#these moments when dean tries so hard to reach out -- bc he thinks it's what sam needs/wants! -- and gets shot down

[redmyeyes]

one brotherlook per ep -> 6x03 ❝ The Third Man ❞

[fangirlshrieks]

Spring Break part 3

a/n: 😁Thank you all for liking my story!!! I honestly didn't expect this many people to read it. 🥰 I originally wrote this because I was on spring break and now that my spring break is over here is the last part. This has really been fun for me and am glad so many of you enjoyed it. I really want to expand on this story (bc in my head it's a continuous story from y/n' years at hogwarts) but I don't know if I will have time with school. I really hope you all enjoy the last part.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Word count: 5,835

Pairings: Neville Longbottom x female reader

Warnings: smut!, fluff!, oral sex (male and female receiving), mentions of plant boy's insecurities, kind of dom!reader and sub!Neville at the end (idk I saw the opportunity and took it; plus that's my favorite trope), Neville loses his virginity, nonvirgin reader, awkward sex

You quickly turned off the shower, while Neville slid the glass door open so you could exit. 

He grabbed a towel and handed it to you. He grabbed one for himself and tried to dry off as fast as possible. He didn't properly dry off as his hair was still damp and there were some streaks of water left on his body. You quickly brushed out your tangles and realized your hair might be really damp. You then dried your body. He waited until you were done, awkwardly standing by the entrance of the bathroom not knowing if he should cover himself or not. Then a wave of emotions hit him as he realized what was about to happen. He was aroused, scared, happy, embarrassed, and felt utterly in love for you. The look on his face clearly showed how overwhelmed he felt.

When you were finally done drying yourself you grabbed his hand to lead him to the bed. You eyed him up and down, lingering a little longer on his hardened dick. You felt yourself growing hot by the second. Then you noticed his heavy breathing and tense stance. Despite your urge to push him on the bed and have your way with him, you wanted to make sure that he was ok with this.

"Neville, are you sure about this?" You gave him a small smile that was tinted with understanding and concern.

"What are you talking about? Of course I do." He said a little shaky. "Do.. do you not want to do this?"

"Oh I absolutely want to do this. I've wanted to have sex with you for a long time." You admitted bashfully. "I just wanted to know if you're Ok with me taking your virginity." You loved Neville but you didn't want to rush him into anything he didn't want to do. After you decided to lose your virginity to your first boyfriend, you regretted it ever since. You had felt you gave it to the wrong person. It was only fair that you let Neville make his decision, even if it was not what you wanted. You lifted your hand to caress his cheek. "That's all."

At that moment he felt so much love and compassion for you. He felt so lucky to actually have someone who cared for his well being.

"You're the only person I would trust with it." And with that he leaned down for a kiss. That same passion that was felt in the shower was resumed. He rested his hands on your hips. He was still cold but every place that you touched him he slowly began to warm up. You slithered your hands around his waist, pulling his pelvis close to yours. He slowly moved his hands from your hips to your bum, grabbing desperately. The back of your knees hit the bed and you fell on your back, pulling him down with you. 

You spread your knees apart intending to wrap your legs around him but your sudden movement caused him to stumble. He instead crushed your thigh with his knee to catch himself but he still fell. He landed on the bed right next to you with his left arm trapped under you. 

"Achh!" You squeaked as he crushed your thigh. You moved his leg off your thigh and sat up quickly to release him from under you. 

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry." He panicked and scooted away from you. 

You responded with a small laugh and moved closer to him. You looked at him with a crooked smile. "Neville I'm fine. It didn't hurt that much, I promise." You gave him a goofy smile and he eventually laughed along with you. 

"I might not know what I am doing." He took this as a time to confess his inner worries. 

"Nobody ever does their first time." You cupped his cheek with your hand. "But I'll help you." 

You place your hands on top of his and soothed them. You brought them up to your lips and kissed each one of his knuckles. The sight in front of him made his cock twitch. When you were done, you leaned over for another hot and steamy kiss. 

The two of you made your way to the headboard of the bed and pulled back the covers. Neville remembered about needing a condom and broke the kiss. He seemed embarrassed but you didn't know why.

"Is everything alright?" You placed your hands on his cheeks and rubbed your thumb gently on his bottom lip.

"I uh…" he swallowed loudly, and gave you a sappy smile. "Well I need to get something." He said as he made his way to the bedside dresser. He opened the drawer where he had left the condoms. Now sitting at the side of the bed he ripped open the small wrapper. Wondering what he was doing you peaked over his shoulder.

"You brought condoms on your trip to the lake?" You said teasingly resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him. "So I wasn't the only one making plans?" You raised your eyebrow at him.

"I swear I wasn't planning this! Seamus and Dean gave them to me as a joke, but I never thought I would get to use them." His brows furrowed in worry, about how you would react to this, but was met with a surprising smirk. 

"Well I think I will have to say thank you the next time I see them." You let out a small laugh. "Do you need help putting it on?" 

"Yes please." He sheepishly said handing you the condom. His face was completely red as you moved in front of kneeling. Given your position you decided to wait on the condom. You placed it on the bedside dresser for later.

"What are you doing?" He looked at you confused and a little worried that you had put the condom down.

"I want to make you feel good without it first." You said rubbing your hands up and down his thighs making him shiver. "Is that ok?"

He squeaked out a small yes and you smiled up at him. You instructed him to move his legs more open by pushing his knees apart and he easily followed your command. You grabbed the base of his cock causing him to moan. You pumped slowly for a few seconds before dragging your tongue from the base to the tip, kissing the tip and slowly bringing it into your mouth. His moans got caught in the back of his throat and he made a high pitched noise that made you wet. Having the power of making those noises come out of him made you love him more. You made sure to keep your eyes on his face to take in his reactions. He was a shade of bright pink, his mouth gaped open, eyes shut, and sounds that may have been moans coming out of his mouth. His chest lifting up and down as his breathing quickened. You thought he looked absolutely beautiful. There was a familiar feeling in your lower belly and you could feel yourself dripping. You desperately wanted to have your way with him but you wanted to make his first time special and play with him as much as you could before getting to the good stuff.

He was propping himself up with his hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. The way you rolled your tongue around the tip of his cock and pumped the rest was too much for him. With the way you were working him he thought he was about to bust soon. Your other hand made its way to fondle his balls. He let out a mewl and whined when you squeezed them a little. The sensation made his left arm give out. He was now on his back letting his head fall back and out of sight. You stopped immediately.

"Neville, baby, I want to see your face." Your seductive tone surprised him. He looked back at you embarrassed but he did as you asked. He supported himself on his elbows and tried to keep his face towards you.

"There there" you cooed, rubbing circles on the insides of his thighs. His legs were shaking uncontrollably and his cock spasmed on his stomach.

Uhh, It truly was a sight for sore eyes. 

You continue working on him. Taking him in your mouth again, you hollowed your cheeks and went a bit faster than before. You moaned and the vibrations sent him over the edge. It wasn't long before you felt his thighs flex as he began to reach his climax. He shut his eyes tightly as a cry of relief came out of his mouth and he came without warning. You swallowed all of him enjoying the feeling of his cum running down your throat. 

Barely comprehending what had just happened his eyes shot open and he looked down at you in the place between his legs. 

"I'm sorry I should have said something." He wondered if you even enjoyed swallowing his cum and a bit embarrassed about cumming so quickly and in your mouth.

"It's Ok, I liked it." You said wiping off a bit of seamen from your lower lip. It was enough to get him hard again despite his recent orgasm.

You got up and climbed in bed with him. You weren't done just yet. You rested your back on the pillows and he sat up sitting on the edge of the bed. You motioned with your finger for him to come towards you. He eagerly obeyed sitting on his knees right in front of you. You pulled him in for a passionate kiss spreading your legs so he could be closer to you. You teasingly bit down on his bottom lip and he sighed with content. You traced your tongue across his lips and he slowly opened his mouth for you. His mouth was warm and his tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned as your tongues danced with one another. You ran your hands in his hair and down his chest. You could feel his heart beating just as fast as yours. He didn't know where to place his hands and he hesitantly decided to place them on your hips. You were not satisfied with his hand placement and slowly led them to cup both your breasts. 

The feeling of his hands on your soft tissue made you gasp into the kiss. His blush was now spread from his face all the way to his shoulders. He messaged them gently as he had in the shower and squeezed them. His thumbs passed your nipples sending an electric sensation straight to your core. The bud was now hard. The kiss became more sloppy and you moved to kiss along his jaw. You sucked lightly at the skin, careful to not leave any evidence for his grandmother to see. You came across a sensitive spot and he mewled into your ear. You slithered your hand between the two of you and grabbed his dick. 

Neville was caught off guard by your actions and almost collapsed on top of you. His hands froze in a groping position around your breasts as he tried to compose himself as your thumb went over his tip. He tried to continue fondling your boobs as much as possible without getting distracted by the slow pace of your hand. He wanted to please you as you were pleasing him. He lightly rolled your nipples between his fingers and you let out a whine. 

You kissed along his jaw, making your way to his ear. You sucked on his earlobe for a bit before dragging your tongue on the shell of his ear making him shiver.

"I want you to use your mouth." You whispered.

You could feel his erection twitch in your hand as you spoke. He responded in a sort of whimper as you let go of his cock. Also because it was as if you had read his mind finally gave him permission to live out his fantasy of sucking on your tits like a baby. He had never felt so turned on in his life. He was absolutely ecstatic that you were telling him what to do and taking control of the situation. He honestly wouldn't know what to do with himself if you weren't telling him what to do. He secretly hoped it would be this way in the future.

He trailed hot, wet, kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, and finally to your breast. He naturally brought his mouth over your nipple and sucked gently while kneading your other breast with his free hand. 

"Uhh Nev…" you sighed while arching your back. 

Your sigh of content encouraged him even more. He bit your nipple gently testing to see how you would react. 

"Fuck… Neville" You breathed.

Your words were pushing him towards the edge again. He kissed his way to your previously ignored breast and sucked at the nipple. He loved how soft they were to the touch. 

Your hands ran through his hair and you pulled desperately at his brown curls. Your moans now filled the room. You felt yourself become more and more desperate for him to fill you. Pulling him completely away from your breast you sat up. He looked at you as if he had done something wrong.

"Di… did you not?" He didn't ask a complete question but you understood his meaning.

"Oh no, I definitely enjoyed it." Reassuring him. "I just thought now would be a good time to put on that condom." You said giving him a cheeky grin, looking at his cock which was standing proud in between the two of you. 

He squirmed under your gaze laughing nervously and looked down as he tried to avoid eye contact. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek before you leaned over to the side of the bed and reached for the condom that you had left on the stand and returned to your previous position.

"Are you ready?" You said with a smirk on your face. Neville nodded a yes and with that you grabbed his cock stroking it up and down to get him a bit harder. 

The feeling of your hands around him again was too much for him so he rested his head on your shoulder moaning your name and placed his hands on your hips for support. His lips moved to your neck sucking the skin lightly.

You let go of his cock making him whine at the loss of contact. You gave your attention to the little rubber thing that was to protect you from getting pregnant. You pinched the top allowing room for his seaman, placed it over his tip and rolled the condom on him. Once you were all done you kissed his forehead. 

"It's on." You whispered in his ear. 

"Ok…. Ok…" his whispered back. His breathing became more erratic and his hands seemed to shake more. You laid down fully on your back and smiled up at him.

He moved back a bit so he could finally see in between your legs. The sight made him beam with love, feeling special that you were showing him your most private parts. Neville's eyes grew dark and needing as he saw just how wet you were for him. However, he was not familiar with the female anatomy and all its workings. It was not as if Hogwarts had any health classes and his grandmother certainly never told him about the birds and the bees. What he knew about the female sex, he learned from his friends and the playboys that Dean and Seamus somehow managed to get their hands on in the muggle world bringing them with them to Hogwarts to show off. Plus this was the 90s and owning a television was not common in the wizarding world nor had websites for porn had been invented yet.

He rubbed up and down your thighs, making you shiver. He then leaned over you supporting himself on his elbows. He pushed forward slowly hoping to get lucky and his tip accidentally rubbed against your clit making you gasp. Confusion was written all over his face making him burn with embarrassment.

"Uhh…" he gave you a nervous laugh. "Where do I put it in?" 

"Oh right" you felt your cheeks heat up at his question. You both sat up.

"Ok let me see" you said. 

You grabbed his hips and tried to align them correctly but his movements were stiff. 

"Wait where do you want me to be?" He asked in a giggly voice. 

"I need you to move down a bit." Your own nervous laugh escaped your lips.

He did as you asked. His cock now hovered over your entrance. You grabbed it, causing him to squirm a bit from your touch. You tried to align his cock with your leaking pussy but you were too far apart. 

"Come a little closer." You command. 

You both were focused on looking down at your positioning neither of you noticed how close your heads were and as he moved closer to you, your foreheads bumped together.

"Owe!" 

"Ahh"

The incident made your both roar with laughter. He rubbed your forehead and immediately apologized.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry. Are you ok?"

You responded in more laughter. "Yes I'm fine." 

"I told you I don't know what I'm doing." He chuckled. 

"This isn't working." You were talking about the position but he misunderstood, thinking you had lost interest in him.

"Oh…" he sounded hurt. "I'm sorry." His voice was barely even a whisper and his eyebrows furrowed again. He scooted further back from you. You instantly cupped his head and made him look at you.

"Oh no. I… I meant the position." You kissed both of his cheeks to comfort him. "You're doing amazing right now. Just absolutely brilliant." 

"Are you sure? You know you can tell me the truth, right?" He searched your face for any hints to see if you wanted to stop. He placed his hands over yours and rubbed his thumbs against your knuckles.

"I'm sure." You said leaning in for a kiss. 

You both smiled into the kiss. When you broke the kiss you looked into his doe eyes. You shared a laugh together before you spoke up.

"Let’s switch positions." You suggest.

"Ok." He quickly got up and rested his back against the headboard.

"I think you should lay down this time." You said biting your lips.

He smiled nervously as he slid down resting his head on the pillows. He felt a bit vulnerable with his dick springing up on his stomach having you stare so keenly. But he enjoyed it all too much.

On the other hand, having him sprawled out on the bed just for you, had awakened something in you. A rush of power flowed through your veins as you watched his beautiful body. His chest went up and down erratically as you moved to straddle his legs. Your hands moved up his thigh and you stroked his cock just to see him squirm. Then you moved forward and lifted yourself on your knees just above his throbbing dick and aligning it with your slick pussy.

He intently watched you as you easily slid yourself on to him. He made a choking noise and gripped tightly on your hips as you slid further down. 

"Ah… ohhh…. y/n" was all that came out of his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned his head further into the pillow. 

The immense pleasure that took over his body was enough to make him cum right then and there but he waited, wanting to take in the feeling of you around him. The feeling of your walls stretching for him was enough for him to be content for a lifetime.

"Oh Nev…" you moaned at the feeling of him filling you. You sat still for a moment getting used to the feeling of him. He was bigger than you were used to but it made it all the more arousing. Once you were adjusted you rock your hips in a circle, just to get him started. 

A whine escaped his lips as you teased him with your slow movements and he looked up at you with pleading eyes. You leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips and started to bounce. The sound of the raindrops tapping against the windows hardly drowned out Neville's and your moans.

"Oooohh fuck…Y/N" Neville said a little breathy. His eyebrows scrunched together and his mouth was agape as you moved faster. He couldn't help but buck up into you. A familiar feeling bubbled inside him as he reached closer to his climax. A few seconds later Neville jerked violently and cried out your name, arching his back to be further in you. 

You found the face he made as he came adorable and just so intoxicating. You hoped that you would be seeing more of that expression in your future. You bounced on his cock to help him fall from his high. It took less than a minute to make Neville cum. You were honestly proud of yourself that you were able to make your boyfriend cum in less than a minute, twice.

Once he calmed down you kept yourself on him and leaned down to rest on his chest. He looked up at you with a dazed expression. His face and chest were a shade of pink. You loved that shade on him. 

"I love you." He breathed. His eyes were half closed and he gave you a crooked smile.

"I'm your forever." You whispered back to him. There was a moment when you just admired his facial features. You watch as his breathing slowed and he relaxed. The rain had gotten more harsh outside and there was a clap of thunder. It was very hypnotic and made him sleepy. You noticed his brow furrow as he regained awareness of his surroundings. 

"Did you finish?" He asked, a little embarrassed. He already knew the answer but asked anyway.

You shook your head. "No, it usually takes a little more than just penetration. Well, at least until you can last long enough for me to finish." You teased. 

He covered his face and groaned with embarrassment. You giggled at his reaction and went to grab his hands and pull them away from his gorgeous face. You placed them so they lay flat on his chest and peaked his lips. "I take that as a compliment by the way." You reassure him. 

"Then can you teach me how to make you finish?" He shrunk himself into the pillow to hide himself. You found his bashfulness cute. You wiggled your hips in excitement which caused him to groan. 

"I thought you'd never ask." You sat up and got off of him. 

He mewled the loss of feeling you around him. He sat up as well and took the condom off and threw it in the little trash can by his bed. He returned to give you a kiss on the lips. You pulled him on top of you, wrapped your legs around his waist, and laid down. You pulled away from the kiss and cupped his face with your hands.

"I need you to move down for me." Your seductive tone returned again making his mouth start to water. 

You held onto his hair, guiding him down your body until he was face to face with your vagina. He swallowed hard and released a breath he didn't know he was holding. You spread your legs wider showing him how wet you had become from him. Neville honestly loved the view he had of you from where he was. He rubbed his hands on the insides of your thighs making you sigh with pleasure. He still had no idea how or where to please you. 

"Can you show me where?" He looked up at you with a shy smile. 

"Of course" you whispered back to him. You sat up and grabbed one of his hands that were on your thigh. His hand was shaking the closer you pulled it towards your entrance.

"This is where I just had your dick in me." You smiled devilishly at his facing turning a shade brighter. His hand quivered hovering over the area. 

"And this is what you have to play with." You said placing his index finger right on your clit. You tilted your head back and released a moan from your mouth. You had been longing for some kind of stimulation and release. You let go of his hand but he kept his finger right on your clit, gently going over it with his finger. His bottom lip quivered as he brushed his fingers over your labia. He seemed to be memorizing the shape and took a mental picture. He felt the urge to kiss your inner lips and explore the area with his tongue. He gulped one more time to clear his throat.

"Can I kiss you here?" He asked, avoiding eye contact. 

You don't know what came over you but you wanted him to ask you again, this time you wanted him to look you in the eyes. You grabbed his jaw and forced him to look up at you. He looked confused and worried that he did something wrong and had upset you. You rubbed your thumb over his top lip and dragged it down to his bottom lip. You rubbed your thumb across his bottom lip and pushed it down so his mouth was now open. You stuck your thumb in his mouth and gently placed it on the top of his wet, hot, tongue. His heart raced in his chest and his dick twitch at the way you completely had a hold of him. 

"You want to eat my pussy and make me feel good?" You cooed. 

He didn't know where all of this was coming from or why you had stepped into this role but he was all for it. He was more than happy to let you take control any day. It made him relax knowing that you pulled the reins . It was less stressful for him to just follow orders than to come up with what to do next. 

Neville nodded a yes but that wasn't good enough for you.

"Say it." You said in a stern and low tone. 

"Huh?" Your thumb was still in his mouth and he didn't know how he would speak. He assumed you would take your thumb out but you didn't. Drool began to fall from the sides of his mouth and color spread all over his face. 

"Say it and look me in the eyes." You repeated. Your tone was harsher than before.

A shiver ran down his spine as he painfully made eye contact with you. "I… wont tu... eat you... poohy an make… you feel goo…" With his tongue restricted by your thumb his words were barely recognizable. There was a puddle of drool on the sheets under his chin. He looked terribly embarrassed but the moving of his hips on the bed told you otherwise. He spoke one last word. "Please?" He asked. 

"Of course my love." You replied in the same cold tone. You took your thumb out of his mouth and pushed his head slowly towards your vagina. 

Neville's eyes widened as his mouth made contact with your inner lips. Your moans filled the room as Neville began licking from your entrance to your clit. The silva that had gathered in his mouth from before helped as a lubricant and made you even more slick. He continued lapping large strokes across your entrance. His hands wrapped under you pushing you closer to him. The feeling shocked you to your core. You laid yourself on your back again and gripped his curly brown hair. You pushed his face closer to your clit to grind yourself on him. Neville began sticking his tongue in you as far as he could. Sticking it in and out and in and out.

"Fuck Nev…" you moaned his name. 

Hearing you call his name caused him to groan. He not so discreetly started humping the bed sheets chasing his third orgasm of the night. He slithered his right hand towards your entrance again and replaced his tongue with his middle finger. His tongue moved towards your clit. The feeling of you squeezing around him overwhelmed him. The idea of being between your legs forever sent him into overdrive and he humped the sheets faster until he came. He moaned around your clit causing your legs to shake. His whole body shook, including his hand which curled as it twitched.

"Nev…" you called as his finger hit that sensitive stop inside you. "Fuck… curl… curl your finger right there." You instructed. 

He did as you said and caused an electric sensation throughout your body. He kept hitting that same spot over and over again with his finger. His tongue continued to lap circles around your clit, sending a shiver down your spine. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his head, trapping him between your legs. Your thighs squeezed his cheeks together making it difficult for him to continue licking you, so he settled on sucking your sensitive bud. You grinded on his face even harder and tightened your grip on his hair. He hummed around your clit and the vibrations sent a warm, fuzzy, and familiar feeling in your lower belly. You looked down at Neville, whose eyes were half closed from his recent high. He slobbered all over you as his mouth continued to salivate from the way you tasted. His finger was still inside you, but you want to feel more of him.

"Nev… put… put another finger…." You were breathless at this point from trying to chase your orgasm. He slid his index finger in you stretching you more. You arched your back at the sensation. His movements had become slower in almost a teasing way. You were not sure if he did this on purpose or not, but whatever the reason you needed him to go faster. 

"Fuck Nev… faster" your cried.

He responded by fucking his fingers in you at a rapid pace. He also tried sticking his tongue in with his fingers. He fucked his tongue and fingers in you desperate to hear you cry out his name again. You thought you heard him whimper your name slightly as he took his tongue out of you. He came back to suck on your clit harder than before. Your thighs shook around his head and your breathing became erratic. You grind yourself up against his face and pulled on his hair causing him to moan your name. That was enough to push you over the edge. You felt your whole body tremble as you came.

"Oh Nev… " you screamed. You arched you back as you came all over his fingers. 

He took his fingers out of you and sucked your cum off of them. When he was done he returned to clean you of your juices with his tongue. 

"Oh god, Neville" You breathed. 

Neville stopped, tilted his head to the side, and rested his head on you. His breathing was hitched as you still had your legs wrapped around him. He didn't mind preferring to have your legs around him than not having your legs around him. He kissed your thigh lovingly.

You brushed your fingers through his soft hair and noticed how tired he was from cumming so many times. You released him from your grip and spread your legs. He stayed in the place between your legs. You looked down at him and smiled to yourself. 

"Did you cum?" You asked teasingly. 

He nodded his head. "Yeah" he breathed. "You're just so hot." He looked up at you with hooded eyes and a crooked smile. He seemed much more relaxed than he ever had before. You stroked his cheek lovingly. 

"Come here." You said. 

He started to crawl further up. He brought the covers over the two of you and rested his head on your chest wrapping his arms around you, gently placing his hips back down on the sheets. He let out a cry from how sensitive his nether regions had become. You thought you heard him make a quiet hissing noise as he shifted above you. During his private maturation sessions, he usually only ever came once. Now having came 3 times in a short amount of time made him tender. 

"Shh… It will be alright." You scratched the back of his head with one hand and traced your nails on his back with the other. The sound of your heart beat was like a lullaby to his ears as he snuggled close to you and he became more drowsy. 

"I love you." You whispered to him.

"I love you." He repeated back to you in a sleepy voice.

The room fell quiet and all that could be heard was the tapping sounds of rain drops from outside. Then you remember your clothes that you had left out on the porch. You also looked at the bedsheets that were a little messy from all the cum and sweat that had gotten on them from your activities with Neville. You would need to wash them.

"Hey Nev." 

"Yeah." He said heavy-eyed.

"I think we better get our clothes from outside and change before your grandmother gets back don't you think." 

He lifted his head and looked at the clock on his bedside dresser. It was about 3:20 pm. He groaned as he buried his head back into your breasts. 

"It's barely three o'clock. Can we just stay like this for a couple hours. Gran said she wouldn't be home until eight." He hugged you tighter, not letting you escape from under him. You laughed at his childish tone and stroked his hair. 

"Ok. Maybe one hour. Then we have to clean up so they don't suspect anything." You secretly hoped it would last longer. You loved the feeling of having skin to skin contact with Neville.

"One hour. " He yawned, shutting his eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

You were not so tired so you just watched him sleep. He truly was beautiful. You felt a fuzzy feeling in your heart grow and you imagined what a future with him would be like. You smiled to yourself at the image you created in your head. Picnics on Sunday afternoons, a garden full of all his favorite plants, and a cozy little cottage the two of you would share in the countryside.  You listened to his soft breathing as he slept and kissed his forehead. 

"Sleep tight."

[dean-coded-john-girl]

thinking about a version of john who maybe sought out relaxation and/or an escape in weed during vietnam, and never really had to drop it completely bc mary’s hippie van wanting ass definitely didn’t care. after mary’s death, john smoked less frequently because it brought up thoughts of her, and alcohol had his full attention for the time being. but when dean is 17, and back from his first solo hunt, and is clearly having an anxiety attack, john has some on him. and he thinks that maybe the kid could use the help coming down from this. or at least a distraction.

dean is sort of just anxiously rambling to him about the hunt at this point, so he just cuts him off. “hey i’ll be right back. stay here.” so he walks off to ruffle through his bag to get it. dean’s eyes widen a bit when he sees what john has, but john just sighs. “c’mon.” he leads the way out onto the balcony of the slightly nicer hotel room they’re staying in (he figured the hunt would affect dean at least a little bit, so there was no harm in splurging on the extra comfort and security) and takes the only seat at the tiny ass table that’s out there to roll them a joint. dean is standing in the doorway awkwardly, beneath the motion activated light that illuminates the balcony in the night. still breathing a little hard and his eyes flicking around nervously. but his gaze eventually focuses on the motion of john’s hands. anyone else would think that maybe he was trying to remember this for future reference. but between dean and god, he was really just interested in the familiar sight of his dad’s steady fingers.

john brings the joint up to his mouth, and inhales as he lights up with a black bic. he holds for a moment, then exhales, and reaches to hand it to dean. “have you ever smoked before? cigarettes, anything i don’t know about?”

the poor boy is still shaking as he takes it from john. “no, sir.”

“good. god, i’m glad to hear it. now, wrap your lips around it. not too tight, leave a little room for air to pass through. and breathe in. then hold it for a minute.”

dean thinks he does what he was told. he even tries for a second hit. but john can tell just from looking that he’s not really inhaling, he’s just holding it in his throat. “you feelin’ anything?”

“uh. not really.” dean flushes, seemingly embarrassed about it.

john chuckles. “that’s what i thought. try again. and, uh, suck on it, dean.” he takes what john said a bit too literally, and he sucks on the damn joint. he immediately pulls off, coughing a lung up in the process. john jerks it from his hand. “god damn it dean. look, just—” he lightheartedly sighs, “come here.” dean looks at him like he’s off his rocker, and john snorts. (well, at least one of them is feeling it.) “would you quit that? get over here. closer.”

so dean hesitantly shuffles up closer to john. “this is called shotgunning. i’m gonna take a hit, and then i’m gonna blow it into your mouth.” dean somehow manages to pale even further, despite already being white as a sheet from the anxiety attack. then his face goes red again. “it should make this easier. and all you have to do is breathe. i would hope you can at least do that. okay?”

“…. yes, sir.” so john takes a hit, and holds it in until he gestures for dean to lean down to him. his right hand holds the joint, resting on his leg, and his left comes up to cup the side of dean’s face. when john gently blows the smoke to dean’s mouth, the personal space is nonexistent. their noses are nearly touching, and the eye contact is tense enough to kill him. he’s more than thankful that as dean inhales, his eyes flutter shut. he can feel dean’s jaw relax in his grip.

john smiles softly, full of unspoken affection. “any better?”

dean opens his eyes, and that fear that was buzzing behind them earlier is gone. his voice is almost a whisper. “yeah.”

and they repeat the process. with dean looking like this, getting more and more pliant and giggly each second, john himself is feeling loose. like the substance, or maybe the kid in front of him, has temporarily taken that drill sergeant attitude out of him. he’s feeling like a person, like just some regular dude, for the first time in a long while. so if dean slips down to straddle john’s lap for the next hit, who is he to complain? somewhere in between one exhale and the next inhale, his left hand has slinked around to sit at the small of dean’s back. but he doesn’t think to move it. he’s too absorbed by his son sitting on his thighs, with his hands on his shoulders. he goes to blow out again, and maybe dean’s arm has slipped or something, because the next thing he knows, dean’s lips are on his. after years of doing this with mary, he kisses back on instinct. john thinks that’s why he does it. but either way, dean is kissing him between sucking in the smoke in little breaths. and they both groan into it. and maybe john’s brain is more than a little foggy, because he doesn’t stop. he just pauses for one more inhale, and reaches past dean to put it out in the ash tray. but he comes right back to him, maybe even a little more involved than before. dean gasps when john goes to deepen the kiss. he licks into dean’s mouth, and marvels at the feeling of his boy’s tongue against his own. this is just to make sure dean is really getting the smoke in him, right? just to make it easier? that’s what it was at one point, anyways. but dean is moving into that calmer, sleepier side of being high. so john eventually pulls away. and dean just looks at him. just lazily stares. until john pulls him to rest against his shoulder. and dean lets him.

and maybe they just stay like that for a bit. john holds dean until he dozes off. and for the first time in years, he carries dean to bed. his own bed, so as not to wake sammy, who has been out for a few hours now. yeah, that’s why he does it.

[mego42]

what is 68 // kink meme?? i am only familiar with 69 bc i have the mind of teenage boy lmao

hahahahahaha okay but same though and every time i look at it i crack up, so.

i had grand ambitions during the kink meme/fest of doing multiple prompt fills but as i write at the speed of something very slow AND decided to get ambitious with my primary prompt fill, i never got further than the premise.

the prompt was “Beth and Rio are secretly hooking up. Beth is blowing Rio in his office (bar? warehouse? au where he works in an office? idk) and when they’re interrupted, she continues secretly blowing him underneath the desk. exhibitionism, public sex” and @foxmagpie​ did an absolutely delicious job filling it with her fic salty sweet and it scratched my itch, so idk if i’ll ever go back to it but also never say never i am notoriously impulsive.

ANYWAY, if you want to read the intro/set up, it’s below the cut

--

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

Sure, since Beth and Rio had gotten—did it count as back together if they’d never really been together in the first place? Weren’t even really together in any sense of a formal, organized, been talked about at all sort of way? 

They were...they had a lot of sex. And had been for a while now.  

It started one night in the Paper Porcupine. He’d come by without warning; she’d been alone, he’d made some snarky comment, she’d made one back, then they’d been yelling, and the next thing she’d known, she had him pinned up against the storage cupboard and was using her mouth to get him just to shut up. 

In hindsight, it’d been a really effective way to end the argument, whatever it had been about. 

At first, Beth tried telling herself it was a one-time thing, but a few weeks later, she’d found herself kneeling over him on top of Dean’s desk at the showroom, riding him so hard, so fast, she’s pretty sure they both saw stars at the end of it. Then it’d only been a matter of days before he had her spread out in the back seat of the Mercedes during a drop she’d told the girls she could handle alone, pretending she didn’t know why she wanted to.

After that, it was pretty hard to ignore the fact that something happened any time they were alone, so Beth just tried to keep it walled off in her mind and pretended not to noticed it didn’t keep her up at night nearly as much as she felt it should. 

She didn’t really know what to call it, didn’t really want to think about it too hard because thinking led to talking, and talking generally led to fighting, and when they fought—well.

So, really, it was best for everyone if they just...did what they did.

They’d decided keeping it a secret was for the best. Or at least, Beth had. Rio probably would’ve told everyone, and Beth doesn’t know if it’s more about rubbing her face in it or wanting people to know, but regardless, in a rare moment of open sincerity, she’d asked him not to, and he’d agreed.

There’d been something in his eye when he had, something complicated that made a something of her own in Beth’s chest twist, and she’s not ready to talk, to even think about any of that. 

But on top of that, there was a gleam she knew spelled if not trouble than mischief, and Beth soon discovered that while he may have agreed to keep it a secret, that didn’t mean he was opposed to people finding out.

It started small, a finger trailing down her back when he stood too close to her at a drop, her body blocking anyone from seeing. A gauntlet thrown down; the challenge: can she keep any visible response from breaking free, or will a shiver slip past her guard?

And obviously, she had to retaliate. 

It still makes her grin and squirm a little when she remembers the first time. Rio came up behind her at the workbench in the backroom of the Paper Porcupine, crowding her as he looked over her shoulder to check her work. The bang of his knee hitting the cabinet when she’d cupped him and made both Ruby and Annie—oblivious on the other side of the counter—jump had rung in her ears for days like a victory bell.

The whole thing escalated from there. 

If they were within reach, chances are one of them had a hand on the other, touching, stroking, teasing, never letting the surface conversation stutter. The unspoken but mutually understood rule was you break, you lose, and neither one of them had ever been all that good at losing. 

Beth nearly cracked one night at the bar. It’d been a busy night, and they’d ended up crowded together at a high top in the corner. Beth wore a dress thinking—well, she knows what she was thinking—and they’d been in the middle of hashing out a pick-up schedule for the clean cash when she’d felt his hand on her thigh, creeping slowly but steadily higher.

She flicked her eyes to Mick, standing at the other side of the table, and back, but Rio hadn’t given any hint he’d read her silent question, hadn’t given any sign there was anything to question at all, just slid his hand further up until she’d felt his fingers brush along the edge of her panties. 

Her hips jerked as heat flooded through her, and she’d seen it, the quicksilver flash of his triumphant smile. Not willing to lose a point—and turned on beyond all belief—Beth let her legs spread just enough to give him easier access, breathlessly waiting to see what he’d do. 

But instead of advancing, he’d only nodded his head towards the bar, sending Mick to grab another round. When the other man walked away, Beth’s pulse spiked, and she knew Rio’d felt her thigh muscles tighten because he'd given her a little squeeze in response before asking her another question about production.

She’d had to take a deep breath but answered with a steady voice and held her composure as the conversation went on, even with the heat spooling tighter the longer he left his hand—warm and sure but infuriatingly still—on her upper thigh. Every now and then, someone in the crowd around them would jostle the table, and the heat would spike, and her breath would catch, and every time Rio’s smile would grow a little sharper, a little more triumphant, but he didn’t move his hand, just kept talking through the schedule. 

When Mick returned with their drinks, Beth snatched hers, taking a hasty gulp that had Mick raising an eyebrow. He’d looked from Beth to Rio, and whatever he’d seen in his face was enough to have him rolling his eyes and mumbling something about darts before disappearing again.

Rio’d waited until Beth put her glass down. Then, without warning and in the middle of rattling off dates his boys would come by the dealership to collect the duffles full of cash; he’d hooked his thumb in the lacy edge of her panties, pulling it aside and slipped a finger inside of her.

check out the nightmare factory that is my wips folder and if you want ask me about one

[kwinsispn3]

Mistakes Were Made

anon said: How's it going, Kay? Good, I hope ;). Got an angst-y little request for you, if interested. S, D, & Sis are on a hunt( you can decide what... Banshee, Were), S is fatally injured, as in on-the-brink of death as a result of Sis being distracted. D, infuriated, and in anguish, blames sis, & beats her to a bloody pulp. Sis sells soul and dies instantly. When D finally finds her, hes in agony, distraught over what shes done- "Come back to me/ There ain't no me, if there ain't no you". Thxs, Kay!!

Word Count: 3,504

Warnings: swearing and angstttttt

A/N: Decided to add the fact that Dean had the mark bc I can't picture him beating one of his siblings over something like that without it, ya know? Hope you enjoy!

It all happened so fast. 

I had Sam covered, or.... I thought I did.

Dean had just gotten comfortable with me going on hunts, and I now knew I had ruined that for myself.

I knew he wasn't going to take this well, especially with the mark. Sam and I had been cautious not to trigger him in any way, knowing what danger he could cause to himself or anyone else. That’s why I’ve been so on edge with hunts, because I knew he wasn't himself. I knew he would kill anything and everything if it rubbed him the wrong way. 

This hunt was wendigo. We had finally located it’s spot and had it tracked down. It finally had enough and came at us with a high pitched shriek. I was so scared on trying to not fuck up, I did not want to piss off Dean, or Sam. In that process, I ended up missing my swing and that's when it hit Sam unexpectedly. 

It’s long scrawny arm reached down and with one swing, clawed Sam’s back. Dean, being the way he was- immediately witnessed what happened and retorted with such anger and violence, killing the wendigo in just a few hits. I didn’t even have time to process what had happened. I rushed to Sam and saw the deep claw marks that took up the majority of his body. 

“Sam?” was all I could say. He just laid there in pain, trying to move but not being able to.

“Back up! Don’t touch him!” Dean’s voice boomed at me, along with his death glare. That’s when I saw that look, and knew he was not going to forgive me.

Sam groaned in pain and Dean hoisted him up onto his shoulder. “Help me get him to the car!” Dean shouted. Not even hesitating, I took the other side of Sam to help him. All I could think in that moment was how it was all my fault. I didn’t know the extent of Sam’s injuries, I didn’t know if he was going to be okay, I didn’t know what Dean was going to do with me. 

Sitting in the back with Sam, I tried to keep him talking.

“Sam, please keep you're eyes open.... I’m so sorry.” I said, choking up with tears in my eyes. 

“I’ll be f-fine, Y/N.” He whispered.

Looking up at Dean who was stone cold focused on the road ahead. “Is he gonna be okay?” Was all I could say, breaking the silence.

“Y/N, be quiet.” Dean firmly said. I knew he was raging inside with anger that he was waiting to take out on me later. But right now I was focused on Sam. 

We finally got to the hospital and helped Sam inside. Once we had handed him off to the doctors, Dean talked to the nurse and told her some made up story, how he had gotten in the middle of a grizzly bear while deer hunting or something along those lines. Once he was done giving all the information they needed, he went a sat down in one of the waiting room chairs. Putting his face in his hands, I looked over at him as I was stuck frozen in the middle of the room. I didn't know whether to go try and talk to Dean or just keep my distance. 

It was about three hours later when a nurse came out to talk to us. All she said was that Sam lost a lot of blood but they got his wounds clean and stitched up. She mentioned that his body was having a hard time pumping new blood and that he would be in the hospital, hooked up to machines until he was able to get a blood transfusion. With that news, she walked away. Dean turned and looked at me for the first time since everything happened.

“I’m gonna go see Sam, then we’re gonna stop at home and get a few things for him.” was all he said before walking away. I followed behind when Dean turned around again and had much more anger burning through his pores.

“You stay here.” He stated.

As much as I wanted to see Sam, I didn’t want to further anger Dean. The car ride home felt like the longest ride ever. It was probably the most silent I’ve ever been. When we got to the bunker, Dean swiftly walked inside and started packing a bag. I fled to my room and just sat down on my bed, I didn’t know what to do. My chest felt so heavy with guilt, I just wanted to wrap myself in my blankets and disappear. I walked out to the war room when I heard metal clinking. Dean had clothes and toiletries in one bag, and was shoving different knives, machetes, and rifles in another.

“What’s that bag for?” You questioned with fear.

“Restocking weapons for the trunk of the impala. Hopefully we’ll be better prepared for our next hunt.” Dean said sarcastically.

Part of me was mad that he said that, already knowing it was my fault. Another part of me wanted to tell him off, but I didn't want to fight fire with fire. Did that mean I could still go on hunts? I finally spoke up.

“Dean.... I didn’t expect to miss....” I said timidly.

“Expect? You shouldn’t expect anything except for hitting your target!” 

“It was a mistake-”

“Mistake?! Don’t even start, Y/N. 

“Dean, I don’t know what you want me to say, I can’t take back what happened to Sam.” I tried to reason with him.

“Damn right. And you know what? If you keep making mistakes like that during hunts, you won’t be able to take back a lot more things.” Dean said with so much sarcasm that angered me even more. 

“Well you haven’t had the best track record with hunts either! You used to tell me all the time that you’d screw up little things here and there with Dad.” I said, hoping it would make some sense to Dean on how ridiculous he was being.

“That was when I was learning, and now, I don’t fuck up anymore.” He stated.

“BULLSHIT!” I screamed. Just about having enough with him. Dean turned to me so fast with such a livid expression.

“Yeah, I’ve fucked up a few times, but obviously I’m learning and getting better. And even before this, we haven't had a screw up in months!” I argued.

“Welp, guess who broke our record, none other than you! I should've never let you start hunting with us in the first place.” Dean shook his head.

“Maybe you should've never agreed to take the mark...” I muttered. Dean looked up, I knew he was about to say something like how he heard what I said, so before he could do that I spoke up again.

“I know you heard me, and you know it too. You’re a different person with this mark. You’re not even my brother anymore, it’s like I barely know you.” I said, starting to open up about how I felt about this. Dean was silent for a moment.

“What are you gonna do about it? There’s nothing I can do to fix this, unless I give it to someone else. Hell, no one would want this thing.”

“We will find a way.” I said with hope.

“Who’s we? You and Sam? Sam’s hurt, and no matter how long you guys look, I doubt you’ll ever find anything. Just accept what it is.” Dean said.

“No, I’m not gonna accept it. I’m not gonna accept the fact that you’ve completely changed, and that you’re acting like an asshole about this whole situation. Look at you! You’ve given up! You could care less about everything that’s going on right now.... All you do nowadays is just go after people that rub you the wrong way. And now to top it, you’re gonna dwell on this Sam thing and treat me like shit just because you’re mad?” I ranted.

Dean had clearly had enough of what I had to say, as I was talking, he walked over and slapped his hand clean across my face before I could even blink.

“Bet, you’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” I said, trying to ignore the fact that my brother just hit me. Dean had never hit me before, I knew it was the mark but the look in his eyes was so harsh, I had never seen him like this.

“Stop, just stop talking!” Dean shouted.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit me again?” 

And he did.

This time he punched me in the face. I guess that was my fault for agitating him like that. I grazed my hand across my cheek as I felt all the blood rushing to my nose. Before I could even look up at Dean he shoved me to the floor.

I propped myself up, that’s when I saw him kneel to the ground. Then it clicked in my head what was happening. I unleashed the inner beast he had within the mark.

Hit after hit to the face made blood stream out of my nose. I was surprised I was still conscious. Dean then put his hands on my throat and squeezed as hard as he could. I tried fighting him and coughing to give myself air.

He had a weird look on his face for a second. Almost like he realized what he was doing but didn’t want me to know. He took his hands off my neck and stood up. 

“If you ever, and I mean EVER, pull some shit like that again, it will be the last hunt you ever go on!” Dean’s voice boomed, as he took his bags and left.

I laid there on the hard floor in so much pain. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to feel. My own brother just did that. I wanted to believe that it was the mark, but he had held his self control with me and Sam, until now. I finally passed out after a few minutes, not being able to bear the pain.

...................

Dean had headed back to the hospital to check on Sam. Dean was not himself at all. He wasn’t even thinking about what he did to you. He wasn’t even thinking about what Sam was gonna do when he found out. 

When Dean entered the hospital room, Sam was siting up with a cup of water.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Sam asked.

“Oh, she’s uh, back at the bunker.” Dean lied. Sam could tell something was off.

“She didn’t want to come?” He pried.

“No, she said she was tired.” Dean hoped Sam wouldn’t ask more questions.

“Okay, uh.... Doctor said I should be getting a transfusion tomorrow, and then I should be good to go sometime this week.” Sam said.

“Cool.... the sooner the better. I hate being stuck in hospitals. The chairs are not comfortable for sleeping.” Dean trailed off.

“Y’know, Dean.... you don’t have to stay here with me. I’m fine on my own.” Sam explained.

“I know, but you’re my baby brother. Thought I’d keep an eye on you, and give you some company.” 

“Did you lay into Y/N about the hunt? Is that why she’s not here, and you’re insisting on sleeping here?” Sam was suspicious.

“Well, we did talk about it, but....”

“But, what?”

“She’s just a little upset, that’s all.” Dean said.

“You could’ve explained to her that I’m not mad..... I know she’s her own boss and how hard she is on herself but, it was a mistake.” Sam said.

“Right. A mistake.” Dean was now thinking about how he was going to tell Sam what had happened. Even with the mark, realizing what he did to his sister and how he had stepped over the line. 

“I’m gonna go check on her, actually.” Dean grabbed his bag, leaving Sam’s on the chair.

“I thought you were gonna leave her alone for the night....” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, but, I think I should apologize.” Dean lied.

“You apologizing?” Sam scoffed. “What did you say to her?” Sam started to worry.

“Nothing, I’ll be back!” Dean said as he left the room.

...................

Dean fled through the bunker doors and walked straight to my room. He knocked and waited for some movement or noise. 

“Y/N?” He knocked again. Dean opened the door to my room and found no sign of his little sister.

“Y/N? C’mon, I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now but where are you?” Dean shouted as he searched through the bunker.

Dean had no idea where I was, or what I did. I don’t even think I know what I did. It was a spur of the moment decision that might have dumb. But.... I sold my soul. Not only that, but the demon I made a deal with fucked me over, and now I was somehow in hell.

Dean picked up his phone to try calling me a few times, but no answer. Now he was really afraid of what Sam would say or do. Not having a clue in the world where I was. My location didn’t even show up either.

That was when a demon popped into the bunker to Dean’s surprise.

“Hello Dean.” Said a flashy woman demon with short black hair and silver eyes.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean snarked.

“The names Stela.”

“Okay, what do you want?” He asked, realizing she might have something to do with why you weren’t there.

“Oooh. Once the whole world know’s what Dean Winchester did to his poor little sis..... its pretty tragic, isn’t it?” Stela said with attitude.

“I know what I did, this isn’t about that. Where is she?” Dean demanded.

“Oh, well if it isn’t about you almost beating Y/N to death, why’d she sell her soul?” She raised her eyebrows in question.

“What? Y/N would never do that.....” Dean tried to convince himself.

“Oh but she would, and she did...... See, when she called me, she meant it. No hesitation or question she just went right ahead and gave it to me. I mean, I love an easy deal, but from a Winchester it was surprising.” Stela explained.

“Where is she, I need her back.” Dean started to boil with anger.

“Hell. But I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen. No interfering with our deal.”

“We’re making a new one. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna get my sister the hell out of hell, and you’re gonna take me instead.” Dean insisted.

“I don’t think so. I mean even if you didn't have the mark...... We all kind of want to see where it takes you. I mean, you’ve already drove Y/N away, now were just waiting for Sam. Then maybe we’ll consider something with you.”

Before Dean could even reply, the demon smiled and waved, and vanished before his eyes. He picked up the phone and dialed Cas....

...................

Two days passed and Sam had gotten the medical attention he needed to go home. Dean had come to pick him up from the hospital. He had talked to Cas about what had happened with you, and that Sam didn’t know yet. He said he would see what he could do, but it had been two days and he hadn’t heard anything from him.

The car ride home was silent, until Sam spoke up.

“So, how’s Y/N?” Sam asked. Dean huffed, preparing himself to explain what happened.

“Here’s the thing. Y/N sold her soul and she’s in hell.” 

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In a million years, he never thought his little sister would do something like that, and he wasn’t there to stop her.

“Dean, are you fucking serious? Is this why she didn’t come to see me? What happened between you two and why aren’t you still trying to get her back?” Sam yelled.

“We had a little argument over the hunt. When I left, she took matters into her own hands. I called Cas for help, but I haven't heard anything back yet.” Dean sighed.

“I can’t believe you Dean. And I know you’re dealing with a lot right now with the mark and everything, but you can’t keep acting like dad about hunting. She might be a Winchester but she’s still a person with feelings. She’s still learning and you have to have patience. This life is hard, you can’t just blame her for mistakes like this and put that much pressure on her. Living this life is a lot to handle already.” Sam explains. 

“I know, Sammy. I can’t blame the mark on this one, I know I really fucked up. But we’ll find her.” Dean hoped he was right.

...................

Hell was an experience, and not a good one. I didn’t really regret my decision until Cas found me. The way he looked at me with such worry made me think about what I did. It was stupid. But again, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. But when I saw Cas, I knew I didn't belong there. I had messed up, but Cas was as forgiving as ever and was just worried about getting me home.

Once I was home, I told him what had happened. He sat with me and just listened, which was what I needed, and I am very thankful for that.

Sam and Dean walked through the doors, once they saw me, they rushed down the stairs like there was free burgers or something.

“Y/N!” Sam exhaled in relief. He came over and gently hugged me which led to me tensing up a little. Sam backed up and apologized. He saw my bloody and bruised face, thinking it was from hell.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Sam asked, saddened by my appearance.

I glared back at Dean, still unsure of how I felt, and not knowing what he had told Sam. He looked back at me with a surprising look of guilt on his face. 

“Cas, how’d you get her out of there?” Dean asked.

“I believe that is a story for another time.” Cas said.

“Well I can’t thank you enough.” Dean said.

I passed both boys and walked back to my room. I was exhausted. I didn’t really feel like talking to Dean, or anyone for that matter. Sam went to follow me but Cas pulled his arm back. I gave Cas permission to explain everything to Sam, and he did. Sam wasn’t surprised that Dean finally overstepped and laid into me, but he was just angry that he left out that part.

Sam talked to Dean after Cas left. “You really need to apologize to her.”

“I think I’m the last person she wants to see right now.” Dean sighed. 

“You don’t have to sit down with her and talk about stuff, just let her know you’re sorry for what you did..... You are sorry, right?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I’ll uh be right back.” Dean said. Normally he wasn’t the one to admit he was wrong about things, but that was younger Dean. He needed to push past his guilt and focus on you. 

“Y/N/N.....” Dean knocked.

The majority of me did not want to open that door, but I knew that tone of voice, even through any spell or mark. Dean wanted to talk. I sat there for a moment and then walked over to open the door a creak. I saw Dean standing there, leaning against the door frame with his head down. He barely wanted to look at me.

“Can I come in for a moment? I won't be long....” He said. I opened the door wider to allow him to enter. He barely walked in, I stood at the edge of my bed.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. And, I know from what happened, sorry probably doesn’t mean shit. I know this has been a lot for you, with me having the mark and you getting used to going on all these hunts and dealing with demons now...... You might be a Winchester but you are my little sister too. I should’ve been there to make sure you were okay, and I wasn't. I’m sorry.” Dean confessed. 

“We both messed up with things. I know it hasn’t been easy on you either. What  I did was kind of stupid, I just wasn’t thinking.” I said.

“You weren’t..... but I’m glad you’re safe.” Dean said as he turned around to leave.

“Thanks.” I spoke up.

“For what?”

“Calling Cas. And for the apology. I know it’s gonna take some time for me but I appreciate it.” I smiled.

Even though times were weird and tough, that didn't change the fact that you still loved your brother. You two would do anything for each other. You both understood the life, and wouldn’t change anything if you could.

Requests Are Closed

Taglist:

@jackjackljaqui ​@hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming

[waywardxwords]

Whole Again

Summary: When Crowley is holding your family hostage, you jump into gear to try to rescue them. You feel angry as Dean insists you need a plan before rushing in. Your feelings are overwhelming, especially when you realize why you’re feeling the way that you do. You just want to feel whole again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,821

Warnings: Violence, blood, vomiting (not too detailed), severe sadness/despair, swearing, and fluffiness (bc I don’t know any other way lol)

The engine of your 1969 Mercury Cougar roared against the asphalt as you drove down some one-lane highway in the middle of some rural town in Kansas. You pressed your foot even further on the accelerator, not minding the speed limit. You didn’t care; there wasn’t enough time.

Your eyes watched the path in front of you, bathed in the light from your headlights. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your cell phone screen light up—the buzz from it vibrating, slightly noticeable against the vinyl seat upholstery.

Without even looking at the ID, you knew who it was. You reached for the device and slid to answer—this was the fifth time he had called. He wasn’t going to stop until you obliged. “What?” You barked into the receiver of the phone.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean Winchester breathed into the phone. “You have to turn around. We need a plan. You can’t just barge in there.” You could tell he was doing everything he could to remain calm and collected; must be nice, you thought to yourself. He doesn’t have a horse in this race, so of course he wants to play it safe.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Dean,” you spat back. Your eyes blurred from the angry tears that had pooled there. You blinked—hard—to will them away. Instead, they escaped through the corners of your eyes and trailed down your face. You didn’t care.

“Dammit, Y/N,” all bets were off, and Dean had returned to his angsty, gruff self. “This is a trap, and you know it.”

“Do you really think I’m that stupid? Of course, it’s a trap, Dean! But what the hell am I supposed to do?! You tell me what you would do in this situation if it were Sam,” your words dripped with bitterness, but again—you didn’t care. The emotions in you ranged from anger to annoyance to disappointment—you had trusted him, and now you felt like a fool.

“Y/N…” he trailed off.

“Exactly. You can’t tell me, because you would be doing exactly what I’m doing,” there was a fierceness behind your words that Dean hadn’t heard before. “You made your choice to stay. And you know what? That’s fine; that’s on you. I don’t even care anymore,” you tried to make your voice sound strong and sure. You wanted him to believe every word, even though you knew there was no truth to it. You did care. You cared so much it hurt physically.

“So what are you gonna do, then? Just walk in there, guns blazing? Hope you can take out a few demons before Crowley puts you out of your misery?” If he had been hurt by the words you had said, he wasn’t showing it.

You blinked against the tears a few times; the grip of your left hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m going to give him the tablet.” You pulled the phone away from your face and quickly hit ‘End’ before tossing it back on the passenger seat beside you.

-----

You weren’t sure how long it had been, exactly. You couldn’t be sure how many times you had lost consciousness at this point, but it was certainly more than once. You blinked against the darkness; your hands still secured behind your back. The ropes were still tied firmly around your ankles, making it impossible for you to budge.

Eyes closed tightly, you tried to remember what had happened—how you had gotten here. You were certain you could’ve used the tablet as leverage. Crowley would accept the tablet and in return, he would release you and your family—unharmed, back to normal.

“Ah, she’s awake,” a bright light snapped on overhead—it blinded you for a moment. You blinked against it, aggressively squinting to make out Crowley and two men in suits. Your jaw tightened as you struggled against the ropes on your wrists. Bile crept from the pit of your stomach up towards your esophagus; it burned the base of your throat. “Morning, Sunshine.”

“Where are they?” You found your voice. You were disappointed by how weak it sounded. You had been hurt—you could feel the leftover gashes in your skin. Your face felt tight, so you knew there had to be dried blood there.

Crowley looked around the warehouse as he played dumb. “Who? Mummy and Daddy? Your baby sister?” He asked coyly. You grinded your teeth, your jaw ached from the pain. It wasn’t even the physical pain. The pain in your chest as you assumed the worst about your family.

“Y/N?” You heard a soft voice come from behind you. Crowley took six steps towards you and strongly lifted your chair to turn you towards the voices. There in front of you were three different racks, of sorts. You imagined these were like the racks in Hell—the racks that Dean had described in painful detail one night when you both had gotten carried away drinking.

On the first one, your father. His arms pulled back to each corner of the rack; his legs tied in the same fashion at the bottoms of the rack—spread out like an ‘X’. His head was down, and you knew he was unconscious. Blood dripped from his head—a pool of crimson red forming below him on the concrete floor. He had wounds all over his body. You couldn’t make out what was cut versus blood from other injuries.

On the second, your mother. She seemed to be awake, but barely. Her eyes were tiny slits—squinting towards you. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as you realized she was trying to determine if you were real or just a figment of her imagination. Blood caked her hair—it had already matted in places. Her body was leaning forward, pulling her away from the rack. Your eyes were drawn to her wrists, which were being cut by the cuffs around them as gravity pulled her body forward.

And then the third rack—the rack with your baby sister. She was only two years younger than you, but you still referred to her as your baby sister. She was the one who had called your name out. She, too, was strung up just like your parents. But her core muscles allowed her to hold herself up. You could tell she was terrified—the panic made her arms move and pull at the cuffs holding her against the rack. She writhed against the metal. It made the bile bubbling like boiling acid in your stomach unavoidable. In a quick motion, you leaned to your right and your entire body heaved.

Crowley looked down at the floor, a grimace pulled over his face. And in one quick motion, his hand slapped across your face. It was such a hard slap, you were certain you had the outline of a handprint in its wake. “You dumb bitch, you yakked on my shoes!”

Your eyes glazed over; you didn’t care about the pain, or the smell of the bile. You couldn’t get past the smell of blood, and the way your sister looked at you. “Y/N,” she repeated, this time she choked out a sob. “W-What’s happening?”

Before you could speak, Crowley moved towards her. “Your sister,” he started as he paced in front of her rack. “…let’s just say she has poor decision-making skills. She had a choice,” he glanced back at you as he continued. “And she chose a Moose and a Squirrel.”

Your sister looked confused, and you didn’t blame her. You closed your eyes and dropped your head, but only for a moment. Your memories began to come back. “Crowley, I gave you the tablet! What more do you want from me?” You sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it.

In just a few swift steps, Crowley was back in front of you. The breeze from his speed made you blink as he held onto the armrests of your chair and leaned as close to your face as possible without touching. “I WANTED THE WINCHESTERS!” He screamed.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes again. “They aren’t coming!” You screamed back. “I told you, I came here alone.”

Crowley stepped back once more and it was then that you realized he had a blade in his hand. “And that’s why we’re here, puppet. That’s why we’re all here. Mummy, Daddy, little sister…”

Your eyes were glued to him as he walked slowly—so slowly, you felt like he could almost be moving backwards. It sounded so far away as you heard your sister scream. Was he really walking that slowly, or was your mind playing tricks on you? Your sister just kept screaming over and over again—blood curdling. You realized your eyes had glazed over again and you weren’t even seeing clearly. And that was when one of Crowley’s pawns put his hands on your head and turned it towards where Crowley stood in front of your sister.

You watched. He took the blade in his hand and drove it straight into her gut—her eyes were widened in horror, her mouth agape. Blood began to slowly flood her mouth and drip down to the floor. Her body was no longer able to hold her against the rack, and she fell forward—only caught by cuffs that wrapped her wrists and ankles.

“You can thank your big sis for that,” Crowley muttered loud enough for you to hear. In a swift movement, he twisted the blade completely until her head fell forward and you knew she was gone. He pulled the blade out and with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he wiped it down. “Are we having fun yet?” He turned back to you with an evil smile spread across his lips.

Your heart pounded so hard against the wall of your chest, you were certain it would thump right out of your body. But yet you wouldn’t scream. You couldn’t move. For the first time in a long time, there were no heroes. There was no saving.

One by one, Crowley made it down the line. Putting your family out of their misery. You winced with each slice—you believed something in you to be broken, as you couldn’t get out a reaction. But then you realized your face was wet, and you thought you could hear your own voice echoing off of the concrete walls of the warehouse. Maybe you were screaming, after all.

And finally, Crowley sauntered over to you. Your eyes felt heavy—like you were tired. You summed it up to a combination of the blood loss and watching your entire family be slaughtered while you sat there, unable to move.

You closed your eyes as he stood in front of you. You waited…would there be pain? Was there really a bright light? Would a Reaper come for you?

Crowley cleared his throat in front of you, causing you to open your eyes. “Here’s the deal, love,” he looked down into your eyes. “I’m going to let you sit here and stew in your own juices. I want you to feel the pain…just watching your family’s meat suits rot. And when the Winchesters inevitably show up, you tell them Crowley would like a word.” He whispered the last part so close to your ear it made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared into thin air.

And so you sat there.

Screams fell from your lips, but there was no one around to hear. Your eyes were forced to look at the bodies—this blood was on you. Your family’s blood was on you. You couldn’t save them. You could pray to Cas, but you didn’t want to. You hoped more than anything you had ever hoped for before that your blood would seep out onto the concrete floor around you, and a Reaper would come for you. Maybe you’d get lucky and it would be Tessa. She seemed pleasant…for a Reaper, anyway.

You closed your eyes. It was better than the alternative.

-------

You blinked. Once, twice…three times. Voices, you heard voices again. You had come to accept that it was your mind playing tricks on you—hallucinations, you assumed. Probably from the blood loss.

“Hey, Y/N…you hear me?” Someone was in your face. Your hallucinations were…touching you? That didn’t seem right. Then again, you had never been on the edge of death before. So you guessed it could be possible. “Sammy, she’s waking up.”

The Winchesters? You were on the brink of death and your mind decided to hallucinate the Winchesters?

Your eyes were thin slits at this point—sunken in. Your hair was matted with blood, but you felt their hands on your face, your head, your torso. Someone—Sam, you thought—had his fingers working quickly on your wrists.

“Go…away…” you muttered in between raspy breaths. You tasted blood—you weren’t sure if it was from a strand of hair that had slipped in between your lips, or if you had internal bleeding that was making its way up your throat. You didn’t care.

“Y/N, stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” Dean said as he tried to keep eye contact with you. “Cas!” He practically growled. He looked up to the ceiling—waiting.

A bright light surrounded you in the room—standing before you was Cas, trench coat and all. Your eyes lulled back again, you anticipated to pass out once more. You felt arms around your middle and your head cradled in a shoulder—you knew that shoulder. It belonged to Dean.

“Fix her…please,” you felt the rumble in his chest as the words fell from his lips. You knew you weren’t lucid, but you could have sworn you sensed a hint of begging. The Dean Winchester you knew didn’t beg.

“Don’t,” even in your haze, the word slipped between your lips.

“Y/N,” Cas approached you carefully. His eyes moved over you as he assessed the damage. “If I do not heal you, you will die.”

You remained silent. Cas looked between you and Dean. “Cas!” Dean barked once more.

Within seconds, the light was brightening around you—blinding you. You squinted against it. You willed your body to writhe away from him and fall on the nearest blade. But it was too late.

The physical pain suddenly began to fade until it was gone. No open wounds, no more seeping blood. “Her injuries are healed,” Cas explained. “But it will take some time for her blood levels to normalize.” You noticed there was still ringing in your ears, and you felt a bit dizzy. But all things considered, it could have been so much worse. But that made your heart sink.

“Fuck you, Dean,” you muttered as you shoved with all the strength you had at his chest.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes closed for a second. You moved to stand but felt lightheaded. In trying to find your way back to your seat, you almost fell. Dean caught you just before you hit the ground. “Alright, Speed Demon. Take it easy.” With one arm around your back, he dipped the other behind your knees as he lifted you bridal-style. “Dean Winchester, put me down right now,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“I can throw you over my shoulder, if you want,” he smirked. The smirk…you wanted to slap it off of his face. It took everything in you not to.

“Put…me…down,” your teeth were so gritted now you thought they might break. “I’m not kidding, Dean.” You shoved at his chest and managed to wiggle from his grasp. He held his hands up in defeat. You slowly made your way to the exit of the building and realized it had started to rain.

The gravel was wet. You were thankful it was gravel, your shoes seemed to grip it a bit better. One slow step at a time, you passed the Impala and just kept walking. The darkness was overwhelming as you moved away from the yellow street light positioned just outside the warehouse and kept moving. You didn’t know where you were going. As soon as you hit grass, you fell to your knees. A bubble formed in the pit of your stomach; you felt it roll up your body until it rumbled out of your mouth as a sob.

Your face was wet—a mixture of tears and rain. You heard the gravel shift behind you and knew he was there. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, your knees soaking through from the wet grass.

He didn’t say anything, he just kneeled directly beside you. You saw his head duck as he tried to capture his thoughts.

“Y/N—” you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

“Shove it, Dean,” you cut him off, your words bitter. “Nothing you say…” you mumbled in between sobs. “…nothing you say can fix this.”

He cleared his throat. “I know that,” his voice was a little louder as the rain pelted down around you. The droplets bounced angrily off of the metal roof behind you. He stayed silent. The rain inspired you to pour everything out.

“If you and Sam had come with me,” you shook your head as the tears continued to fall. “It just…we could have stopped Crowley, Dean! We could have done it! Every, fucking hunt you find—I follow you blindly.” You didn’t mean for your words to sound as angry as they did; or maybe you meant every emotion behind them. You didn’t care. “Every time, Dean. I never ask any questions. I trust you and I go.”

Silence.

The only sound that filled your ears was the continued fall of the rain, and your heavy sobs. You managed to turn your head to look at him. You couldn’t be certain, but his face was covered with water—was he…crying?

You had never seen Dean Winchester cry, so you really didn’t know what to make of it. Before you could do or say anything, you felt a sadness in your heart. But it wasn’t from having witnessed your family be brutally murdered before your eyes…no, that was a feeling of despair; the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. This was sadness. Sadness for your friend—the man you had grown to care for, though he didn’t know it.

“Dean,” you started. You were mad at yourself—you were supposed to be pissed off at this man sitting next to you. You should have been seeing red. But you couldn’t. You had to make sure he was okay.

“Y/N, I am so…so sorry,” he breathed out as he wiped at his face. He tried to rid his face of the tears and the rain drops as they mixed together. “I thought that we had time. I thought we could…” he trailed off as you watched his eyes move over the strands of grass in front of you as he searched for the words. “…come up with a plan. I had no idea this would happen.”

Silence again, your eyes closed as more tears slipped through your eyelids. “Of course, you didn’t know,” you finally breathed out. Desperation set in as you realized this wasn’t Dean’s fault. You wanted someone to blame; you didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to go. “I don’t have anywhere to go anymore. My family is gone; I have no one.” The words fell from your lips as quickly as they entered your brain—you hadn’t even realized you were talking out loud until Dean moved on his knees until he was in front of you and his hands were on either side of your face.

You felt the calloused pads of his thumbs swipe under your burning eyes, his wrists moved to lift your gaze to meet his. “You have us, Y/N. You have…you have me,” he said so softly you weren’t sure you had heard him. “We will always be your family. Always, do you hear me?”

Your eyes scrunched closed as you cried. You brought your hands up to his and held on for dear life. You were grasping at anything at this point; it felt as though you were drowning.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean,” you mumbled as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him—desperation.

He swallowed and nodded as he pulled his hands back. “I understand if you don’t want to stay with us,” he nodded, like he was trying to convince himself that he truly understood.

“No, Dean…this. Life, how am I supposed to even keep going?” Had you heard yourself speak this way a day ago, you would have been disgusted with yourself and how weak you sounded. But it was different now, and you didn’t care.

“Listen to me,” he reached for your face again—his eyes bore into yours. “It’s not easy, and I get that. The shitty part about life and what we do, is that we lose people. It happens way too often, and it never gets easier,” he said firmly. “But what you’re gonna do is come back to the bunker, get some rest and let us help you.”

The tears continued to fall—at this point, you had no idea how there were any tears left. But you were too tired and weak to fight him. Dean was too strong to fight when you were operating at one hundred percent; there was no way you could fight him now.

His eyes moved between yours as he studied your features. When he realized there was no longer resistance, he stood up from his spot on the grass and leaned down. He scooped you up into his arms—one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees. The exhaustion was overpowering as your head hit his shoulder and you closed your eyes. The rain continued to beat against your hot flesh.

Sam opened the passenger door to the Impala while Dean helped you sit up. He grabbed your keys and tossed them to Sam. After closing your door, he had a few words with Sam before getting in the driver’s side. There were no words; just the hum of the engine as Dean drove you back to the bunker.

-----

Back at the bunker, numbness had set in. You had always heard of the Stages of Grief, but you never imagined going through them.

You felt tears bubble again; dammit. You hated crying—everything about it. The emotion, in general, but then also the congestion, the swollen eyes, the overall puffiness in your face. Dean had you on the edge of the bed facing the wall of your room in the bunker, he had just kneeled down in front of you. His eyes looked over your face and you could tell: Dean Winchester was trying to fix you. But there was no fixing this unless he found away to reverse time or bring your family back.

“Hey,” he breathed. His thumb ran small circles over your denim covered knee. “Listen, I know you’re going through it right now…” he trailed off. “But you’ve gotta get out of those wet clothes. You’re cold, you gotta get changed.” You could tell his brain was picking each word so carefully, which wasn’t very Dean Winchester-esque.

You hadn’t realized you were cold until you noticed your body was physically shaking. “I don’t care.” You breathed.

“Dammit, Y/N,” he muttered and stood up. His jaw tightened as he tried to control his frustration. He rubbed his hand over his face as he paced around your bedroom, one hand in his jean’s pocket, the other over his mouth, resting on his chin.

“I’m too tired, Dean. I just…I can’t,” you begged the tears to stop falling, but your body wasn’t listening. He turned back to you and you could see the sadness wash over his features.

“Well, will you let me help you?” He asked, calmer now as he realized you were just mentally and physically done.

You shuddered at the thought, but this time it wasn’t from the chill of the air on your wet clothes. This was something much deeper; something that had developed months ago but you had worked so hard to push out of your heart. You didn’t have the will to fight it anymore. You nodded carefully, a small nod—but you had been sure he had seen it.

His eyes watched yours and he nodded; he moved towards the dresser and retrieved a pair of pajama pants and an over-sized hoodie. He brought them back to the bed and cleared his throat. You could tell he was trying to keep this as professional as possible—he just wanted to take care of you. Dean put his hand out in front of you and you carefully took it. He helped pull you to your feet so you were standing just in front of him.

“Arms up,” he whispered. You brought your arms up to about your shoulders and winced, a slight pain on your left side just under your breast. Concern covered his face as his forehead creased. “You alright?” He pulled up your shirt and identified the culprit—there was a pretty solid bruise just under your bra. “Dammit, Cas healed you…” he seemed worried.

“To be fair,” you breathed. “There were a lot of injuries to heal. One healing session might not have cut it.”

He nodded in agreement and carefully continued to help you pull off your shirt. You had forgotten that you would be standing in front of Dean with your bra fully visible. The thought made your cheeks flush with warmth as you avoided eye contact. He cleared his throat again—clearly a bit uncomfortable himself. He reached for your hoodie and slid the arms on first before pulling it over your head.

You managed a small smile as your head popped through the hole at the top of the hoodie. “Thanks, Dean.” Your words were soft, and for a moment he thought he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Don’t thank me…” his eyes moved between yours again. “I am just…Y/N, I’ll never stop being sorry.” You could see the pain in his eyes; the guilt.

“Dean, I had no right to blame you,” you shook your head. There they were again—the fucking tears. And that’s when it hit you; it all hit you square in the face. You had been so hurt when Dean wouldn’t go, because you trusted him blindly—because you loved him. You loved him, and you wanted him to love you—to trust you.

“You alright?” He watched your eyes as you contemplated all of this.

You nodded and swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I just…” you hesitated; you weren’t brave enough to confess your findings to Dean. But then again, your mind went back to your family…your loved ones. If you had learned anything tonight, it was that life is short and time is fast—and Dean had even been the one to say it; we lose people. You decided against your better judgment and just went for it. “I think I blamed you because I trusted you, and I wanted you to trust me.”

Dean had his hands on your face once more. “I do trust you, Y/N—”

You cut in before he could finish. “No, I know. But I realized I trust you so much because…because I love you.” Your eyes found his yet again. They darted quickly between his green orbs to try and get a sense for what he was thinking. But you couldn’t read him; you couldn’t tell what was happening in his brain. “And…and I wanted you to love me, too.” You prayed it didn’t sound as pathetic as it felt coming off of your lips; but, no regrets. You didn’t want to regret anything, not after tonight.

Without another word, his lips were on yours. They moved against you feverishly; it was as though he had yearned for this moment just as much as you had, if not more. One hand remained on your cheek, steadying you. The other moved to your hip and slipped under your hoodie, gently grasping onto the warm skin on your lower back to pull you closer.

He pulled back and you felt your chest heave as you came up for air. His eyes danced over yours again, this time reflecting a glint of…hope? Affection, maybe? Passion? You couldn’t be certain.

But then he licked his lips, his eyes traveled between your eyes and your now swollen lips. “I love you, too.” He murmured before his lips slowly caressed yours once more.

And in that moment, you felt whole again.

-------------------

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I meant to finish this yesterday, but the episode last night about broke me in two and I couldn’t write. Please let me know your thoughts!! My reading requests are open (submit via the Ask Me! link on my page). Please re-blog, like, etc.! All mistakes made in this are my own, please don’t re-post anywhere off of Tumblr :)

xx S

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXVI

It was a love story from the very beginning.

You are the one in my heart (Part II)

(11x13)

Hello! I bring to you another meta from this collection – the second part! We will keep talking about broken hearts and how in love Dean is with Castiel. I know you love this topic. And I just decided this will have a third part because I have so many things to say...

First of all, I want to say thank you to @destielle , she's the beta reader of this mess. Thank you for making my meta look so pretty ��💕💕

Cheating and love triangles

Episode 11x13 is titled 'Love Hurts' and it fits perfectly because, remember how Dean felt so hurt when Casifer tried to use him as bait? Okay. We all agree he suffered a heart break then, and that’s why the Banshee could get to him. Now, this episode talks about broken hearts, too… but also about a cursed kiss: Amara's kiss.

The episode opens with a husband cheating on his wife with their babysitter. It’s a love triangle functioning as a Destiel mirror, but they add in some spicy confusion to the subtext: Melissa (the depressed wife) is the Cas mirror, we have Stacey, the babysitter, for Amara and Dan as Dean.

So when we have Stacey saying: "Ew, I can taste her mom lipstick…you’re telling her tonight, right?" we get the mirrored thoughts of Amara after kissing Dean, who is, too, already taken, compromised – bonded with Castiel. 

And when Dan says: "I told you it’s not that simple. Mel and I…we’ve been together since we were your age. We have a house, a baby…we have a whole life together." He's talking about marriage, a serious commitment, which works as the perfect parallel to Dean and Castiel’s long-term relationship.

So when the Qareen appears in the form of Dan and rips Stacy's heart out from her chest (and vice versa a little further into the episode), we are still talking about broken hearts. But we get confused because Dan admits his love for the babysitter, and therefore could never hurt her. Because you don't hurt the one you love (obviously if Dean had listened a little closer to Dan, he surely would have recalled that nefarious chat with Casifer where he proposed to put Dean in danger).

So, going with the assigned roles, let’s say if Dan is Dean and Stacy is Amara, does that mean when Dan is saying he loves Stacy, not his wife, that Dean loves Amara, and not Cas? No. Not at all. Because the upcoming scenes and what Dean says by the end of the episode will clarify: THE KISS AMARA GAVE HIM IS A CURSE AND HE IS NOT IN LOVE WITH HER.

Now, I want to share with you my beta's clarifying thought, that calmed my shipping heart...

"Hi, destielle here, rudely taking advantage of beta’ing to add a thought: I think the babysitter merely posed as a temptation, something Dan tried out because it’s kind of forbidden and dangerous and therefore exciting, plus conquering a girl stimulates his self-worth but - breaking up with his wife never really was a heartfelt intention. Because getting it on with the babysitter is not only a clichée, but also only fun for a little while, because everything, in the end, will lose its newness and therefore allurement and so I suspect he knew that sticking to what he has, a long-term thing that lasts, is the better road to go by far. Plus there’s a difference between true love and excitement induced infatuation. The ladder will fade, love will last and grow stronger bc it’s built upon a solid foundation."

This is so true, and couldn't be more agreed! Thank you Hannah! 😚💕

The Cursed Kiss

This was a very blatantly straight forward episode, because first it was opened with a recall to AMARA's kiss to Dean. And then they showed us how the Qareen’s curse jumped from one to the next victim via kiss. So, you have a deadly kiss, a cursed kiss… The mark of Cain’s kiss, darkness’s kiss, AMARA's kiss… that wasn't love, that wasn't good. AMARA's kiss is dark, bad, cursed and deadly.

AMARA's kiss poop? 🤣

Who's in Dean's heart?

We already know the answer, but let's dig into it anyway…

The first scene with the Winchester brothers takes place in the Bunker's kitchen the morning after Valentine's day and Dean is having a hard time trying to restore himself… he's walking funny on his way to the fridge… if you know what I mean. But mostly we wonder why that is. He's not the guy for a one-night-only-girl anymore, so what was the matter? And immediately after that question we asked ourselves Dean says this to his brother…

Sam: Is that a hickey? (Dean spits out his food)

Gif set credit @spnwhenever

Dean: And? It was valentine’s day. I can’t help it if I’m a hopeless romantic.

Sam: You got half of that right.

Dean: Just doing my civic duty. Helping all the single ladies. You know the best thing about February 14th. You don’t have to be Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right Now

Sam: That’s classy

Is this the old Dean talking? Nope, definitely not. It’s Mr Dean ‘Broken-hearted’ Winchester talking. And we get it now… Saint Valentine's day, he wasn't with his Mr. Right (Cas)... He just took what was right in that moment. It’s very very sad. But Dean needs to frame it more classy, to make it more cool.

Now, I want to talk a little about Melissa. When she realizes she maybe went too far with her spell, she turns to Dean and Sam, and she says this…

Melissa: yes. A return to love spell. All I had to do was chant it and seal it with a kiss. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I swear. I just wanted my husband back.

This is sad too, and gives us, if we take that as a feeling mirrored from Cas, a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he said ‘Yes’ to Lucifer in the cage. And again it’s the motive of the CURSED KISS, one with dark intentions… we already learned AMARA's kiss is bad and not good, but now we get even more confirmation of this when Dean kisses Melissa, taking the curse on him that way. WE GET IT WRITERS!

Gif credit @clairvoyantsam

Sam: So the curse is transmittable?

Just like Cain's mark, the curse, the kiss, the love spell, all of them are transmittable.

Sam: Apparently not in him. The person who holds the Qareen’s heart is the one who commands it.

Sam is giving us a lot of clues here: Who has AMARA's heart? Dean. But who has Dean's heart? Castiel. So Dean can direct his own will to reject AMARA's offer. And this is the secret why DEAN CAN RESIST HER.

So, with this statement in our heads, let's analyze the Qareen’s and Dean’s encounter…

The Qareen takes the form of people’s darkest desires. So… he took AMARA's shape.

The Qareen sensed Dean's longing in his heart, but it failed in personifying it. Because Dean's darkest desire is not dark, it’s full of light, but is hidden, because it’s so repressed. His deepest is a secret, it’s his love for Castiel.

Amara: Who I am doesn’t matter. The real question is who are you?

Dean: What do you mean who am I?

She can't read him, Dean Winchester is a mystery, she can't get to his true feelings, she can't reach them. Dean has them sealed away very, very deep down in his soul. Like a treasure.

Amara: You’re a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except it’s cloaked in shame. When it comes to this, you can’t help yourself, so why fight it. Just give in.

When she says Dean Winchester is a mystery it’s because she really can't read the truth in him, but she knows it’s somewhere in there. She feels it, but can't quite grasp it. And she says 'it's clocked in shame.' Because it is, because Dean Winchester is ashamed of his feelings for Castiel. He knows he shouldn't feel how he feels for his best friend, for a ‘man’, for an angel. He thinks he doesn't deserve him. So, when the Qareen touches herself saying 'when it comes to this, you can't help yourself, so why fight it. Just give in.' It’s simple when it’s about women, when it’s about a curse, a love spell, the attraction is there, the curse is there, he knows it, but they're not Mr. Right. They're just there… the girls on Saint Valentine's Day are available and Amara is almost irresistible because of the curse. But Dean Winchester doesn't give in to that because he loves Castiel.

And then, Qareen!Amara can’t rip Dean's heart from his chest. Because she is not the one in his heart.

We need more evidence? What about this last dialogue between Sam and Dean…

Dean: It was Amara

Sam: That surprise you?

Dean: That doesn’t surprise you?

Sam: Honestly?

Dean: Honestly? You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest darkest desire?

Sam: She isn’t?

Dean: No! She can’t be!

Gif credit @samwinchesterlesbian 👇

Dean puts all his fierceness into these words, BECAUSE HE IS SURE! HE KNOWS POSITIVELY IT CAN'T BE, BECAUSE HE LOVES CASTIEL.

Sam: Why not?

Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…

Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?

Dean: For starters, yeah

Dean is afraid of the power Amara has over him, that’s it.

Dean: Standing here right now, every bone in my body wants to run her through. Send her back to that hole she crawled out of. But when I’m near her, I don’t know. Something happens and I can’t explain it, but to call it desire or love…it’s not that. I’m screwed man. We wanna kill the darkness. We need to kill the darkness. And I don’t think I can. I’m sorry to do that to you, ya know, but when it comes right down to it…

The most important thing here is that Dean is aware of the curse, of the power, he knows what Amara does to him, and he is sure that it is NOT LOVE. How can he be sure that it’s not love? BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHAT LOVE IS, BECAUSE THERE'S SOMEONE IN HIS HEART ALREADY, AND THAT'S CASTIEL.

To Conclude: 

If the episode with Mildred showed us Dean was pining for someone, telling us Dean is in love with someone, then this one is yelling in our faces that person isn't Amara. And if it’s not Amara plus ‘cloaked in shame’, and Dean has gotten his heart broken recently by someone we know, we are talking about the same person: Castiel.

So it’s logical! And we made the equation just like the writers wanted us to solve it: DEAN WINCHESTER IS IN LOVE WITH CASTIEL, BUT HE'S ASHAMED OF THIS FEELING. AND AMARA HAS A DARK POWER OVER HIM THROUGH A TRANSMITTABLE CURSE: CAIN'S MARK. CANONICAL FACTS! But yeah, I'm not discovering a new world here...

I hope you liked this mess. See you in the next one!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@imjustkipping @destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From s11, here you have the links: Vol. LXII, LXIII, LXIV, LXV.

Buenos Aires, June 16th 2020 18:45 PM

[adenei]

Can you please write a Ron/Bill sibling moment during Shell Cottage after Malfoy Manor with Ron losing it bc he’s so panicked about Hermione‘s condition? I‘m a sucker for angst and tears and anger 🙊🙉🙈

Hi anon! So this is a precursor to “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone this much.” Which was like, the second prompt I ever wrote, so you may not be able to find it if you’re looking. It can be found on ao3

Thanks for the ask! ************************************

Ron busted the door open, carrying Hermione. Bill was trying to get information out of Dean and Luna as Fleur was tending to Griphook and Ollivander on the couch. All heads turned towards the door when it opened. 

“Help her. Please help her!” Ron yelled frantically. It didn’t matter if the attention was already on him. Hermione was unconscious in his arms and he was terrified that he’d lost her. He was too fraught with worry to even have the sanity to check.

Fleur made her way toward the staircase. “Follow me,” she said quickly.

Ron carried Hermione up the stairs and set her down on the spare bed that Fleur pointed to. She rushed across the hall to get all of the potions and medical things she could find.

“What ‘appened?” she asked. 

“What does it look like happened?” Ron lashed out. “She was tortured. Cruciatus! Please do something. Save her. YOU HAVE TO SAVE HER!” Tears were streaming down his face as he pulled at his hair. He was so helpless, not knowing what to do. “Please wake up, Hermione, please. You have to wake up! I can’t-”

“RON!” Bill yelled at the doorway. It was enough to snap Ron out of his frenzy as he looked at his brother. “Come with me.”

“No! I can’t leave her.” Ron bent down and held Hermione’s hand. It was cool to the touch. Oh god, no. Please, no.

“Ron, your hands!” Fleur said as she noticed how badly torn up his hands were from clawing at the cellar walls.

Even though Ron was taller than Bill, his older brother walked over and pulled him up. “Ron, I promise you can go back to her, but right now you need to come with me. I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

Ron stared at him, trying to see through his words for any misleading cues. “There is an extra bottle of dittany under ze sink,” Fleur said over her shoulder.

He got up and reluctantly followed Bill across the hall. “Wash your hands,” Bill said as he got the extra dittany bottle. Once Ron had cleaned them, Bill began pouring droplets of dittany and his hands began to heal.

“You should just leave them,” Ron said under his breath as he continued to look over Bill’s shoulder at what Fleur was doing across the hall.

“Absolutely not. There’s no reason for it,” Bill said to him. 

“Yes, there is! It’s a reminder that I couldn’t help her. I tried to switch spots with her! And then they locked us up and I couldn’t get to her. I tried. I tried so hard!” Ron’s voice was raspy from all the yelling he’d done.

“Ron, I don’t know what exactly happened, but you’ve got to get yourself under control. You can’t help her if you’re driving yourself crazy with guilt and worry. When she does wake up, she’s going to need you to be strong for her. You don’t want her to wake up right now and hear you like this.” Bill tried to console his youngest brother.

“You don’t understand!” Ron argued.

“Maybe I don’t, but I’m telling you you’re not going to help her like this, and if I need to slap some sense into you, I will!” Bill said threateningly. It was enough to get Ron’s attention. 

“Fine. I’m good, can I go back in there now?”

Bill stared at his brother for a moment. “Only if you can keep yourself under control. Help Fleur if she needs it or stay out of her way and let her work. She will kick you out if you can’t stay calm.”

He waited for the comprehension of his words to reach Ron’s eyes. When he was satisfied, he moved out of the way and watched his brother sprint back across the hall. They’d been through hell, whatever it was, and Bill hoped beyond measure that Hermione would be okay, too. Not just for her own sake, but for his distraught and broken brother as well.

[laikuh]

Henloo! I wanted to ask about bed sharing for warmth (so cozy!) + magic made them do it! <3

ahh!!! i meant to answer this earlier, but i was making dinner, and then i was eating dinner, and then i was finishing my s6 rewatch, and then i got on tiktok lmao and that really took me out. but im back and excited to answer this! 

it’s good you’re asking about the ones i don’t have anything written for yet, bc it gives me the chance to think them through in a way i haven’t before because big bad good took over my life. so, lets think through these!

bed sharing for warmth was another prompt from way back, from schmidt, and there were a couple of different ideas around how they end up trapped in the cold/a snowstorm. a plot bunny was provided that i think i’ll adopt, but moderate, which is dean and john hunting, killing the monster just in time to avoid a snowstorm, but having dean fall into a lake or stream and getting wet, which is of course a problem when they end up in an abandoned cabin to stay the night. 

ive been thinking about this one off an on since i got it (i kind of rotate through all the prompts as a breather from bbg, never writing anything much but just kind of formulating) and you asking about this one and the magic made them do it prompt (which is...you know, also does what it says on the tin) has me thinking of combining them. so let me move on to the magic one and then circle back to this. 

i have started writing some of the magic made them do it one! not much, but here’s a snippet:

“That bitch,” John spits, slamming his phone closed. “Do you remember what we were doing before you got knocked out?”

Dean tries to remember, but it’s hard through the heat coursing through his veins. But then his mind snags on a faint memory--a phrase in latin, a hand extended, a wave of power rocking through him. “The witches,” he whispers. “One of them did something.”

John swallows. “Yeah.” Then he darts into the bathroom. 

Dean can hear him running the water in the tub, and while he has no idea why, he becomes suddenly aware of how he’s still wearing socks and shoes and pants and--too many things. He immediately works at his laces, fingers fumbling in their hurry, until he can tug off his boots and socks, and then finally work at his pants zipper. He has to stop, though. The moment he feels the faint pressure that comes from unfastening his button, he has to gasp. God, on top of everything else, Dean is hard. 

Suddenly Dean has a better idea of what kind of spell the witch hit him with. 

A moment later, John emerges from the bathroom, rushing back to Dean. “We need to get you into cold water,” he says. “Anything to stop this fever.”

“Dad,” Dean says, looking at John now in a way he never intended. A way he knows John’s going to be repelled by. “Dad, tell me this isn’t a sex spell.”

John’s whole body stiffens. “Dean, I--” he cuts himself off, and Dean knows it’s because he can’t tell Dean what he wants to hear.

“No,” Dean whispers. They’ve both seen enough of the kind of fallout a witch’s spellwork can cause to know this isn’t going to end well for Dean. 

John just sets his jaw, getting back into motion. “The tub, Dean,” he says as he reaches for Dean’s arm.

But the touch is a mistake. Dean leans into it with a moan, the sensation too intense. “I’m so hard, Dad,” he says before he can stop himself. 

“Dean, please,” John says in a tone of voice Dean’s never heard before. “Get in the bathroom.”

He moves then, steps unsteady as he heads for the bathroom. It’s a short walk, even for how many times Dean thinks he might fall over from discomfort and disorientation. When he feels the cool bathroom tiles under his bare feet, he hisses in relief. Then he tries to unfasten his pants again, the veracity of his erection making the chafe of his pants against his length almost painful. But as with the first time, even the slightest pressure from Dean’s unsteady hands causes a spike in discomfort, and Dean can’t bring himself to finish the task.

“Just get in,” John orders, but Dean shakes his head. 

“It hurts,” Dean says pathetically. “Help me, please.”

John looks like it’s the last thing he wants to do, but he only refuses for a moment. Then his hands are at Dean’s hips, working as quickly as they can against Dean’s button and zipper. Despite his best efforts, the feeling of John against him has Dean rutting against his hands, seeking more. 

“Jesus, Dean,” John says as he tugs at the denim.

so the basic plot of this one is like all the others. witches curse dean, he needs to fuck someone, john is there. they can’t wait. there’s probably definitely tension beforehand that makes it just a little too easy for john to give in, and then there’s fallout, and then acceptance that sex feels good and nice and they like doing it with each other!

but that fallout is what has me thinking of combining these two prompts, bc being stuck in a sleeping bag together in a snowstorm in a cabin might further exacerbate issues started from magic-induced sex. like the delicious illicitness of being close to the person you most want to be close to, having to tell yourself not to touch even though you’re already touching. they can feel each other getting hard, they can hear each other breathing...memories of what was done before, wanting to do it again. 

so that’s where these prompts are at! maybe i will combine them.....

THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!! im sorry it took so long for me to answer. i may also have gotten caught up in watching yt commentary videos on the james charles situation.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

My Family, My Home

Summary: Harry and Reader find themselves in a particularly nasty fight after the death of Sirius Black. Will they be able to mend what they broke?

TW/CW: Harry Potter x Reader. Angst, angst, angst. Mentions of death. Depressing. Yeah.

Requested?: Yes, by a lovely Anon who said, “Hi i read your last harry imagine and i am in love with it. I was wondering if you can write another for me? Where harry and reader are dating around when sirius died in order of the phoenix and harry is very depressed about the situation and slowly disassociates from the reader and when he/she wanted to talk about it and lighten the weight on his shoulders harry says sth to reader along the lines "you are not my family and you are not my home" and a big fight happens eventually harry realizes what he has done and gets very upset bc he loves her/him so much. They eventually make up but i want angst drama and tears you know lol i will be very happy if you can write this!!”

Word Count: 1,448

A/N: I tried my best to convey angst lol. It came out better than I thought it would though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always Requests are Open!

[This gif hurts me probably as much as it hurts you lol but I wanna use it anyway]

Your POV

     I wander into the Gryffindor common room in hopes of finding my boyfriend, Harry. He's been distant as of late, no one can really blame him though. Between You-Know-Who and the death of his godfather, he has a lot on his plate. What worries me most is he’s even begun distancing himself from me. Of all people, I had hoped he wouldn’t shut me out but here we are. The common room is full of quiet chatter and thick tension but no Harry in sight.

     Ron, however, is currently locked in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Dean Thomas so I take a seat beside him in hopes of grabbing his attention but not interrupting his game. Hermione speaks up from behind her book, “Ron’ll probably be a while,” putting her book down she notices my look of concern, “in the meantime, maybe I can help?”

     “I was just wondering if either of you had seen Harry. He avoided me all during classes again today,” I ask.

     “He’s been skirting us too, probably just needs some time to adjust,” Ron mumbles absentmindedly. Hermione and I give each other a look that says we know that’s not the case. I decide to look elsewhere as Hermione goes back to her book. I make my way up the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitories and stop when I reach the one Harry and Ron stay in. I knock softly on the door but am met with silence. I knock again a little louder just in case and this time the door swings open viciously.  

     Harry stands before me bleary eyed and extremely annoyed, “What do you want?”

     Shocked at his attitude, I try my luck at calming him down, “Woah, love, calm down it’s just me. Maybe you can let me in and we can talk or perhaps I can just be there for you to lean on?”

     “Yes, I have eyes, I can see that it’s you. No, I don’t want to be bothered right now, go away,” with this he tries to shut the door in my face but I step into the room before he can.

     “Harry, I can help you, just tell me what you need.”

     “I don’t want or need your help, (Y/N). You’re not my family and you’re not my home,” with this he opens the door again, shoves me out, and then slams it behind me. Bursting into tears, I run down the stairs and out of the portrait hole, ignoring all the various looks I get as well as Ron and Hermione calling after me. I run straight to my favorite spot on the grounds. Malfoy thinks he found this tree first and claimed it but I always climb higher up into it and from the ground no one can see me.  

     As I recall the stinging words from moments before, I don’t understand why Harry would even say that. He’s always told me that when he’s with me he feels at home. My heart begins to ache as I attempt to shove all the heart wrenching thoughts from my mind but they are coming faster than I can battle them and eventually I am overcome by them as I sit by myself in a lone tree and cry my eyes out.

Harry’s POV

     I stalk back to my bed and crash down onto it once more. Seconds later, footsteps sound outside the dorm room door and as Ron barges in, I pretend to be asleep. He doesn’t fall for it though, and instead drags me out of bed and slams me into the wall, “What in the bloody hell are you thinking, mate? I don’t know what you said to them but they ran out in tears. You better have a damn good reason for hurting them or I’m going to rip you a new one.”

     “I don't have to give you any reason. I don’t want your help either, so sod off and leave me alone,” I spit.

     This time it isn’t Ron that assaults me but Hermione. My cheek stings from the sharp slap across my face. “I don’t what has gotten into Harry James Potter but I think it’s high time you stop with the pity party and let those who love you help you.”

     Ron stares at Hermione in awe, “You didn’t have to slap him, ‘Mione.”

     “Maybe not, but maybe it’ll knock some sense into him. When you’re ready, you’ll know where to find us. Now come on, Ron. (Y/N) needs us.”

     They leave me in stunned silence. I think Hermione was right, she did knock some sense into me because now I realize the hurt that I’ve caused by trying to push everyone away. I thought it was for their own good but I was obviously wrong. Now, I’ve gone and messed up with the person I’m in love with all because of my own pride. I sit on the edge of the bed and begin trying to come up with a way to apologize and smooth things over.

Your POV

     “(Y/N)?” I hear from below as Ron and Hermione come looking for me. I wipe any remnants of the tears shed from off my face with my sleeve before slowly dropping to the ground. As soon as they spot me, they rush forward and both wrap me in a hug.  

     “I’m sorry he’s being a manky old git," Ron grumbles.

     “Are you alright, hon? Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asks. I shrug but begin telling them about mine and Harry’s fight. If looks could kill, Ron would’ve surely killed the poor tree behind us as he looked as if he was trying to bore holes into its bark. Hermione also look absolutely miffed but pulled me in for another hug, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” At that moment, the him in question walks out of the castle, heading our direction.

     He approaches cautiously due to the murderous look on Ron’s face but Hermione grabs Ron by the arm and pulls him away, “Let’s give them space.” They stop just out of earshot and wait patiently in case I need them, and Hermione begins trying to calm Ron down.

     Harry looks at the ground and scuffs his shoe against the pebbles, “I know I really have no right to ask for forgiveness but I thought I’d apologize anyway.” He pauses to collect his thoughts before making eye contact with me, “I’m so sorry for the things I said. There is no excusing them and I know they hurt you. I just thought that if I shoved everyone away then maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a burden. I got so caught up in trying to do what I thought was best that I failed to realize I was hurting the people who mean the most to me more than if I had just let help me carry the weight. Like I said, I know I don’t deserve it, but can you forgive me?”

     I rush forward, “Of course, Harry, I forgive you. You’re not a burden to us. We love you and we want to help. Your feelings are valid, however, and I’m always willing to listen if you need to vent. I’m willing to bet that Hermione and Ron would be willing as well if you apologize to them too.”

     He looks over his shoulder at them and chuckles at finding them bickering over something. I laugh, “I swear those two will be married one day. If they aren’t, I’ll be severely disappointed.” Harry laughs as he beckons them over.

     As they approach Hermione places herself between Ron and Harry, I suppose in case Ron decides to hit Harry. He doesn’t though and he just stands there scowling. Harry clears his throat, “I haven’t been fair to you two either. Can you forgive me for how I’ve acted?”

     Hermione glances over to me and seems to scan my face and I nod with a small smile. Seemingly satisfied, she nods as well, “Of course, Harry. I’m sorry for slapping you.”

     Harry laughs, “It’s all right. I needed it to knock some sense into me.”

     The three of us look to Ron. He seems to think long and hard about the situation before finally coming to a conclusion, “Alright, I forgive you but you know they’re like a sibling to me and if you hurt them again it won’t be Hermione hitting you it’ll be me.”

     Harry chuckles, “Understood. Let’s go back to the common room and talk though, it’s too cold out here.” We all nod in agreement and make our way back into the castle.

Masterlist

[dean-coded-john-girl]

i can’t draw much less animate but i have stuck in my head the very detailed idea of a wincest amv or song fic for “sleepover” by hayley kiyoko so y’all are going to have to read me trying to write it out as best as possible 😂

context: okay so like it’s dean “singing”, pining for sam, set in season 1. (yes ik the song came out it 2018 time does not exist in my mind uwu) dean has felt this way for a long time but has been able to ignore it with sam at stanford, but with sam back it’s more so at the front of his mind

warnings: somewhere between mature and explicit, definitely nsft, partially weecest

———

“I don't wanna talk about it / I don't wanna think about it / I'm just feeling low, feeling low / Even when you're next to me / It's not the way I'm picturing / I'm just feeling low, feeling low” We see Sam and Dean fighting one night, and Sam is pissed bc Dean has been noticeably upset/irritable lately but he won’t say what about. Dean walks out mid-argument and leaves in the Impala, driving off and parking somewhere quiet. Dean sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he thinks about the fight and his feelings

“You wanna be friends forever? / I can think of something better / I'm just feeling low, feeling low / Sleeping here right next to me / But will you ever mess with me? No” Flashback to them sharing a bed in a motel room as tweens. The moon illuminates the room through gaps in the curtains on the window. Dean has just come to understand his feelings for Sam for the first time.

“But at least I got you in my head, oh yeah / At least I got you in my head, in my head / Sleepovers in my bed, oh yeah / At least I got you in my head, in my head / In my head / In my head” We see a glimpse into young Dean’s imagination and what he wants to do with Sam. The og music video is pretty ass-focused in her mind and I’d like to keep that, so maybe Dean is thinking about Sam riding him right there in the motel room, and he’s gripping Sam’s ass as he fucks up into him.

Cut back to Dean in the Impala, looking emotionally exhausted and more outwardly upset, but he’s semi-hard. “Always there to brush your hair / Help you pick out what to wear / I just feel alone, feel alone / You will never understand / Even when you hold my hand / I just feel alone, feel alone” Flashback to Dean (young, but older than the last flashback) helping Sam get ready for something (possibly a first date?). He tucks a bit of loose hair back behind Sam's ear and his eyes linger for a moment, but quickly turn to the floor. He shouldn’t feel this way. He leaves the room, never taking his eyes off the floor. Cut back to in the car again. Dean puts on some music to try and distract himself. “I don't wanna talk about it / I don't wanna think about it / I just feel alone, feel alone / Even when you're next to me / It's not the way I'm picturing, no” Dean looks over to the passenger seat, imagining Sam there.

“But at least I got you in my head, oh yeah / At least I got you in my head, in my head / Sleepovers in my bed, oh yeah / At least I got you in my head, in my head / In my head / In my head” He imagines Sam smirking and reaching over to undo his belt, but we then see him hesitantly undoing it himself irl. We flip between seeing his fantasy of Sam and the reality of Dean getting off in the car. It’s slow, he’s still emotional and feeling guilty, but he’s trying to get it over with so he can ignore it later. He cums with a quiet grunt, and quickly tucks himself back into his underwear. Dean tries to clear his mind and calm himself, which was his goal in the first place coming out here. Once he thinks he’s good, he heads back to the motel room, but stops for a moment when he sees Sam watching tv through the window (Dumbass, should’ve closed the blinds).

“Come on, let's sleep in my bed / Can I just be in my head with you? / Come on, let's sleep in my bed / Can I just be in my head with you?” He considers telling Sam what’s been bothering him. He considers telling him all of it. “And it breaks my heart, yeah it breaks my heart / I do this every single time, every time...” But he can’t do that. He can’t risk losing Sam through something as stupid as his own feelings. He couldn’t live with himself. So he mans up, walks up to the door, and opens it. And acts like no fight ever happened.

Jump to later that night. The lights are out and Dean is staring at the ceiling, twiddling his thumbs on his chest. He can act all he wants to his audience, but he can’t escape his own emotions. He lays there, longing. “But at least I got you in my head, oh yeah / At least I got you in my head, in my head / Sleepovers in my bed, oh yeah / At least I got you in my head, in my head” He looks over to Sam, who’s already asleep. And he wonders about what could be.

———

idk how to do “read more” so that this isn’t long af, apologies! i would love to try and write this a an actual song fic but i’ve never written anything worth a damn so 🤷 hell, maybe no one will even like this! it makes me happy so i’m posting it lmao. and before anyone says shit about how i “shouldn’t do this to a lesbian song, lesbians don’t have enough rep and you’re taking it and abusing it with gay incest” i am a wlw! don’t try it. i know this is about hayley pining for her bestie, i’ve listened to this song for that exact reason. i get it. but if i can cop straight songs for my brotherfucking, lesbian and gay songs are not immune.

[sortasirius]

For the kissing prompt: on a hunt and, bc I'm a hoe for it, confessing feelings pls (destiel obvi but if you could weave some saileen in there too that would be *chefs kiss*)

*distant screaming* DESTIEL AND SAILEEN

Thank you SO much!!!!!  Hope you like it!  This one also gets slightly ~steamy~ sorry not sorry

Words: 1344 (lmao when will I calm down?)

“You should not be this excited about this,” Sam has his feet up on the center console of the Impala, staring at Dean with a mixture of humor and distaste, “Lives are at stake.”

“Lives are always at stake, Sam.  But how long has it been since we went on an actual ghost hunt? No weirdness, no cosmic shit, just a regular old ghost.”

“We don’t know that it’s a regular old ghost,” Sam argues, leaning forward, to look at the laptop that Eileen is furiously typing on in the passenger seat.

“Yeah but it’s probably a ghost,” Dean pushes, shifting around, “And where’s Cas?”

“He’s probably still getting dinner, you’re such a mother hen,” Sam presses a kiss to the top of Eileen’s head and she smiles, looking over at Dean in a way that was a little too knowing for Dean’s taste.

Cas appears right at that moment, rapping loudly on the driver’s side window, bags of food in hand.  Dean’s pulse definitely doesn’t quicken when he sees him, that would be stupid and completely unlike him.  Eileen seems to sense the energy change at Cas’ arrival regardless, because she settles in the backseat with Sam as they eat, typing away on her laptop, her head resting on Sam’s shoulder, Sam looking very much in love with her.

Dean keeps accidentally catching Cas’ eye as Sam and Eileen whisper about lore and research and occasionally breaking into fits of giggles.  Dean feels sick to his stomach when he and Cas lock eyes, another couple so obviously in love only about a foot away from them.  He needs to get a grip on himself.  He tries to focus on the bacon cheeseburger Cas brought him.  It doesn’t work.

Eileen and Sam finally work out the rough position of the ghost or whatever it is that they’re supposed to be hunting.  Dean insists that all they need are the usual salt rounds, gas, and rock salt to burn the bones, but Sam, Eileen, and Cas insist on taking some other essentials, “just in case.”  Dean reluctantly takes the silver knife Dean hands him, he should know a ghost when he hears about one, and this house had had enough murders in it to warrant ten angry spirits.

“It’s a ghost,” Dean says loudly as they sneak into the abandoned house on the outskirts of the town in Ohio they were hunting in.  It really was a spooky house, all shuttered and old, the paint peeling and the roof half caved in.  Why the fuck would people be out here in the first place?

“I’m not sure it’s a ghost, Dean,” Eileen whispers, turning the knob of the door cautiously.

They sneak through the house, down to the basement, and Dean is just pulling out his shovel when Sam’s grabbed from behind and thrown into the wall, knocking the breath out of him.  They’re faced with the girl that they had cleared of the two deaths in the house earlier that week.  And she clearly wasn’t a ghost.  Judging by the teeth, she was a Vetala.  Nothing was ever easy was it?  Dean just wanted a simple ghost hunt, why was that so much to ask?

Sam catches the silver knife Eileen flings at him, and stabs and twists once, the Vetala crumples with a scream.  They rush over to him, Eileen a little frantic.

“Fine, I’m fine, just lost my breath,” Sam wheezes, but before any of them can say another word, Dean feels himself get thrown backwards. Fuck.  They hunt in pairs.  The dead one’s counterpart picks Dean up by the throat, twisting his fingers back as he tries to reach for his own knife.  They slam into the opposite wall, and the last thing Dean sees are Cas and Eileen making a beeline for him, terror on both of their faces.

“Dean?  Dean!”

Dean’s head feels like shit.  He opens his eyes by degrees, half convinced that he was going to be tied to a chair and paralyzed by that snake freak’s venom.  Instead, he meets a pair of beautiful blue eyes that make him feel lightheaded under normal circumstances.

“Hey Cas,” he whispers, and he sees Cas’ shoulders sink down with relief.

“You’re an idiot,” Dean becomes aware that Cas is basically holding him, and Dean has unknowingly reached up to grip his shoulder.

“Ah well, takes one to know one,” Dean smiles at Cas, the fog in his head clearing enough for his heart to start racing at the prolonged contact with Cas’ skin.

“You okay Dean?” Sam clears his throat loudly, standing over him and Cas with a worried Eileen next to him.

“Yeah, just a little sore.  I’m gonna feel like shit in the morning,” Dean keeps staring at Cas, and Cas keeps staring at Dean.  Sam looks like he wants to melt into the floor.

“Well, it wasn’t a ghost,” Sam looks at Eileen awkwardly, clearly trying to make conversation, but Eileen reads the room once again, and she simply takes his hand and leads him out of the pretty much destroyed room, leaving Cas and Dean half holding each other, both of them breathing hard and somehow unable to release one another.

“So uh,” Dean’s fingers are going slightly numb from gripping Cas’ shoulder so tightly, “That wasn’t a ghost hunt.”

Cas huffs a laugh, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into Dean’s.  It’s an unexpected gesture, so intimate that Dean feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

“Don’t do that again, Dean,” Cas whispers, holding Dean a little tighter, “I can’t…I just can’t…”

Dean feels his heart twitch in a way that he’s around ninety percent certain he’s having a heart attack.

“What, Cas?”

“I can’t…I can’t envision life without you.  And I, it’s you Dean, it’s always been you, and I, I-.”

Cas tries to pull away, to make space between them, but Dean takes his face, makes their eyes meet, blue meeting green.  He leans forward, in Cas’ space without even thinking about it, letting the walls he had built for the last ten years melt away. Cas lips are chapped and warm and just the right amount of soft, his hair his just long enough for Dean to thread his fingers through, and he doesn’t care that his ribs are sore or that he might have a broken finger or a mild concussion.  All that matters is Cas twisting his way closer, so they’re tangled together awkwardly on the filthy floor of the dilapidated house.

Dean had always imagined that Cas would be gentle, passive even, but he should’ve known better than that.  It takes only a couple of seconds before Cas’ tongue is in his mouth, and Dean swears that he’s going to pass out again when Cas makes this fucking noise, it’s like a gasp and a sigh and Dean finds himself clutching Cas’ shoulders again, which are strong and broad and like an anchor in a heaving, roiling ocean.

Eventually they hear the horn of the Impala outside and break apart, both with pink lips and breathing like they’d been training for sprints in the Olympics.

Dean runs his hands through Cas’ thoroughly messed-up hair, smiling in a way that hints at playful.

“So uh.  Me too.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but gives Dean a soft smile and reaches out to touch Dean’s lips lightly.  Dean leans forward unconsciously, his body wanting more and more and more of whatever that was.

“Sam is getting impatient, can you walk?”

“You gonna carry me bridal style if I say no, Cas?”

There’s a glint in Cas’ eye as he helps Dean up.  He knows he’s going to be sore as hell in the morning, but right now he feels all light and bubbly, like he’s full of carbonated water.

“I can definitely do that, whatever gets us home faster.”

Dean feels like his stomach jumps into his throat at those words.

“Do you have honorable intentions?”

Cas presses a kiss to his jawline, grinning.

“Absolutely not.”

Link to OG post

Prompt me up!

[unityghost]

Morning Glory

Part 25 (yikes, wow, homegirl needs a social life) of the Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels series.

Based on one of the most intriguing prompts I've ever received:

Gabe's always torn between wanting to be hurt and wanting to be looked after, so if (somehow) he ended up being caught by a djinn what would he see? and how would he react once someone (read Sam lol) woke him up? like, would he be guilty for dreaming of going on hunts with the Winchesters and feeling like family or freaked out BC he'd just seen Sam attack him with the archangel blade? - Type40Treklock (Fanfiction.net)

It took me too long to get to this. Tumblr followers ... you have been patient with me. Thank you and I'm sorry for the wait!

                                         Morning Glory                                                   

Is everything okay?

You’re not hurt, are you?

I’m not the only one who’s worried. If we don’t hear from you, we’ll come and shake you out of whatever hangover is keeping you from texting back.

“Gabriel,” Castiel interrupted, “I doubt that they’ve gone four days without contact just because of a drunken stupor.”

Gabriel looked up from his phone. “Oh yeah? You’d put it past Dean to take a long-ass Epicurean detour?”

“No, I wouldn’t. But we should at least have heard from Sam. Don’t you agree?”

Gabriel sighed. “Yeah. I do.”

“In any case,” Castiel went on, “You’re right that there’s nothing in your recent exchanges with Sam to shed any light on their predicament.”

“Hey, hey, there might not even be a predicament. This radio silence could be chalked up to anything.”

“Yes.” Cas looked somber. “That’s exactly why we’re here. Speaking of which, I don’t mind flying you back home if you feel ambivalent about this.”

“Cas, please. I already told you eight hundred times that I don’t want you looking into this by yourself.”

“You know that I’m perfectly capable of self-preservation.”

“All right, I get it: I’m not. Don’t try to butter me up with subtext, Castiel.” Besides their voices, the only sounds were the twin notes of a chickadee hiding in the brambles that flanked a nearby playground. The air was heavy and warm, and the sky threatened rain. “Now listen: are you really going to spend your energy on how high I’ll flip my lid if I find Sam hurt, and not stop to consider how I’d react to you getting caught off guard just because you didn’t come with backup?”

Cas grew uneasy. “It isn’t that I don’t understand, Gabriel; I just ...” But he didn’t continue.

“I’m going to take the east wing,” Gabriel told him. “You take the west. Let’s scope the place out for those negligent blockheads instead of wasting time.”

A weird case out in some abandoned hospital, Sam had told Gabriel. But pretty routine, it looks like. Doubt it’ll take more than a couple of days.

Cas had had the good sense to trace the brothers’ cell phones. Locating the signal meant two things: one, the phones were turned on and Sam and Dean could have been answering if they wanted to; and two, Cas and Gabriel didn’t have to spend too much time figuring out exactly which drowsy pocket of suburban Idaho hosted the ruins of an orphaned hospital.

Cas and Gabriel strode to the doors together, but Castiel pulled Gabriel back before either could go inside. “Wait.”

“What?” Castiel appeared vaguely uncomfortable. “I … I have my grace.”

“Mazel tov.”

“And you have ... you have ...”

“Not yet clawed my way back to the surface of the pitiful noodle-pond that used to be raw, untethered cosmic power? What, really, are you sure? Because I hadn’t noticed.” He shook Castiel off. “Cut it out. I wouldn’t have followed you if I thought I couldn’t handle my part in the game.”

That was not entirely true, Gabriel acknowledged privately. He wasn’t useful so much as he was expendable: if he could buy them any kind of time, the extent to which he was able to protect himself wouldn’t matter. What was important was that they find Sam and Dean and, if either of the brothers were injured or trapped, ensure their safety.

The doors were not locked, and probably hadn’t been for a long time – partly because the empty building was ideal for anyone who didn’t want to be noticed by police, and partly because crime rates in this town were impressively low.

The lobby offered an unsettling mixture of scents: there was the damp, rotted wood of the front desk; there was rainwater that had leaked through cracks and crevices; they could smell moldy blankets and a warm undernote of something that might have been human decay.

“Let’s split up,” said Gabriel, just as Castiel said, “Let’s stick together.”

“What did I say about east and west?” Gabriel reminded him. “That’s what this is for.” He held up his phone. “I’ll text you to let you know where I am. You do the same. Or, if things get out of hand, call me and use code phrase ‘Bengal cat.’”

“I really think –”

But Gabriel ignored him to follow the metal wall plaque that directed him to the east wing of the hospital.

What he found was disconcerting: several of the beds were stripped, but some displayed carefully folded sheets that had flushed to the color of jaundice. There were rooms full of cots lined up side by side, and others whose beds had been turned over or shoved into corners. A few of the wards, and one stairwell, had old bloodstains on the floor.

A vengeful spirit, we think, Sam had said. Possibly more than one.

Gabriel bent down to peer beneath each bed. He knew that neither Sam nor Dean could lie there undetected, but perhaps he would find clues, something to guide him to their exact whereabouts or to suggest that they were in trouble.

Truthfully, Gabriel hoped he would find nothing. He was not searching for a body, and had no desire to muddy that conviction with anything that would look at home in an evidence bag.

Any luck? Castiel texted.

I found a mouse, Gabriel wrote back.

A mouse?

Neither of them; I checked. It wasn’t wearing plaid.

Half an hour later, Gabriel got in touch again: I can’t find anything. Gonna check the basement.

The message didn’t send. So he tried a second time, and once more it failed to go through.

Gabriel didn’t have much faith in his relationship with modern technology, because there was plenty he had missed during his time in Hell, and he hadn’t taken much time to acquaint himself with the multiplicity of devices that had flooded the world he thought he would never see again. It wasn’t a priority; there was so much else to learn, so much else to figure out.

With reluctance, Gabriel tried communicating with Castiel telepathically. If Cas felt anything, there was nothing to show for it, and Gabriel did not want to exhaust what little grace he might be able to access in case of an emergency. His grace had lately been fluid, unpredictable, and messy; he could rarely anticipate how much he might have at his disposal at any given time.

He could only assume that the message would send sooner or later, that perhaps it was moving slowly because of signal problems.

Not until Gabriel was in the basement did he realize exactly what was in the basement.

He squared his shoulders and reminded himself that of course they had to check the morgue; it made sense. The morgue was like any other section of the hospital, a room that might contain the living as well as the dead – and, perhaps, the not-quite-living and the maybe-dead.

But Gabriel hesitated. There could be no denying the stench of human putrefaction at this point. This was the first time since his arrival that he realized Cas might have been right to worry about him.

So he detached himself and pretended that he was watching another individual press his palms to either of the cold metal doors.

That was when somebody seized him from behind.

“No!” Gabriel screamed, and tried to throw his captor off. Its grip was hard and tight and unforgiving; this grip was confident and hungry, and Gabriel knew what that meant.

For a moment, he wondered how he could have ever confused the cautious warmth of Sam’s hands with the hands of a monster: this kind of touch, this kind of brutality, was fully recognizable as evil.

He tried to kick the thing’s legs and bite its hand. He felt a palm pressed to his mouth and this time not only smelled but tasted the meaty odor of decay.

He screamed into its hand until there was the tang of blood in his throat. He reached inside of himself for his grace, desperate for power that simply wasn’t there.

“Sleep,” the thing whispered into his ear, and Gabriel grew sick with panic. His nightmares were here, alive and real and ugly, and there was no one to help guide him back to a sense of security.

Gabriel could not remember ever wanting Sam as badly as he did in that moment.

The hand on his mouth was so strong he couldn’t breathe. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he didn’t need to breathe in order to survive, but the terror didn’t abate.

He was still screaming, still sobbing, when he opened his eyes and saw that he was lying in bed in an unfamiliar room illuminated by sunshine.

The smell of death was gone, replaced with the cool scent of cleaners and laundry detergents. The carpet was spotlessly white, and in the corner stood a table with a half-empty bottle of wine and four glasses that still had crimson dregs at the bottom.

He choked on his own tears and stole as many quick, ragged breaths as he could.

The door clicked open and he scrambled away, slipping off of the other side of the mattress.

“Gabriel!”

It was a voice he knew, and the arms that lifted him back onto the bed were not the arms of a brute.

Gabriel was shaking and moaning. He knew how helpless and pathetic he sounded, but he also had heard himself make those sounds before.

“You’re all right,” Sam murmured. “Just a bad dream, okay? Just a bad dream. You’re all right.”

“Where am I?” Gabriel rasped. “What happened?”

“Ssh, it’s like I said - I think you just had a nightmare. Sorry, I thought a nap would help you feel better. You wore yourself out setting all this up for us, I think.”

“What are you - ” Gabriel blinked rapidly, shivering and whimpering as he tried not only to form a question but to figure out whether it was even safe to ask. “Set what up? I didn’t - I don’t - ” His eyes flicked over the room, and he knew then what he wanted to say - A non-smoking suite, I see, spic-and-span as Aunt Doris’s pearls - but couldn’t get it out.

Sam seemed at something of a loss. All he could offer was a hand on Gabriel’s arm, trying to steady him.

“Two minutes ago,” Gabriel managed, “I - I was - ” There was the possibility that he had finally broken, had finally lost his mind really and completely; and the thought made him feel dizzy.

But there was a second possibility that slowed his blood to an icy crawl. “Sam?”

“What is it, Gabe?”

“Does Asmodeus have anything to do with this?”

Sam’s voice was gentle. “Hey, no, of course not. He won’t hurt you again, bud."

“He can mess with me; he can screw around with my memory, my perception - ”

“Yes. He used to be able to do that.” Sam gripped Gabriel’s shoulder. “But not anymore. You’re safe, Gabe, I promise.”

“Where am I? Am I still in Idaho?”

“Idaho?” Sam used his sleeve to help wipe Gabriel’s face, and Gabriel didn’t try to resist. “With this many beaches and kangaroos?”

Gabriel shut his eyes. “Jesus O’Malley, we’re in Australia.”

“Yeah. You brought us here, remember? Set up this hotel for us. Everyone else is down at the pool right now. Jack got to hold a koala this morning. You did a lot for us, and I think maybe you’re just exhausted.”

Gabriel shivered. “Sam, did you ever have so much trouble telling them apart? Dreams and - and what’s really happening?”

Sam considered. “I don’t think so.”

“Not even with Lucifer?” Gabriel was desperate for Sam to be right; he longed for confirmation that he really had just tired himself to the point of oblivion. Or perhaps Sam was lying to him and pretending that Gabriel had achieved something of which he had not been capable for hundreds and hundreds of years.

Sam frowned. “With who?”

“You know who. With my skeezewaffle of a brother.”

Sam looked puzzled. “Who, Jack’s dad? I met him twice at most.”

Gabriel simply stared.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“Um. I just … I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t feel - ”

“This should have been obvious right away.” Gabriel felt his shoulders relax slightly: he was in no danger from Asmodeus, or from his own insanity.

Before Sam could press him, there was a vigorous rapping at the door.

Gabriel swept the heels of his hands over his eyes in a final attempt to dry them. “Is that Africa by Toto?”

Sam sighed and went to open the door.

“Catch!” cried Dean, throwing a towel across the room to land on Gabriel’s head.

Gabriel tore it off. “This is wet, you maniac! I don’t need your cooties.”

“It ain’t my fault if your reflexes are molasses.” Dean was clad only in neon-orange swim trunks. “I figured a whiff of chlorine might wake you up.”

“You’re gross, Dean,” said Sam.

Castiel and Jack stood behind Dean, dressed more modestly with t-shirts over their swim trunks.

“Jack,” Gabriel croaked. He felt a strangely potent sense of relief at the sight of his nephew.

But Cas spoke first. “Are you feeling refreshed? If you’re up to it, we can go out for dinner.”

Gabriel didn’t reply. Instead, he did what he would have done in any situation: he looked at Sam, hoping he would have answers.

“We’ll order in,” Sam said. “It’ll be fun to try some of the local cuisine, don’t you think, Gabriel?”

“I … I guess.”

“Poor guy’s still recovering from last night,” Dean interrupted. “Doesn’t even have his voice back from the karaoke.” He nudged Gabriel, who tensed at the contact. “Don’t worry, I got the best of your performance on video.”

“Really?” exclaimed Jack. “I want to see.”

Dean glanced at Gabriel. “I don’t know if I’d sanction a G rating on that one.”

“Well,” Castiel chimed in, “We had a good night too.”

Jack’s face brightened. “Yeah, Sam and Cas and I had pizza and ice cream and watched the latest Steve Irwin special.”

“Lucky bastard and all his academy awards,” said Dean. “I hear he’s got his own theme park now.”

Jack peered more closely at Gabriel. “Uncle Gabe - have you been crying?”

“No,” said Gabriel.

But Jack looked disturbed. “I’ve never seen you cry before.”

“Really? I mean, uh - I’m fine. I’m okay. I think I might be allergic to Vegemite.”

Jack took a moment to evaluate, then stepped forward and hugged him.

Gabriel froze.

“I love you,” said Jack. “You’re the best.”

It took Gabriel several seconds to remember that he was supposed to hug back. The embrace lingered until he pulled away, before the smell of chlorine and the dampness of Jack’s hair on his cheek could become any more real.

Dean spoke up. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a shower.” He waltzed into the bathroom and shut the door. Then there came the hiss of running water.

Sam groaned. “You can kick him out and make him use the bathroom you set up for him.”

“I think he likes your custom shampoo,” Jack told Gabriel.

“So I suppose after we’ve all freshened up,” said Cas, “We can decide what to do. Or rather, Gabriel, you can decide whether you have any energy to go out. Trust me, no one will feel neglected if you’d prefer to keep things on the quieter side this evening. Oh, and Sam - ” Cas laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “If you aren’t feeling up to anything - ”

“Don’t worry about me, Cas.” Sam smiled. “ I’m fine.”

“I know, but … the last hunt was a lot. You were in pain. So if you’re still feeling the effects, we can lie low tonight. I can make sure that - ”

“Relax. I’m good. It’s like Dean said at breakfast, you’ve done enough for us. All right? No need to keep trying to take care of everyone.”

Gabriel’s gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them. “What hunt are we talking about?”

Sam waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve hardly thought about it since you healed me up. Cas is overreacting. Which I appreciate, but I’m really okay.”

Cas nodded. “All right.” He slid his hand from Sam’s shoulder. “In that case, why don’t Jack and I go back to our room and settle down for a while? I have no reason to suspect that Jack is anything but satisfied with the shampoo in our bathroom.”

Jack smiled at Gabriel, and Gabriel snapped his eyes away.

“So,” Sam began once Jack and Cas had exited the room, “You okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out as a whisper.

“No you’re not,” Sam insisted. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

“I’m … I’m feeling fine, Sam. It’s like you said: just a really awful dream.”

“Do you want me in here with you? I don’t mind sticking around for however long you need me for.”

“I don’t. Obviously I’ve got your brother to keep me company.”

Sam’s eyes flitted to the bathroom door. “He means well, I guess. I think he needed some time off.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Me, my supercharged celestial batteries, and a non-stop flight to the land down under.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll come back to check on you in a little bit, okay? And if Dean gives you any trouble just throw him to the dingoes.”

“Mm. You know I will.”

Gabriel watched Sam exit the room, studiously ignoring the surge of grief at the back of his throat.

He gave himself no time to dwell on what would happen next.

The first place he checked was the bedside drawer. There, he found a copy of the King James Bible that contained what were more than likely Gabriel’s emendations: “Don’t be afraid, Mary,” said the angel, “For you are in favor with Daddy-o. Congratulations, it’s a boy, and you shall call him either Jesus or Scott - I forget which one.”

He moved to the closet, which turned out to be full of clothing better suited for a wedding or seventies-themed disco party than a relaxing weekend away. Which, Gabriel reflected, made sense if he and Dean had decided to take advantage of traits that, in another life, might have led to something like companionship.

When an examination of the closet yielded no results, Gabriel moved to the table and bent over the duffel bag on the chair. When he unzipped it he found swimwear, perhaps his own. There were trunks, a pair of goggles, some flippers.

Sitting on top of the aquatic regalia sat a rectangular box: slim, unassuming, and discreetly coffin-like.

Feeling triumphant, Gabriel lifted the lid.

Then he heard the bathroom door open behind him.

“Don’t,” said Dean.

Gabriel straightened up but didn’t turn around. “It’s not real.”

“It kind of is, man.” The shower was still running. Gabriel could feel the steam coming from the bathroom, as lifelike as anything else he had encountered thus far. “Look, nobody’s trying to force philosophy into what should just be a nice little family getaway, but - ”

“Don’t use that word,” Gabriel snapped.

“What word?”

“Shut up; you know what word. And I agree that we should keep superfluous proselytizing to a minimum.”

“If you do this,” Dean told him, “You’re making it real.”

Gabriel sighed, then turned to face him. Dean had a towel around his waist.

“You know what, sensei?” Gabriel said. “Get back in the shower and don’t watch if it bothers you so much.”

“Once you see how easy it is, Gabe - ”

“It isn’t easy. It’s practical. Listen, pal, I’ve been around long enough to remember how to pop this lock. Getting out of here will be a breeze no matter what shortcuts I gotta take.”

Dean shook his head. “What reason to you have to leave?”

“You know perfectly well what reasons I have.”

“You’re worried about Sammy, right?” There was an odd melancholy in Dean’s face - an expression halfway between resignation and desperation that Gabriel had never seen on him in real life. “Now’s as good a time as any to worry about your own happiness, Gabriel.” Gabriel tensed, annoyed by the warmth of his full name. “You’re allowed to stick around for you if that’s what you want.”

Gabriel swallowed. “It’s not what I want.”

“Really? Just because you know Sam would miss you?”

Gabriel traced his fingers over the flat of the blade as though toying with a Rubik’s cube. “I miss him, too.”

“He’s right here, Gabe.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

“And what’s he going to say when he finds out about this? You have any idea what kind of pain this would cause him? To know what you did to get out? To know how damn easy it was to get your hands on the archangel blade in your deepest fantasies?”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “Who says he has to find out?”

And he raised the knife.

Gabriel remembered very little of what happened after it was done. Somebody lifted him, possibly even tried to carry him - until he fought with such ferocity that the newcomer let go, and Gabriel staggered forward with some assistance.

Somewhere amid the confusion and exhaustion, he registered that there was no odor of death on the arms that guided him. The voice in his ear, saying things like, “Try not to fall over” and “It’s just me,” was soft and familiar.

The next thing of which Gabriel was entirely conscious was waking up in his own bedroom, rolling onto his side, and seeing nobody.

Not real, he thought, but then remembered that it probably was. He had done what needed to be done in order to extract himself from that venomous amusement park with all its perfect temptations.

He pushed off the blankets. Someone had made sure to leave the bedside light on. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn on his trip to the hospital. Gabriel felt himself relax slightly: nobody had stripped him down.

When he tried to sit up, he hissed in pain. Peeling back his shirt, Gabriel saw that there were bandages on his abdomen, moistened with blood. Of course - there would not be enough grace for him to heal any injuries sustained during unconsciousness. He hoped it was Sam who had tended to the wound.

That was when Gabriel remembered that Sam could be anywhere, that he might have imagined his presence in the hospital earlier. Panicked, Gabriel forced himself to his feet and ignored the dizziness that came with the sudden movement.

He heard hurried footsteps, and the door slammed open.

“Sit down!” Sam cried, hurrying over to him. “Come on, don’t try to get up - not yet.”

He guided Gabriel back down.

“I’m fine,” said Gabriel. “Just made the fatal mistake of trying to stand up before all my senses had a chance to rehabilitate themselves. Did your spidey senses tingle?”

“No, I - I just heard you moving around.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, willing the vertigo away. “Hey. Potato brains. You told me you were facing down a vengeful spirit.”

“Yeah, we were.” Sam tucked the blankets more securely around Gabriel’s shoulders. “The djinn was the one to kill the guy.”

“Well, didn’t you two just hit the jackpot.”

“You shouldn’t have tried chasing after us, Gabriel.”

“Wasn’t my idea.” Gabriel opened his eyes and focused on Sam’s face. “I didn’t want Cas going solo.”

Sam sighed, looking worried and relieved all at once. He seemed to be waiting for Gabriel to speak.

Finally, Gabriel did. “Look, I’m sorry. I wish I’d been able to defend myself. At the very least to put up a good fight. If my grace levels were anywhere near where they should be, that thing wouldn’t have gotten within two feet of me, let alone into my head.”

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”

“How long was I down there, Sam?”

“Not long, I’m pretty sure. We heard you screaming.” Gabriel blinked. “Then you were down there with me? I was on your trail?” Please tell me I did something right.

Sam nodded. “By then, we’d caught on that we might be looking for more than just a pissed-off spirit. Guess you were in the right place at the wrong time, huh?” He forced a smile. “Thanks, but why didn’t you at least wait for backup?”

“Didn’t want to lose time. Cas was half-convinced we were on the prowl for a pair of Winchester-shaped corpses. Sam … in what universe did you think it was okay to ignore us for that long?”

Sam shrugged. “Couple of teenagers stole our phones. And wallets.”

“How hunterly of you to allow adolescent fugitives to make off with your valuables. Why didn’t you at least pray to me or Cas? I mean - I don’t know that I would’ve heard you, my grace being as floppy as it is, but he would have.��

Sam offered another weak smile. “We didn’t think about that, Gabriel. We weren’t in any serious trouble. Why would we ask for help when we didn’t need it?” He peered more closely at Gabriel, whose expression must have betrayed something of which Gabriel was unaware, because Sam added, “Hey, it’s okay; I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be that freaked out. We got everything back in the end, when we - ” He hesitated for a second before concluding. “When we found the kids in the morgue.”

“In the … ah. I see. The rendezvous spot for illicit recreation.”

“Just enough to mortify their God-fearing parents, probably.”

“I’m sure Dad was plenty concerned with their antics. What about Castiel; is he all right? Did he get out?”

“He’s fine. Cas wasn’t hurt.”

“All right. Good to know I’m the only one who can’t look out for myself.”

Sam caught the bitterness in Gabriel’s voice. “Stop.”

“No, actually - ” Gabriel pushed himself up a little straighter. “Don't you want to know what kind of utopic frenzy that bastard cooked up for me?”

Sam was quiet. Then he replied, “Honestly, I kind of do.”

“Good. Because in the interest of science, I want to get it on the record that I can tell you the whole thing without breaking down. As a reward I’ll let myself take home that this didn’t all happen just because I’m brittler than fried seaweed.”

Sam looked pained. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I understand.”

“No, no, let me see - so I have it on the books - how far I can push myself before sacrificing my dignity to an inflamed maw of shitty memories. First, can I get Sigmund Freudchester’s opinion on something?”

“I … yeah, sure. What?”

“What does it say to you that the djinn made things so that I’d still been held prisoner by Asmodeus?”

Horror passed over Sam’s face. “You were with him? In Hell?”

“No, no, yuck, not with him; it had still happened to me, though, and you were the good egg who kept wasting fuel on the little engine that couldn’t. What’s your take on that? What do you think?”

Sam’s face had gone pale. “I don’t know, Gabriel.”

“Really? Well, I think I do.” There was something manic in Gabriel now, something he couldn’t control. He was, perhaps, a little angry, a little frantic, although he could not have said why. “It just confirms for me that if I had the opportunity to unwrite this script, to change what happened to me, to make it so that I had never been his favorite toy - ”

“You wouldn’t.” Sam looked horrified, but did not sound surprised.

“Exactly,” Gabriel told him. “Because I wasn’t meant to be treated any differently. Getting out of Hell was just a maggot turning into a fly. No real upgrade. And if I didn’t have the courage to actually wish that I was back where I was supposed to be, then I at least had the common decency to take some of what I deserved.”

“Gabriel, please don’t - ”

“I only knew for sure it was just tripe when you came out and said you’d never faced Lucifer. No - wait - you called him ‘Jack’s dad.’ As if you’d signed the adoption papers, bada-bing, bada-boom, the kid’s ours. And Jack - he was so damn innocent, nary a shit to give, just some happy little kid who made it clear how hardcore he loved his uncle. Because Uncle Gabe had the power of freaking kangaroos on hand, and - ”

“Stop.” Sam held up a hand. He seemed to have recovered a little. “You know what the djinn does, don’t you? You’re supposed to - to think that its world is better. You’re supposed to not want to get out.” He paused. “Um …”

“Go ahead,” Gabriel pressed. “You know how I got out.”

Sam looked at him. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

Unconsciously, Gabriel touched his stomach. The wound there was from where the monster had stolen blood. “Let’s just get this out of the way. I know you’re probably angry as Hell about it.”

That seemed to take Sam by surprise. “No! Well - I mean - if you still think about that sometimes; if you … if you can’t help …”

“It’s fine, Sam; I get it. Be pissed.”

“I’m not pissed. I … I mean … do you want me to be mad?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Sam; you do you.”

“Listen, I get that some days are better than others, and that sometimes you’re just not going to … you know …” Sam gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m just trying to say that I know you can’t control what goes through your head. It’s not your fault, that’s all. But I wish you could shake off this idea that you deserved what you got. And that you somehow have to - I don’t know - to make something up to us.”

“Sam,” Gabriel pleaded, “Jack got to hold a koala.”

Sam just laid a hand on his arm, waiting, perhaps, for Gabriel to say more.

“You have every right to be angry,” Gabriel said finally. “You know - you can be upset about the archangel blade. Because you do everything in your power to make me care about myself, and all I do is fight back.”

“Gabriel …” Sam kept his hand in place as he thought about how to respond. “I’m not mad. Really. I’m not. You used it to live. You could have been happy there, but you decided to come back. How could I be angry about that?”

Gabriel tensed. “Uh. I was more thinking along the lines of how easy it was to get to it. It was sitting there in a duffel bag, right where I could grab it in an emergency. You know, you never know when you might need to - to slice open a cantaloupe or …” He trailed off, then cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s the freedom of having the choice. You get that, right? Sort of?”

Sam nodded. “And you made a choice. Look at that.”

Gabriel shivered.

“You cold?” Sam asked.

“No,” Gabriel told him, “Just a wreck. Make a note in the spreadsheet for further evaluation later. This is proving to be an interesting experiment, wouldn’t you say?” He took a deep breath. “I can’t give you what you gave me, Sam. A home. Good memories. A feeling of safety. Somewhere to be afraid without getting hurt in the end. I can’t give that to you or Dean or Cas or Jack.”

“We don’t need those things from you.”

“You need them from someone, Sam, and I owe you at least that much.”

“You need to be - oh, hey - ” Sam withdrew his hand and used the blankets to help dry Gabriel’s face.

“Add it to the log,” Gabriel whispered. “I failed the experiment.”

“It’s okay to be upset. You know that. Crying is probably good for you.”

“You know what else is good for you? Bikram yoga. But it sucks and you look like a clown doing it.” Gabriel shuddered again. “You know - his hands, they felt like - they reminded me of - ”

“Whose hands? The djinn’s?”

“Yes.”

“What about them?”

“They felt like his. And I just - right then, when I felt him - ” Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and felt a tear trickle over his temple and into his ear. “Sorry - when I felt him, I thought of you. Not because it felt like how it feels when you’re with me, or when you touch me. Because it felt so different.”

“I could lie down with you, if you want.”

Gabriel didn’t answer, and kept his eyes closed. He felt Sam, who had learned to read Gabriel’s silence, recline next to him.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about?” Sam asked.

Gabriel curled in on himself and cried.

He felt Sam pull him close. “You’re tired, Gabriel. You need some rest. Try and sleep, yeah?”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“Sleep,” Sam repeated.

It sounded so different coming from him.

[marginslost]

                 hello  hello   !        i  am  red  and  i  legit  had  fckin  days  to  write  these  intros  and  yet ,  we  are  here  today  puttin  them  together .  first  up  is  my  love ,  matilda  ruano ,  but  she  goes  by  her  middle  name  so  pls  refer  to  her  as  bronwyn .  honestly  shoutout  to  jack  for  the  frankenstein  idea  on  the  main  bc  we . . .     we  ran  w  that  real  hard .  so  here  we  go :  dr .  frankenstein  jr ,,,,  but  then  make  it  daphne  blake  bc  danger - prone :    bronwyn .  you  know  that  tiktok  that  is  like  ‘  im  immortal  until  proven  otherwise  ’   ??   that’s  it .  that’s  the  character .

full  name ,        matilda  bronwyn  ruano

age ,         twenty  two

gender ,         demi girl

pronouns ,         she / her   (  they / them ,  although  with  less  frequency  )

year ,         fourth  year  undergrad

concentration ,         bioengineering 

traits ,         overzealous ,  egocentric ,  clever ,  decisive

aesthetic ,        child  that  was  once  like  an  overripe  fruit ,  sickeningly  saccharine ,  has  gone  the  only  way  one  with  so  much  life  could :  something  powerful ,  unyielding ,  with  death  on  her  heels ;  unlike  pascal ,  she  will  wager  on  herself ,  believe  in  herself  more  than  heaven  or  hell ;   ‘ cut  is  the  branch  that  might  have  grown  full ’   /   first  faust ,  then  chatterton ,  but  she’s  avoided  such  a  fate  despite  striking  up  a  friendship with  it

activities ,        in  curie ,   taking   careful ,   perfectly   lettered ,   notes   on   the   laboratory   mice ;   at  byron   castle ,   locked   in   her   room ,   the   sound   of   music   from   a   cassette   player   and   the   faint   smell   of   chemicals   coming   from   the   door

song ,       rebels  by  tom  petty  and  the  heartbreakers

rumor ,         either   cats   really   have   nine   lives   or   something   else   brought   their   pet,   ascher,   back   to   life

headcanons .

                      tw .   maternal  death ,  near  death  experiences ,  car  accident   /  drunk  driving

bronwyn  lost  her  mother  at  a  very  young  age  to  a  drunk  driving  accident .  they  were  both  in  the  car  but  only  she  survived .  her  father  never  remarried ,  instead  spending  the  time  he  was  not  managing  his  law  firm  caring  for  his  little  sunshine ,     tilly :    a  nickname  that  never  really  felt  like  her .  however ,  the  lack  of  stepmother    (  evil  or  otherwise  )   was  not  the  reason  the  ruano  family  strayed  from  the  fairytale  life  they  had  before  the  accident .  no ,  that  had  more  to  do  with  tilly  herself ,  who  had  a  terrible  habit  of  finding  herself  in  danger’s  path .

luck  of  any  kind  relies  on  absolutely  perfect  timing .  whether  bronwyn’s  luck  is  good  or  bad  is  debatable ,  but  she  is  always       fantastically      punctual ;   always  there  to  catch  the  wrong  moment ,  but  always  pulled  back  from  the  edge  in  the  nick  of  time .  broken  bones ,  accidents  that  require  stitches ,  strange  illnesses . . .    she’s  a  soul  quite  familiar  with  the  feeling  of  being  close  to  death ,  of  being  able  to  reach  out  and  press  her  fingers  against  the  unknown  but  manage  to  stay  on  the  side  of  the  living .  it  is  a  strange  and  familiar  friend .  she  has      almost  died       an  alarming  number  of  times  by  the  time  she  reached  villon’s  halls ,  but  to  her  that  was  simply  how  she  lived .

once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  thing  name  tilly  who  tripped  over  her  own  feet  and  into  hospital  beds ,  but  now  ,  bronwyn  stood  in  her  place .  an  upbeat ,  if  not  obsessive ,  student  who  is  well  put  together  and  feels  powerful  for  she  believes  death  cannot  take  her .     they  are  friends  aren’t  they  ?       and  it  has  tried  so  many  times  only  to  fail .  based  on  logic  and  reason  and  observation  and  all  the  things  the  scientific  community  hold  dear ,  her  hypothesis  is  that  she  cannot  be  killed .  she won't speak it in so many words , but the thought exists in her .

that’s  why  she  picked  bioengineering  as  her  concentration .   she  knows  she  cannot  just  pass  on  her  luck  to  others ,  the  timing  needed  for  such  things  being  fickle  and  unrepeatable     (   scientific  procedure  says  that  all  experiments  must  be  repeatable  ) .      what  she  could  do  instead ,  was  create  ways  for  that  timing  to  be  less  precise ,  give  people  more  time  to  get  it  right .  it  is  unfortunate  not  everyone  could  be  like  her ,  but  she  could  do  her  best  to  get  them  as  close  as  she  could .

the  death  of  the  deans  showed  her  the  importance  of  her  work ,  but  it  also  prompted  her  to  think  bigger .  up  until  then  she  believed  saving  someone  meant  giving  them  more  time  to  stabilize  themselves ,  find  their  balance ,  and  thus  keep  them  from  falling  into  the  abyss  of  death ,  but  really  that  was  not  the  only  solution .  saving  someone ,  she  realized ,  did  not  have  to  mean  keeping  them  from  falling ,  but  could  mean  pulling  them  back .

fragments .

okay  so  she  did  not  bring  her  cat  back  to  life .  it  was ,  however ,  an  eldery  stray  when  she  adopted  two  years  ago  it  so  fellow  students  could  be  forgiven  for  thinking  it  strange  that  it’s  still  around .

the  cat  is  a  tortoisehell  and  it’s  named  after  one  of  the  contributors  to  the  creation  of  the  intra - aortic  balloon  pump  bc  of  course  it  is.

inherited  a  love  of  music  from  her  father ,  and  she  absolutely  needs  something  playing  to  work .  if  you  stand  outside  her  door  at  odd  hours ,  you  might  catch  her  cassette  playing  going  as  she  works  on  her  latest  project .

a  surprisingly  good  cook  but  that’s  bc  she  views  it  as  just  a  different  kind  of  science .  will  make  a  full  meal  at  2  am  in  the  dormitory  kitchens  to  clear  her  mind  and  might  give  you  a  plate  if  you  ask  nicely .

god  complex  ???   if  that  was  not  obvious .  she  thinks  she’s  immortal  and  while  she  doesn’t  say  it  you  can  tell  from  the  way  she  carries  herself .

[serious-writers-block]

Empty Promises Part 2

A/N: A few people asked for a part 2, so here’s what I came up with. As before, I attempted to keep pronouns out so that everyone can enjoy it. I got a little carried away and wrote more than I planned but there are worse things. Thanks for all the lovely feedback on the first part of this. I cannot express how happy it made me to see people reading my fic. Requests are currently open bc I’m blocked on my multipart fic right now and avoiding other responsibilities. Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: none (I think?)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader (gender neutral)

“Y/N,” Sam followed close behind you as you stormed out of Bobby’s house, “Y/N, wait.”

“Sam, I can’t,” you started, “I can’t be here, not right now.”

“But-”

“He’s all I see. When I look at you, or Bobby, or this house, he’s all I see and I just can’t be here,” you had your backpack slung over one shoulder, haphazardly stuffed with the first clothing you found in what was once the room you shared with Dean. 

“Dean wanted-”

“Dean’s dead,” you stopped him. You wouldn’t beat around the bush. The love of your life was gone, all because his little brother needed his help. There was no denying how guilty you felt for being unable to stop it. Brutal honesty was the only thing you could trust. Facts. Facts were reliable, they were facts. They weren’t tender words or promises inevitably broken. 

“We only just buried him,” he tried again, “please, don’t do this.” You shook your head but refused to speak. “Wait for me. We’ll go together and we’ll find a way to get him back.”

“There’s no getting him back, Sam,” tears were starting to build in your eyes, but you doubted they’d actually fall. You’d done nothing but cry for days. “I promised him I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

“So screw your promises. What does it matter if we get Dean back?” You scoffed before turning your back to him. You yanked the driver’s side door open of the nearest working car and tossed your backpack onto the seat behind it. “Y/N.”

Before he could say anything else, you slammed the door shut and started the car. The younger Winchester watched as you peeled out of the junkyard, unsure of what to do about you or his brother. 

Four months later

Dean looked over his brother’s motel room after the small brunette girl had left. Bobby stood off to the side, waiting for him to ask the inevitable. Dean had assumed you would be with his brother when he didn’t find either of you at Bobby’s. The older hunter refrained from telling Dean the truth about your and Sam’s split. The truth was, you’d left mere days after Dean had been killed and Bobby had scarcely heard from you since. 

“Where’s Y/N?” he finally asked, seeing no trace of you. Neither Bobby nor Sam responded, “Sam?” He watched as his brother looked toward Bobby, hoping he’d have an answer. 

“We ain’t seen Y/N in almost four months,” Bobby grunted. Dean turned to look at him. 

“Four months?” he shouted, “I’ve only been gone four months.”

“Y/N took off after we buried you,” Sam finally admitted, “still won’t answer my calls.”

“Dammit, Sam. I told you-”

“I tried, Dean. I tried.” Sam wouldn’t let his brother accuse him of not keeping his promises. 

“Apparently not hard enough,” seeing Sam’s laptop sitting at the table, he angrily went to it and pulled it open, hoping to trace one of your cell phones.

“I tried tracing Y/N’s cells. They’re all turned off.”

Bobby spoke up again, “Y/N’s gone off the grid, doesn’t want to be found.” Dean slammed the laptop shut. He was furious his brother could let you slip away so easily. 

He remembered his last day on earth as if it were only yesterday. Though being tortured in hell felt like an eternity, flashes of the curve of your smile and the playful glint of your eye seemed to appear before him everyday. Like clockwork, the image of you would come to relieve him from the never-ending pain. That was, until the demons broke down the protective wall he’d built around the picture of you in his mind. Then they finally broke him. Rather than inflicting physical pain on Dean, they showed him you, being carved into like an animal on a butcher’s table. Your screams echoed through his mind. The sight of blood oozing out of you, a look of pure terror across your face, forced him to take up his own carving knife. It pushed him to step off the rack and join the ranks of those who tortured the other humans like him. 

While Dean was catching up with his brother and panicking about your whereabouts, you were perched on the edge of your motel bed, holding back the very screams that plagued Dean’s dreams. You were stitching up a wound on your abdomen, a Wendigo having taken a swing at you a few hours before. Taking care of your own wounds never seemed to get any easier and it was one of the few moments you wished you’d taken Sam up on his offer to come with you. Memories of the Winchester boys laughing and joking together filled your mind, easing the pain mentally, though failing to distract from the physical sting. 

It seemed like there was something to remind you of Dean at every corner. You originally thought that distancing yourself from his family was the best way to move forward, but you only seemed to miss him more as time went on. He had asked, or rather begged you to quit hunting once he was gone, but even he knew he was asking you to promise something you could never do. Instead, you settled on agreeing not to do anything stupid to bring him back. Every time you encountered a demon or powerful witch you were tempted with the possibility of finding Dean, but you knew there was no way. It would take sacrificing yourself to bring him back, but knowing Dean that would spark a never ending cycle of one of you sacrificing yourself for the other. You would give yourself for him without a second thought, making the months without him seem more painful than any death could ever be. But you knew you had to move forward, so you did your best to do exactly that. You killed the witch or demon that offered the possibility of resurrection and promptly drank yourself to sleep to avoid thinking about the missed opportunity. 

When you finished tending to your wounds, you carefully shifted yourself up to the head of the bed. There was no use trying to sleep, the injuries you sustained would cause you too much discomfort and your pain meds had yet to kick in. As you leaned against the headboard, you instinctively reached toward the ring you wore on a chain around your neck. It was the silver ring he always wore. You’d slipped it off his hand before Sam even had a chance to grab the necklace Dean always wore. The necklace was Sammy’s to take, you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let every part of Dean be buried six feet under. 

“You should’ve seen me today, De,” you said out loud, as if he was in the room with you, “I got all three of the boys home to their parents. Not a single casualty.” Tears were building in your eyes, but you felt no need to control them. “There was one, he had green eyes like yours, but his hair was long like Sammy’s.” You smiled remembering the boy. “He was so scared. I kept wondering if… if that’s what you guys looked when you were his age, if that’s what John saw. God, I miss you. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore.” 

Your phone suddenly rang and interrupted the conversation you were having with yourself. You had tossed it onto the bed when you got back from the hunt. After ditching all your phones you kept the number of your burner to yourself, so you had no clue who could be calling you so late at night. You flipped the phone open and held it to your ear, not even bothering to read the caller I.D. You were quiet as you waited for the caller to speak. 

“Y/N?”

Dean. 

“Who the hell is this?” you cursed, attempting to sound as assertive as you could. Your brain told you there was no way in hell it could really be Dean. He was in hell. 

“Baby-” 

You hung up the phone before the caller finished his sentence. 

~~~

“Well?” Sam asked expectantly. Dean had pulled the phone away from his ear once you hung up. Bobby had returned to Sioux Falls, leaving the Winchester boys in Pontiac attempting to hunt you down.

“It’s Y/N,” he confirmed, stomping out the door. His bags were already packed and loaded in the Impala. Sam was hot on his heels, laptop in hand set to track the phone number Dean had found. 

“How did you know Y/N would use that name?” the younger asked once he’d settled in his seat. Dean had called the phone company and asked them to give them the phone number for a Meredith Brown. 

Dean quickly pulled out of the motel parking lot, hardly bothering to watch for oncoming traffic, “it’s Y/N’s favorite character on Dr. Sexy.”

“Seriously?” 

Though he was still pissed at his little brother, he continued, “I knew Y/N would be upset and would get lazy with names, but I didn’t know it’d be this easy.”

~~~

A knock on your door shook you out of your thoughts. You were once again seated at the top of the bed, this time wrapped in a large flannel that once belonged to Dean and nursing a hot coffee. It had been more than a day since the mysterious phone call, but you couldn’t get his voice out of your head. Unsurprisingly, you hadn’t slept since, though you couldn’t tell if it was because of the injuries from your last hunt or the fragment of a possibility that Dean might be alive. 

Cautiously, you took your gun with you as you approached the door. Clicking the safety off, you held it close as you glanced through the peephole. What you saw nearly knocked you off your feet. You ripped the door open and aimed your gun at what you were sure had to be some sort of shapeshifter or skinwalker.  

“Whoa, hey, it’s me,” Dean insisted, raising his hands in front of him. 

You shook your head, “not possible.”

Sam peaked out from behind his older brother, “Y/N, he’s telling the truth, it’s really him.” His sincerity caught you off guard. Dean took the moment of surprise to step into the room past your gun. Beside the window, on the small table sat your hunting bag. Dean knew immediately which pocket held your flask of holy water. He grabbed it and turned to you. 

“Look,” he splashed himself with the water, “not a demon.” He turned back to the table and retrieved what was once his favorite silver knife and held it up. Rolling up the sleeve of his flannel, he held his arm out and used the knife to make a small cut just below his elbow. “Not a shifter. I’m one hundred percent me, baby.”

You clicked the safety back onto your gun as your arm returned to your side. He had passed the tests, but it still didn’t seem right. He claimed he was your Dean. He talked like your Dean. He smiled like your Dean, but something still seemed off. You looked at Sam and he nodded, as if he knew exactly what questions you wanted to ask. 

The gun slipped from your hand as you leapt toward the man in front of you, “De,” you gasped out as he held you. Never in your life did you expect to see him again. You never thought you’d feel his arms around you again. Without even realizing it, much like four months before, tears streamed down your face. This time though, they were tears of gratitude and joy. He seemed to tighten his grip on you, as if he knew exactly how your body was responding to his presence. You pulled away enough to look at him, though you stayed in his arms. Searching his eyes for answers you finally asked, “how? How are you here?”

He sucked in a breath, seeing you fully for the first time in what felt like an eternity, “I don’t know.” He shook his head. He saw the confusion spread across your face, “I was hoping you could tell me. I thought we promised you wouldn’t-”

“We promised I wouldn’t do anything stupid,” you reminded him, “I don’t know- I didn’t do this, De, but I owe a big thank you to whoever did.” Before you could say anything else, Dean finally pressed his lips to yours. What was four months of wanting for you was forty years of needing for Dean. Seeing you safe in front of him was all he could ever ask for. Heat spread through you as his lips moved against yours. Every inch of you was set on fire by his touch, innocent as it was. Dean pulled away, though you attempted to follow his lips. He stopped so he could look at you. 

“I never…” his whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “I never thought I’d see you again.” He noticed a new scar on your left cheek bone and ran his thumb across it, admiring your beauty and strength. Everything he ever needed stood in front of him. Everything he could ever want was in you. 

You smiled, though he saw how it failed to reach your eyes like it once did, and said, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” With a gentle tug you pulled him toward you again. You allowed yourself to get lost in him once again, grateful for whatever, or whoever, it was that brought him back to you. 

[idkxwriting]

Treacherous - Chapter Eight

Author: idkhaylijah Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: nsfw bc sexy times. wrap it before you tap it. And tbh if you don’t know to do that you probably shouldn’t be reading. 18+ please

“Y/N?” Dean snapped his fingers in front of her face, drawing her attention.

She blinked, her eyes focusing. “She can’t be dead…”

“Who is Caroline?”

“Caroline Forbes,” Elijah chimed in as if that explained things. “Tyler, what makes you believe Y/N killed her?”

Tyler reached into his pocket and Dean turned at the movement, raising his gun straight at him. “I’d think twice before doing anything that’ll get you killed,” he growled.

Tyler paused his movements, glancing at Elijah, who gave a slight nod. “Relax,” he said, pulling out his phone. He pulled up a video, tossing the device to Y/N. She glanced down and furrowed her eyebrows. When she met Tyler’s angry gaze he raised his chin. “Watch it.”

She hit play - the video carried no audio, but there, clear as day she saw Caroline. She was tied to a chair, the ropes digging into her skin. Even on the small screen Y/N could tell the ropes had been drenched with vervain - the skin underneath them red and angry. The vampire lifted her head, tears streaming down her eyes, and it looked like she was begging.

Her eyes were trained on something off camera, and fear flooded them as a figure stepped into view.

Y/N.

She walked over to Caroline, and pointed a wooden stake at the camera, a wicked grin on her face.

Caroline cried out as the stake was plunged through her stomach, and Y/N glanced away from the phone as this duplicate of herself, Empusa, tortured the vampire.

“Keep watching,” Tyler growled.

She looked up again to see this twisted version of herself standing over Caroline Forbe’s lifeless body, her heart in her hands as she smirked, approaching the camera. She disappeared from view, the lens shifting in and out of focus on Caroline until the screen went black.

Y/N held her hand over her mouth in shock. “Tyler, that wasn’t me...I would never…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence, her mind reeling at the loss of her friend.

Elijah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Dean reached for the phone.

“From where I’m sitting, you killed her,” Tyler’s eyes burned and his jaw clenched. He was white knuckled, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair.

“I would never hurt her!” Y/N shouted, her blood boiling. She slumped down onto the mattress, feeling tired and defeated.

Elijah moved between them, keeping his eyes on the hybrid.

“And if you think I’m capable of that, you don’t know me at all,” she said, her voice as broken as she felt.

The Original turned, taking her in. “Y/N, you’ve lost a lot of blood,” he commented.

She shook her head, and he knew she was declining his blood before he even offered. “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” she muttered, kicking off her shoes.

Elijah nodded and disappeared for a moment.

“Whatever that is, it isn’t your friend,” Dean said, studying the phone.

Y/N furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”

Elijah came back, listening as he carefully bandaged the wound on Y/N’s neck.

Dean’s eyes were trained on the video, playing it back again and again when he finally hit pause. “There,” he said tilting the screen towards Y/N. “Look at her eyes.”

“That’s a shapeshifter,” Y/N said.

“What are you saying?” Tyler asked.

Dean tossed the phone back to him. “I’m saying that’s not your little girlfriend.”

Tyler looked down at the phone, his eyes beginning to water as he tried to fight off the hope that began to unfurl in his chest, not sure he could survive losing it - losing her - again.

Y/N winced at Elijah’s touch. “Forgive me,” he said as he finished the bandage.

She turned to thank him, caught off guard by the heat of his gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded, smiling softly before standing. “So, Mr. Winchester, what would Empusa want with a shapeshifter”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

Tyler shut his eyes in relief. “You didn’t kill her?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “No, Tyler. I didn’t kill her.”

Tyler stopped fighting off the hope, embracing it and holding on as tightly as he could. “She’s not dead,” he choked, the tears beginning to flow freely. “She’s not dead.”

“We don’t know that,” Y/N snapped.

Tyler shook his head, refusing to believe anything else.

“Where’d you get the video?” Dean asked.

Tyler gathered himself, clearing his head. “I thought Y/N sent it to me…”

He showed the number the text came in on and Y/N rolled her eyes. “That’s not my number, Ty.”

“Yea, well, you haven’t bothered to reach out in years, what was I supposed to think?” He snapped.

Dean ignored their bickering, jotting the number down on a pad of paper from the nightstand. “Maybe Sam can trace it,” he said before pulling out his phone and stepping out of the room.

“Mr. Lockwood, I suggest you head back to Mystic Falls before I change my mind,” Elijah said. When Tyler didn’t move Elijah placed his hand into his pocket casually, squaring his shoulders. “Let me be clear - this is a threat.”

Tyler looked to Y/N who shook her head. “Just go, Tyler.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered before disappearing.

Y/N sighed and placed her head in her hands. Elijah sat down next to her. “You need rest,” he said.

She turned to look at him, resting her face in the palm of her hand. “Story of my life,” she sighed.

Elijah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she closed her eyes at the touch, breathing him in. She had missed this, more than she cared to admit.

She sat up, her eyes flicking to his shoulder, asking for permission. He gave a slight nod, and she leaned forward, pulling his shirt away to get a look at the bite Tyler had left behind. She grit her teeth. “That’s bad,” she winced.

“I’ll survive,” he said, the corner of his lip turning up sadly.

“We should get you back to the bunker. You need Klaus’ blood.”

Their eyes met, and they both froze at the closeness. She released his shirt, her hand hovering over his chest for a moment, unsure. His hand came up, enveloping hers and holding it to his chest and she took a sharp breath.

When he opened his mouth to speak, Dean stepped back into the room and Y/N dropped her hand, scooting away from him.

“So Klaus and Sam are headed to Virginia, they think they’ve got a trace on the number,” he said, completely oblivious to what he had walked in on.

Elijah sighed. “Niklaus is going to Mystic Falls.”

“But it’s a trap,” Y/N argued. “And he can’t just run off to Mystic Falls right now, Tyler bit you. You need Klaus’ blood and we’re still a day out from the bunker, our best bet is to have him meet us halfway...”

Elijah nodded and cut her off. “I’ll be fine. Niklaus needs to see it for himself. I can’t say I blame him,” he said, meeting her gaze.

If it were Y/N instead of Caroline, he’d cross oceans to get to her.

“Remind me again why we let that little son of a bitch go?” Dean asked as he glanced around the room to find Tyler gone.

Y/N sighed. “Because he may be an ass sometimes, but he’s my friend.”

“Yea you mentioned that…”

“Dean, drop it, please,” she blinked slowly, taking a breath as she stood. She shuffled across the carpet, opening her duffle bag and pulling out an old band T-shirt she had stolen from one of the guys, tossing it over her cami. She began to sway slightly on her feet, her vision spotting.

“Okay, that’s enough, sit down,” Dean pulled her toward the chair, forcing her to take a seat.

She swatted him away lazily, but before she could argue Elijah cut in. “Y/N your heart rate is dropping rapidly. You’ve lost a lot of blood….”

She shook her head.

“As much as I hate to admit it, you need his help. Take it,” Dean grimaced, kneeling in front of her.

“I just need to rest a minute.”

“It’s not up for debate, so either you take his blood, or I’ll force it down your throat myself,” Dean growled.

Elijah bit into his wrist, holding it out to her and she shook her head again. “I can’t,” she whispered.

Elijah turned away and Dean stood, spinning him around angrily. “Give it to her,” he boomed. “She’s losing too much blood!”

“I can’t force her to drink from me. Perhaps we should take her to a hospital.”

“We can’t just waltz into a hospital with her looking like this,” Dean argued. “Not without drawing attention.”

Y/N pulled off the bandage on her neck slowly, realizing she was already bleeding through it. She winced as the air hit the wound. She stood to reach for another bandage, and her legs gave out, her body too tired to fight sleep any longer.

*****

Y/N clawed at her neck, desperate for the pain to stop. Her skin burned, and she felt as if her throat was coated in sand paper.

She knew what this was.

Hunger.

She listened, blood pumping through veins, the gentle thump of a heart.

Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump.

Her mouth watered and her eyes went dark. She felt her gums tear, fangs pushing through painfully, ready to hunt.

Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump.

She followed the sound, the only thought in her mind was to satisfy the hunger…

*****

“Hey, can you hear me?” Dean’s face slowly came in to view as Y/N blinked rapidly.

She sat up, glancing around the room. She was still in the motel. “What happened?”

“You fainted.”

She sighed, reaching for her neck to find the wound gone. She ran her fingers over her face in a panic, the skin along her cheekbone no longer tender when she touched it, her lips smooth where it had been cut earlier. “What did you do?” She asked, her eyes searching.

“I fed you my blood.” Elijah explained.

Y/N shot up, angry tears streaming down her face. “I said no!”

“Y/N,” Dean started, but she shoved him away.

She felt her head begin to pound and knew it was happening again - the visions she had been trying so hard to keep at bay. She also knew she wasn’t willing to let Dean and Elijah make anymore decisions for her. She stormed out, slamming the motel door behind her without another word. She made it down to the pool before the pain became blinding, and she held her head, desperate for relief.

*****

As she pulled the blood through her lips she felt relief. She let out a heavy breath, euphoria washing over her.

She glanced down at her lap, the lifeless body laying before her. The guilt slammed into her as she realized what she had done. She lifted her hands, studying her fingers, her limbs beginning to shake as she saw the blood on them.

Her vision blurred, and she blinked rapidly, looking down once more when suddenly she recognized the body beneath her.

“No, no, no,” she panicked, turning his face and shaking him. But he didn’t move, and she knew it was because she had drained every ounce of him trying to calm the insatiable hunger.

She had killed Sam Winchester.

*****

Y/N shot her eyes open, gasping for breath. She was leaning against a cement pillar by the pool and she steadied herself, catching her breath. She blinked tears she didn’t realize she was crying away, the pain subsiding and her world calming once more.

“I did what I had to do,” Elijah’s voice startled her.

She stood crossing her arms over her chest, anger rolling over her in waves. “You did what I asked you specifically not to do.”

“What would you have me do?” He boomed, his jaw set as his own frustration quickly rose.

“I don’t know, listen to me?” She raised her own voice, matching his. “Taken me to the hospital, stitched me up like a normal human being?” She shouted.

“You didn’t have time! I was not going to sit back and watch you die,” he argued.

She huffed, not having an argument for that. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want to become a monster, either - and if her visions, dreams, whatever, were anything to go by it’s exactly where she was headed. She moved to storm past Elijah, but he gripped her arm spinning her around.

“I didn’t have a choice,” his tone was harsh and absolute, his eyes narrowing.

“There’s always a choice,” she snapped, angry tears burning in her eyes.

“Everything okay down here?” Dean appeared, his eyes hard as he took in Elijah’s stance.

Elijah cleared his throat, nodding before releasing his grip, turning on his heel and walking away.

Y/N bit her lip, bouncing her foot anxiously as she wiped the tears from her face. She turned, hiding from Dean and watching as the moonlight reflected off the pale blue water of the pool. She wanted to tell Elijah everything, make him understand - she wanted to stop hurting him - hurting herself - but she didn’t know how.

Dean said nothing as he walked up to her, his thumb turning her chin until she looked up at him. He kissed her forehead sweetly, and she leaned into his chest, no longer able to hold back the sobs that wracked her body.

He tucked her head under his chin, wrapping his arms around her as she cried. He hated when she cried. He watched her push herself to the limit, run toward the problem time and time again. He had seen her bent and bruised. That Y/N he knew what to do with. He had helped bandage her up, stitched the wounds back together piece by piece - but this...

This was hurting in a way he didn’t know how to fix, and it killed him.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered into his chest.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered. She pulled back to look at him, and he glanced down at the damp spot on his shirt. “Except maybe ruining one of my favorite shirts,” he teased.

She smacked him, fisting the fabric in her hand. “Shut up, Dean,” she laughed.

“There she is,” his eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile soft.

She froze, relaxing her fist and splaying her hand onto his chest, feeling the heartbeat under her palm, and she swallowed.

Dean leaned down slowly, kissing her tentatively and suddenly a vision of an entire life flashed before her eyes.

It wasn’t the apple pie life Dean talked about - but it was something, and she grasped onto it for dear life. Suddenly she was deepening the kiss, opening up to him and urging him on as she leaned up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He pushed at her hips until she loosened her grip, breaking away from the kiss. “Sweetheart, as much as I’d love to do that right now, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this-“

“Then don’t,” she breathed, pulling him down and crashing her lips to his once more.

Dean hated that this was a distraction for her. A temporary relief to the pain she hadn’t been able to sort out yet. Yet there he was kissing her back like his life depended on it. He could never deny her anything, and he finally understood why.

He was in love with her.

“Dean,” she panted between kisses, pulling at his belt.

He groaned, pushing her to the pillar and pinning her with his hips. He leaned himself into her, his hard length pressing into her abdomen as he continued to kiss her fervently.

Her fingers pulled at his belt desperately and when her hand reached into his pants, rubbing him through the fabric of his boxer briefs, he knew he had no chance of putting a stop to it.

If he were being honest with himself, he had lost that battle ages ago.

He pressed into her palm as his hands cupped her face and he kissed her desperately. He poured everything he had into it, wanting nothing more than to make her forget everything outside of this moment - outside of them.

He didn’t know how to fix her, but this - this was familiar territory for him. This he knew how to do.

His hands dropped to her waist, slipping under the hem of her shirt, his lips traveling down her neck. She moaned as she reached into the waistband of his boxers, her fist closing around him. Dean groaned, breathing heavily into the crook of her neck, one of his hands coming up to steady himself against the pillar.

“Baby,” his breath moved over her skin. She pumped him a few times, and he rested his head on her shoulder, biting his lip as he tried to steady his breathing. He gripped her hip tightly before sliding his hand down into her leggings, his fingers finding her ready for him. He lifted his head, watching her face as he teased her clit, memorizing the way she came undone at his touch.

“Dean,” she moaned. He kissed her hard, swallowing her moans and keeping her quiet. “I need you,” she panted between kisses.

“Fuck,” he whispered into her ear. “You’ve got me, sweetheart,” he confessed. He wondered if she realized the weight of his words, but moved before he let them settle over her, pulling at her leggings and panties, shoving them down. He lost all his senses, not caring that they were out in the open, figuring the old band T-shirt of his (that she looked damn good in) was long enough to cover her from anyone should they get caught.

Y/N slipped one leg out, and he bent, his large hands gripping the backs of her thighs as he picked her up. She held onto him, her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing anywhere she could reach.

She tightened her legs around him, trying to pull him closer. He braced himself with one hand, his other hand reaching between them and lining himself up. His cock teased her folds and she nipped his lip, silently begging him for more.

He pulled his face back, his green eyes searching her for a sign that he should stop, that it was too much too soon. Her eyeliner was slightly smudged from crying, her hair tousled in waves around her. Her Y/E/C eyes held a sadness that left an ache in his chest, and he knew in his gut this would break him.

But she was so damn beautiful and he’d do anything to drown out that sadness, even if for a moment.

He pressed into her, bottoming out with a groan as she threw her head back. He took the opportunity to kiss her neck, biting and sucking against the smooth delicate column as he began to move.

She held onto him, the cement from the pillar pressing into her shoulders. Her nails dug into his back, grasping for purchase. She pulled him in tighter against her with her foot, urging him on.

Dean reached between them, working his fingers over her clit and she cried out. He kissed her hard, silencing her, and while a part of him worried someone would hear them, the larger part of him didn’t care. He was so far gone for this woman he wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same.

He parted their lips, gasping for air and they shared a breath. He thrust into her again and again and when her walls finally clamped down around him he came. She followed him, hiding her face in his neck to stay silent as he slowed his movements.

He slipped out of her, groaning at the loss, and placed her legs back on the ground carefully, holding her hips until she regained her balance. He dipped low, fixing her pants quickly so she wouldn’t be seen, and when he came back up he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Y/N….” he began, unsure what it was he was trying to say. He brushed her hair back away from her face and traced the strands down to her neck. His fingers followed the neckline of his old T-shirt, a feeling of pride flooding him knowing the fabric hugging her body had once belonged to him.

He stopped when his fingers hit the chain on her necklace, and he felt her tense. He pulled his forehead away, looking at her as he pulled it out from her shirt so he could see the locket hanging from her neck.

He glanced down and clenched his jaw, cursing himself for getting wrapped up in her - knowing it was too late.

“Dean,” she placed her hand on his but he pulled away, dropping the locket against her chest.

“We should get some rest,” he stepped away from her, fixing himself, waiting for her to say something - anything.

She nodded. “Yea,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t wait for her as he walked back to the motel room.

Y/N sighed, sliding down the pillar and hugging her knees wondering what the hell she was doing.

She sat there for a few minutes, watching the water of the pool rippling softly. She took a deep breath, deciding that anything with Dean or Elijah could wait until after they figured out what to do about Empusa.

Right now, she was a hunter with a job to do.

*****

“Whoa buddy, you don’t look so good,” Dean said as he entered the room to find Elijah laying on one of the beds, sweat beading across his forehead. His breath came in heavy pants and Dean moved towards him carefully.

Elijah coughed, attempting to sit up. “I’m fine,” he growled. But as he stood he swayed and Dean reached out instinctively to catch his balance.

When Dean’s hand touched his arm he caught a glimpse of Elijah’s mind and jumped back, startled. “What the hell was that?”

Elijah swatted Dean away, and when he glanced up it was as if he was looking through him. “Niklaus….” he panted.

Dean put his hands up defensively. “Wrong guy…”

Elijah stood once more, his eyes focusing. “Forgive me,” he said, coughing once more. “Werewolf venom.”

Dean nodded. “I thought you guys were immune to everything.”

“It will heal,” Elijah explained. “The fever will run its course.”

“What the hell was that when I touched you?” Dean asked, his mind trying to wrap around what he saw.

Elijah moved to the small table, pouring himself a drink. “A memory.”

“Right,” Dean trailed off uncomfortably.

Elijah downed his drink and placed his glass on the table, heading towards the bed once more and dropping to the mattress. His jaw clenched and for a moment, Dean felt badly for the guy.

He grabbed Elijah’s glass, filling it with amber liquid once more and handing it to him. “Drink up,” Dean said.

Elijah opened an eye, reaching out for the glass, but as their hands accidentally touched he lost control once more.

*****

“Y/N, I pride myself on my patience, but you are testing it,” Elijah groaned playfully. He picked up the trail of clothes Y/N had left strewn about the room, folding them neatly and placing them back where they belonged, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m almost done,” she called from behind the bathroom door. “I just need another minute.”

“We are late,” he informed her, glancing at his watch.

She poked her head out of the bathroom. “This dress looks ridiculous on me,” she grumbled.

He turned to find her makeup precise, her hair pinned to the side, revealing her neck. He cleared his throat when he realized he hadn’t responded. “You look beautiful,” he breathed.

She blushed. “Elijah, you’re sweet. But this dress is too much, I feel like a fraud.”

He couldn’t imagine anything possibly taking away from her beauty. “Let me see,” he whispered.

She sighed and glanced down. “Promise not to laugh.”

“You have my word.”

When she stepped out in a sleek red off the shoulder gown his heart stopped.

It was clearly his sister’s doing - it was a number Y/N would never pick for herself. It was bold and revealing, hugging her body, showing her off. Elijah’s eyes trailed over her, taking it all in.

“Say something,” she said.

His eyes met hers, and she watched as his lips parted, his tongue darting out. “You are exquisite,” he whispered.

She blushed under his gaze. “It’s too much…”

He stepped toward her, reaching out to pull her into him, his lips crashing to hers and silencing her protests about the gown.

She grinned into his kiss as his hands roamed down her open back, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat behind. “Elijah,” she giggled, pushing on his chest. “We’re going to be late.”

He kissed just below her ear. “Mmm,” he mumbled into her skin. “We’re already late.”

She melted under his touch. “All the more reason we should go,” she sighed.

Elijah pulled back to look at her, his thumb rubbing her cheek, a playful smile beginning to form on his lips. “Oh, sweet Y/N - that dress will not be making it out of this room in one piece.”

She yelped as he bent and threw her over his shoulder. “Elijah,” she laughed.

He tossed her onto their bed, crawling over her, peppering her with kisses anywhere he could. “You drive me crazy,” he said, his lips finding hers once more.

“Back at you, handsome,” she grinned and pulled on his tie.

“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers.

“I love you,” she returned.

He leaned to the side, a hand dipping into his jacket pocket. “I had plans to give this to you later this evening,” he pulled out a small rectangular black box.

She looked between the box and him.

“Open it,” he grinned.

She took it from his hands, scooting further up the bed so she sat up. She opened it, taking the simple locket in her hands. “Elijah, it’s beautiful.” She popped the locket open and tears welled in her eyes, his promise of always and forever engraved for her to keep with her always. “I love it.”

Elijah helped her with the clasp as she put it on and he kissed her shoulder. “I love you,” he said again. “Always and forever.”

She turned her face, leaning back into him. “Always and forever,” she promised.

*****

Dean dropped the glass, the memory he unwillingly intruded in on not one he particularly cared to see. “Would you knock it off?” He groaned.

Elijah winced. “Forgive me…”

“Yeah whatever,” Dean grumbled, picking up the glass and moving away from him.

The door opened and Y/N entered, her eyes not meeting Dean as she ran her hand through her hair. She glanced at Elijah, and Dean didn’t miss the concern that crossed her features.

She moved to his side, her hands hovering just over his as if she were reaching for him before realizing he wasn’t hers to reach for. “Elijah,” she sighed.

The vampire shook her concern away. “I’ll be fine. You two should rest, Mystic Falls is a long drive.”

Dean shrugged, plopping down onto the second mattress. “We leave at dawn, which gives us four hours. So I suggest sweating it out, buddy.”

“Dean,” Y/N shot him a look. “He’s not going to be able to go anywhere in four hours.” She had been through this before, it would last twelve (if they were lucky).

Dean rested with his arms behind his head, adjusting so he sunk further into the mattress as he closed his eyes. “Then you and I will go ahead, Elijah can meet us in Virginia.”

Elijah nodded reassuringly at her. “I’ll be fine, get some rest,” he said.

She scooted onto Elijah’s bed, sliding next to him so she was leaning against the headboard.

“Y/N,” he began to protest, knowing she had no intentions of sleeping. His breathing picked up, the fever taking over.

“Shh,” she whispered. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean didn’t miss her tone - she was telling him she wouldn’t leave Elijah in that condition. Anger rose in his chest, and he turned away from them, too tired to argue. He only had four hours until he had to be on the road, so he let sleep take him.

*****

An hour later, Elijah’s breathing quickened - startling Y/N as she finally began to doze off. She shifted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and turning to see Elijah struggling as though he was having a nightmare.

She glanced at Dean, whose snoring filled the silence, before turning back to Elijah. He was breaking into a sweat, and she reached over, brushing his hair back with her fingers. “Elijah?” She whispered sweetly to see if she’d get a response.

He turned his face towards her, and for a moment she thought he had heard her, but if he did he gave no other indication. His eyes were shut, and his labored breathing continued. His hands were at his side, his fists clenching the fabric of the blanket beneath him.

Y/N continued to run her hand through his hair, the soft chestnut locks passing through her fingers gently. “You’re okay, Elijah,” she whispered.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his eyes still tightly shut.

“I’m here,” she said, finding her hand and squeezing. His breathing calmed for a moment, and she wondered what he was dreaming of.

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded.

Her heart clenched and she began to cry softly. She sniffled as he turned, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’m not leaving,” she promised.

You can’t stay forever, the voice in her head reminded her - but she’d stay until the fever broke. She owed him that much.

*****

An hour later Y/N woke. She glanced at the clock, unsure of how long she had slept for, when she noticed she was alone on the bed. There was no heavy breathing next to her, no limbs curled around her, the mattress beside her was cold and empty. She was alone, and other than Dean’s snoring, it was eerily quiet.

She stood slowly, shaking Dean who woke instantly. Before he could ask what was going on she pressed her finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet.

He nodded, sitting up and grabbing the gun from under his pillow, and she rolled her eyes, knowing it would do no good.

She moved quietly, letting her eyes adjust to the dark, a sliver of moonlight spilling in between the heavy motel curtains.

“Elijah?” She whispered carefully, listening for his movements.

Dean stood and moved closer to Y/N, when suddenly Elijah appeared from the shadows, stalking towards them. Dean raised the gun, his finger on the trigger but Elijah was quicker, backing Dean up into the wall with his hand on his neck, easily disarming him.

“Elijah,” Dean gasped, attempting to break the hold, but he gripped him harder, cutting off his air supply as he lifted him against the wall.

“You will not harm a hair on her head, Niklaus,” he growled, his eyes darkening as his fangs came out.

Y/N moved, pulling at Elijah’s arm. “Elijah! Elijah, I’m fine, I’m here...I’m right here,” she pleaded.

Elijah snarled, turning his attention to her and dropping Dean to the ground. He was angry, and she took a step back knowing it wasn’t her he was seeing. Her knees hit the bed behind her. As he lunged at her, she ducked, rolling her body to the side so Elijah hit the mattress, and she turned grabbing the syringe that had rested on the nightstand, stabbing it into his side.

He struggled, weakened by the vervain, and Y/N rolled him over so he was looking up at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Elijah’s eyes returned to normal, the anger and hunger dissipating as rapidly as it appeared. “Y/N?” He asked, finally seeing her.

She nodded.

“Forgive me...my mind…” But before he could continue he passed out.

Dean stood and groaned, dragging Elijah’s body off the mattress and tossing him onto his shoulder with a grunt. Y/N moved to help him, pulling the chair out so Dean could set him down. She wasted no time pulling the vervain soaked ropes they had intended for Tyler around Elijah, securing him to the chair.

“That won’t hold him,” she said.

Dean nodded. “It’ll slow him down.”  He glanced at the clock. “Might as well hit the road, sun will be up soon.”

She shook her head. “Dean, I can’t leave him like this.”

He said nothing, grabbing his bag and tossing what little he needed to into it.

“Dean…”

He cut her off then, his green eyes sharp and angry. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Are you coming or not?” When she didn’t answer he nodded, his jaw tight. “Right. Jody isn’t too far out, she can get you a car. I’ll meet you in Virginia.”

He headed for the door, and she grabbed his arm as he swung it open, halting his steps. “Dean, I -”

He kept his eyes forward. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

She bit her lip, her grip on his arm loosening until it dropped to her side, defeated.

He hesitated for a moment in the doorway before he finally turned to look at her, but this time she didn’t see anger in his eyes - only hurt. He sighed heavily, leaning forward and kissing her temple. “Be safe,” he whispered against her before disappearing.

She listened as Baby roared to life and swept Dean away.