dean and sam had been at singers salvage, and still it hadn’t changed. always constant, he expected the rust and clutter, the smell of oil and coffee lingering in the air. he expected the gruff greeting bobby would give them, the talking to he’d get for not visiting sooner.

what he didnt expect was her

she stepped out from behind an old chevy, wiping her grease smudged fingers on a rag, her hair pulled back, a few loose strands stuck to her cheek from the heat.

she looked up – and smiled– and for reasons he wasnt sure of, something in his chest kicked, hard.

she had always been pretty. mouthy, sharp, she could outshoot most grown men by the time she was 16. but now she was…. older, and she had this way about her, she was comfortable, in her skin, in a way that twisted something low in his gut.

“dean winchester” she says, teasing. “wasnt sure your remembered how to find your way over here”

he blinked. stalling for a second longer than he should have as she spoke. “been busy, but i heard the best mechanic north of kansas was still hiding out here”

he watched as she arched her brow. “flattery wont get you a free oil change”. but she was grinning. and dean?

he was starring like he didnt mean to. 

she tosses the rag over her shoulder, leaning against the old chevy. “so whats the occasion? you and sam run out of scuzzy motels?”

dean chuckled, his hands moving to his pockets. “something like that. thought i’d check in, make sure bobby was still kicking”

a small smile crosses her face, “dads out back, probably elbow deep in something”. he watches as she tilts her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. “that all you came for?”

his smile twitches, he almost feels caught, not that he came here for- well... her. well at least not originally.

“did you want me to come for something else?” he asks, it practically falls out of him. 

she shrugs, pushing off the car, walking past him and up the front stairs, “i dunno”. she says as she walks inside, but he doesn't miss how she turns to look back at him, a hint of...challenge? want? in her gaze.

he stays rooted to the spot he's standing in, the weight of the look she had given him was pulling him in as if she was tugging him by his collar. 

it wasn't just teasing. it wasn't nothing. it was intentional. and hell if he wasn't trying to deny it. the screen door creaked and swung shut behind her, leaving him with the faint hum of the porch light and his heart beating way too fast in his chest. 

he exhaled low, running a hand over his jaw. “damn” he muttered to himself, more of a whisper.

whatever that was, what had passed between them, it wasn’t over.

not even close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dinner had been easy, they picked up as if nothing had changed, as if no time had passed. bobby grumbling on about “goddam winchesters, eating him out of house and home” or how “you dam idgits ‘aught to get yourself killed”

her and dean had fallen back into that old rhythm, talking and teasing like there hadn’t been so many years stretched between them.

and now the house was quiet, dinner long gone, bobby had disappeared into the living room with sam, a half finished bottle of whiskey and some lore books. that’s when dean caught himself glancing down the hallway, more than once, hoping to see her.

but she wasn’t there.

he stepped out on the porch, a part of him expecting to find her there, like earlier. but the summer air was still, the sky a dark navy scattered with stars. 

and as he took in the night, thats when he heard it– the faint sound of metal clinking and the low hum of a radio coming from the barn.

and whether it was curiosity or... something else, he followed the sound.

and thats where he found her, wiping down a set of tools. her hair was pulled loose now, a little messier then before. she didnt look up when he slipped into the barn. she kept working like the silence was easier to sit in than whatever was hanging between them.

“can’t sit still, huh?” he says, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

she gives him a small smile, but doesnt fully lift her head to him. “someone has to keep this place running.”

dean watches her for a moment, his eyes catching on the way the warm glow of the barn lights soften her features, how it casts a shadow over the curve of her jaw. the easy way she moved in here, like she belonged there. almost like he used to. 

“you always disappear here when things get quiet?” he asks, and thats when she finally looks at him, her eyes steady on his. “only when i need to think”.

“whats got you thinking?” 

only then does she hesitate for a second, fiddling with the rag still in her hands.

“old friends”

something shifts in the air as she says that, dean doesn't speak right away. the barn was quiet now, the creak of the floor beneath his boots as he begins to cross it making her look back up. 

he could see the way her shoulders tightened– not in fear, but like she was bracing for something, or maybe…. hoping for it. 

he stopped a foot away from her, close enough to where he could feel the heat of her. everything in his mind telling him he should go back inside, but his body wouldn't stop. his voice was low as he spoke, “i guess i've never stuck around long enough to be anything more”.

she sets the rag down then, carefully, like if she moves too fast he would disappear, or run away. “yeah” she says, breathy. “that's kind of your thing”. 

he nods then, because she's right, nothing good ever comes from staying for him, which is why leaving is easy comfortable. 

he exhales, slowly, going to speak, apologize? maybe, he's not sure. but before he can get the words out, she cuts him off. “so why are you here, now, dean?”. she asks, emphasizing the here, and now, as in why did he follow her out to the barn, why can’t he keep himself away from her. and god if he knew, well he would tell her. but he doesn’t. 

“maybe i'm feeling like i've been missing something i didn't know i wanted”. her breath hitches at that, and his hand lifts like he wasn’t sure if he should– his fingers hovering beside her cheek, wanting to touch her. and thats when she leaned ever so slightly, her cheek into his fingers.

that was all it took.

his hand cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheekbone, but this time when he moved it, there was no tentativeness behind it.

he steps closer, her ass hitting the workbench behind them, his eyes locked onto hers like it was the first time he was really seeing her.

his hand slips around the back of her neck, firm, but careful. like how he’d been dying to since he pulled up to the house this afternoon. everything in his mind was telling him that he shouldn't, that he should quit while he was ahead. 

but he didn’t.

he closes the distance between them, kissing her. there was no slow lead-in, no hesitation. his mouth crashed on hers with hunger, heat, a low sound escaping him, one that he couldn’t have stopped even if he tried to. 

she responds just as fast, the feeling like years of silent wanting were clawing to the surface. her fingers tangle into the front of his flannel, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper. the workbench pressing into her ass harder, and she doesn't care. that's when he takes his hands, suddenly finding her waist, gripping her as if to steady himself. 

his body presses into hers, as he slides his hands from her waist, under her thighs, and in one smooth motion he lifts her so she's sitting on the bench. his hands never leaving her. 

his body was flush with hers now, the kiss never breaking, it only became rougher, hotter. it tasted like longing, and regret, and something that felt an awful lot like home.

“i’ve though about this”, he murmurs into the kiss, his voice hoarse. “a lot”.

she swallows hard, her hands still gripping his shirt. “then don’t stop”.

dean needs no convincing. he kisses her again, slower, but in no way less urgent – he wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth, the way she tasted, how she melted into him as he touched her.

his hands skim her sides, his thumb catching the hem of her shirt, as he slides them underneath to brush against her skin. she shivers then- her reaction only fueling this want inside of him. 

she tugs him closer then, by his collar, her lips moving along his jaw, her voice low against the skin of his neck. “kinda hate how good you still look in this” she says, her grip on his flannel still strong. 

he smirks then, his hands moving, testing how far they could go. his fingers slipping just below the top of her jeans, finding the button. his fingers fumbling slightly, as if he couldn’t undo it fast enough. she pauses, her mouth leaving his neck. 

he looks down, as he pulls the zipper, slow. his eyes catching the little tag stitched into the denim being revealed as he fully unzips it.

lucky you 

he froze then, for just a moment. a low laugh escapes him– almost breathless, god hes wrecked already, his own jeans straining at the zipper. “you’ve got to be kidding me”.

she gives him a crooked grin as she glaces down, her cheeks flushed. “forgot i was wearing these”.

he leans in then, his mouth brushing her ear, his words only for her. his voice deep, thick with desire. “not sure if im more turned on or terrified”.

“both are usually a good sign” she whispers back to him. and with that, he pulls her back in. their bodies colliding, hesitation long gone. his mouth finds her neck, collarbone, every breath, every touch, was hot and hurried. his hands sliding down her back, slipping into the back of her jeans cupping her ass. 

her hips lift then, allowing him to slide her jeans off. his hands run down the back of her thighs, hooking her by the back of the knees, allowing him to slide her closer to the edge of the bench. he hears her gasp then, the movement catching her off guard.

he can feel her, really feel her. his jeans straining to hold his erection as he feels her through the thin fabric of her underwear. her legs are spread around him, one of his hands on her waist and one still hooked behind her knee. 

he kisses her again, already missing the way she tastes, feels. now its his turn for his breath to hitch, her hands pushing past the hem of his shirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans as she fiddles with the button. 

he pulls away, his forehead resting against hers as she unzips his jeans, every move of her fingers, the way her hands tug away the rigid fabric, has him feeling more restless. her hand finds him then, only the thin fabric of his boxers between his hard dick and her hand. he pulls his forehead away fom her then, looking down at her underneath him, the way her hands work him over the fabric, her cheeks pink in the dim light of the barn.

it's when he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear that she looks him in the eyes, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, that has him smoothing his hands over the tops of her thighs. travelling up and hooking into her underwear and pulling. his body shifting, lowering. 

she holds his gaze as he kneels, hooking her legs over his shoulders, as she’s on the edge of the work bench. underwear tossed somewhere behind them.

she looks down at him under hooded lashes as he trails his mouth over her thighs, kissing, biting. he wants to mark her, wants her to remember this moment as she looks over the bruises later. the though only making him harder.  

the soft sighs and moans leaving her lips as he nips and bites at her thighs only encourages him. her hands threading through his hair, tugging. a moan slips from him then, at the feeling of her tugging him closer. 

its then that his mouth finds her, shes warm and ready. her back arching as he makes contact. his tongue moving hungrily as his hands grip her hips, forcing her to stay still. breathy moans and panting fills the quietness of the barn. his own moans escaping into her as she tugs his hair a little harder. 

a breathy “dean” falls from her mouth as she feels the vibrations of his moans. its then, when he’s lost in her on his knees that she tugs his hair, tilting his head away from her, forcing him to meet her gaze. 

a wicked grin covers his slick mouth as she un hooks her legs from his shoulders. he stands then. her impatience is getting the best of her, and god if that doesn't turn him on. 

her hands are slipping into his boxers. his head falling back at the contact, hooded eyes looking down at her. he watches her as she feels him with her hands, his dick twitching at the contact. and as if reading his mind she pulls him out, his boxers thankfully forgotten. 

with a sharp tug of his flannel she brings his mouth down to her, her other hand still working him as she brings him closer. with his hands on her hips, his mouth trailing down her neck, nipping, kissing. she pulls him in, one quick  movement and hes pressing inside her. 

he groans, low against her throat, his hands tightening on her hips as he grounds himself in the feel of her. the way they move together, like all the years between them had been building up to this moment. 

she clung to him, her hands slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, her fingernails dragging along his back, as if she could imprint this moment into his skin. the pressure of her nails only made him move faster, his strokes becoming deeper. her moans of approval– music to his ears. 

every shift of her body beneath his, every breathy moan that spilled from her lips had him sinking deeper into her. pressing his forehead to hers, breathing hard, the world around him forgotten as he focused on the heat between them. her hands on his shoulders, at the back of his neck, in his hair. he could feel her everywhere, closing his eyes, trying to memorize the feeling as he moans became louder, messier. 

its when the tension inside became too much, their movements fast and messy that they both moaned, tension snapping, dean burying himself deeper. his movements were slower then, the sound of them both panting, catching their breaths filling the barn. 

his hand moving to cup the side of her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked up at him, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, she looked devastating like this. thighs still parted, bruises already starting to form on her thighs. his hands running over them.   

“lucky me indeed”

A/N: 😛😛😛😛

[dwonfilm]

“Come hell or high water.” | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Micheal and Lucifer, Bobby Singer

Warnings: none, will provide for each chapter as they’re written.

Part I:

Michael and Lucifer had both been impatient, each showing up at various times and places—both wanting the same thing; more or less. Each wanted their designated Winchester brother to simply say yes.

Three days earlier.

Sam, Dean and [Y/N] were sat in their shared motel room in New Orleans, Louisiana. Sam was on his laptop, browsing for cases on different news websites. [Y/N] was flipping through the local newspaper to see if anything stuck out in the reports there, but she wasn’t having much luck. Dean was.. well, in true Dean fashion he was chowing down on a burger that he’d brought back from the local diner. “Your food is gonna get cold, or I’m gonna eat it, the entire world isn’t gonna fall apart if you two take a damn break.” Dean spoke, mouth half full of chewed food. Sam sighed and looked over to [Y/N] who finally closed the newspaper. “Fine, you’re right.” He spoke up, closing the laptop that had been in front of him for at least two hours. Turning his attention towards [Y/N] Dean would clear his throat (after having swallowed the mouthful of food) and gently squeezed her shoulder. “C’mon sweetheart you haven’t eaten today.” She’d sigh knowing her boyfriend was right, placing her hand on top of Dean’s and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Alright, alright. This goddamn newsprint is giving me a headache anyway.” [Y/N] folded the newspaper back up and tossed it onto the table. Grabbing the brown paper bag, she pulled out what would be Sam’s usual and handed it over to the younger brother. She pulled out her own food and carefully unwrapped the burger, quickly picking it up and taking a big bite. Now that everyone was a little more focused on the food, Dean would continue to eat himself.

“I dunno man, everything I’ve seen has been completely normal. It’s like all the evil in the world has gone radio silent.” Taking a bite of his burger, the younger of the Winchester brother was clearly frustrated. “That’s what scares me, when things tend to be normal on the crime side.. it’s never a good sign.” [Y/N] replied, tucking a loose strand of [Y/H/C] hair behind her right ear. “There’s gotta be something, I’m sure we’ll find it but there’s no use finding anything if we aren’t fit to do the job.” Dean spoke up again, verbally nudging the two most important people in his life to continue eating. “All the sons of bitches can’t have just ran into hiding.“ He’d conclude, grabbing the bottle of beer he’d set aside and taking a swig. “It’s just weird, Dean. Normally it doesn’t take us so long to find something to at least check out. There’s nothing online at all that’s raising even a little suspicion.” Sam answered, looking extremely concerned when he locked eyes with his brother. Dean’s eyes were sympathetic and truthfully—he was worried too. Everything both Sam and [Y/N] were saying was true but he also couldn’t afford to let them see any hint of the fear his heart carried. Not only because it made things more real but he was too busy anchoring them, keeping them from spiralling because then they’d be no good to anyone once evil rears its ugly head. [Y/N] finished chewing another bite of food before adding another thought. “I haven’t seen anything local either I mean, that was the third paper I’ve scoured from front to back and everything just seems.. normal. It’s weird.” It took the chiming in of the eldest Winchester to calm the noise of the impending chaos again. “Hey, look, we’ll just take a break and see if anything comes down the pipeline. Right now I need you two to eat before I start force feeding you.” Sam and [Y/N] both looked at each other before chuckling softly and for the first time in the last couple of hours, the stress of it all faded away. Dean was the first to finish his food (no surprise there) and so he silently asked to use Sam’s laptop, the younger brother nodding as he continued to eat. [Y/N] had finished her food, not realizing how hungry she’d actually been. Of course Dean knew because he knew her like the back of his hand, which was why he’d been pushing her especially to eat since he brought it back to the room. She smiled to herself for a moment as her gaze moved to where Dean sat, scrolling on the computer. Those strikingly beautiful green eyes scanning the screen to see if he could find anything to ease the worries of the trio. Sam was of course the final person to finish his food and when he had, [Y/N] began to grab the garbage that had become scattered across the small table in their room. She stuffed everything back into the brown paper bag it came in before throwing it into the trash can. Rubbing at his temples, Sam slowly pushed himself up from his seat. “I’m gonna shower. Let me know if you guys find anything yeah?” He spoke, walking over to his bed and grabbing the go bag with his clothes in it. He saunters towards the bathroom and closes the door, both [Y/N] and Dean heard the door lock. Dean’s eyes moved to look up at his girlfriend with an expression that seemed exhausted. Noticing this, [Y/N] approached the table again, this time taking the chair closest to her green eyed baby. Leaning her head onto his shoulder, he managed a half smile with his gaze moving from the laptop screen to his beautiful lady. Her [Y/H/C] locks framing her face perfectly, not to mention her [Y/E/C] eyes that always brought his soul some peace. Everything about their world was utter chaos with something even worse looming overhead, yet just by looking into her eyes he’d find a calm like he’d never known.

[Y/N] had met the Winchesters as a child, her father one of the many hunters that John had worked with in the hunt for the yellow eyed demon. Unfortunately her father met a cruel fate at the hands of a shifter and that left her alone in the world. Naturally, via the connection, Bobby Singer would end up taking [Y/N] into his home and that’s where she’d spend time with Sam and Dean. Years on end would see them meeting a handful of times and enjoying various activities and days with Bobby while John hunted. Of course when John and Bobby had their big blow up fight, [Y/N] went a while without hearing from the brothers. Dean had gotten in touch a couple years later and kept in touch through texts mostly, which was surprising but [Y/N] wasn’t complaining. Sam would email every once and awhile but it was very sporadic. Which [Y/N] learned years later was because Sam had left hunting and gone to Stanford—basically ignoring the hunting life and everything supernatural. It was actually during this time where Dean and [Y/N] would begin doing hunts together. Off and on of course, sometimes very rarely with John but usually just the two of them. Often times these cases required them to, as they called it, ‘bend the truth’. This involved posing as different forms of authority to gain access to information that they normally wouldn’t have. Many times, both Dean and [Y/N] had to pose as a young couple in love. Newlyweds or happily engaged—various forms of in love, gaining them favor amongst the community or with other authority figures. This went on for months, both seemingly having feelings show themselves but it went undiscussed. Dean wasn’t about flirting with women to get further on a case, which of course [Y/N] hated but she could never really say that. It caused a little tension at times until finally it came to a head on a hunt for witch.

“Dean, will you just stop and listen to me?!” [Y/N] yelled as she followed the man into their shared motel room. Dean remained silent, anger written across his features. [Y/N] huffed out a breath of frustration and ran her hand through her [Y/H/C] hair and looking toward the eldest Winchester boy. “Dean.” She tried speaking again, yet he still ignored her and aggressively unzipped his go bag. Sifting through its contents he was looking for something, growing more irritated when he couldn’t find it. “What are you looking for?” [Y/N] asked, there was more silence for a second before he finally spoke. “Credit card.” Straight to the point and with a tone that had [Y/N]’s eyes rolling. “You told me to put it in my bag because your wallet needed to get fixed.” She replied, dipping her hand into her bag she’d pull her wallet out and slipping the card into her hand. She’d slowly walk over to Dean and tossed the card onto the bed. This time it was his turn to sigh before turning towards [Y/N]. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I lost my temper, what you do is none of my business.” He said, which seemed genuine for the most part. “I just am lost, I don’t react like that when you flirt with a girl to get information or a bump in the line to meet with someone.” She spoke, though she mumbled under her breath. “Even though I want to..” Dean heard her and felt a sense of confusion wash over him. “Why would you.. [Y/N] why would you want to get mad over that?” Dean’s eyes had found themselves locked onto [Y/N]’s, waiting for her to answer. Throwing her hands up in frustration [Y/N] shouted. “For the exact same reason that you got mad today and punched the receptionist in the face, Dean! You and I obviously have feelings for one another but we don’t talk about them so we just circle the never ending drain of getting jealous and sad and mad in secret and letting it build up!” Immediately after the words had left her mouth she gasped and covered it with her hands. Dean was just as shocked as [Y/N] seemed to be, frozen just staring in her eyes. Moments later after pure silence, Dean turned around and drug his hand across his face. “Dean..” [Y/N] spoke, her tone much softer than it was moments ago. She took a step forward and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly gripping it. Dean turned with a quickness and crashed his lips against [Y/N]’s while his hand came up to cup her face. Naturally she was stunned, but began to kiss him back.

Ever since that day, due to some kind of truth hex, Dean and [Y/N] had been inseparable. It was the one good thing in Dean’s eyes that came from dealing with a witch. Moving his finger along the touchpad of the laptop, he’d close the website he was on and look up another. There had to be something somewhere.. there just had to be. “Should I get back on the papers?” [Y/N]’s voice broke the longstanding silence that had hovered over them. Dean pulled another half smile before turning and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “No sweetheart, it’s alright. I don’t think there’s anything in ‘em. You’d have found something by now if there was.” His gaze again fixated on the computer, scrolling through masses of crimes being reported. He was about to scroll again, but something caught his eye and he needed to reread the blurb. “Wait a minute..” he spoke in a soft tone, causing [Y/N] to sit up. “Did you find something?” She asked, looking at the screen now too. “Not sure, maybe.” He replied, clicking a link that brought up a fuller article. “Well I’ll be damned.. this one might be vamps. Animal attacks, puncture marks on the necks.. hell there’s nothing else remotely sticking out so I think it’s worth the drive.” Dean added, the lock on the bathroom door clicking open and soon enough the younger Winchester came back into the main room. Steam came flowing from the bathroom as Sam continued to dry his hair. “Hey Sammy, think we got something.” [Y/N] spoke with a soft tone and there was a look of relief on his face. “Wha.. where?” Sam asked, looking at his brother. “Tucson.” Dean answered, turning the laptop around so that his younger brother could look at the article himself. Now [Y/N] was the one pushing herself from her seat. “Hopefully you didn’t use all the shampoo and the hot water.” She joked, making her way to the bathroom in order to shower.

After everyone had showered and changed into their pyjamas, the trio had settled down for the evening. It didn’t take long for quiet snores to be heard from Sam’s bed, his back turned towards the couple who were sharing the other bed. “I’m glad we found a case, but I still don’t have a good feeling about this..” [Y/N] spoke, keeping her tone on the quieter side as to not wake up the younger Winchester. She was snuggled into Dean’s side with her arm draped across his lower abdomen and her head on his chest. Dean pressed a kiss to her temple before sighing in a low manner himself. “I don’t either, it’s bugging me but we can’t just ignore the situation on feelings.” He spoke, his own tone mirroring hers in keeping on that quieter side and both sighed. “It just feels like this case fell into our laps and it feels like it’s a trap, but I can’t pinpoint from who or why.” She aimlessly began drawing shapes on the end of Dean’s T-shirt and he could see that his off feeling wasn’t as strong as the one that [Y/N] was having—she only drew shapes in that manner to calm her mind down. “Hey [Y/N/N], something’s really bugging you about this.. what is it?” He asked, gently turning her chin upward so [Y/N] would meet his gaze. [Y/E/C] hues met the beautiful green eyes that Dean had, searching them for something. “I wish I knew. Dean, it just feels.. too easy. There was nothing for what? Two days? Now all of a sudden there’s one solitary case and we’re supposed to believe this isn’t a set up? It’s not making sense. I know we can’t just ignore a possible case, but it just feels like something is going on and nothing good.” [Y/N] sighed again, knowing that so many things were up in the air right now and so many things couldn’t be resolved in quick manner. “Maybe we’ll pray to Cas tomorrow, either before we leave or while we’re driving. See if he knows anything.” Dean offered, squeezing [Y/N] and bringing her closer to his body. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.” She replied, snuggling into her boyfriend and slowly closing her eyes. Dean himself would adjust the covers and slowly close his eyes. “Goodnight, D.” [Y/N] whispered. “Goodnight, [Y/N/N].” He whispered back.

[retromotherfuckers]

When The Sun Sets - Part 5

What To Say

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), dean winchester (his POV), sam winchester, john winchester, will mciver (OC) & bobby singer (mentioned)

Summary:

There was no part of Dean that could excuse his failure to act, his inability to keep them safe. They were all he had, and he'd fucked up so bad that one was gone. 

Warnings (for entire story):

SPN typical violence, so so much suppressing of emotions, vague mention of SA, depiction of torture, a very pro-torture main character, murder, vague mention of not eating for a while, parental abuse, slight suicidal ideation, SPN typical alcohol abuse, spoiler warning up to the end of season 10, following canon stops after the end of season 2 but things are sure to be mentioned

Word Count:

3.1k ~ roughly

A/N:

so this came to me in the shower lol. i literally sat down and wrote it right then and there. i ended up being in there for hours so don't ask about the water bill. 

this being part 5 kinda doesn't sit right with me but it also doesn't fit as a standalone either

i'm not really sure where to take this story after this so lmk if there's more you want to see, also if the pov is confusing. and i kinda wanna write a sam pov but i just relate more to dean so it's way easier for me to write him

this is basically a character study/relationship dynamic of dean and morgan

dean: 36, morgan: 35 (her body is 27), sam: 32

Dean Winchester wasn't proud of a lot of the things he'd done. But he took immense pride in his family and what they did. His father raised them as soldiers, and with the way of the world, it was necessary. He taught them how to shoot with such a pristine accuracy they could probably best a lifelong sharpshooter. He taught them to punch, how to aim, and get the most force out of it.

When he was six, he learned about the creatures that lurked in the dark. And how his dad was someone who fought them. About how his dad was a hero, which was why they had to stay with their uncle most of the time.

By the time he was eight, Dean slept with a silver knife under his pillow and a shotgun between him and his siblings. By ten, his dad gave him a .45. By thirteen, they stopped staying with Uncle Bobby, and Dean was officially in charge at all times.

And by nineteen, he had successfully taken out several monsters by himself.

"You know you're good at the job when you can take 'em out on your own," his dad would say afterward. It was his real introduction to the family business. He held his father's words like a Purple Heart, nearly floating on the praise for weeks. 

Even with the accomplishment, he couldn't stop feeling like his siblings were the shining lights of the family. This world ruined him and his father, but they were still young enough to enjoy it.

Sam had only been fifteen, but he was one of the smartest people Dean had ever met. He never really understood why Sam loved fantastical stories and books so much, even if it paid off in the end. That kid was a genius researcher who could find just about anything if you gave him the right materials. And if he needed to find the right materials, he did.

He wasn't just book smart, though. He was probably the most intelligent member of his family when it came to emotions and all that crap. Sam was always the first one to try to resolve a fight with words instead of fists, even though Dean and his father were apes who didn't seem to care.

And his little sister was one of the kindest. She was only a year younger than he, but she walked the earth like a being sent from above. Sure, they had their fights - and, fuck, there were a lot of them, now that he thought about it - but she always found some way to forgive him. Especially when he didn't deserve it.

Morgan took care of them. In every way, shape and form. Somehow, she anticipated what they needed before they knew it themselves. Whether that be a bowl of hot soup, a fight, or a bottle of jack, she always knew. Sam and their father would never stop fighting, and while Dean would nearly freeze, unsure which side to take, she would stay neutral and diffuse the situation. Or, if that didn't work, she'd take that hit for Sam.

Dean would panic when they fought. He always saw both sides. Sam: the kid, pissed off about his overly strict father that never let him have any freedom. John: the dad, pissed off that his son didn't understand how easy it was to get killed.

He knew why their father treated them the way he did. They needed to be taught how to handle themselves against anything, no matter the circumstances.

"The day you trust another hunter is the day you get killed." 

He trusted his siblings with his life. Even if they hadn't gone on hunts alone yet, he knew they'd protect his life with their own if it came down to it. But that would never happen. Dean wouldn't let it if it killed him.

When he was twenty-six, John died to save him. And part of him was numb to it, the death and all. Death was just a Tuesday to him. But this was his father, and another part of him was devastated. His father taught him almost everything he knew, cleaned up every single mess, and made sure Dean knew what he did. 

The last part - an ugly fucking part - was glad. His father was a great man, but he was so damn obsessed with the demon that killed their mother. Any chance Dean had at a childhood was stripped away from him at four years old. He was the oldest, so John made sure he stepped up. Sam and Morgan would die if he didn't.

The night his mother died was the night his father became his drill sergeant, and his siblings became his to protect.

He remembered a lot of that night. The fire, the smoke, baby Sammy completely unaware of what was going on around him, and Morgan screaming in terror because she didn't understand what was going on. Dean was little, too, and he didn't completely understand either, but he knew he had to keep them safe.

"That's your job, Dean." His father told him when he was seven. "You're the only one who can do it when I'm not here." 

Then, when Dean was twenty-eight, his sister would die for their younger brother. There had never been a day in which he didn't hate himself for it. It should've been him, but Morgan was faster. And he would never forgive himself for it.

Hunters died young. He'd known that all his life, but he never thought he'd outlive his siblings. There was no part of him that could excuse his failure to act, his inability to keep them safe. They were all he had, and he'd fucked up so bad that one was gone. 

Even if they'd been pitted against each other their whole lives. Who was a better shot, who threw the more damaging punch, who drew the knife faster. He might've been the one that won in their father's eyes, and at the time, it had meant everything. But now, it all seemed so useless. He wanted to go back and knock some damn sense into himself.

He went over more of the memories. When he gave Morgan his old knife for her birthday, and when he ripped it away from her because he was angry about something he didn't even remember. When she beat him at one of John's exercises and he swung at her. When she didn't fight back. When she started going out with Will and their father beat the shit out of the two of them. When he beat Will up for putting his hand on his little sister's ass and she did fight back.

He remembered when their father died and how Morgan didn't say a word to him. She had just sat and waited for him to go to her because she knew pushing him wasn't the way to get him to talk. He didn't say much at first, but she's the only one he told about that ugly part of him.

"Dad was a fucking dick," she had said, her eyes watering and voice cracking. Her words had given him the freedom to actually take a breath. He was the first to say something awful about their father after he died, but Morgan wouldn't let him think he was the only one thinking it. "And we deserved better than him."

That night, he was able to sleep for the first time in days.

He also remembered when Sam and their father had the worst fight of their lives. Their father went to hit Sam, something he rarely did. And this time, instead of taking it, Sam dodged it and sent one flying back.

Dean had been stuck watching. He agreed with his father that Sam would be safer with them than alone at college. But he also didn't want Sam to hate his life. And if school would make him happy, he wasn't really against it. Morgan was the one who stepped up, physically pulling Sam back and taking the inevitable swing their father had meant for the youngest.

"Enough!" She had yelled at both of them, wiping away the blood dripping down her cheek from their father's ring. It had snapped Dean out of his reverie, and all three of the men in the room stared at her with wide eyes. "Dad, go for a drive or something-"

"This is none of your-"

"I. Don't. Care." Morgan had been seething, and Dean had never heard such a tone used with their father. Every word was a sentence so dark and menacing chills crept up his spine. "Get. Out." 

Something in their father's face had changed as she told him to go. Like he had finally realized she wasn't the girl who used to cling to his leg when she wanted him to hold her. He could see the hunter he burned into her, an unwavering and unforgiving warrior who would bleed something dry if it meant saving a few lives.

So, with a final snarl, John left, and she immediately turned to Sam. She softened her voice a little, but her glare hadn't changed. He hadn't seen his sister that angry since the incident with Will. "Take a shower. And chill the fuck out." 

"But-"

"Sam." She didn't have to say anything else. "I'm not kidding."

It was an order, and Morgan never gave them orders. Dean did sometimes if he was following their father's command, but Morgan had taken charge, as she usually had done during times like these. 

When everything started to break.

Sam didn't argue with her after that.

It was then that Dean realized he was heaving. He just couldn't catch his breath. It was all falling apart, but so was he. His younger brother wanted to leave them, and even if he said it wasn't personal, Dean could only take it that way. And Sam would be in so much danger if he went to school. By himself, in one place, who knows what could have happened? The school could've been haunted, or there could be werewolves or vampires or-

"Dean," Morgan had said, shocking him away from his train of thought. Her voice was way more delicate. It was almost like she was talking to a frightened animal rather than her older brother. "Count to ten."

His breath was shaky and his head was moving from the left to the right in quick, jerky movements. He tried to get the word out, one. It was easy. He knew how to count to ten, for fuck's sake. But it was stuck on his tongue, and his tongue was stuck to the bottom of his jaw.

"Hey, it's okay," she soothed him, holding up her hands to display her fingers. How she had noticed his panic in the midst of everything going on around them, he had no idea. But she always saw those things. "I'll do it first, then we'll do it together."

That was just Morgan.

Dean's brother was half of his reason for living, but his sister was the other.

And now, at thirty-six, he had Morgan back. She looked the same as she did the last time he saw her alive. Her skin was smooth and a little bit tan. Her hair was that same dirty blonde he remembered so well. Her chin was sharp like their father's, but her nose was small like their mother's.

Dean had always been jealous of Morgan's eyes. He looked at himself and saw his father; he looked at his sister and saw his mother. Almond-shaped and blue with a green ring around the pupil. The earth and the sky had collided to give their mother her eyes. And Morgan was blessed with them, too.

And when he wanted nothing more than to talk to Mary, Morgan was the hardest person to look at. He wished it wasn't true, but he let himself resent her for it.

But now, they were so different. 

Morgan was, by no means, unscathed by the life. He had seen it, the way her eyes dimmed throughout her life. And he was sure she saw his do the same. Dean knew he looked his age, but his sister's body was still twenty-seven, so why did she look older than him? Why did she look like she had fought in two wars?

It was a stupid question to think, and he knew that. And he knew the answer to it, but it was still jarring.

They were gray and brown, not blue and green. Maybe it was the dim lighting, but Dean knew better. He was in the pit for six months or sixty years - whatever time measurement he wanted to go by at the moment - and he had it on good authority that he wasn't the same when he came back.

Dean watched Morgan watch Sam as he undid the iron shackles binding her to the chair. He stepped back after freeing her, presumably giving her a moment to get control of her bearings. She closed and opened her fist like she was regaining guardianship of her motor functions. She was clearly confused as she gazed around the room, her brow furrowing at the unfamiliar walls. Then her eyes traveled back to Sam, and she seemed even more perplexed.

"How old are you?"

Dean wasn't too shocked at the question; Sam had become a man since the last time Morgan had seen him. He hadn't gotten taller, but as his hair got longer, his features sharpened, and he grew into himself. He looked nothing like the him Morgan remembered. He looked more like himself as a kid back then.

"Thirty-two," Sam said. His voice was quiet, but it wasn't his usual tone. It was the voice he used when hunting, and he had to rescue someone. Temperate and resonant, like he wasn't a monster hunter.

"Sammy grew up. We both did," Dean quipped, making his voice way lighter than he felt. He took a few steps closer to her until he was just behind the youngest. He nodded to their brother conspiratorally. "Him more than me."

She didn't know what to say; Dean knew that, and he wouldn't force her. Her pale, anxious face turned to him at his words, and she stared at her older brother. He heard her mumble, but he didn't know what she said. He saw his sister doing the calculation in her head, realizing how long it had truly been for them. He knew how long it had been for him, and six months was nearly sixty years in Hell time.

He had no desire to do that math.

"Eight years?" She rasped out, her voice hoarse like she hadn't used it that whole time. "That's it?"

Apparently, not knowing the right thing to say was a family trait.

The eldest Winchester was stuck staring at her. Her blonde hair he had almost forgotten, her rough and slightly metallic voice, his mother's eyes. He had never thought he'd hear or see any of them ever again. She was practically skin and bone - something that concerned him. It seemed her demon alter-ego had forgotten that humans needed to eat and wasn't feeding her. It probably wasn't letting her sleep either. Her face was the same one he had remembered so well, but this version was so gaunt and exhausted.

He was tempted to carry her into a room and put her to bed like she was little again. She needed rest; there was no doubt about that. And he'd let her sleep for days if she didn't look like she'd starve.

When Morgan tried to get up, she stumbled. Dean shot a hand out to catch her by the waist out of reflex, and she breathed out in relief. It looked like she could barely stand.

"Hey, kid," Dean greeted, his words gentle and affectionate. She used to hate it when he called her a kid. She was only a year younger than him, after all, and when they were teenagers, it pissed her off to no end. He kept doing it as they became adults, partially to patronize her, partially to mess with her in good fun. But he had never said it like that. This time, he was calling her the most endearing version of her name. "Good to see you."

Even so, he knew that he hadn't reached it. There were no words he could say to express what he was truly feeling: relief, regret, sadness, happiness, anger. None of it was right. He had just missed his little sister.

She didn't push him when he ignored her question. His non-answer answered enough. He looked at Sam, and saw his little brother's wet eyes with an apologetic smile on his lips. He realized their expressions were probably identical. Morgan's eyes moved back and forth between her brothers. This time, Dean noticed the unshed tears in them.

So he did the only thing he could think of: he pulled her in.

He drew her in so fast she almost lost her footing, but Dean would keep her upright without a second thought. His arms completely enveloped the whole of her, fierce and protective, like she'd slip away if he let go. She didn't have a lot of strength, but he knew she was putting all of her muscle into squeezing him right back. He could feel his shirt getting damp from her tears, and he buried his face in her hair to breathe in her scent.

It was so familiar, yet so different. Morgan used to smell like her favorite shampoo and conditioner, lavender and bergamot. But now she had a hue of citrus to her, with the remains of sulfur. It unsettled him.

Dean let go when she drew back, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. Then he acknowledged Sam, who was waiting to hold his big sister again. He delicately let the support of his sister pass to his youngest brother, and their embrace was just as intense. Sam didn't look like he was ready to let this moment end, but he had to when she pulled away.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but Morgan's mouth kept opening and closing repeatedly like she couldn't find the words. Join the club, he thought. 

But it was still Morgan.

And Dean would never let anything happen to her again, even if he didn't know how to say it.

[bloodngutsr]

thinking about oil driller!sam and cowboy!dean.

thinking about dean who's known pretty well in the rundown little town of lawrence. he works for cheap, takes the odd little jobs when he's not herding cattle or helping fix the newest leak in someone's home or lending a hand at ol' bobby singer's farm.

dean whose dad pops in and out of town every few months to get drunk and ask for a couple of ten dollar bills - until, out of the blue, he stops showing. until dean gets a letter declaring him dead, with nothing but his journal full of scattered notes and his hat to show for it. dean doesn't even get to see his father's body.

but the town holds a funeral, because john may not have been a good man, but he had a family and a place in their church. and someone contacts dean's half-brothers - brothers he didn't know, by the names of sam and adam.

sam and adam come to town for a few days, making arrangements to stay with dean. unfortunately, sam and dean meet and immediately clash. dean rarely shaves his stubble and drinks while he works and whistles off-key tunes loud enough to make your ears bleed, while sam wears suits as pristine as the desert will allow for and tucks his head for prayer when the priest bids john goodbye and uses fancy language that grinds dean's gears. they're too busy squabbling to acknowledge that the heat that boils inside of them whenever they see each other might not just be anger.

by the time the few days are up and the funeral is over, both of them are all too ready to never see each other again. adam left as soon as the funeral ended, prepared to get away from his bickering brothers. dean makes it very clear that he wants sam out of his house as soon as possible.

sam is going out for a walk on his last morning in the town when he notices oil seepage down some of the more scenic paths. it's half out of spite that he buys some land in town, just enough to set up a drill and hire a few boys. he has the money to spend, even if it doesn't end up being anything good. unfortunately, most of his best crew can't get out there quick, not on the half-hearted chance of a good well.

he asks around town for the strongest men with the cheapest prices, and nearly everyone offers dean as the most reliable choice - and he ends up ruling out almost everyone else - maybe they're not fit to do the job, maybe they're just not interested in oil work. dean has been strapped for any bigger jobs since the spring roundup has finished up, so when sam disdainfully offers him a job, he has little choice but to agree.

it ends with the two of them stuck together in a little well, maybe 4x4 feet if we're being generous. sam doesn't usually get so hands-on - not anymore, at least - but he feels bad leaving dean down there alone.

there's oil bubbling up over their boots and onto their pants, coating the bottom lungs of the ladder they've messily hammered into the wall. the air is thick with their shared breath and the heat of their bodies as they drive the drill deeper into the rock. sam's overjoyed with the vein they've run into and dean is feeling the satisfaction of effort well spent and they're almost pressed together in that little space, heaving chest to heaving chest - and they're kissing before they're even thinking about it, adrenaline and unclean air and unfiltered heat pushing them against each other.

they're tangled in a sweaty mess, and dean's shirt is coated in oil and dust from where he's been pushed into the rock wall behind him and sam's bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his fingers coated in thick, dark fluid that drips like pure shadow.

when they break apart, dark shadows cast over their faces and noses still brushing each other's, sam tries to swipe the oil off of dean's cheek with his thumb.

all he does is rub it in.

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Lili-Babs, Samuel Barber, Carl Betz, the late, great guitarist Chris Bovard, Trevor Burton (The Move), John Cale, Robert Calvert (Hawkwind), Ornette Coleman, Jane Antonia Cornish, Jim Cregan, Jerry Eubanks (Marshall Tucker), Jimmie Fadden, Linda Fiorentino, Martin Fry (ABC), Will Geer, Mickey Gilley, Zakir Hussain, Raul Julia, Kato Kaelin, Laura Lee, Mahler’s 3rd Symphony (1897), Mark Mancina, Jeffrey Osborne, Lloyd Price, Bobby Sands, Thomas Schippers, Bodhi Setchko, Keely Smith, Taeyeon, Chris Thompson (Mannfred Mann’s Earth Band), Diego Torres, Robin Trower, U2’s 1987 JOSHUA TREE album, Gary Walker (Standells, Walker Brothers), Paul Winter, and one of the greatest frontmen in rock’n’roll: Mark Lindsay, best known as the singer for Paul Revere & The Raiders. In their major label era of the 1960s and early 70s, PR&TR were one of the tightest and most visible acts in the business. They were the first real rock band signed to Columbia Records, and their garage band energy and declarative stage look pushed back on the British Invasion bands of 1964.

 

The Raiders kicked out hit after hit in multiple genres including bubblegum, country rock, hard rock, psychedelia, and soul/r’n’b, all with dazzling excellence. They cut the first definitive version of “Louie Louie” before leaving their Oregon base for Los Angeles, joining Terry Melcher (Byrds producer) to launch a prolific and innovative run of great records that still play today: “Just Like Me”, “Kicks” and (recently in the film ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD) “Good Thing,” “Hungry,” “Mr. Sun Mr. Moon,” etc. Between 1965 and 1970, as Dick Clark expanded his jukebox TV empires, he hired PR&TR to host three TV shows. Before The Monkees even twanged “Last Train to Clarksville,” PR&TR had already set the bar for TV bands, gluing pre-adolescent me to the tube with rock’n’roll comedy and ear candy—and there was eye candy for 1000s of girls screaming for teen idol Mark Lindsay. He set the bar as a powerhouse vocalist, able to croon soft sensual pop ballads then flip to paint-peeling bluesy growls.

 

The Raiders crested in 1971 with the #1 hit “Indian Reservation,” which was a repackaging of a Mark Lindsay solo recording (backed by the Wrecking Crew). As a solo act, Mark was already charting with “Silver Bird” and the hippy girl anthem “Arizona.” He branched into other music business roles, composing jingles and songs for films and TV shows. Legendary author Stephen King expressed his fan-dom with Mark’s 2001 cover of “Treat Her Right,” backed by Los Straitjackets. 

 

Meanwhile, Mark’s career intersected with The Carpenters, The Chesterfield Kings, Eric Johnson, Carla Olson, Gerry Rafferty, Barbra Streisand, Dionne Warwick, and The Monkees, whose orbit led me to cross paths with Mark a couple of times, and he always treated me like a gentleman. I first saw him in concert in 1993, and it was a rock-solid show loaded with the hits and deep cuts. Lately he’s been active doing radio shows and webcasts, the latest being “The American Revolution” on Sirius XM.

 

If I had to pick one Mark Lindsay track, it’s "Too Much Talk.” It blew my mind when I was a kid—my 45 of it cracked but I kept pressing it with my fingers till the vinyl tissued. The fidelity on this clip is a tad distorted, but the visuals speak volumes. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EG30aN53GkY Meanwhile, HB and thank you Mark for continuing to inspire and entertain with your skills and talents.

 

#marklindsay #paulrevereandtheraiders #vox #davyjones #monkees #garagerock #countryrock #terrymelcher #birthday #psychedelic #bubblegum #silverbird #arizona #tvrock #keithallison #johnnyjblair #mickydolenz #birthday

[rocksaltandmountainash]

Waking up in Beacon Hills - pt. 27

* Summary:  Kara tries to bury herself in work. It doesn't quite go to plan when she finds herself back in Beacon Hills.

* Series masterlist: can be found here.

* Warnings/Notes: swearing, canon typical violence, slightly smutty, references to full on smut, Peter Hale sometimes deserves his own warning.

* Word count: 6.1k * Gif sources: Crowley | BH Preserve | Peter

Georgia:

“You’ve been killing my men for weeks and now you want a deal?”

Crowley narrows his eyes in the dark, curious about what you’re up to. Calling on the King of Hell was a patented Winchester move, it shouldn’t surprise him you’ve picked it up - but there are no devils traps here, no Winchesters - just a silly girl messing with things she doesn’t understand.

“Any crossroads demon could have done that.”

“I didn’t want to talk to any demon; I wanted to talk to you.” 

You sound a lot more self assured than you feel, but Crowley can see straight through your bluff, down to your nervous and naïve core.

“Must be big if you’re willing to give up your soul.”

“C’mon, you don’t think that was, like, lesson one of the Bobby Singer crash course in hunting?” you laugh, “I’m not trading my soul.”

Now he’s annoyed - you’re not the one who decides terms.

“What then?” he barks, voice laced with barely concealed anger.

“I’ll owe you one?” it comes out meek, “A favor - anything you want, whenever you want — in exchange for information.”

“What information?”

“Do you have Dean and Castiel in Hell?”

Your question hangs in the air before it floats away on the smoke curling from Crowley’s cigar. He watches from the corner of his eye as you shrink. Fleeting thoughts of what the fuck am I doing, I wish Sam was here, this is too fucking risky dart across your mind.

Crowley contemplates the situation that’s landed in his lap. You’re clearly in over your head, but it’s undeniable you have potential. The wounds on his demons proved that - no hesitation marks, it was quick, brutal work. 

So it’s not exactly kindness that has Crowley deciding he’ll give you a free pass - once. More like inexplicable pity and blatant conceit. If you manage to track Dean down, it’ll be valuable for the Winchesters to know he’d assisted you.

“They’re not in Hell.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

He tries not to smile at your crestfallen expression, busies himself with locating an empty spot in the ashtray.

You believe him - not because you trust him - you just can’t think of any reason he wouldn’t boast about having Dean if he did. But his answer is still no answer at all. Where the fuck are they?

Crowley stands and drops a business card on the table, “Call next time.”

“Right, um, thanks….” you pocket the card while thinking there’s not gonna be a next time, it’s not like you want to hang out with Crowley, 

“What abo - “

“Keep your favour. You have nothing I want.”

With that, he’s gone, and you pound your beer in frustration before you drag yourself to bed.

Beacon Hills, California: 

The evening is easing into darkness when you pull up to the old Hale house in the woods. Dew covers the ground, and the air is crisp enough that your breath leaves trails as you turn the engine off and get out of the car. 

Making your way to the trunk, you’re just about to slide the key in when the sound of a twig snapping gets your attention. Dropping your bag and pulling your gun out from its holster in one swift movement, you have it locked as you spin toward the source of the noise. 

Quick fingers circle your wrist and firmly push your arm away as a face comes into view.

“Jesus! I almost shot you.” 

Glaring at the man in front of you, you put your gun away. 

Fucking Peter Hale. 

Of course he’d show up when you were trying your best to stay unnoticed. And of course he’d look gorgeous doing it. 

He’s clad in a wool coat, the collar popped ever so slightly, and the top buttons of his shirt left undone - maybe intentionally - to show the contours of his neck and a few days of scruff.

“No, you didn’t,” he states, arrogant as ever, while he looks you up and down. “What are you doing here?”

“Just passing through…”

Peter tilts his head and you know he’s listening to your heartbeat or smelling the lie on you. 

“Kara.”

“Hmm?” 

“Is there somebody in your trunk?”  

“No.. that’s crazy.” you return his question with a shrug.

Crossing his arms, Peter waits you out, with no intention of leaving you alone. When a soft thud sounds from inside the trunk, you both hear it, but you purposefully avoid looking toward the car.

Amused at your feeble efforts to mislead him, Peter raises an eyebrow at you.

You huff, irritated that you can’t get anything past him when he uses his werewolf senses. It wasn’t playing fair. 

“Fine,” you pop the trunk and gesture wide, presenting Peter with a bound and gagged Leviathan, “Peter, meet Carl.”

Peter looks from Carl to you and back. It’s not the first time he’s seen someone in a trunk, but he certainly wasn’t expecting it from you. It’s an interesting development. 

You take hold of Carl’s bound feet. “Since you’re here, give me a hand?” 

Peter pushes you aside and picks Carl up, tossing him over his shoulder effortlessly and heading toward the house. He pauses on the front steps, 

“I’ll help. But afterwards, you have some explaining to do.” 

Sighing, you follow him.

You should have stayed away from Beacon Hills altogether, but you’d tracked the Leviathan down in Arizona. Driving with a monster stashed in the trunk made you nervous, so when you neared Flagstaff, you made a split second decision, turning away from the cabin in Montana and instead heading west toward California, cutting a few hours off your journey.

****

Peter gets Carl situated on a chair at one end of what used to be the living room and you take out duct tape and rope from your bag, just to be sure. Ignoring Carl’s muffled complaints, you work fast, tying him down securely.

“What now?” Peter asks, leaning on the frame of the large archway that leads in from the foyer, before thinking better of it, pushing off with his shoulder, brushing the dust and soot from his coat. 

Checking the time on your phone, you frown. 

“I need to make a call.” 

You walk past Peter out onto the porch, pulling the remains of the front door closed behind you. You need to let Samandriel know you are ready, but don’t want to pray in front of Peter, so you tap the number for your bank and speak over the pre-recorded options.

“Hey, it’s Kara. Sorry I’m late, but I’m sorted now. Let’s do this.”

With that, you return inside, and using the sparse amount of moonlight coming in from the boarded-up windows, you prepare. Set out a large bowl, two glass jars and one vial on the floor. Keeping one eye on Carl, you take inventory of what you have jammed in your backpack; a machete, a bunch of smaller knives, including your Chinese ring daggers.

“Kara?” 

You don’t hear Peter as you continue to triple check your gear, mumbling your checklist to yourself....Spare magazines, a few boxes of ammunition for your Desert Eagle, you grope at the chain around your neck to make sure you’re wearing the steel flint stick and kerosene lighter combo. 

Peter watches you closely, waiting for you to pick up the machete and do your thing. Then he could renew his endeavours to have you again. 

He didn’t want to tell you how to do your job, but a full arsenal seemed like overkill for a lone monster.

He feels no shame admitting to himself he’d love to watch you give over to your darker impulses. Wanted to coax that tiny spark of anger he had seen when you promised the Nogitsune death into something bigger, a flame that would burn Argent, Scott, and anyone else that got in his way.

Patience. He scolds himself; knows to play the long game with you. You were on the verge, and he had to be careful not to frighten you, not to push you toward the other side. It was exhausting, but he could manage for a bit longer.

“Kara!” 

Peter calls your name louder this time, and your head snaps up, remembering he’s there. Satisfied you have everything you need, you zip your backpack and stand.

“You can go.”

It comes out brusque; you don’t have time to talk this through, not when Samandriel is on his way and you’re distracted trying to fight off an overwhelming wave of doubt. 

“What’s going on?”  

Peter approaches you slowly, stress emanating from you.

Shit. This is a bad idea. But it was your only idea to find Dean and Castiel. Samandriel was on board the moment you suggested it, but then he had always singularly focused on locating Cas. 

Combine that laser focus with him being an angel, and all the abilities that come along with it, and maybe his enthusiasm was biased. 

You’d spent so long turning this over in your mind, wondering if it could work, that now the time was here you realised you had put little thought into what you’d do if it did work. 

“I...it’s nothing.” 

Peter holds your hands lightly in his own, studying your face while he tries to put the pieces together. Whatever you’d landed yourself in, it’s serious. 

For a second, you consider letting him talk you out of it.

Focus.

Just because you felt scared, terrified actually, doesn’t mean you should stop. 

“I’m fine.” 

You remove your hands back from Peter’s grasp and shove them in the pockets of your jacket.

“Seriously, Peter, I have work to do,” you sound more determined as you glance at the door, giving him an out, a signal to leave.

Peter just laughs. “Then work. I’m not going anywhere.”

****

When Samandriel finally arrives, you’re relieved, but his appearance alarms Peter, a low growl coming from him as his claws peek out from the tips of his fingers. Samandriel goes on the defensive, his eyes flashing a bright white. 

“It’s okay!” you cry, getting between them with your arms extended. “He’s my...I know him.”

Peter looks at you with narrowed eyes, and you give him an imploring pat on the chest. He stands down, moving back into the shadows. 

“A werewolf, Kara?” Samandriel asks.

“Don’t start,” you groan, never sure if he is simply asking or passing judgment, “Do you have it?”

Samandriel passes you a bone wrapped in linen, which you weigh in your hands. You’d imagined it heavier, with what it was capable of, but it was light and well balanced, like all good weapons should be.  

Dropping it into the bowl, you pour the blood from the jars and vial in before carefully swirling the bowl around, letting the mix coat the bone, while trying to keep one end clean for less gross handling.  

“You’ll need this too,” he waves another package at you, before tucking it into your backpack, “Are you ready?”

“No. But let’s do it anyway.” 

Peter intervenes, can feel tension seeping out of you and the uniformed idiot. “Kara, what are you doing?” 

“Kara. We should begin.”

Peter shoots Samandriel a dark glance, imagining how easily he could silence the boy.

“Ignore him. Look at me. What’s going on?”

Facing Peter, you’re at a loss for words. Anything you might say would lead only to more questions, and if you had to break this down for him, you might start to have a few more questions of your own.

“Peter...I..”

That’s it, Peter thinks, just say the word. I’ll kill the boy, you kill Carl, and we’ll fuck with blood on our hands.

“Do me a favour?”

Peter hides his delight, promising himself he won’t gloat when he tears Samandriel’s throat out.  

“Just…don’t tell anyone I was here.”

Shaking off your disquiet, you wind your arms through the straps of your backpack and hitch it onto your shoulders. Samandriel stands behind Carl, awaiting your instruction, so you pick up the unbloodied end of the bone, and make your way over to them.  

 “How will you-”

“Through the neck.”

It might not be vital to end Carl the exact same way Dean killed Dick Roman, but you thought it was the safest bet to replicate the situation as closely as possible.

You rip away the duct tape you had covered Carl’s mouth with as Samandriel grabs him by the hair and yanks his head back, exposing his throat to you.

“I’ll kill you! You bitch, you’re going to be my dinner!”

Carl’s threats do nothing to you, but Peter stalks toward him, a dangerous look crossing his face. Samandriel notices before he can get too close, and wordlessly asks for your permission. 

You give him a tight nod and with merely a point in his direction; he has Peter pinned up against a wall. 

“Sorry.” you call to Peter, focusing on lining up your strike.

Steadying your nerves with a deep breath, you brace yourself with one hand on Carl’s shoulder before you plunge the bone into his neck.

He makes gurgling sounds as black blood erupts out from the wound, and you tell Samandriel to stand back. 

You keep a tense grip on the bone as the surrounding air pulses. Slowly, the vibration increases, building to a rapid beat, and your stomach twists in anticipation and fear. 

****

Just as fast as it had arrived, the feeling dissipates, the air shifting back to its normal, stagnant state. 

“No. No, no, no, no…”

You try again, thrusting the bone further into Carl’s neck, forcing it deeper through muscle. There is no hilt on the bone, nothing to stop your hand from slipping around, inky blood covering it and dripping hot down your arm. 

“Come on, come on, you fucker.”

Samandriel let you stab uselessly for a few minutes longer until it’s clear that whatever energy you had tapped into was gone.

“Stop.”

You release the bone and stand back, not wanting to accept that your last best chance had just fizzled. 

“Was it the bone? Did you get the right one?” 

“Yes. It was just as the spell required.”

“Well, what then!?” you shout harshly at Samandriel. 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He’s as confused as you are, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, struggling to keep disappointed tears at bay.

“No…it’s not on you. Sorry.”

“You tried”, Samandriel reminds gently. Underneath all his duty bound efficiency, he could be quite sweet, but it felt like that’s all you ever did... try. Try and fail.

“Yeah, guess we did” you tilt your head in Peter’s direction. “Let him down, please?”

 “Of course. I need to go. We’ll speak soon.”

“Sure. Come when you can.” 

After Samandriel clicks his fingers, Peter is released, growling as soon as his feet hit the floor, and moving on instinct toward Samandriel, who promptly disappears.

Whipping around, Peter pants as his eyes flash from bright blue back to their usual colour.

“What the hell was that?”

You laugh, humour returning at Peter’s surly expression, “That. Was Samandriel.” 

****

After you’ve dispatched with Carl and gathered your things, apologised to Peter - once for letting Samandriel restrain him and once for the mess you’ve left on the floor of his old home - the two of you drag Carl’s body deep into the woods behind the house.

“So if it had worked, you’d be in Purgatory?”

“That was the theory...” you strip off your jacket and throw it above you, before resting on the handle of the shovel you’re using, even with the chill in the air you’re getting sweaty.

“You think that’s what happened to your friend…”

“Dean. Yeah. But it was kind of a Hail Mary.”

“Why?” Peter grunts as he digs.

“Well, ‘cut off the head of the snake and the body will flounder’ and Roman was the head - “

“Like an Alpha?”

“Mmmm. Carl was a dick.. he just wasn’t the Dick.”

“Huh. Hey,” Peter jabs you lightly in the leg with his shovel, “Dig.”

“Sorry!” 

You grin as you resume digging. Peter was more than happy to help you bury a body which should concern you. But you’d spent so much time alone recently, it was good to talk. 

So once Peter got you started, you told him some about what you’d been doing; cases with other hunters, though never the same people too frequently, hunting down leads on Dean with Samandriel. You don’t tell him everything, keep it as light as a grave digging conversation can be.

Assessing the grave, you hope you can still climb out. “Deep enough?” 

“Looks good.” Peter agrees and leaps onto the solid ground.

You pass up the shovels to Peter, then grab onto the edge, kicking into the side of the hole to make a foothold.

“Here.”

Peter reaches and grabs you under the arms, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing and planting you firmly next to him. Walking over to Carl’s body, now neatly wrapped in a tarp, he throws him in the hole before picking up the smaller bundle.

“Wait! Not the head.”

“Really?” 

Peter wondered if you wanted to keep it as some sort of trophy. Couldn’t blame you, he wouldn’t mind a reminder of the moment himself. Watching you swinging the machete with all the strength your tight body could muster, black goo splattering onto your face… he had to stifle a groan and subtly readjust his pants.

“It can reattach.” 

Peter drops the head and rolls his eyes. “Ugh.”

Taking the second shovel, you throw dirt on top of Carl’s corpse. With Peter’s assistance, it doesn’t take long before the hole is filled back in, and you tap down the soil with the back of the spade to finish the job.

“Bye Carl.” you take your knife and carve his initials into a nearby tree trunk. 

“All this for a monster?” 

You nod. 

Dropping the head and your duffel in the trunk, you slam it shut before tossing your backpack onto the passenger seat, ready to get back on the road.

“So, uh…good to see you.” 

“Think you’re getting out of here that easily?” Peter steps forward and crowds you against the side of your car. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

His closeness makes your breath shallow, the heat coming off him distracting and dizzying.

“Naw Peter….you miss me?” you joke, even as you are wishing you weren’t like this. 

“If I did?”

“Careful, don’t admit there’s someone you don’t want to rip to shreds on sight. I mean, what if someone heard?” 

“I do have a reputation to uphold.” 

Peter draws lazy lines up and down your side, caging you in and gently using his leg to spread your knees. He’s attuned to you, how your eyes have darkened, the way your breath hitches as you tilt your hips slightly forward. 

“I gotta go,” you say, sounding less than convinced.

“Why?” he murmurs against your ear as he tucks strands of your hair back. His thumb grazes down the side of your face, finding a home next to your lips. 

Your resolve is melting. It’s been too long since someone touched you without violence. You want something soft, bad, and it’s making you shameless. Should resist getting felt up, out in the open, especially by Peter, but his leg is right there.

He uses the pad of his thumb to trace your lips, waiting. Feels your tongue peek out and skim his finger, enough permission for Peter, and he snatches you to him, crashing his lips against yours.

It’s open mouthed, and hungry and your entire body sighs when his tongue finally slips in to tangle with yours, exploring for a while before he moves to your neck, licking and suckling marks down the column of your throat. 

His hands go under your shirt, roaming up and bringing you closer to him. Forward, down, back…his thigh providing the friction you crave, and the stability you require now that your own legs are quaking.

“Come home with me.” 

He pulls away and clasps his hands behind his back innocently. The sudden removal of his palms leaves you against the glass and steel of the car door, and you gasp at the sting. The dampness on his trousers has Peter certain he’s got you on the hook. But he won’t let you off that easily - needs you to beg.

You’re teetering between logic and desire. Your head wins out.

“No.”

“Why not, doll?” he can’t keep an edge out of his voice. 

“I…just can’t.”

Peter is now utterly done with biding his time. Contemplates, briefly, if you’re worth it, but even as the thought enters his mind, he’s returning hands to your hips and picturing bending you over the hood of the car. He knows he’s not ready to give up just yet. You feel too good around him. His ego, his competitiveness won’t let him quit.

“Argent?”

You say nothing, but guilt clouds your face as you turn away and Peter thinks he’s found the source.

“But why? He’s gone. It’s just me and you.”

“He’s been a little busy,” you snap defensively, shoving Peter’s hands away, “You know, funeral for his daughter.”

Coming back to Beacon Hills was a mistake. You’ll never be able to forget what happened, but you also didn’t need to make it more difficult, pick at barely healed wounds by being here. You need to get out.

Peter sucks in a breath at your rage, tries again, but different. 

“He’s not the only one. Missing her. Allison.”

The mention of her makes your chest constrict, your skin flaring with oppressive heat.

How dare he…or even suggest he knew how Chris felt…Like any of us…

Fuck it, gonna hit him.

“I mean, look at you, Kara..”

Realising your misunderstanding, you deflate, fists unclenching. 

Peter was merely offering comfort, no, not even that - just a distraction, and why wouldn’t he? That’s all you are to each other…if you’re anything at all.

You’d let your mind jump to conclusions. Mean spirited conclusions. Grief and isolation have changed you, made you too quick to think the worst of people. 

Miserably, you wonder if Peter’s right, that you’re pathetic for staying loyal to a man who wasn’t here, that you haven’t heard from in months.

Probably - because if Chris was here, you still wouldn’t be together. Wouldn’t be able to face him. How could he look at you and not think what everyone thought, the monumental guilt that has settled inside you.

“It’s my fault.” you whisper.

“What? Of course it’s not,” Peter says dismissively.

“It is. See?”

You twist your head and lift your hair away so Peter can see the space behind your ear.

“I don’t…what am I looking for?”

“Use your other eyes.”

When he focuses his sight, a faded outline comes into view. A kanji.

Peter gently runs his fingers over the symbol, “What does it say?” 

A small whimper escapes before you can answer;

“Death.” 

*****

Manic, you explain to Peter how you found it when picking crusts of dried blood out of your hair after a hunt. The sickening feeling when you’d researched what it meant. 

The Oni had tagged the others as ‘oneself’, declaring them free of the Nogitsunes influence. They had marked you with ‘death’.  

As best you could tell, that should have been the end of you, if they had gotten a hold of you, if you’d been there when…But you weren’t, you’d been MIA, sulking over your breakup with Chris and the injury you’d sustained. 

Too slow. Not there. 

You deserted Allison.

“They took her in my place,” you choke out, bile rising in the back of your throat.

He shakes his head, “Don’t do this to yourself.”

It’s a warning, from someone who knows what this kind of thinking can do, but once you’ve opened your throat and spoken your worst fear, it all bubbles up and you burst into tears.

 Peter pulls you in and lets you weep against him. “You couldn’t have known. You didn’t know.”

You want to push him away. Try, once or twice, hitting at his chest with weak fists. He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t let go either.

“Listen to me,” he captures your jaw, rougher than necessary, but adamant as he smoothes away your shame-filled tears, “It’s not your fault. You helped her. Helped get rid of the thing that killed her. You did right by Allison.”

He encircles you tight then hardly moves as sobs wrack through you, surprising himself. This is meant to be a chase, only a play to get you back in his bed. But now he’s wiping away your tears and doing his very best to soothe you because the sight of you broken is wrecking him, burrowing down to parts he’d long forgotten.

****

You run your fingers along the spines of the books lining Peter’s bookshelf, pulling a few out and reading the back covers. There are many to choose from; crime thrillers, some classics, biographies, but they all looked new, contemporary. 

Peter returns from the kitchen with a dish of steaming food. “Snooping?” 

“No!” you smile at him, your nose leading you to the table. You feel better after showering and changing clothes. Crying on his shoulder. Ugh.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting…” you gesture to the bookcase as Peter plates the meal he’s made, and takes a seat next to you. Something with chicken and potatoes and a sauce that is making your mouth water, “More dust maybe?”

“Well, most of the Hale library was kept at the old place, so we lost a lot in the fire.”

Your fork freezes mid way to your mouth, “Shit…I’m sorry.”

“Hunters.” 

He shrugs like it’s nothing but he’s ... straighter, tighter, the reminder of the fire a sharp wince.

“There were kids in there…That’s not hunting. That’s murder.”

Peter looks at you, seeing - for the first time he’s let himself indulge in - you as something other than a conquest, a challenge, a hunter to be taken down a peg or two. More than just something to be yanked away from Argent for the sport of it.

“Does it bother you? That I hunt?” 

You don’t look at him, suddenly worried what it would mean if he said yes and hating yourself for caring about his opinion of you.

“You hunt monsters that can’t control themselves, that’s not me anymore.”

Not just monsters. 

Carl Copeland was 43, worked in insurance sales. He’d been married to his wife Sydney for almost 20 years and they shared three kids. One day he took a shower, or had a glass of water, or did one of a million other mundane things. You don’t know the ‘how’, but a Leviathan got hold, and wouldn’t let go. 

It shouldn’t matter. The body count he amassed should be all the ‘why’ you needed, but the images haunted you. Three dead little kids. Two girls, one boy, torn up in their beds, remnants of their pajamas strewn through the sheets.

Shaking your head, you clear away the pictures as best you can and steer the conversation back to safer ground.

“Thanks, by the way.”

Peter tilts his head.

“For dealing with the Darach.”

He considers denying it, sticking with the party line that she’d simply left.

 “You knew about that?”

“I do now,” you giggle, and your glee at guessing correctly makes Peter join in with laughter.

“She’s never come back or turned up anywhere else, so I figured someone must’ve-”

You make a stabbing motion with your knife. 

“How’d you know it wasn’t Scott?”

You laugh again because the suggestion is absurd. Scott is kind, he’s good, and acts accordingly. Most of the time, you’re right there with him, but Jennifer? Too much damage done, too big of a threat to leave unchecked. 

Suppose it could have been Derek, he’d certainly be justified, with how she’d taken advantage. But his vulnerability might have made it too hard, no one can just turn their feelings off when people prove they’re liars. Not even werewolves.

Chris would’ve told you.

That left Peter. It required the kind of ruthless logic he has. Only thing you haven’t been able to figure out is why he didn’t tell anybody. You thought he’d want the credit. 

“She definitely dead?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Thank you.” 

“I aim to please.” 

He feels for your legs under the table, pivots you and drags your feet up to rest across his lap. Moving his thumbs along your calves, he digs in firm lines that chase away the tension. You push your plate aside with a satisfied smile and stretch out.

Warmth snakes up your body, and your eyes flutter to a close. You’d expected to be in Purgatory, instead here you are; fresh, clean, with a full belly, and a friend. 

Well, maybe not a friend. You couldn’t tell anymore. 

His palms move higher, pressing and squeezing into your thighs. You quirk an eyebrow at him in question; shocked he still wants you, when you’ve just humiliated yourself.

“Really?” you ask, rising from the table and glancing toward the door. 

Peter nods, tries and fails to not seem eager, but manages to stay still as you move down the hallway.  

Waiting for his invitation, for you to admit finally that you want him. He’s played it out in his head too often, all the ways he’ll make the months of planning and plotting worth it. For both of you. 

Pausing halfway to his bedroom, you tug your shirt over your head and let it drop to the floor. Peter gets to his feet but stays rooted to the spot, eyes glued to your silhouette, breathing in your excitement. 

You grin as you call to him, “You coming?”

He smirks and saunters up the hallway, watching you undress, as he decides he’s definitely going to ruin you. Get you so desperate for him, you won’t waste another second on Chris Argent.

****

Hours later, you tiptoe to the kitchen wearing only a baggy t-shirt, and use your phone torch to find a cup in the cabinets to fill under the tap. Leaning against the counter you down the cool water, half asleep but completely dehydrated by Peter’s skilled, athletic performance.

You drink another glass, smiling at the ache in your legs, the satisfying after burn of a good fuck. Then you open the fridge and dig around for something to eat. 

“Come back to bed.”

Peter’s voice startles you and the glass slips out of your hand. Peter darts his own out, catching it before it can hit the floor.

“Fuck. You scared me.”

Poking your head around the door, you scowl at him. 

“Thought you might be leaving.”

Your frown fades at how his features, half lit by the fridge light, look soft. His hair is messy from you pulling on it, and all the usually hard planes of his body seem only warm and inviting. All his relentless posturing gone, now that you’ve given in. 

“Nah. Just hungry.”

Plucking a few strawberries from their plastic container, you hold one up for Peter to bite into and shut the door. 

He guides you backwards with his palms on your hips until your bare ass meets the counter. 

Watching as you tear the flesh of the strawberry from the hull with your teeth, he kisses you as soon as you swallow, licking at the sweet, tart juice. 

He’s going for control when he lifts you up onto the counter, trying to wash away how desperate he just sounded. 

Doesn’t take much - it’s embarrassingly easy for Peter to turn you on. His hands are everywhere as you make out, sneaking up under your t-shirt, grabbing at your ass, pushing your knees wide to let you grind yourself on him. 

You lose count of how many times his mouth meets yours and whine when his fly pushes into you, which makes him groan against your ear.

Peter slips his hand down and runs his fingers through your folds, relishing the feel of a shiver starting in your cunt and working its way up your spine, the kick of your pulse against his lips on your neck. 

He pulls away and your eyes flash in annoyance, but he moves fast to hit the switch for the overhead lights. “Want to see you.”

He steps back into his rightful place between your legs, sighing. Thinks you’re divine like this, golden beams dancing across your thighs, goosebumps forming where your body rests atop the granite. Shyly keeping a hold on the hem of your t-shirt but still demanding, locking your legs around his waist and digging in to pull him close. 

“You know…”

He cradles your head with one hand, makes sure you’re watching as he spreads you apart with the other, gathering up your slick before bringing it to his mouth, humming as he closes his lips around the taste.

“Strawberries are better with cream.”

“Has that line ever worked?” your laughter melts into a moan when he plunges two fingers inside you. 

“Once or twice.” 

Peter grins, vowing to do anything to keep you like this - supple, and panting, and carefree beneath his touch. 

You’re too serious, traipsing around town, the whole goddamn country by the sounds of it, so intent on doing right, on being good. 

What a fucking waste, when you should only be here, lying open and waiting for him to devour you. He kneels, hooks your leg over his shoulder, ready to feast.

****

The sun is up the next time you wake. Peter is face down on the pillow next to you, one heavy arm slung across your bare chest, a palm cupping your breast. Slipping out from under him, you quietly collect your clothes and get dressed. 

“Leaving?”

“Hey. Morning.” 

He looks more gorgeous in daylight, wearing nothing but the hangover of last night’s efforts and broken sleep. 

“Yeah, I should get going.”

“Mmm,” he tugs on your arm and you let him pull you down to kneel on the bed beside him, “You should stay here.”

He yanks the covers back, not loving the needy thread in his voice, but loving what you do to him, tipping his head proudly toward his erection.

“Right there.”

“Peter…”

Regarding him for a moment, you look at your phone to check the time, like you have anywhere else to be. 

“I have work to do.”

“Huntings not really a job.”

You pout, and his cock twitches while he waits for you to decide.

“The fuck you know about jobs, Hale?”

But you’re laughing as you mock him, and he knows you’ll cave. You’re already standing to unbutton your jeans.

****

When you finally escape Peter’s apartment, you make your way through town to the diner for a quick brunch. Recharged, you head to the Animal Clinic and wait while Deaton finishes with his patients.

“Hey Doc,” you hand him a coffee, “You due a break soon?”

“For you, I have some time.”

He smiles kindly. Even though he’s always glad to have another adult to help Scott and his friends, Deaton’s unnerved to see you’re in town, as far as he knows - things are quiet.

“How are you?” you ask, following his white coat to the privacy of his examination room.

He thinks you’re sweet for asking, for trying to fill the space with idle chatter, “I’m well. How are you?”

“Fine.”

Deaton’s warm brown eyes bore into yours, knows as well you do that it’s a half truth - at most. You don’t really know why you came, just a whim that you should check in. Make sure Stiles wasn’t lying when he told you that mostly, they’re getting through it. Together, and slowly, navigating around the aftermath of the Nogitsune. Plus, you can always trust people who work with animals.

“Ya know, relatively speaking.”

He chuckles at that. What else could you really say? Beacon Hills is a vortex of supernatural bullshit the kids keep getting drawn into, and you both want to help. 

You didn’t help.

A few minutes pass of you staring at the floor, panic starting deep in your gut as you worry about Lydia. What else she might say if she knew you were here. 

Worry that all of them, her and Deaton and Scott and Stiles and Derek, will think you’re a threat if they knew what the Oni had left on you. 

“Kara? You want to tell me why you’re here?”

Deaton’s voice brings you back, and it’s that precise moment you decide. Last night won’t be your last attempt. You didn’t help Allison, but you have to help Dean - you are going to find him.

“Yeah, uh…” you clear your throat, “Can you tell me everything you know about Purgatory?”

[yakool-foolio]

Hello, give me one for Danganronpa, Ace Attorney and Rain Code of that character ask. (angel wants to know if Yomi anf Kristoph go to super hell)

A package deal! You've sold me on the chance to ramble about so many characters. You opened the floodgates, now you're in the splash zone!

Danganronpa: Blorbo - Shuichi Saihara (No surprises here) Scrunkly - Kiibo (He's so cute man, every time I think about his blushing sprites or him wanting to be a singer I crumple up like a napkin) Scrimblo bimblo - Tenko Chabashira (She deserves so much more love, the writing did her so damn dirty by hiding all her motivations in FTEs. I will never forgive Kodaka for this) Glup shitto - Tsumugi Shirogane (She's my favorite mastermind I don't care what anyone says about her! Anyone who calls her 'one-dimensional' talks like they're stuck in the killing game behind the screen! But I know better! MY DAD WORKS AT NINTENDO!) Poor little meow meow - Nagito Komaeda (Only considered controversial because of what the fandom has done to this poor guy. He's no doubt one of--if not the--best character Kodaka's ever written, and yet I must helplessly watch as he's reduced to 'haha I like hope and I'm crazy,' which is a huge disservice to his complex and well thought out story. Sadly it's a symptom of him being dragged outside of his context by pop culture.) Horse plinko - Junko Enoshima (I dunno, she probably wouldn't mind it) Eeby deeby - Nagito Komaeda again (I had to look up the exact meaning of superhell for this. And honestly he kinda did that to himself. Now wake up Nagito and go get your man so ya can live on that island together!)

Ace Attorney: Blorbo - Kazuma Asogi (Whoops he stole the top spot from Apollo, but believe me I think about him a lot too, especially cause he wins the relatability category; social anxiety go brrrrrrr. Yet no character has had me go more feral than Kazuma and I still have a TON on my mind about him that I really need to put to written word someday.) Scrunkly - Ron DeLite (MY SWEET LIL GUY! I'd let him steal all my valuables cause he's just too darn cute!) Scrimblo bimblo - Bobby Fulbright/The Phantom (The best final case culprit for the best final case in the entire series, I will not waver in my opinion! Bobby is such a fun detective, nearing the heights of Sholmes, while also being revealed to be the identity-stealing assassin I've always dreamed of. I will run in circles forever thinking about this amalgamation of a character. Now if only he was given any official merch...) Glup shitto - Satoru Hosonaga (If Hosonaga only has one fan then that's me! If there's ever a TGAA Investigations game, he better make a cameo someway somehow!) Poor little meow meow - Matt Engarde (This could've also gone to The Phantom but it fits Matt thematically cause he's very orange cat coded to me. My first 'uh oh my favorite character is a murderer aren't they' moment in Ace. And it would not be the last.) Horse plinko - Mael Stronghart (I hate this dude I hope Klint and Genshin are beating him up as ghosts.) Eeby deeby - Kristoph Gavin (If I had a nickel for every time I turned a dynamic between a mastermind antag and a mentor figure into bitter exes cause it somehow makes their relationship more interesting than it already is, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

Rain Code: Blorbo - Yakou Furio (What blog do ya think you're even lookin' at right now?) Scrunkly - Shinigami (She's really adorable in her blob form with how she emotes, and she's a sweet person under all her snark!) Scrimblo bimblo - Melami Goldmine (The more I think about my personal interpretation of Vivia's backstory, the more I love Melami by association since she's got a lot going on with her as well. I'd kill to learn more about her history and if she's had any canonical affiliation or interaction with Vivia. I need them to be business partners!) Glup shitto - Nun (What's not to love about a cat-eared nun who runs a death metal choir at the church? I'd go to one of her performances any day!) Poor little meow meow - Hitman Zilch (I got real sad over him dying because I thought we'd lost the best antag in the entire game AND WE'D ONLY JUST BEGUN. This hitman has altered my brain chemistry forever and there's no cure.) Horse plinko - Dr. Huesca ("It's what he deserves," I say calmly and rationally through gritted teeth as my fist clenches and trembles with rage.) Eeby deeby - Yomi Hellsmile (If I had a nickel for every time I turned a dynamic between a mastermind antag and a mentor figure into bitter exes cause it somehow makes their relationship more interesting than it already is, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

[laboulaie]

From Girl Next Door to Conniver Blair

Kassie Wesley is making a dramatic switch from sweet young thing to Llanview’s bad girl BLAIR but she’s not daunted by the challenge.

“I’m so excited about this,” Kassie tells SOAP OPERA MAGAZINE. “My character CHELSEA REARDON on GL was so squeaky clean, while Blair is on the dark side.”

“I’m so used to playing the girl next door. It’s like night and day. But it’s definitely going to be fun.”

The young actress left GL in January 1991 after five years as Chelsea, then moved to California with her husband Richard Hankins, GL’s former art director.

This is her first soap role since then, and also the first time she’s taken over a part held by another actress. Devious Blair, who shares her Aunt Dorian’s scheming genes, was previously played by Mia Korf.

Kassie, whose first airdate was December 15, admits it could be tough taking over a role when another actress is so closely identified with that part of the audience.

“There will be people saying, ‘Kassie’s better’ and others saying ‘She’s never going to be the Blair we know.’ It takes a while for people to warm up to you, but even more-so when you’re recast in a role,” Kassie explains.

With quiet confidence, she adds; “I can do the acting and play the part, but I cannot believe that out of all the actresses they had to pick from, they picked me. That’s not to say I can’t play the bitch - just ask my husband!”

It’s easy to be confident when you’re as multitalented as Kassie. Besides her acting credits, she’s a superb singer and songwriter. She was featured as a backup singer with Bobby Womack and other country music stars, and she performed solo at Grand Ole Opry in Nashville.

Still looking to further her musical career, Kassie is now sending her demo record to recording companies, hoping to land a contract.

Born in Morganfield, KY, Kassie first got interested in acting in a high school speech class. Then she attended Indiana University and completed her studies in theatre at UCLA.

After getting a few small TV roles and commercials, Kassie signed on with GL in 1986. When she quit and headed to California with Richard, she admits it was rough finding work, but never regretted her decision to move there.

“You have to go with your gut feeling and my gut was telling me it was time to try other things , and I did,” Kassie says. “I had a great time, and I thought: If I’m going to be unemployed, I’d rather be unemployed in California where I can go out and play golf!” she laughs.

During her two years on the West Coast, Kassie stayed busy. “I did an episode of Timetrax, which aired in November, and an episode of Melrose Place which was scheduled to air sometime in December or January. Then I’ve got an episode of Baywatch airing in February.”

When the part of Blair came up on OLTL, Kassie got caught in a whirlwind of frenetic activity: auditions in Los Angeles, a screen test in New York, and trying to fit it all into her frantic schedule.

“They gave me the weekend to think about it,” she says. “Everything was happening so fast, and I was trying to get through one job before moving on to another job. So I came to New York on Monday and did the screen test, and found out I got the role on Tuesday.”

“That was the week of Thanksgiving and I’d already planned to go home to Kentucky to see my family. I went home and just came straight from Kentucky to New York and began working. So it’s been a little overwhelming.”

Kassie, who speaks with a charming Southern accent, won’t make that part of Blair’s new image. “Of course I’m going to do it without the accent,” she tells us. “I did GL without it. Once you learn lines it’s much easier to control the accent. The hardest part is going to be working with all those Texas cowboys, CORD, ASA and CLINT with their accents.”

“I’m sure there are certain words that are going to come out only like Southerners say them, but I’ll do the best I can,” she concludes with a laugh.

- Soap Opera Magazine (1994)

[sunnysideaeggs]

Do you have an Aegon headcanon to share?

Omg I have many! Probably some of them I have read here and can’t remember who posted them (credits to them ofc) but here’s some:

Aegon is a great singer, ofc (both TGC and Ty are musicians, and Tom has an especially sweet voice). He probably sings to Sunfyre, to confort his children, and when he’s alone.

TGC’s band, Sleepwalking animals, has a song called Wild folk and I think is very much Aegon coded! He sings about being lost and seeking pleasure, then wanting to run away with a lover. It’s very in line with Egg having a smallfolk!lover and I’m here for it.

He’s bi. In my mind all of Alicent’s children are bi, but only he knows it for now, because he’s the only one open about it (Hel is ace and biromantic, Aemond is too closed up and Daeron is too young yet) but they’ll get there.

His favorite child is Jaehaera. He loves all his children, in his flawled way, but he likes her the most. She’s just like Helaena. He’s a girl dad honestly. It adds an additional layer of pain when she winds up being his last child.

Speaking of Hel, I think that he loves her in a brotherly way. He probably thinks he had to marry her to protect her (they can’t afford to send her away from them with a lord in a strange land) and they have the most sibling-like relationship in Targ marriage history.

When Helaena gave birth to the twins (a writing crime tbh, she was 13-14), he stood terrified outside the room and threatened the maesters to not hurt her and take care of her. He left her to recover for a while (that’s why there’s 4 years between the twins and Maelor).

I love TGC’s idea of Aegon having a lover in KL. Man has his own oc and fanfiction and I trust him about Egg matters more than Condal and Hess tbh.

Songs that remind me of him are Colors by Halsey, Mama by My chemical romance, Can you feel my heart by BMTH and Heroin by Lana del Rey. Yes he’s an emo.

He calls Criston ‘dad’ bc he’s his dad ofc. If he’s ever on trouble, he either calls him or Aemond.

I have said this before, but he’s really charismatic! He makes easy friends but can’t really ‘connect’ with them. I would’ve loved to see the greens as really politically savvy (for their own different abilities) and him being a Bobby B like king makes sense to me.

In a modern world, he would study communication (I’m projecting here bc I study comm but hear me out) @daddyissuesinwesteros has said he would be a successful tiktoker, and he would! But I think his family would pressure him into getting a *real* job and degree. He already changed his major once (Business to Admin, then dropped) and he’s 22, so he gets into communication. He has average grades at best, but he likes some subjects and makes some useful friends, he tries okay 😵‍💫

Modern au again, he’s the type of guy that dedicates Playboi Carti songs and believes it’s the most romantic thing ever. Idk, I got Fell in luv dedicated once and it’s something he would do(? mid.

He, from the first to the last day of his reign, valued Alicent’s advice and actively asked for it. This is partially why she had so much influence in the Dance, and why she wholeheartedly believed she could prevent war by counseling him. He also asks Helaena about many matters, not only government.

He’s an aqua sun (like Tom 🥳), taurus or capricorn moon, pisces rising.

If Targs believed in reincarnation, he is Rhaenys Targaryen (the first one) reborn. He’s pretty, he likes to party and he flies in Sunfyre a lot. I also think that Aemond (at least show wise) is Vaegon’s reincarnation.

I think he’s pretty wise, at least when it comes to what the IT really means just as GRRM intended. He sees the throne as a duty, not as a right, and knows he doesn’t have the necessary skills to rule. I think is refreshing for a character to acknowledge what a poison the IT really means and how it corrupts (or is corrupted by) those who desire it.

He really was paranoid about cutting himself on the throne, so he wore armor and never was really ‘comfortable’ while sitting on it. I have a few more hcs about the throne and how it’s *alive* regarding Vizzy, Egg and Rhae, so maybe I’ll make a separate post about it.

Can’t talk about Egg without talking about Sunfyre, so I will add: Sun and him definitely had the most amazing dragon-rider bond in all of history. I think that translates in both Sunfyre being more ‘human’ than most dragons, having above average intelligence (hiding, fighting and winning while wounded require more than brawn) and Aegon surviving in mere willpower, because he was getting Sun’s energy in a way. When he died, I think that willpower left him and yk.

Speaking of yk, he planned it. No Larys, no Corlys (and for the love of the seven it wasn’t Alicent!). I think life just cornered him too much and it became unbearable.

I really like his figure as the first non 100% Valyrian king (the ones before him had only Targ/Velaryon blood) and being the first that gave a damn about long term planning. He, intentionally or unintentionally drafted the rules of succession for the IT (in my mind they’re called Egg’s rules, just like Rhaenys’ rule of six), which is more than the previous kings did, ensuring a crystal clear (but unfair and sexist) inheritance that worked fine for a couple centuries.

I think I made this too long, hope they make sense and aren’t too random/hyperspecific 😵‍💫 I also subscribe to some hcs other blogs have, but tried to write about things that haven’t been explored yet!

[roadtogracelandx45]

Best Kept Secrets|1| Winchester Brothers

@ohnoitsthebat

Part One

Credit for the gif goes to Tenor

Sioux Falls High School

Sam and Ellie's junior year of high school

"You know there are rumors about Ellie going around. About how she is not only easy on the eyes. I mean if the girl wasn’t on the rag I would have had my time with her."

Sam Winchester's jaw flexed in anger, as he pulled his backpack out of his gym locker, some of the football players were talking about Ellie Scott, the girl that should be considered his sister, she was the daughter of his mother's best friend, and also in the care of Bobby Singer, who knew not only his father but Ellie's as well.

They were being raised to be family, they certainly fought like siblings, mostly after Dean stopped by for a visit when John wasn't keeping him busy on hunts.

And Dean spent more time with Ellie than him or vice versa, they fought constantly about it.

Both thought they were entitled to the time with him.

Him more than her because they were actually blood-related, and Ellie thought she was entitled to it because she knew that she was going to be Dean’s at the end of the day.

But maybe it was jealousy, but he couldn't understand why he was so jealous about it.

Was it the way Dean's face lit up when he saw Ellie coming down the stairs or climbing out of the car when he beat them home?

Or was it the quiet sighs, moans, grunts, and groans coming from behind Ellie’s closed bedroom door?

Maybe it was because he wished that he was the one that he was with her, having sex with her, sleeping in the same bed with her. And he knew that he shouldn't feel that way because of her being a family friend.

A girl that he was meant to see as a sister.

And who even said that she thought of him like that too?

"Dude, Sam, you got to tell us, what is the deal between you and Ellie?" One of the guys, Tim, asked, he had been one of the few boys brave enough to ask her out asked. "Nothing, she is just a family friend." He returned, 'Her mom was best friends with mine." Tim glanced at the other two boys and smirked "I mean if I grew up with a girl like that, I would take full advantage of it."

An unfamiliar course of anger went through him, he was used to Dean being the one that would get pissed on Ellie's behalf, but never him. "Don't talk about her like that man." He warned, "She is a sweet girl."

"Yeah, a sweet easy girl.'

"How would you know? From what I heard, she wouldn't let you go all the way?" Sam smirked, he had been the one that had been home when Ellie came storming into the house from her date with Tim, angry. More angry he had ever seen her and that was including when her maternal grandparents dumped her off at Bobby’s house without so much of a goodbye.

And he had heard all about it. “Ha, you have no idea what you are talking about.” Tim laughed nervously. “I don’t? Who do you think she talked to when you dropped her off? Me.” He returned as he hoisted his backpack up on his shoulder. “SAMMY!” Her voice called from the entranceway for the men’s locker room, “C’mon! Bobby is gonna be pissed if we are late, again.” The taller Winchester brother smirked and jerked the bag up one more time, “Coming Elle.”

“Not worth it Tim.” One of the boys said clapping his hand on Tim’s shoulder, ‘I have heard stories about what Sam’s brother Dean,” His older brother went to school with the older Winchester brother before he dropped out of school, “You think Sam’s reaction was bad, Dean’s would have been worst. I am surprised that she even agreed to go out with you in the first place. My brother.” The boy paused when they all heard Ellie’s laughter coming from the entranceway, followed by a “Sam! Put me down!”, “Went to school with Dean, there are two things in the world that he loves more than his car, and that’s his brother and Ellie.”

Tim coughed trying to get rid of the sudden lump of fear that formed in his throat, “Ain’t scared of no one.”

**

“You okay Sam?” Ellie Scott questioned as he pulled open the truck door for her. “Fine.” “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, what’s wrong?” He huffed as she climbed into the cab and settled into the middle of the bench seat. Her normal spot. “Nothin’,” “Let me guess then.’ She tapped her finger against her chin, “Tim said something about me being easy.’ His hand froze, keys halfway to the ignition. “Yeah, some of the girls were repeating them to me. They all seem to think that not only do I sleep with Dean but with you.” Sam covered up his surprise that she knew quickly, “What did you tell them?” “To shove up their scrawny asses. My relationships outside of school is none of their business. And if anyone is easy, it’s Brooke.”

Brooke was one of the girls on the cheer team that hated Ellie and always went out of her way to bully her. Ellie wasn’t like the rest of them, she was an orphan living with a family friend who owned a scrap yard and was known to be the town weirdo. And even the girl herself was weird, carrying a small pocket knife in her back jeans pocket and a flask of holy water. That wasn’t even going into the fact that she spoke Latin. Who knew Latin now a days?

“You know Dean.’ Sam started, glancing at her. “And Brooke, yeah.” She reached her fingers up and played with the end of her braid, “That’s why Dean hasn’t been back yet, and the verbal spat, I was just in.” “Why didn’t you start with that?” She shrugged her shoulders, “Already have Dean fighting my battles for me and I know you, Sammy, you would have jumped right in with it.” He went to volunteer that he wouldn’t have been but she was right, he would have rushed to her defense like he promised Dean he would. “Honestly, they are just words. They don’t know the truth and I am okay with that.”

[440mxs-wife]

Treasure Quest, Chapter 3: Meeting the Crew

Pairing: Captain Dean x Rhaya Payton (OFC, eventual) Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jack Kline, Gabriel, Arthur Ketch, Lucifer. Governor Darius Payton, Ashton Kane, Damon Sharpe (OMC’s). Carissa, Darcy, Captain Keira (OFC’s)

Word Count: 5057

Warnings: Arranged marriage, overbearing stepmother, scheming fiancé, Captain Dean is a bit less of a jerk to Rhaya, a pinch of misogyny if you squint, ruthless pirates, search for buried treasure.

Series Summary: Rhaya Payton is the daughter of the governor of Ochana. She grew up listening to her father tell her stories of pirates and treasure maps. At a gala one night, her stepmother, Carissa, announces Rhaya’s engagement to Ashton Kane, a wealthy nobleman. Only problem is, no one checked with Rhaya first. After overhearing plans made by her fiancé, Rhaya decides to go on the run and stows away on Captain Dean’s ship. What will happen when he finds her?

This Chapter: Rhaya is settling into her quarters, but there’s still some lingering tension between her and Captain Dean. Eventually, Rhaya meets the rest of the crew, befriending young Jack and embarrassing Gabriel. Meanwhile, back in Ochana, meetings are occurring between old friends and new enemies to discover Rhaya’s whereabouts. Will Captain Dean make it to his home port with Rhaya safely, or will they be intercepted by outside forces?

A/N: Thank you so much to whomever has discovered, liked, commented and reblogged this and any of my works. I am grateful for everyone’s support on here more than I can ever express.❤️ Special shout-out to @deanwanddamons and @deandreamernp for your lovely comments on this story, because it helps keep me going with it. Thank you and enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam and Bobby returned from showing Rhaya to her room, only to be met by Captain Dean waiting in the hallway, his arms folded across his chest. The men brushed past their captain on their return to the upper deck, while he fell into step behind them.

"Did you get the princess settled into her luxury suite?" Dean remarked sarcastically.

Though their captain couldn't see it, both men rolled their eyes at Dean's question. "Yes, she's probably unpacking right now. I told her we'd go back down a little later to bring her up on deck and introduce her to the crew," Bobby informed him as they walked.

"This ain't a pleasure cruise, Bobby, we are a cargo transport ship. We take stuff from Point A to Point B, and then we get paid for doing so. Sometimes we provide protection and act as an escort for other cargo ships going through dangerous waters. If we're not currently under contract--like now--we're trying to find The Shadow Pirate's treasure. And no one, least of all an overindulged--"

Bobby waited until they got nearer to the upper deck before rounding on Dean, his finger pointed in his captain's face. "Now you wait just a damn minute. Rhaya is the daughter of the top government official in a country we do business with from time to time. Yes, she stowed away on your ship, but she had her reasons. She's more than proven to you that she's not some wilting, delicate flower, so it would be in your best interest to cut her a break," Bobby retorted.

"Dean, you've made it abundantly clear that you don't like her," Sam pointed out. "She's definitely aware of it and was pretty upset about it when we left her. You haven't even tried to get to know her, you just assumed that she's like all the rest of the women you've met," he muttered.

"Fine. I will try to lay off with the snarky remarks towards her, as long as she stays out of the way," Dean conceded. "Will that make you two happy?"

Bobby's eyes turned skyward and muttered something under his breath about his captain being a stubborn idjit. By the time Dean caught on to what was said, Bobby had already made his way on deck and was supervising the crew.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Rhaya woke from her nap, she stretched her arms above her head. She reached for the small pendant watch her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday. Tears briefly sprung to her eyes when her fingers traced the inscription on the back. It was then that she realized how much she missed him. However, as homesick as she might be, there was no way she could go back and be married to Ashton. Her only hope was to find The Shadow Pirate's treasure to secure her own future and keep Ochana out of Ashton's and Carissa's direct control.

Rhaya dried her tears and went over to her bag to start unpacking some of her clothes and other items. She neatly folded the clothes and placed them in the chair in the corner of her room. Two spare pairs of boots were slid under the chair. Her robe and a hand-knitted cardigan from Darcy was draped over the back of the chair. Rhaya's favorite book was placed on top of the wooden crate serving as a makeshift nightstand next to her bed. One of the most important items she removed from the bag was the quilt from her bed at home, which was handmade by her mother.

The final item removed from the bag was the rolled-up piece of parchment she'd taken from her father's desk. She sat on the bed with her legs crossed under her and carefully smoothed out the map, trying to decipher it. Rhaya was so engrossed in her efforts that she didn't hear the knock on her door or notice it being opened.

"Hello? Miss Payton? It's me, Captain--" his greeting broke off when he saw the map on her bed. "What is that?" he whispered.

Rhaya looked up in alarm at the sound of the captain's voice but quickly schooled her expression. "It-it's just some old piece of paper I found in my father's desk. He's shown it to me many times, usually when he was telling me stories. It's nothing," she shrugged, trying to keep her voice even.

Captain Dean walked closer to where she was sitting as she tried to hurriedly roll up the paper. "May I see it, please?" he held his hand out. By his tone of voice, it was more of a command than a request. At first, Rhaya hesitated, then remembered that she was likely on thin ice with the captain. She realized it would be in her best interest to cooperate, at least for now, and reluctantly handed over the paper. "This is a map," he stated, with his eyes fixed on Rhaya.

"Yes, Captain, I'm aware of what it is," she replied wearily. "My father used to tell me bedtime stories of adventure on the high seas, with pirates and buried treasure. He would take out this map and use it to illustrate the story as he told it. As such, it holds a great deal of sentimental value to me, now may I have it back, please?" Rhaya asked, this time her hand was held out in expectation.

"This map is much more than a-a-a-prop for your bedtime stories, this is the real thing!" Dean exclaimed, his eyes dancing with excitement. "My father spent twenty years of his life on a crusade to find The Shadow Pirate's treasure. He died before he could complete his quest, so it fell to me, the oldest son to finish it. Now that I have this, I can fulfill my promise to him," Dean started to roll up the parchment and had turned to leave with it when Rhaya called out to the captain.

"Wait! Please! That map may be the fulfillment of a promise to your father, but it's what my fiancé is willing to kill me for!" she blurted out. "It's the only leverage I have against Ashton and his plans to get rid of me," she explained. "Captain, I know we didn't start off on the right foot, but there must be some way we can resolve this between us," she implored.

Dean stood in the doorway, with the map in one hand and his other pinching the bridge of his nose. He began to consider that Rhaya was telling the truth after all, that her fiancé really did want to kill her for the treasure of The Shadow Pirate. From the stories he'd heard about Lord Ashton Kane, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he would be capable of such an act.

"All right, here's the deal. We are headed towards our home port of Alcaria to drop off some supplies and to give the men time to see their families. Should take no more than a week or so to get there," Captain Dean explained.

"Okay, and then what?" Rhaya prompted.

"Well, this map is too important to both of us to be left laying around for anyone to find. For this reason, I will keep the map locked in my safe until we leave Alcaria. After that, we'll pick up the trail again for the treasure, using the map," Dean replied.

Rhaya jumped up from her bed and stood with her hands on her hips. "But-but it's my map! You wouldn't have anything if it wasn't for me! How exactly is it fair that you get to keep it in your room, in your safe??" she retorted.

Captain Dean strode over to Rhaya's position and stood nearly toe-to-toe with her. "Perhaps I should remind you that you are, as of this moment, a guest on board my ship. One I didn't intend to have. Anyone else caught stowing away would have at least been thrown in the brig. Or, taken to the nearest uninhabited area and left to fend for himself. I suggest you accept this deal and trust that I won't make any other 'alterations' to it," he declared.

Rhaya glared at the captain, trying to contain her anger while her eyes blazed with fury. The worst part was, he had a point about how she'd been treated thus far while onboard. He hadn't thrown her in the brig, made her walk the plank, or left her on a deserted island. All of those were options available to him as captain. She finally broke eye contact, finding the woodgrain in the floorboards extremely interesting. "Fine. Please keep the map locked in your safe in your room. Captain. With one request," she added.

Dean crossed his arms over his broad, muscular chest. "What is it?" he demanded.

"That we go after the treasure together, and whatever we find is split 50-50," Rhaya requested, at which Captain Dean scoffed. "We need each other and have our own reasons, our own motivations for pursuing this. If the legends of the treasure are true, then 50% will be more than enough to secure my future. One where I don't have to marry Ashton or anyone else unless it's my choice," she affirmed.

Dean still had his doubts that Rhaya had what it would take to follow the map to its ultimate payoff. However, after the skill she showed with her dagger and his hat, he thought that maybe he should give her the benefit of the doubt. "All right, you have a deal. A 50-50 split of whatever is at the end of that rainbow," he agreed.

Rhaya stuck her hand out for him to shake, spitting in it first. "I accept, Captain Dean."

Surprised, Dean spit in his own hand before shaking Rhaya's to seal the deal. Her face broke out into a brilliant smile at the turn of events. That smile could light up even the darkest of nights. Whoa, where did that come from? he thought. He cleared his throat and turned to leave again. "Well, guess I'll leave you to it," he muttered.

"Wait!" she called out. There was that damned word again, Dean muttered to himself. "Bobby said something about introducing me to the rest of the crew. Can I go up on deck with you so I can meet everyone?" Rhaya asked.

Dean hesitated, then nodded and stepped aside to allow Rhaya to precede him in walking from her room. "After you, princ--er, Miss Payton," he mumbled.

As she passed him, she caught his gaze and flashed him a smile. "Please call me Rhaya," she requested, to which he gave a swift nod.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After breakfast with the Lord Darius and Lady Carissa, Darcy returned to her room. She had heard bits and pieces of Damon Sharpe's communiqué with Lord Ashton's so-called "specialist". When she heard the name "Lucifer Morningstar", Darcy knew she had to send her own message to someone who could help Rhaya.

Fortunately, salvation came in the form of Rhaya's best friend, Keira, whose ship had just entered Ochana's harbor that morning. Keira was the current captain of The Aurora, with her all-female crew dubbed "The Sea Angels". Darcy couldn't think of a reason for The Aurora to be in port, unless Keira had somehow come back for Rhaya due to her engagement to Lord Ashton.

Keira and Rhaya had grown up together, with Keira allowed to attend the private tutoring sessions Lord Darius arranged for his daughter. After lessons, the two were sparring partners, practicing their hand-to-hand combat skills. Twice a week, the captain of the governor's guard, Connor, instructed Keira and Rhaya in the art of the blade.

Around six years ago, Keira left Ochana to travel and live a life full of adventure on the high seas. She landed on The Aurora by chance, working her way up the ranks. She eventually became its captain, inheriting the ship from the previous captain, Sydney "The Sparrow" Kelly.

A year after Keira left Ochana, she returned with The Aurora and her crew. She sneaked into the governor's mansion, then hid in Rhaya's room to wait and talk with her. When Rhaya walked in, Keira came out of hiding and the two friends embraced. Keira tried to convince her best friend to leave Ochana with her on the ship and travel the world. They would have real adventures, not just the ones Rhaya's father told them about in bedtime stories.

There was a part of Rhaya that desperately wanted to take Keira up on her offer, to experience life outside of Ochana. But Rhaya couldn't follow Keira and leave her father behind, especially when she didn't trust her new stepmother, Carissa. Too soon, it was time for Keira to get back to her ship. Before she left, Keira vowed that she would return to Ochana one day, and this time, she wouldn't leave without Rhaya.

Darcy was standing outside of Rhaya's room that night and was aware of Keira's visit and her promise. She knew that the bond between Rhaya and Keira went beyond friendship, and stretched into sisterhood. If Rhaya was in trouble, Darcy was certain that Keira would drop everything to be at Rhaya's side, as Rhaya would for Keira. If anyone can help Rhaya, Darcy thought confidently, it's Keira.

A hand clapped Darcy's shoulder from behind, while another covered her mouth to muffle any scream. "Ssh, it's only me," a voice whispered. Darcy visibly relaxed and when she turned, she was face-to-face with her solution, pulling her into a tight embrace. "So, what's my sister gone and done now?" Keira grinned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rhaya followed Captain Dean's directions, navigating the sometimes narrow passageways of the ship. Eventually they reached the daylight of the main deck, where Rhaya got her first real look at the activity occurring on the ship. The crew appeared to be engaging in leisure activities, with a few men in the corner playing cards. One or two of them were playing an instrument, while others were having a smoke and carrying on in a debate.

Over in another corner was a young man, whom Rhaya supposed was likely the youngest crew member. He had light brown hair, blue eyes and a slight gap between his top two front teeth. Under the toe of his left boot was a piece of paper laying on the deck, while his hands were looping and twisting around a thick stretch of rope.

Rhaya carefully approached the young man, not wanting to startle him. "Excuse me," she remarked softly. His head snapped up to see Rhaya's warm, coffee-colored eyes. "My name is Rhaya Payton. Is this seat taken?" she asked, pointing to the space next to him.

"Um, no, Miss, you can sit here. My name i-is Jack Kline," he stammered.

"It's nice to meet you, Jack," Rhaya beamed and stuck out her hand, which Jack shook in return. "May I ask what you're working on?"

"Oh, um, I'm learning how to tie knots. You know, so I can earn my keep here, do my part to help out. Gotta be ready at a moment's notice to secure the ship to the dock," Jack explained. "Only, I'm having trouble with this one kind of knot," he remarked, holding up the piece of paper. At that moment, a breath of wind caught the paper and whisked it out of his hand before Jack could catch it.

Seeing Jack hang his head in defeat nearly broke Rhaya's heart to witness. "Jack? I may be able to help you, if you can tell me which knot it was," she offered. He turned a skeptical eye towards Rhaya, who chuckled at his expression. "I know, I know, what does a girl know about tying knots, right?" she inquired and playfully rolled her eyes.

Jack nodded sheepishly. "Can you really help me?" he wondered.

"I'll let you in on a little secret Jack. My father was very open-minded about my education, and as such, he gave me free rein to learn anything anyone was willing to teach me. Therefore, I have quite a bit of knowledge of, shall we say, less than 'ladylike' subjects, including knots. Lend me your rope, please," she requested, holding out her hand.

Jack did as Rhaya asked, then told her what knot he was trying to master. She went through the motions and even showed Jack a couple of shortcuts, while still reaching the correct result. Then Rhaya unraveled the knot and watched as Jack attempted to follow her instructions. After a couple of wrong moves, he eventually caught on and was successful.

Little did she know that while she was explaining her methods, Captain Dean, Sam, and Gabriel were watching their interaction. Each man had different thoughts on the matter, with Sam appreciating Rhaya's patience and Captain Dean surprised yet again at her knowledge.

Gabriel, of course, had other thoughts of a somewhat less than honorable nature. He was pleased to hear that Rhaya would be staying on board for the time being. For this reason, Gabriel decided to interrupt the knot-tying lesson with Jack and crept over to where they were sitting.

Rhaya was in the middle of teaching Jack another knot when she felt a hand on her back, in the middle of her shoulder blades. She pivoted to her right, and swung her right arm out, sweeping someone's legs out from under him and dropping him to the deck. Rhaya quickly subdued her assailant by pressing down with her left knee into his torso and holding his left arm down. She withdrew her dagger from its holster and held the tip of the blade to the man's neck.

Sam's eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his mouth dropped open as he witnessed Gabriel being taken down. "Did you see that?" he whispered then elbowed his brother. "Oh my God, he didn't even see that coming!" Sam continued laughing, not noticing that Dean was no longer paying attention to him.

Meanwhile, Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him. Rhaya quickly and accurately assessed the situation, and her reaction was perfect. It amazed Dean how fluid her movements were in not only subduing her opponent but drawing her weapon. Each moment spent observing the governor's daughter added a layer of complexity to be appreciated by the captain. Dean smiled to himself before walking over to Rhaya to introduce her to the crew.

Gabriel held his hands up in surrender and flashed Rhaya what he thought was a winning smile. "Well, hello there, sweet cheeks," he chuckled. "Now that you've got me at your mercy, what're you gonna do with me?" he smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

Rhaya rolled her eyes at his suggestive tone and stood up to let Gabriel out of her hold. "Get over yourself, Gabriel. You're not as charming as you'd like to think you are," she muttered. Rhaya twirled her dagger in her hand before returning it to her thigh holster.

Dean fought back a smile as he heard Rhaya's zinging retort to Gabriel, surely designed to knock him down a peg or two. "All right, everyone, listen up. We have a visitor on board, who will be accompanying us on our journey home to Alcaria. Her name is Miss Rhaya Payton, daughter of Governor Darius Payton of Ochana," he announced. "She is to be treated with the utmost respect at all times. Any man daring to do otherwise will answer to me."

Rhaya's gaze shifted from man to man, smiling and nodding as each of them tipped his hat when Captain Dean stated his name. Sam was First Mate, or Quartermaster, second-in-command to the captain. Dr. Novak, or "Jimmy", was the physician on board, followed by Garth, who was in charge of the galley, while Benjamin, or "Benny" was the Master Gunner. Balthazar and Gabriel were the Boatswains, in charge of docking, anchoring and naval provisions.

Bobby was the most experienced member of the crew, having served under the ship’s first captain, John Winchester, while Jack was the least experienced. However, Rhaya could sense Jack's thirst for knowledge and of wanting to prove himself to his superior officers. She made Jack a silent promise to help him whenever and with whatever she could.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Thank you so much for coming, Keira, I'm so glad you're here. Last night, Lady Carissa announced Rhaya's engagement to Lord Ashton Kane. As you can imagine, Rhaya was less than pleased with the turn of events. When I went to wake her up this morning, she was already gone," Darcy explained.

At the mention of Lord Ashton Kane's name, Keira rolled her eyes in disgust. "Figures Carissa would do something like that. Anything to get Rhaya out of her way and exert her influence over Lord Darius," she muttered. "Do we have any idea where my sister is?" Keira asked.

Darcy shook her head. "I know of at least three ships in port that night. Lord Ashton's ship, The Dark Soul, which I'm sure we can guarantee she's not on that one," she chuckled, with Keira joining in. "The Moon Raider belongs to Lord Crowley, and then The Black Diamond, which belongs to Captain Dean Winchester," Darcy mentioned.

"Hmm. I know where the home port is for The Black Diamond, so I'll start there. If we leave now, we might even be able to intercept them and rescue Rhaya before they reach port," Keira affirmed. "You did the right thing by contacting me, Darcy. Please tell Lord Darius not to worry, we'll get Rhaya back for him, safe and sound," she promised. Darcy and Keira embraced one last time before going their separate ways, with one woman going to her ship and the other returning to the governor's mansion.

Unbeknownst to the two friends, one of The Savage Demons from Lucifer's crew had wandered outside the pub for some fresh air. Arthur Ketch, a deck hand for The Red Dragon, heard female voices around the corner, speculating on Rhaya's whereabouts. He was surprised to recognize Keira from his previous dealings with The Aurora. The other woman had to have close ties to Rhaya, perhaps as a member of the governor's staff, or possibly as her lady-in-waiting.

Ketch heard Darcy mention The Moon Raider and The Black Diamond, and how there was no way Rhaya was on The Dark Soul, Lord Ashton's ship. It was clear that Keira felt the best course of action was to follow Captain Winchester's trail. Ketch knew he had to report this information back to his captain. He waited until the two women embraced and parted ways before returning to pay his tab in the tavern.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a hearty meal and an evening of entertainment with music and dancing, Rhaya should have had no trouble falling asleep. Instead, she tossed and turned, unable to quiet her mind enough for it to allow her to slip into a restful state. If she were back in her room at the mansion, Rhaya's solution would have been to sneak downstairs to the library for something to read. Except that the books she brought with her were ones she'd read so many times that she could almost recite them word for word.

Rhaya picked up her robe from where it was draped across the back of the chair, and wrapped around her, tying the sash in front. In her bare feet, she carefully felt her way along the walls until she finally found the door that led to the main deck of the ship. She silently closed it behind her, then padded over to the rail to look out over the water.

The clear sky allowed for an unobstructed view of the full moon, which was surrounded by an endless array of twinkling stars. Back home, Rhaya was fascinated by the various constellations and the legendary stories behind them. Ever the seeker of knowledge, she devoured volumes on mythology and astronomy to help her identify the celestial configurations in the sky.

***

Dean held his pipe in his left hand while holding a match in his right hand to try and ignite the tobacco. He was about to strike the match on the bottom of his boot when he heard what sounded like singing. However, he shouldn't be hearing music, because everyone was supposed to be asleep. Then he saw her.

She stood at the rail, her head tilted back towards the heavens. Her strawberry blond hair cascaded down her back and seemed to take on a rosy glow in the moonlight. Eyes closed, she rocked from side to side on her feet, as if she was dancing with someone. She continued to hum to herself, while a soft smile graced her face. She was positively ethereal.

"Beautiful," Dean rasped out. He winced as he didn't mean to speak his thought out loud.

At the sound of Captain Dean's voice, the spell was broken, and Rhaya gasped sharply, her eyes flying open. "What?" she whispered as she turned around to face him. The whole time she was trying to calm her racing heart, which was doing its best to escape its cage.

Dean waved his hand skyward. "The stars, I mean. They're beautiful, aren't they? In all my years as a captain, I never get tired of this view," he remarked.

"Yes, they’re breathtaking,” she acknowledged. “I've always loved stargazing. Only, I'd have to get pretty far away from the manor and past the woods to see anything like this. I'm sure you can imagine how often that happens," Rhaya chuckled.

"What brings you up here now?" Captain Dean asked.

"Couldn't sleep. Thought with all the after-dinner entertainment that I'd fall right away, but no such luck. My brain has been running a mile a minute and won't slow down enough to let me get some rest," she replied. "That's why I thought coming up here would calm me down."

Dean hummed in agreement and moved to join Rhaya at the rail, his pipe forgotten for the moment. As captain, he was no stranger to difficulties with falling or even staying asleep. He regarded the young lady before him, who appeared so demure and vulnerable in the moonlight. A complete contrast to the woman who mere hours before had decisively taken down a member of his crew.

To Rhaya, his silence indicated that he'd rather be alone with his thoughts, and therefore chose to make a discreet exit. "Well, I should leave you to relax and enjoy your pipe. I'll return to my quarters and try again to get some sleep. Goodnight, Captain," Rhaya murmured. She pulled her robe more tightly around herself as she passed by where Dean was standing.

"W-Wait, Miss Payton!" Captain Dean called.

"Yes, Captain?" she responded, then turned to face him. An innocent blush appeared on her cheeks, almost as if she suddenly remembered she was only wearing a nightgown under her robe in his presence.

"Do you....um....do you know the legend behind any of the constellations up there?" Dean asked.

Rhaya smiled. Perhaps her earlier assessment was incorrect and instead, Dean wouldn't mind if she stayed to discuss astronomy with him. "It's one of my favorite subjects, Captain. What would you like to talk about?"

Dean returned her smile. "Well, for instance, as a captain, the most important constellation is Ursa Minor, or the Little Dipper," he began. "That's because it contains Polaris, or the North Star, which aids in navigation. If you can find that, you can find your way home," he stated.

Although she knew that, Rhaya was enjoying her conversation with Captain Dean. His reluctance to let her leave his side indicated a lowering of his guard just enough to show her a bit of the man behind the captain's rank. "That’s good to know. What else can you tell me?" she prompted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ketch returned to The Red Dragon and closed out his tab at the pub. Most of the crew were otherwise engaged in drinking, wenching or a combination of the two. As soon as he was back on board, he searched the ship to find the captain and speak with him. It was imperative to share what he'd heard about Rhaya's whereabouts before her distance from Ochana grew too great.

His search for Lucifer began in the captain's quarters. Ketch knocked on the door and opened it when granted entrance. "Excuse me, captain, but I may have information regarding the whereabouts of Lord Ashton's wayward fiancée," Ketch remarked, then waited for Lucifer's response.

Lucifer had been examining a collection of charts and maps, trying to pinpoint Rhaya's location with the information at hand. Tracking down a runaway bride-to-be was not exactly part of his list of services. If a groom couldn't hold onto his woman, that was his problem. But in this case, there was a reward of 50,000 gold pieces at stake. And that was something Lucifer could not easily afford to dismiss. "Well? What did you find out?"

Ketch explained how he'd overheard Darcy and Keira talking about Rhaya's disappearance, and where they thought she might be. "Captain Keira indicated that she would set sail for Alcaria, home port of The Black Diamond," he replied.

Lucifer abandoned the charts on his table and leaned back in his chair. "The Black Diamond, hmm?" he pondered. "And her captain is none other than Dean Winchester. He and I go way back, to the time of his father, John Winchester. John and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on things, hence why I left his employment. Now that I've got my own ship, my own crew, as captain, I get to do things my way," he affirmed.

"Shall I go back to town and fetch the rest of the crew, captain?" Ketch asked.

"Unless you want to be solely responsible for all duties on this ship, I suggest you get the crew back to the ship. I want to shove off for Alcaria within the hour," Lucifer retorted. "Anyone not onboard by then will be left behind."

Ketch clicked the heels of his boots together, bowed to his captain and took his leave. Lucifer's thoughts settled on what it will be like to see The Black Diamond and her crew again. Last he knew, Dean was named captain after John passed away, while brother Sam was his second-in-command.

There certainly wasn't any love lost between Lucifer and the Winchesters, or even Bobby Singer and the rest of the crew, for that matter. However, this was no time to dwell on the past or to settle old scores. This was strictly a business matter--find Rhaya and return her to Lord Ashton. After that, collect the reward money, and be back out to sea. I will not allow Captain Dean Winchester or anyone else to get in my way, he vowed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@janicho88​ @yourelivingwrong​ @akshi8278​ @magssteenkamp​ @lyarr24​ @hobby27​ @deanwanddamons​ @jessica-noel94​ @jensengirl83​ @wayward-dreamer​ @idreamofplaid​ @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @ejlovespie​ @deandreamernp​​ @emoryhemsworth​ @never--doubt​ @winchest09​ @watermelonlipstick​ @makeadealwithdean​ @krazykelly​ @imherefordeanandbones​ @rooweighton​ @colereads​ @soaringeag1e​ @sams-sass​ @phoenixisred​

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Swap My Life

Swap My Life https://ift.tt/3vuGfY8 by subzeroflame1216 This Week on Swap My Life! The Winchesters are a fun loving, horse ranch owning, country living family in Texas. With three kids, two huskies, a German Shepard, among others, the ranch is a busy place. Hard work is important but their kids have the run of the ranch because kids should be kids as long as they can be. Dean works long hours leaving his wife Lisa to manage the house and kids alone. Their open door policy leaves them with a revolving door of visitors popping in and out throughout the day, not always at the best times for Lisa. The Winchesters are swapping with The Novaks. Castiel and Hannah started their tech company right out of college, building it into the most formidable force in the industry to date. The Novaks employ a team, overseen by Hannah, to help them keep everything running smoothly including a family stylist and personal chef. Their six year old twins, Jack and Claire, spend days with the nanny as well as a STEM tutor Hannah had picked out since their first ultrasound! Their housekeepers keep their Chicago loft sparkling, just like Hannah prefers for it to be. Will this end in a disaster or will both families come away from this experience with more than they ever could have hoped for? Words: 11517, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Mary Winchester, Lisa Braeden, Emma (Supernatural: Slice Girls), Ben Braeden, Jack Kline, Claire Novak, Bobby Singer (Supernatural), Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, John Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Bobby John (Supernatural: Two and a Half Men) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reality TV, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Closeted Castiel (Supernatural), Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Minor Castiel/Hannah (Supernatural), Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Getting to Know Each Other, Pining, Mutual Pining, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Happy Ending, Horse Ranch Owner Dean, CEO Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/wM2jnVE February 09, 2024 at 09:07PM

[lboogie1906]

Barbara Ann “Bobbi” Humphrey (April 25, 1950) is a jazz flutist and singer who plays jazz fusion, funk, and soul-jazz. She has recorded twelve albums and founded the jazz label Paradise Sounds Records. In 1971, she was the first woman instrumentalist signed by Blue Note.

She was born in Marlin, Texas, and raised in Dallas. She graduated from Lincoln High School. Her flute education included classical and jazz in high school. She continued her studies at Texas Southern University and Southern Methodist University. Dizzy Gillespie saw her play at a talent contest at Southern Methodist and inspired her to pursue a music career in New York City. She followed his advice, moving to New York and getting her first break performing at the Apollo Theater on Amateur Night.

She was signed by George Butler to Blue Note. She began playing regularly throughout the city, including joining Herbie Mann on stage in Central Park and an impromptu performance on The Tonight Show. She was asked to join the final band of trumpeter Lee Morgan, performing on his last Blue Note album. Morgan contributed her first album, Flute In.

She has played with Duke Ellington and George Benson. Benson and she were guest musicians on Stevie Wonder’s single “Another Star” from his Songs in the Key of Life album. She was named Best Female Instrumentalist by Billboard magazine.

She has played at the Apollo Theatre, Hollywood Bowl, Carnegie Hall, Montreux Jazz Festival, and Russian River Jazz Festival.

She did not see much of her Blue Note albums’ financial success. She moved into the business side of the music industry. She incorporated Innovative Artist Management as well as a publishing business, The Bobbi Humphrey Music Company, which signed an agreement with Warner Bros. She brought Tevin Campbell into the music industry and was involved in his negotiations with Warner Bros. She started her label, Paradise Sounds Records, releasing Passion Flute.

Her work, Blacks and Blues, has been sampled by Eric B. & Rakim, Grand Puba, Digable Planets, Mobb Deep, Ludacris, and Ice-T. Common invited her to play on his album Electric Circus. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence