#to be clear I mean like. dean thinks everyone around him sees things with too much optimism and he’s now lost the same kind of hope I guess

[knotboy-dean]

Gave up on a project I was dabbling with so here are my favorite stills from it :P

[supernaturalistthings]

Acts of Service

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester has been loving you for years in his own way and with a little help you finally realize it.

Warnings: soft core smut +18

You watch from across the bar as Dean sips his whisky from a short glass. You're on your third tequila pineapple and he looks as amazing as ever. His jaw is sharp and he has some slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. You, Sam, and Dean had just finished a tulpa case in Pennsylvania and had decided to celebrate with a few drinks at a local dive. You had worked with the boys for a few years now and it had become a tradition to celebrate after a win.

Meanwhile on your side of the bar you were starting to feel the bass of the music vibrating through you in a different way, the drinks were going down too easily, and the urge to dance was coursing through your being. You had sipped your thoughts away to your heart's content.

You had one too many to drink and you were starting to feel it. If you didn't watch yourself you were going to wake up in somebody's front lawn very shortly.

The feeling of warmth on your waist breaks you from your thoughts and you look up to see an unknown, attractive, dark haired, blue eyed man, with one of his hands on your waist.

“Sorry i didn't mean to startle you…” he says and then continues “Can i buy you a drink?” raising his to make sure you can understand what he's saying over the loudly playing music. It's not that he wasn't attractive, hell he was very attractive. But he wasn't Dean Winchester. He didn't have stubble, or piercing green eyes, or a gruff sultry voice that could make a girl melt. So you raise your full glass as an answer and in hopes to send him on his way but he doesn't budge. He leans in once again to make sure you can hear him and says

“Well, how about a dance?” He pulls back to see your answer but you look across the bar. Dean's eyes are locked on you and the dark haired man before you. If you didn't know better there was a twinge of jealousy behind his eyes. His jaw is locked and his hold on his glass is strong. You think back to all the times you had to watch him shamelessly flirt with local girls and even go home with them and something in you screams that this is your turn. Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you and you say

“Yes”

You down your drink and leave the glass behind. He puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to the part of the bar where everyone's dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and start swaying your hips to the beat of the music. He's a pretty good dancer, but that drink you just downed starts to catch up with you and all of a sudden you feel hot, really hot. Your vision is slightly blurred and you can't tell if you're about to throw up or pass out.

You lean up to his ear and say that you'll be right back and start stumbling your way towards some fresh air. The walk to the exit feels like it takes a literal year but you finally get there and fling the door open. Little did you know there was a pair of eyes on you watching you your whole way out.

The familiar sensation of warmth on your waist once again breaks you from your thoughts as you've steadied yourself against the wall of the building. You look up expecting to see the newly met set of blue eyes but instead you're met with bright green ones. It's Dean. The confusion must've been written on your face so he clears it up for you.

“We’re going home” He wraps one hand around your waist and throws your arm over his shoulder so he can walk you side by side to his car. He opens your door and sets you in the passenger seat and buckles you in. He walks over to his side, gets in, and the next thing you hear is the engine roar to life. It hits you that you're leaving the bar without saying goodbye to the handsome stranger, or paying your tab, that you werent ready to leave.

“Wait, let's go back… i'll get the next round if we go back right now” You slur out. This makes Dean laugh deeply and he looks over briefly to take in your disheveled state. You never get like this so it's always hilarious to him when you do, and unbeknownst to you it amazes him how you can still look so beautiful.

“I don't think even the most careless bartender would give you another drink right now. You're cut off” He replies still laughing.

This makes you pout and you turn away from him and look out the window dramatically.

“Oh cmon sweetheart… you'll thank me in the morning trust me…” he breaks the silence

“The one time I find someone to take home…” you mumble out with an emphasis on “I”. He snaps his head over and looks you up and down. His grip on the steering wheel is turning his knuckles white. He lets out an unnoticed frustrated sigh and says

“You didn't really want him… did you?”

This causes you to slowly look over at him and he's already looking at you while momentarily darting his eyes back to the road. He wants an answer. But you don't give it to him, ashamed of how and what you really feel. You just bury your head back into the side of the door without saying anything until the motel comes into view. You're exhausted all of a sudden. You hear his door open and he opens yours which causes you to almost fall out of the car. He catches you and laughs and sits you back up straight. He unbuckles you and says

“Okay enough of this” and with that he scoops you up princess style and carries you to your motel room door. You're secretly thankful, as you are embarrassed that you're this drunk, you would've never made the walk. It feels like you're getting more inebriated by the minute. He puts the arm that was carrying your legs down gently and holds you there.

“I'm going to search your pockets for the key okay…” he warns you before gently diving his hands into your pockets until he grasps the key. He opens the door, swings it open, and then picks you up once again to carry you to the bed. He lays you down gently on top on the sheets and the next thing you know your eyes are closed and you have the deepest sleep of your life.

You wake up and the first thing you see is a glass of water on the side table. You reach for it and drink it like you haven't had anything to drink in days. You're pretty sure it was the best thing you've felt in a while, and this only reassures the notion that you are extremely hungover. You don't remember anything from last night other than dancing with some mystery man for a little bit while a pair of familiar green eyes watched you from across the bar. That's it. You lift the sheets that were comfily tucked around you off and see clothes laid out and tylenol behind the glass of water. You must've set yourself up for the morning once you got in. You're a genius is what you're thinking. You couldn't have been that embarrassingly drunk, that crosses your mind and soothes your conscience. You're thankful for the sliver of soberness in you last night and throw on the fresh clothes, brush your teeth and go to head over to Sam and Dean's room. You knock and Sam opens the door. The smell of greasy breakfast food hits you and warms your soul. It's exactly what you need right now.

“Tell me you got something for me” you ask while looking hopefully at Sam.

Sam laughs and says “Yeah Dean went earlier, he got your usual”

You look over at Dean who keeps his eyes on his food and say thank you. You take a seat at the small motel room table and start diving in. You look up and Dean is looking at you and smiling softly.

“What?” you say cluelessly

“Nothing” he replies, dropping his smile and focusing back on his food and you do the same.

“So how was last night? Was it epic” Sam says with a curious smile, eyeing the both of you.

“Not really, I was sober enough to set my clothes out and get under the covers so I'd say it was kind of a bust” You say laughing as you take another bite of your breakfast. Everything gets quiet for a second and you wonder what you said to cause such an awkward vibe.

“I'm going to shower” says Dean and he gets up without even looking at either of you, walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. You hear the shower start and that's when Sam leans in and looks at you seriously. You pause mid bite and look at him confused.

“What?” you say setting your plastic fork down

“You know Dean got you home last night right?” he says directly

“I figured…” you reply, “so?” you continue.

“So… Dean set your clothes out…” it's starting to hit you, he continues “He drove to get you tylenol because we only had the strong stuff…” It hits you, “He set out a glass of water… he tucked you in, he woke up early and got your favorite breakfast. Hell he even paid your tab” Sam says looking towards the bathroom.

It felt like the world stopped spinning, in that moment cars stopped driving, birds stopped chirping. Everything was still. The realization was flowing through every molecule of your being and you were absolutely frozen, other than your jaw dropping you couldn't move. Dean Winchester cares about you. He cares about you as more than a friend, he sees more. It keeps repeating in your head until hopefully it sinks in. He sees more.

How could you have not seen this before? Maybe it's because he knew the real you, he knew more about you than anyone else, and how could anyone love or care about you once they do? That question can no longer plague you because He sees more.

All you can say is, “Thank you Sam”

He replies with a nod and takes his breakfast and says that he'll be in your room. The door shuts behind him and you're left alone awaiting Dean to step out of that bathroom. You’re carefully forming your thoughts making sure what you say is exactly what you feel. It's going to be perfect. You hear the bathroom door creak open and you quickly stand and turn to face a half naked dean who's only wearing jeans and drying his hair with a towel. He pauses when he sees you're the only person in the room. You feel like you might explode.

“Where’s Sa-”

“I care about you… alot” you interject. The silence is deafening. So much for your deep thoughtful speech. You can't take the silence and break it by continuing “and I know you care about me too…”

He's absolutely frozen, cornered. It was now or never.

“How did you-”

“I can just tell” you cut him off. You smile proudly, only now realizing you have the ability to make the Dean Winchester speechless. You're scared you might’ve overstepped, might've been too enthusiastic when he starts laughing and smiling. Maybe Sam was wrong? But that all changes when he says “i don't just care about you… im in love with you…”

It was your turn to be frozen. “You don't have to be yet… but I want you to know that I've been in love with you for a while now. I love your laugh, your smile, hell I even love what you get for breakfast.” Your eyes are wide in disbelief, he walks forward until he's close enough to where he can reach out and brush some hair out of your face and then continues. “I'm painfully in love with you. With everything about you” He’s desperately scanning your face for any sign of reciprocation, any sign of hope. He gets his sign when your mouth curves into a bright smile beaming at him, and before he can even realize it he has one of his own shining back at you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but the next thing either of you know is that your lips are moving against each others. You're running your fingers through his still damp and already messy hair. His hands are at your waist and holding you there like fine art. You were to him, something timeless, thought provoking, head turning, beautiful. This kiss was the start of Dean Winchester's future and he knew it. It tasted sweet and he savored every movement of your lips with his own, grateful for anything you give him.

His hands were electrifying you with every soft touch. You were melting in his arms and you can't get enough of him. You were pressed flush against his bare chest and you can't help but run your hands over his broad shoulders while continuing to kiss him deeply. You can't help but still be in a bit of disbelief. You could kiss him for hours, and by the way he's kissing you, he could too.

He pulls back and says “I don't want to rush things…”

“I was thinking the same thing…” You say, but yet again you have no idea who leans in first but your lips collide once again. His hands are on the sides of your face and yours are resting on his stomach. The room is filled with the sounds of your kiss and occasional involuntary moans, this feels better than either of you had imagined and you can't help it.

“When did he say he'd be back?” Dean mumbles into the kiss referring to Sam.

“He didn't” You mumble back barely breaking the kiss to do so.

You both simultaneously pull back and look at eachother wide eyed and it's like a lightbulb goes off over both your heads, but you can still see the worry plaguing his eyes so you say. “It'll be perfect no matter what because it's us… You and me.” You lace your fingers with his and at that he smiles and pulls you to him and towards his bed. He picks you up and lays you on the bed with him on top of you and it makes you both laugh into the kiss. When suddenly a pang of worry hits you. The last thing you want is for Sam to walk in on what's about to happen. As if on cue you hear the door shut and both of your heads snap to a frozen and panicked Sam. Dean begrudgingly and with a groan stands up and off of you and you immediately sits up. You're utterly embarrassed but Dean is just annoyed.

“Really?” Says Dean

“I wasn't expecting that, I mean I was hoping things went well but… wow” says Sam while setting the remnants of his food on the table. Dean finds a shirt in his bag and throws it on along with his shoes and grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the door. “We’ll hit the road in 2 hours until then … stay here” Dean says to Sam and he rolls his eyes. Dean shuts the door behind you both and starts walking you towards your room with a grin like he's won the lotto, and in his head he has. You laugh and he says

“What? Checkout isn’t for another two hours, might as well make the most of it…” He leans over and places a quick kiss to your temple. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. You've never felt this type of contentment before. You realize you never said i love you back earlier and you immediately look to the side of his face and say

“I love you too by the way” He immediately looks over and smiles wider than you've ever seen him smile before. In the moment he feels the contentment the same as you. His life just got a hell of a lot better and he knew it.

[httpvomitello]

Could you do a George x Reader where he gets jealous over her spending time with someone else and he gets over protective? I would love that!!

Helloooooo! We love a over protective boyfriend, don't we? Hope you like it ~ ♡

Mr. Jealous *⁠.⁠✧

Summary: George Weasley has never been the jealous type—until he sees you laughing a little too much with Dean Thomas. Convinced that he’s losing his chance with you, George goes full overprotective boyfriend (despite not technically being your boyfriend… yet).

george weasley x f!reader

George Weasley was not jealous.

At least, that’s what he kept been telling himself as he sat in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, arms crossed, jaw clenched, watching you laugh at something Dean Thomas had just said.

Dean bloody Thomas.

And you—his best friend, the girl he’d been half in love with since fourth year—were sitting there, giggling, twirling your hair around your finger, looking at Dean like he was the most interesting person in the world.

George was about to combust.

"Alright, mate, you’re staring," Fred muttered beside him, amusement clear in his voice. "You look like you’re two seconds away from cursing Dean into next week."

"I’m not staring," George grumbled, still watching you. "I’m observing."

Fred snorted. "Right. Observing. Because glaring at him like you’re about to duel for her honor is completely rational."

George ignored him. He was too busy watching Dean lean in way too close, whisper something to you that made you throw your head back in laughter.

That was it. He’d had enough.

Slamming his drink down, George shot up from his seat.

Fred sighed dramatically. "Oh, this should be good."

George marched across the pub, weaving through the crowd until he reached your table. He didn’t even hesitate before dropping into the seat next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that was not subtle.

Dean blinked. "Uh—hey, George?"

"Hey, Dean," George said, voice a little too bright, a little too sharp. He turned to you with a grin, squeezing your shoulder. "Fancy seeing you here, love."

You frowned at him. "You knew I was here."

"Did I?" he mused. "Must’ve slipped my mind. So, what are we talking about?"

Dean hesitated, looking between you and George, clearly sensing the tension. "Uh… just telling Y/N about this guy I’m seeing."

George faltered. "Wait. What?"

Dean looked at him, unimpressed. "Yeah... Like, my boyfriend?"

George blinked. "What?"

You smacked a hand against your forehead. "Oh my God, George. He’s literally been dating Seamus for months."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I thought everyone knew."

Fred, who had somehow appeared out of nowhere, clapped a hand on George’s shoulder, howling with laughter. "Merlin’s beard, mate. You got jealous over Dean?!"

George’s ears burned red. "I—I didn’t know!"

You sighed, shaking your head. "George Weasley, you absolute idiot."

Dean snorted. "You’re so in love with her, it’s embarrassing."

"Shut up, Dean," George muttered.

You turned to George, a smirk playing on your lips. "So… jealous, were you?"

George groaned. "Can we not talk about this?"

"Absolutely not," Fred said gleefully. "This is the best thing that’s happened all week."

"Alright, alright, laugh it up," George grumbled. Then, clearing his throat, he turned back to you, rubbing the back of his neck. "Er—so, since I made an absolute fool of myself just now… any chance you’d be willing to, uh, go on a date with me?"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm… let me check my schedule."

"Y/N," George whined.

You laughed before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Of course, you idiot. Took you long enough."

Fred groaned. "You mean we could’ve avoided all of this if he’d just asked sooner?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "Heterosexuals, man. So dramatic."

[noirleo]

Oooo, can i plz hear all your jealousy HC for the bayverse boys? :3 hope ur week is going well!

oh my god yes

jealous turtles from most to least ◡̈

(all turtles + reader are adults ♡)

1. raph

c’mon, did you expect anyone else?

being a middle child with three brothers, raph grew up sharing everything he had—his food, his clothes, his personal space. so when he finds someone he has feelings for, he makes a point that he’s not going to share with anyone.

his brothers prefer to take more subtle, graceful methods of claiming their s/os when they feel threatened. raphael does not have a subtle bone in his body.

if someone tries to hit on you while he’s there, he will physically put himself in between the two of you, glaring down at his prey target until they take the hint (and probably flexing his crossed arms as he does so. he doesnt do all of that lifting for nothing).

vern tried to chat you up, once, when you first met. raph swiftly handled it, and you’re not exactly sure what was said, but vern now makes a point to keep a very conservative amount of space between you and him at all times.

a lot of his jealousy comes from insecurity—he definitely thinks you could do better, find someone you could actually walk around with, show off to your friends and go on vacations with.

so how does he cope? by proving his indispensability to you. when you date raph, you don’t lift a finger. need something from the top cabinet? he’s got it in his hands before you even have to ask. want to see a sold out concert? how convenient, he just managed to find some floor seats for you and your friends

don’t ask how he got them, it’s really best for everyone if you don’t actually know (both legally and ethically speaking).

asking someone else for help (god forbid you ask vern or one of his brothers, especially leo) will probably end up in some icy silent treatment and very short yes/no answers to questions that can only be cured by insistent apologies and lots of kisses

2. mikey

oh, our beloved little mikey

mikey spouts confidence, but much like raphael, he is deeply afraid that you’ll leave him for someone whose complexion is a little less green

while raph’s jealousy is defensive, mikey’s is pleading. he needs a lot of verbal reassurance that you’re his, nobody else’s

even when he’s not feeling jealous or insecure about the relationship, he just likes to hear you say it—and once you do, he’ll believe it wholeheartedly, all doubts and anxieties set aside (for the time being, at least)

when you’re around others (and even when you’re not) mikey is extremely physically affectionate, and probably will mention to anyone who will listen in a very unsubtle manner that the two of you are dating and really, really happy together, thank you very much

if you’re sitting, you’re sitting on his lap (or so close that you might as well be). if you’re standing, you can bet that he’s got an arm slung around your waist or your shoulder—just so everyone in the room is clear who you came with and who you’re leaving with

3. donnie

donnie’s jealousy is quiet. he’s much less outward about his feelings of jealousy than raph or mikey, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

when you mention a creepy guy from one of your classes getting a little too close for your comfort, he’ll nod and empathize; little do you know, he’s got the guy’s social security number, address, and name of his childhood pet pulled up on his laptop within seconds.

mysteriously, he doesn’t really show up for class anymore. rumours float around about some pretty shady things hes done being sent to the dean, president, and every RA on campus.

you confront donnie, and he just shrugs innocently. huh, weird, guess it’s a good thing you guys don’t hang out anymore then right? and then he’ll change the subject, but the triumphant gleam in his eye doesn’t go unnoticed

if someone starts to get flirtatious with you while donnie’s around though? all bets are off.

standing at 6’8 and made of pure lean muscle, donnie is fully aware of how intimidating he is, and it radiates off of him.

all it takes is one glare, leering from over your shoulder, and suddenly the person trying to flirt with you has some very important business to handle on the opposite side of the room for the rest of the night.

when you turn around to see donnie standing behind you, one hand on the small of your back, he’s back to his relaxed, smiley self

4. leo

leo is definitely the least jealous of his brothers. he’s confident, bordering on arrogant, and knows what he brings to the table.

i mean, c’mon. the barista who wrote their number on your coffee cup may be cute and share your taste in music, but how many times have they saved new york from an alien invasion? can they do anything to protect you in the event of a foot clan takeover?

didn’t think so.

communicating and trust are monumental to leonardo. right off the bat, he’s very straightforward about his intentions with you, and expects the same level of loyalty from his partner

leo’s trust isn’t easily earned so if he trusts you, then he does so completely and wholeheartedly. if you say that you and someone else are just friends, then he won’t think twice about it

that’s not to say he never gets jealous though. he’s just much more lowkey about it than the others

if you mention offhand being catcalled on your way to the lair one night, you’ll have a private escort for the foreseeable future

hes not big on pda, but you can bet that if he catches someone else’s scent on you, especially another guy, he’ll be extra cuddly when he sees you

he’ll for sure try to play it off though and subtly give you something that smells like him. oh, you seem cold, here’s one of his hoodies that he conveniently had on hand. go ahead and put it on. he’s just looking out for you, no ulterior motives here.

you see right through him, but you’re willing to look the other way for some extra snuggles.

[yupthisisshe]

Rose for the Lady - George Weasley x fem! Reader

(Rose for the Lady - George Weasley x fem! Reader)

Muggle-born students have really made Valentines Day take off at Hogwarts

Sixth-years were selling roses as a fundraiser and coming around to people during meals in the Great Hall to promote the fundraiser and take sales.

Susan Bones came over to where you and your friends were sitting.

“Roses for the lady?” they gestured to the twins (likely because you were sitting in between the both of them, something that always happened unless the twins were trying to be mischievous towards someone. But what could you say? The three of you were really close. You were close with Lee, too, of course. But the twins understood you.

Lately, Hermione and Ginny have been insisting that George is into you. You keep telling them that it’s hogwash and you’re just friends.

“For now. ~” is all they keep saying in response.

But this should prove your point. If he liked you, he'd buy roses for you from him. Not roses from the both of them, joking around with you like they always do. Roses from George specifically. And he won’t do that. He’ll either say no thanks or they'll both make of small show of presenting you with flowers as their mysterious and wonderful rendezvous lover. Or something like that. They get really creative with these impromptu stories.

What happened next, however, only proved Ginny and Hermione to be more credible.

“Yeah, I'll take a rose, thanks,” said George to [the sixth year]. Your eyes widened. You could feel Hermione and Ginny share a glance and a smirk. You looked at George like he’d become the next Nearly Headless Nick. “Here you go, for you.”

“You're joking.” you insisted, staring at the rose, your eyes wider still.

“No, really. For you, Beautiful.” Maybe all those times he called you “Beautiful” weren't just him messing around. I mean he made it clear that he really did think you were beautiful and not just kidding, but you still thought he was just teasing or playing around when he called you “Beautiful” as though it were your name. Of course you teasingly called him “Handsome” back. He was handsome, of course -really handsome when you think about it- but you didn't mean it like that. You just meant it like friends do. Unless… were you more than friends? Maybe he did mean it like that. And if he did, is that so bad?

You didn't think so, but you still needed to sort out how you felt. While it felt like ages had passed in your head, it had only been a few seconds in real life. A few seconds of you flat out staring at George while he smiled patiently —maybe admiringly too, when you thought about it— and everyone else stared at the two of you. Seamus looked like he was going to say something, but Dean nudged him and he stopped before he even started.

“I…” you didn't know how to react “I need to go! See you guys!” And with that, you exited the Great Hall as quick as you ever had.

In the hall, you thought to yourself. Confused, but also… in disbelief to be quite honest.

“‘I need to go?!’ ‘See you guys?!’ Seriously?!” You thought aloud to yourself. Sure, you weren’t sure how you should’ve responded. But you had a feeling it certainly wasn’t… whatever that was!

Back in the Great Hall, things were at a standstill.

Everyone sat there, confounded. What just happened? George himself not only looked confused, but also worried. Had he done something wrong? Did he upset you? And, whether or not he did, are you ok? He had to find out. He had to find you. Unscrunching his eyebrows, and with a decisive nod of his head, he decided what he needed to do. He left the table and set out to find you. Everyone else at the table sat there and waited for the drama to unfold. Not in a toxic way, of course, but their friends were oblivious idiots sometimes and they could appreciate that. Either Ron and Hermione or Ginny and Harry were sure to be next. Dean and Seamus had already gotten together. Somehow the two boys were the least oblivious of the group.

Back in the corridors, George found you.

You didn’t see George but you heard someone turning the corridor behind you and you knew it was him as he came further up the hall to you. You could feel it. And he was walking fast to find you quickly, but not running so he wouldn’t miss you.

“Hey! Wait up!” George called out to you. He had finally found you, wandering the halls. Something you always did when you couldn’t figured something out. The last thing you could do when you were like that —feeling stuck and restless in body and mind— was sit still. You once did two full laps around Hogwarts. Which doesn’t sound like a lot but becomes a bit of a massive venture when you consider the sheer size of the place, let alone the moving staircases and other magical features.

George had caught you. But you hadn’t figured everything out yet! You needed to figure things out before you talked to him! Or was it… vise versa? Did you need to talk to him in order to figure things out? But still, you didn’t feel ready. Despite your fight-or-flight feeling, you stopped in your tracks when you heard him call out to you. With his insanely long legs, it didn’t take him long to catch up to you where you stood. You didn’t turn around though, you just stood there.

“Hey,” he said sensitively but insensitively, placing a hand on your shoulder as he walked around to talk to you face-to-face. “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?” You wouldn’t take your eyes off the floor.

“No. I just-“ You were fidgeting with your hands.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing his other hand on your empty shoulder and squeezing softly. “It’s ok. You don’t have to worry around me. Now, tell me what’s up. If you’re ready, that is.” He released your shoulders and then he waited patiently. Like he always does. God, he’s perfect. He always has been and thinking that he likes you like that, it makes your head spin and your heart light.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and then you asked him.

“Do you like me?”

He smiled softly and gave a bit of a breathy laugh. But before you could stress about whether that was a good or a bad thing he responded.

“Of course I like you. Wouldn’t hang around so much if I didn’t, now would I?” This prompted a smile out of you “Now, if you’re asking me whether or not I’m in love with you…” he paused and your heart stuttered, “I’ve been in love with you for two years.” His eyes poured beautifully into yours.

“You… really?” You couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, really!” He said in a loving, mocking tone. “So what do you think of that, Beautiful?” he asked, reaching his hand out to you to give you the option of taking it.

“I think, I like it,” you said taking his hand with a goofy, adorable smile.

“To feed your ego or your heart?” he teased.

“What ego?” You questioned with feigned ignorance. He laughed. “My heart, of course. I think I love you.”

“You think?!” he asked, smiling with his semi-feigned incredulousity.

“I’ve only just found out, George! Give me some time to settle into it!” You both laughed.

“I’ll give you all the time in the world and then some for whatever you need.” He said with love dripping from his voice. You could tell he was genuine and it made you smile. You leaned into him and he wrapped his unoccupied arm around you.

“That sounds good to me.”

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff. Slow updates oops.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I | Chapter II

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut. 

[wellofdean]

Sorry ,for me personally, it has to be out loud acknowledge to even remotely make up for how badly they treated fans over the years, the out loud queerbaiting in one breath and mocking in the next. The in text gay jokes, sexism and homophobia. The digs at their own fans.

They want the credit without having to do it. Again. They want the pat on the back they need to earn it this time.

Years of baiting for views and profit needs a payoff imo. Sorry people downplaying how important the canonization of this ship in particular is just hurts to see over and over. Stop letting them off the hook please. You deserve more. We all do.

It’s important. It does matter.

The cas/destiel hope baiting continued with the Winchesters and that’s why I’m at a put up or shut up moment with Jensen and the writers. He and Danneel kept the hype up every week that the show was airing all the while knowing cas doesn’t even get a name drop. He’s not even hinted at. Mary/john paralleled destiel so many times yet refused to call it want it was.

They could have shut it down week one, they interacted on tweeter a lot during airing and knew what fans thought there was going to be an acknowledgment or hint that never happened. They are smart people, they saw the speculation and hype but didn’t step in with a gentle ‘sorry guys this is about the new crew’ they fanned the hope instead with ‘something big happens’ that was just dean meeting the new team.

Loved the Winchesters as a show, sad it got dropped cause I loved the new cast so much. That said the baiting hurt and wasn’t necessary, the show was good.

Everyone is looking back with rose colored glasses and rewriting history. But things were ugly with the spn team/cast/writers at times. The homophobia was pretty out loud in a way it was allowed to be in the early 00s. They’ve grown and that’s wonderful but it still happened.

They need to earn the praise they want imo. No hate! Glad you are happy! just feels a little unfair to say we should all let them off the hook again and be happy with nothing while praising the benevolent straights. Just my two cents 😅💚💙

I want to answer this sympathetically, because I know it's disappointing that no one has been willing to just say "Dean and Cas are gay for each other" out loud, and I don't think there are many people in this fandom who picked up what the narrative was putting down, and were not disappointed in the finale for LOADS of reasons, only one of them being that Dean never had the chance to acknowledge what Cas said to him. I understand your feelings, my anonymous friend, I really do. I too found the end of Supernatural deeply frustrating, because they managed to erase the meaningful journeys of every single character, not just Dean, though what they did with Dean was the worst. I completely understand wanting them to JUST FUCKING SAY IT. I do. I get you. I simply do not agree.

My argument, which I have made many, many times, is that what you want is THERE in the narrative. They made Cas Dean's ride or die, they made it obvious that Dean can't carry on without Cas -- that the loss of Cas means Dean loses his will to live. That was explicit. They made it clear that more than anyone else, EVEN Sam, Cas is essential to him. They structured the narrative around Dean and Cas's emotional beats. They let Cas say the obvious thing out loud, and then showed us Dean behaving exactly as Dean would in a situation like that -- in the midst of his existential crisis about who he is and whether he has ever had free will, and with the world falling around them -- they showed us Dean unable to speak, unable to respond but overwhelmed with emotion. Like, remember that when Mary died when Dean was four, he was unable to speak? Is it really so hard to imagine that he loves Cas with all his heart? To read love in Dean's watery eyes, and the way he chokes down his heart and begs Cas not to do this? Not to being saying goodbye? I mean... I CAN DO THAT MATH. Literally everything about the story supports it. IT IS THERE.

Fandom always argues: if Cas were a woman, we wouldn't have any questions, so what I am just wondering is, why do we have questions again? Is it because we (homophobically) can't just see it for what it is because it's gay? Because, when it's gay we lose our ability to interpret narrative, and we need to be told, like we are 5 years old, what's happening in a perfectly obvious story? Or, is it a skill issue? Is it because we need the creators of the story to affirm our interpretation? We need the actors to just TELL US what they meant when they did that thing with their faces? Do we need their permission to understand it for what it is?

I've said many times that calling what happened on Supernatural 'queerbaiting' because no one ever made out or fucked on the maps table is really offensive to me actually. Don't you know that there are queer people in this world who never get to live their truths? Who just ache and yearn and want, and never get to have? Like, that there are in fact queer people who are afraid to say what they feel, or who don't understand or embrace who they really are and what they really need until it's too late? Are those not QUEER EXPERIENCES? I love Dean and I love that story because it's queer as hell and it makes ME feel seen, because I am like him! I am a queer person of his age who didn't ask myself those questions seriously enough in time! My own queerness is very fucking real, and it is UNLIVED. That HAPPENS to actual queer humans, and like, it's not queerbaiting when it's just queer, but didn't tell you the queer story YOU wanted it to tell. You saw years of tease? I saw years of choices, and love, and accretion of deep wells of emotion. I saw a clear romance, and a character becoming. It was a story I needed, AS A QUEER PERSON.

And the Winchesters was just joyful if you went in with that understanding of the previous story. It was like getting an A+ in Supernatural week after week from Dean himself. I can accept that the stars didn't align for Cas/Misha to come back in the first season, accept that if he were coming back, it needed to be more than a cameo to make it right, and that it didn't work out. I am so sad it was cancelled, but I can accept that it was leading someplace it didn't get to go. That's not queerbaiting, either! It's telling a story that was aborted, and I think if you don't see that, then that is DEFINITELY a skill issue.

I'm not looking back with rose coloured glasses; Supernatural is fresh in my mind. I watched it again without the internal pressure of expectations that aren't going to be met, and let it tell me what it was really doing all along. I am happy. It's a really compelling, deeply romantic, deeply queer story. I don't need permission from anyone involved to think that, and I don't need it explained to me. I understand wanting it to just be fully explicit, but I would not trade the story it did tell for a simpler, less engaging one, that asked less of me. I love it very much AS IT IS.

And, please: point me to this fabled abuse of fans. I have never really seen an example of it that is not easily debunked with a little bit of context.

[hippychick006]

Dropping in to say just hoooow in disbelief I am with what is going on with Destiel shipping discourse. I'm new to spn fandom and all I see is them taking Wincest concepts and applying to their ship dynamics or inserting Castiel in things that is clearly exclusively just Sam and Dean's relationship. I am a pro shipper and will always support people shipping whatever they want but the amount of canon misinpretation that's going on with Destiel is completely mind-blowing weird lol

Thank you for dropping in and welcome to the fandom, hope you can ignore the batshit craziness of certain parts of it and enjoy the things you like.

In terms of the destiel shippers, if they are just doing it and having fun and staying in their corner of fandom then I have no issue.

But a lot of them aren’t, they are hassling other ships, they are hassling the actors, they are using it to fool non fandom into thinking that’s what it’s about when it clearly isn’t, they call people homophobic for not “seeing” it, their reasons for seeing it are offensive stereotypes, they’ve attacked both Jared and Jensen and had articles written about both. They tried to set up a campaign to get Jared’s post SPN show cancelled because he dared to say correctly that it didn’t exist.

The problem has been that J2 and everyone that counts involved behind the scenes have been very clear in what the show is about. A few bad actors, and I mean that literally, are going along with it because they benefit financially from doing so, Misha tops that list but it has Rich and Rob on it too. A couple of writers went rogue, most notably Bobo Berens and he was only able to do so because of a weak showrunner. I have no respect for the pandering actors and writers because they make a mockery out of actual representation and they turned the show to shit. Misha sold his character out when he supposedly “went gay” for 2 minutes before he died and he fucked over Jensen, not to mention he had the “Angel is gay” jewellery for sale in his online store the very next day. That isn’t representation, that isn’t being an ally. 2 minutes of ambiguous “confession” in a 327 hour show? GTFO. He queerbaited the RPF relationship of him and Jensen so much that he had to come out as straight.

I feel sorry for J2 because they worked hard for 15 years and are very proud of their show to have supposed friends not support them when they shoot destiel stans down and say it doesn’t exist on the show.

Destiel fans have been both entertaining and annoying in equal measure and unfortunately are so obsessed (to the point of operating like a cult) that they aren’t going to stop anytime soon. I recommend reading of their meta on “the doors of bisexuality” if you really need a laugh at how ridiculous they are, or the cucumber water one, or the one where dean turns a cockerel (i think) the other way around. Other than financial gain, and ego stroking, I have no idea why anyone took them seriously.

Thank you for the ask, sorry for the 2 minute rant in response but representation is something I take very seriously and it annoys me that they do not.

[soft-pine]

spn20rewatch: 2.06 no exit

sweetheart, this is dean studies!!!!

okay so i have three big takeaways from 2.06. 1. dean paying attention to how jo got all that money. 2. how and when dean articulates his feelings about john. 3. john's penchant for using people as bait.

2.05 makes clear (to the viewers but not sam and dean) that jo routinely hustles hunters out of money when they pass through the roadhouse. so it doesn't come as a surprise to us when she holds out a wad of cash to the landlord as a deposit on the apartment.

but for dean on the other hand....

this facial journey makes me think a lot of things. it makes me think about dean's money managing all throughout season 1. it makes me think about the clearly established money stress he dealt with as a child. and it makes me think about the questions about some of the things he might have had to do in order to get money.

throughout the rest of this episode, he struggles with the balance of being protective of jo and her inexperience in hunting while not trying to make her feel belittled. i think he sees a lot of himself in jo but also sees, as he says, she still has a way out. and he knows he can't take the way out. but he really, really wants her to.

so when jo pulls out that cash, i think all of the layers of how hunting can trap you, and harm you, and force you to do things you don't want to flashes in his mind.

so he keeps trying to talk her out of it.

JO: Now you sound like my mother. DEAN: Oh, and that's a bad thing? Because let me tell you... JO: What? DEAN: Forget it. JO: No, you started this. DEAN: Jo, you've got options. No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started me in this when I was so young... I wish I could do something else. JO: You love the job. DEAN: Yeah, but I'm a little twisted. JO: You don't think I'm a little twisted too? DEAN: Jo, you've got a mother that worries about you. Who wants something more for you. Those are good things. You don't throw things like that away. Might be hard to find later.

i have said before and i'll say again that dean tends to shape his stories about john to his audience. we'll see that with the deadbeat dad stuff in season 5. we'll see that with the CBGB story in season 10. so, sometimes, like later this episode, you get a story about which he's not being totally honest because he is trying to subtly connect with or give advice to someone else.

however, sometimes, the truth coincides smoothly with the point he's trying to make. we know dean wants to quit hunting, wants to "do something else." we know this because he says so in several upcoming episodes this season (2.09, 2.10, 2.18). and we know this because in every single dream world he's ever shown, he isn't hunting. he's free.

and we also know he's trapped. he's trapped because "It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt." because he wants to save... everyone. and that's not something he can quit on with a good conscience. there's... no exit.

so he's telling jo the truth here. john started him hunting when he was really young. dean wishes he could do something else. and he can't. and having a parent who wants something better for you is something he didn't have and seems to wish he did.

it's important to me to note and understand exactly what dean's actual feelings about john are because he doesn't often get to process them aloud.

so let's take a later example in the episode that's a contrast.

jo shows dean that the knife she carries is her father's old hunting knife. and then she asks him

JO: What do you.. what do you remember about your dad? I mean, what's the first thing that pops into your head? (dean shakes his head) Come on, tell me. DEAN: (he looks away and around, bites his lip, thinking) I was six or seven, and uh, he took me shooting for the first time. You know, bottles on a fence, that kind of thing. I bulls-eyed every one of 'em. He gave me this smile, like... I don't know. JO: He must have been proud. DEAN: What about your dad?

this story has an entirely different format from the way dean talked above. first of all, when jo asks "what's the first thing that pops into your head," dean is clearly thinking about john asking him to maybe kill sam. and he can't say that. not only because he doesn't want sam to know but because jo is being emotionally vulnerable here. she wants to connect with dean about hunting, about missing their deceased fathers. this isn't' the time for him to dump some truly grim stuff at her feet. so he freezes, shakes his head.

and when she keeps pushing, he doesn't at all say the first thing he thinks of. he processes for a bit and shares a story about being a young kid with a hunter father. something jo will relate to since her dad died when she was still a young kid.

crucially, and sadly, dean fumbles toward the end of the story. i'm not gonna gif each little expression cause i think it makes more sense in context. but he starts out with a more upbeat tone but by the time he gets to "he gave me this smile," he's looking down and away. the more recent feelings about john having clearly soured the story he was trying to tell. jo says, "he must have been proud" and dean just can't keep the performance up. he literally can't even look at her until he shifts the conversation back to her.

dean cares for jo so much! which is why it's always so heart wrenching to see his terrified, desperate reaction to her getting taken by the ghost. which is why it's so heart wrenching to learn he accidentally repeated the hunting technique that john used which killed her dad. bait.

it makes me wonder about 1.21... does john only agree to go as bait with the fake colt because meg demanded it be him. it is very clear that john's MO is using people as bait while he waits in the shadows. from what we can gather, i think this is because there is no one john trusts to hunt better than himself. i think it probably killed him that he and sam couldn't go after the demon in salvation and just send dean with the fake gun off to meet up with meg. but i'm getting away from myself....

anyway. dean recognizes chloroform by smell.... which actually cannot mean nothing.

(and okay im sorry im sorry. not to self-promote but i'm writing this long fic thats like pre-canon intermixed with canon but like Dean Studies focused and dealing with how themes are interwoven and the most recent chapter deals with jo and her death and kids hunting more broadly and this episode was formative in writing it and so that's just in my mind. the chapters are kinda one-shot-y cause the plot literally just is the show. but also though it's my literal life's work this chapter is not the one i probably should be promoting it with. but dammit dean & kids got me okay)

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Book of the Damned: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Charlie found the Book of the Damned which has the spell to undo the curse of the Mark. You've made yourself clear but they're not listening to you. What better way to show Dean how serious you are than to hit him where it hurts: Your kids, Sam, and Charlie.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

"Where's the book?"

Charlie has no choice but to trust you. If Sam and Dean do then she does. Stupid girl. She walks over to the small coffee table as she explains its origins.

"Okay, here's what I've learned so far. About seven hundred years ago, a nun locked herself away after having visions of darkness. After a few decades squirreled away by herself, she emerged with this." She removes a cloth covering around the book. Your eyes immediately widen at the sight of it and your mark burns. Your head starts to feel fuzzy as the only thing you can think of is that book. "Each page is made out of slices of her own skin written in her blood. I told you, it's eekish." She hands the book to Sam and he starts flipping through the pages. "According to the notes I found, it's been owned and used by cults, covens, and the Vatican had it for a while. There's a spell inside that thing for everything like some black mass, dark magic, and end-of-times nastiness. As far as what language it's written in, I'm thinking it's some kind of...uh..."

"Dean? Dean!"

You and Dean snap out of whatever trance you're in only to see Dean standing in the kitchen with the book in his hands.

"What?" Sam and Charlie exchange concerned glances. "I don't think it's a good idea that I touch this."

Before Dean can give it back, you snatch it from his hands. You have to feel this at least once. Magic pours out of your hands in the form of a mist. The fuzziness in your head comes back and it pounds while the book screams at you to use it. You open it and look through the pages, immediately understanding the text. It's like it's written in English to you. Before you can get to the page regarding the Mark, Sam takes it out of your hands. You're not going to tell them you can read the book.

"Cool book," you nod.

"I'll go get the rest of our shit," Dean says and leaves the cabin.

"Me, too," you say and follow Dean outside.

"What the hell was that?" Charlie asks.

"They're not getting better. He's trying to cover and she's... Don't believe a word she says, okay? I don't think she's on our side."

"Why did you let her come?"

"I've learned very quickly that we don't let her do anything. She'll get whatever she wants but she cannot have this."

"Okay." Charlie nods.

Forget trying to destroy the book. You want it. That book contains the power you're craving. You'll get that book even if it means you have to kill them to do it. It doesn't hurt to know what you're up against. If the book is being tracked then there is someone or something that knows how powerful it is. They'll come for the book and will most likely be armed. That doesn't bother you but it doesn't hurt to know who they are. So, for right now, everyone and the book are safe.

You and Dean are sitting in the living room with a box from the bunker while Sam is sitting on the bed in the bedroom. The floor plan of the cabin is an open room so besides the fireplace in the middle of the room, you can see every inch of the place. There are no walls and doors separating you and Sam. Charlie is in the corner of the room drawing something on a piece of scratch paper. She gets up and walks over to you and Dean when she's finished.

"Okay, I got a pretty good look at his tattoo. It's something like this." 

Dean takes the paper but you see the drawing. It looks like an eagle with two heads turned away from each other. In the middle of the eagle is a cross that's sharp on the bottom.

"The douche clan. Got it. Well, this is everything the Men of Letters had on occult families, so there should be something in here."

"Sam, got anything?"

She leaves your side to join Sam's and Dean looks at you with narrowed eyes.

"Are you really on our side?"

"What do you think?" you smirk and take out a book from the box.

"I think you have a secret agenda and you're playing us."

"If you thought that, you wouldn't have let me come here," you chuckle.

Dean wants to hit someone but he refrains. Instead, he balls up his fist and you chuckle when you see them.

"Just tell me what you're up to and leave our kids out of it."

"Now if I told you, what fun would that be?"

You get up and leave Dean alone while looking at Sam. The Book of the Damned is open in front of him and it's taking everything in you not to go over there and grab it. You might be soulless with no emotions but you're not stupid. You have to play this right if you want things to go your way.

"From my best guess, this is all in an obscure Sumerian dialect. I actually found a rough match for it in this book," Sam says and holds up a different book.

"That's great," Charlie smiles.

"I thought so, too, but I've been translating and none of the translated words make any sense. It's all just gibberish. I mean, maybe it's in a different dialect?"

Charlie grabs Sam's notes and looks through them.

"No, I think you're right but I think it's in code."

"An entire book of unreadable text that's also in code. Great."

"And you call yourselves nerds. Come on. You got this," Dean says.

"He's right. Let's get our Alan Turing on and decrypt this bitch."

Sam looks up and sees both you and Dean staring at the book. He sees raw hunger in your eyes and longing in Dean's

"You know what, Charlie? Why don't we stick with my notes for a little bit? This book is literally making my eyes hurt."

Sam puts the book in the warded lock box, snapping you out of your trance. Just a little longer.

A few hours passed of reading, reading, and more reading. You're about to take the damn book and run when Dean stands up with a file in his hands.

"I found something. Those people following you are all kinds of wrong. I'm talking multi-generational, centuries-old wrong. The Styne family. Men of Letters' files have them dated back to the early 1800s. They used spells to create disease and to destabilize markets. Hell, they even helped the Nazis before they came into power, and they profited from all of it." Dean hands the file over to Charlie just as Sam joins her on the couch. "All the spells they used came from a book of 'unspeakable evil' which they lost nearly a hundred years ago."

"Okay, so they're bad. So what? We faced worse."

"Sam read the file," Dean sighs. "The way the book works is when you use it, there is a negative reaction. I'm talking biblical negative. Dark magic always comes with a price. We know that. We've been down that road before."

"Well, let's at least translate it and see what it says," Charlie says.

"I bet the Scarlet Witch can decode it," you smirk.

"Like hell, you're using the book. Not going to happen. End of story."

"You guys don't understand. The book's been calling out to me ever since I laid eyes on it, okay? I'm pretty sure it's been doing the same for Y/N here. It's calling out to the Mark. I can hear it like it's alive. It wants me to use it but not for good. Look, I wanted it to be the answer too, okay? I really did, but we have got to get rid of that. Burn it, bury it, I don't give a damn. We'll just have to find another way to fix the Mark."

"Like what?" Sam asks and stands up.

"I don't know."

"You're giving up?"

"No, I'm not giving up. Charlie, I don't have a death wish. Okay, even if I did, I can't die, not with this thing on my arm. What I can do is I can fight it as long as I can until--"

"Until what? Tell me. Until what, Dean? Until I watch you become a demon again? Until then? I can't do that. I won't do that."

"Well, then you'll just have to lock me up. Bind me to the bunker like you did last time."

"That doesn't solve anything," Charlie says.

"Look, just let us translate the book, okay? If there's a cure, we'll do it and deal with the consequences later. I can't lose you."

"This is my cross to bear, Sam! Mine! That book is not the answer! Now we have to destroy it before it falls into the wrong hands, and that includes me and Y/N!"

Before Sam and Charlie get too heated, you put a hand on his shoulder and lean up so your mouth is next to his ear. To Sam and Charlie, you're whispering when really, you're manipulating. You can't let him burn the book. You can't let him destroy it.

"Listen to them, Dean. Let them decode it. Know its power before you decide what to do with it. Listen to them, Dean. Let them decode it."

As you're whispering, you send a stream of magic into his ear to cloud his brain. He relaxes under your touch and before you know it, he's completely under your control.

"You guys are right," Dean says. "Decode the thing. We should know its power before we decide what to do with it."

He walks away and goes to the kitchen for something to drink. Sam and Charlie look at you with confused looks.

"What did you do to him?" Sam asks.

"Does it matter? Decode it. I'll be back. It's getting stuffy in here. Plus, we forgot your snacks, Charlie."

Sam and Charlie feel much better without you in the cabin but they're worried about two things. What you did to Dean and what you're doing out there. It's fun to let them think you're off murdering people or conspiring against them when in reality, all you want is some damn food to eat. You'll get Charlie's snacks because you're tired of hearing her stomach rumble every five seconds.

x

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[whattheshock]

⭐️ STAR TREATMENT (miguel o'hara band au)

summary: you're trying your best to adjust to being a band manager, but miguel's not making it easy... wc: 929 cw: use of y/n, mentions of alcohol/drinking, miguel is still an ass

⋆part 2⋆ masterlist

after a couple weeks & a couple dozen hours of research, you were finally getting into the groove of being a band manager. the sounds of spider sense's newest song filled the rehearsal studio.

"stop, stop, stop..." dean suddenly said, the music slowly coming to a halt. "miguel, you're like 2 whole seconds ahead of everyone else, we can't play right if you're off."

"maybe you're the one that's off, dumbass, you ever think about that, huh?" miguel snapped back.

"actually..." you spoke up. "you were a little ahead, everyone else was on beat."

"cállate, this isn't your place-"

"but it is my place..." you said. "as your manager, i'm supposed to keep things running smoothly, & you're not exactly helping."

he grunted as he got up from behind his drums, approaching you & making you back up against the wall, his tall figure looming over you. "you wanna say that again?" he growled, looking down at you intensely, his eyes almost glowing bright red.

you stood your ground, staring back up at him with a gaze just as intense as his. it was hard to focus, hearing his heavy breathing, feeling not only his eyes on you, but the rest of the band's, but you refused to look away.

he finally gave in, breaking away & walking towards the door. "i need a sec," he said as he left the studio.

"alright, everyone take 5..." caleb said before walking over to you. "hey, are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm fine."

"dude... how the hell did you do that?"

"do what?"

he scoffed. "'do what?' you stood up to miguel! i'm nowhere near brave enough to do that."

you laughed a bit. "i don't know how i did it, either. it's just... i don't don't know what his problem is."

"me neither... look, [y/n], just ignore him, you're doing an amazing job as our manager & he's only gonna get in the way."

"alright, thank you, caleb," you said as you gave him a hug.

"no worries, everything will be alright..."

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

the band had another gig tonight, & you were supposed to arrive an hour before. you rushed through the doors that lead backstage. "sorry i'm so late!" you said, but it didn't seem to be too much of a problem, finding the members just hanging out, dean just finishing tuning up. "um, miguel, what do you think you're doing?"

"what?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

you walked up to him as he was sprawled out on the couch. "you have a show in 30 minutes... look, i know we're in a bar & everyone else is drinking but that doesn't mean you should be..." you scolded as you crossed your arms.

"so who you gonna call? the martini police?" he said in a sarcastic tone as he took another sip.

"c'mon, man..." dean said as he grabbed the drink away from his hand. miguel scoffed & put his hands up in defense, before starting to leave the room. "you better not be getting another fuckin' drink, mate..."

"i'm not, i'm not..." miguel insisted in an annoyed tone before leaving the room.

thankfully, miguel wasn't too drunk to perform, & they had another successful show. you walked on stage to congratulate them after they finished their set, hugging each of the members, except miguel, obviously, you figured it was best to steer clear of him.

"excuse me," a voice said, you turned around to see a short man in a button up shirt. "i'm rich webb of webb records, i've heard a great deal about your band... are you their manager?" he asked you.

holy shit. "um, yes sir, i'm [y/n] [l/n], nice to meet you..." you said as you shook his hand.

"oh, the pleasure is all mine..." he said with a smile. "all the amazing things i've heard about all of you are true... the way your music sounds so classic yet so unique, a creative blend of so many rock subgenres with genius lyrics, it's unbelievable! they way you use your musical talents to bring out the best in each other's sounds, & the way your personalities are so different yet blend so well together creates such an incredible stage presence, this truly was one of the best shows i've seen in awhile."

"really? you liked it that much?" caleb asked, you could practically see sparkles in his eyes.

"yes... in fact, i liked it so much, i want to offer you a record deal..." all of your mouths fell open. "i'd like to work on recording an album & maybe setting up a tour, i've seen you have quite the fan base across the country for a band who just plays small gigs... but you have serious potential, you guys are going places... so, whaddya say?"

"are you kidding? of course we're accepting!" caleb exclaimed, going up to rich & hugging him for a second before quickly letting go. "sorry, got too excited..."

"it's fine... so we'll be meeting again so to discuss details & work out a contract, we can schedule that soon, here's my card." rich said as he handed you his business card.

"thank you so much, sir, i'll look at my schedule so we can meet as soon as possible..." you said as you shook his hand again.

"perfect, i'll see you soon," he said as he waved back at us before leaving. after he left, we all turned to each other with wide eyes.

"boys, we're goin' on tour!" caleb announced & i smiled, i couldn't be happier.

an: hi again, tysm for reading part 2 of star treatment! if any of y'all know the song this fic's named after, u prob caught the lyric ref teehee 🤭 also, idk much about band managers/record execs so i was just googling shit & it's prob not 100% accurate... lmk if u have any questions (my inbox is always open!) or wanna be tagged in new chapters! reblogs r greatly appreciated :)

credit to @benkeibear for the dividers

part 3 out now!!

[quietwingsinthesky]

8 and 16 for the choose violence ask

8. Common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about.

That Dean would return Cas’s love confession

Okay no actually you know what. I’m gonna talk about that. Maybe it’s just me being deep in Aro!Dean land, but I’m not seeing it. I’m not seeing at any point in the show where Dean loved Castiel. And I’ve been looking, I swear, but I’m. There’s no destiel on my screen. There is a lot more sastiel than I remember but there’s no destiel happening on my screen! There IS a lot of Castiel clearly having Problems and Issues and Angst about dean, and. Zero doubt here there that that angel wants to fuck him. But I honestly can’t imagine any happy ending for dean that revolves solely or even mostly around a romantic attachment. That man is hardwired for family being the most important thing to him, and I love that. Aro!Dean wins again.

Other notable things include: headcanoning Sam as not queer/trans because he’s too boring. Talked about that. Weird fucking opinion to have. That Gabriel is not exactly as fucked up as the other archangels, especially when presenting sabriel as the Good Sam Ship as opposed to samifer. My dudes, did we not watch mystery spot, do the reading. Also. Also. Not acknowledging the really clear character degradation of Lucifer in the later seasons/attributing later seasons stuff to how he acts in s5, just a personal gripe because whatever, people can read him however they want, but I really feel like on a meta level you gotta talk about how these are Two Different Characters who just happen to have been jammed into the same character. Okay. I think that’s it.

16. You can’t understand why people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc.)

I do not like coffee shops AUs. Actually, it’s more that im Extremely picky about AUs that aren’t canon divergence, and will drop them immediately the minute I feel like I’m no longer reading about the characters I like and am instead reading about Generic Guys who say funny quips and then kiss. Which is not a coffee shop au specific problem but the frequency with which that kind of au attracts that writing means I have kind of been turned off from ever reading them again.

if you are writing Sam into your coffee shop au and at some point he does not drop some insane backstory about the time he was kidnapped and forced to fight to the death with a bunch of other college kids, you have failed at writing this au and I am banishing you to the shadow realm /j

The other thing that I do not understand at all, and this extends into a problem with canon, I’m well aware, is how happily people will accept the idea that Castiel is rebellious/different from other angels because he was just Made Wrong. he’s too Broken to be like a real angel. that all the other angels are mindless drones and Castiel is the one good one who could learn about free will, usually justified with it being that “his love for dean is what makes him special”, but even outside of destiel circles, this kind of thing gets very annoying lmao.

And it’s just. That’s wrong. The show might have decided post-s8 that it believed this about Castiel but it’s False and Bad. I’m gesturing wildly at Uriel and Anna and Gabriel and Lucifer and Balthazar and Michael and shit what’s that one angel doing pinball I love them, them too, and Castiel is not special!!! He should not be special!!! All angels have the capacity for free will, they are living under a terrifying system of suppression that has stripped them of their ability to use it and has taught them that when an angel does something they disagree with, killing them is a mercy! (See: the implications of that one angel healer in s9 + Uriel and Cas being sent to kill Anna for falling in s4)

CASTIEL IS NOT SPECIAL. STOP SAYING HE IS SPECIAL. THE CRACK IN THE CHASSIS LINE IS BAD TO HOLD UP AS EVIDENCE OF HIM BEING UNIQUELY FLAWED.

ahem. sorry. i like the supernatural angels. i think making castiel into some separate special being who is the only one capable of rebelling and feeling love and etc does a massive disservice to the heaven storylines and angels as a whole. i think the show’s choice to never have another major angel character who wasn’t killed off quickly/made “too evil” to redeem was a bad decision and contributes to this view of cas as Different and The Good One.

[softguarnere]

For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers) Chapter Three: The Goddess of War

Summary: Easy Company's newest member is thankful for the distraction provided by the new Women's Squad A/N: No points for guessing why this chapter was one of my favorites to write so far Warnings: period typical sexism Taglist: @dcyllom @kujofam

If anyone at Camp Toccoa is grateful for all the commotion caused by the female paratroopers, it’s Private David Webster.

Being transferred out of his company and into Easy is . . . an embarrassment, to say the least. Thankfully, all the fanfare and fuss over the women being placed into an offshoot of E Company is such a distraction that no one seems to notice David as he quietly slips in and joins their ranks. Satisfaction settles into his chest as he claims a bunk in the barracks for himself, unobtrusively arranging his footlocker and his belongings in amongst everyone else’s, just as if he's always been there. The lack of attention for his arrival is a strange sort of triumph, like an undercover journalist establishing the perfect alibi and new identity as their cover.

David allows himself a small smile at his success. So far, so good.

None of the other men even get the chance to think about noticing him. Even before David’s arrival, the bunkhouse had been full of conversation – almost all to do with the addition of the female paratroopers to their company, although he did hear one man complaining about the meatloaf that had been served for dinner the night before, which was a nice change of pace. And now, too, another distraction presents itself as a tall, ginger-haired man opens the bunkhouse door and allows himself in.

The effect is instantaneous. Men stop talking when they catch sight of him, instantly sitting up a bit straighter. Not, David realizes, in the way that you would for a headmaster or a dean who expects you to simply exist in a way that is automatically prim and proper, but in the way that you conduct yourself around someone that you hope to impress in the best possible way – someone that you admire.

The Lieutenant nods as a greeting. He stays standing near the door, which has shut behind him. He observes them, not waiting or expecting them to stop their idle chatter; he seems happy just to be around them in this casual environment.

Nevertheless, the talking dies out as the other men look to him. A man with a thick accent leans forward a bit on his bunk, calling out from the middle of the bunk house, “Lieutenant Winters, sir?”

“Yes, Perconte?”

The man on the bunk, Perconte, sits up a little straighter as everyone’s attention turns to him. “Sir, we were just wondering about the girls.”

“What about them?”

“We all know what you were thinking, Perco!” Someone calls, eliciting several laughs from around the room.

Perconte shakes his head, smiling. “Well, sir, we just wondered – what happens now? I mean, why us, anyway?”

“Why Easy Company?” Lieutenant Winters repeats. For a pause, he considers the question. Then, hands on hips, he takes a step forward, and begins a gentle pace down the aisle between the bunks as he works out the answer. “Have any of you heard why Colonel Sink chose E Company specifically for the new Women’s Squad?”

The question is addressed to everyone, to anyone, and they all shake their heads. Even David, although he’s been part of the company for all of two minutes.

“Well,” Lieutenant Winters continues. “I’ll be honest – I had to wonder the same thing myself. But Colonel Sink made it clear: paratroopers might be the best of the best already, but he thinks that Easy Company has gone above and beyond, and we haven’t even left the US yet.”

Smiles scatter themselves across the room. Best of the best of the best. Not so bad.

“As such, who better to help pioneer this new idea? Our track record is excellent. Supreme. The idea – the experiment – of female paratroopers is one that Colonel Sink wants to see succeed. Any other company might shunt them to the side or set them up for failure. But as men known for succeeding, the colonel knows that we don’t want any blemishes on our record.”

Someone interrupts. “You mean – uh, he doesn’t want any blemishes, sir?”

He carries a lot of weight in the way it’s said. Yet the word is tarnished, somehow, like old silver that no longer holds its shine quite the way it used to. Lieutenant Winters has already said that Colonel Sink wishes for them to succeed. David gets the feeling that the “he” being referred to is someone else entirely – someone who inspires the feeling of disdain, or maybe a faint fear.

The Lieutenant is inscrutable, but he doesn’t protest when a few of the men release breathy laughs that might be scoffs or snickers.

“It would be safe to assume that,” he says nonchalantly. “Now, as some of the best, Colonel Sink has entrusted us with a great responsibility.” Winters, now at the end of the aisle, at the door opposite from the one he started at, turns to face with men with one quirked brow. “Easy Company, are you up to the challenge?”

Put like this, it all seems so simple. Of course Colonel Sink would pick Easy Company to pioneer the Women’s Division! Who else would be so welcoming? So ready to set aside their differences for the sake of upholding their company’s stellar reputation? These men have already been learning how to put aside the differences between themselves and their fellow men – doing the same with the women should be easy, after that. This is a company that will not let the colonel and his grand experiment down, David realizes. They would hate to disappoint not only him, but the lieutenant standing before them, tasking them with helping to usher in a new age of military history.

The effect is instantaneous. Any of the men who harbored doubts about their company’s new squad seem to have been converted – and those who still aren’t convinced see enough people change their mind to know that they ought to keep their mouths shut on the threat of marring Easy Company’s status as a first-rate company. Either way, most of the men nod in agreement. A few even smile, never one to back down from a challenge – especially not one issued by someone who they so admire.

“Good.” Lieutenant Winters allows himself a smile now. He begins pacing back down the aisle, back to where he started. “We’ve got to show the other companies that these women are a part of our company and that they are treated as equals. I expect that every single one of you treat them with dignity and civility. Help them and get to know them the way that you have the other men in this bunkhouse. The standing order is: respect.” He stops pacing again to look around at everyone. “Can we do this, Easy Company?”

“Yes, sir!” Almost everyone exclaims at once.

Lieutenant Winters’ expression is firm, proud. “Well then, I’ll hold you all to that. Don’t let the colonel down.”

The unspoken agreement that seems to pass between the men is: don’t let the lieutenant down. And, as David looks around, he has a feeling that disappointing this man is the last thing that any of them want to do.

“Is this coming from Captain Sobel, too, sir?” Someone asks.

There it is – that same feeling that the earlier he caused passes through the bunkhouse again. David has only ever heard Sobel’s name in passing, but he’s got quite the reputation of his own, to say the least. This is someone who would never allow a tarnish on the E Company name.

“These are my thoughts,” Lieutenant Winters admits. “Captain Sobel will be along shortly to make an announcement before you formally meet the women. I don’t know what he plans to say, but I do know that he wants, more than anything, for Easy Company to continue going above and beyond – and to help its new members do the same.”

Oh, he’s brilliant, David thinks. This impromptu speech wasn’t really so improvised to begin with. It couldn’t have been. It had to be Lieutenant Winters who issued the challenge if they want this experiment to succeed. If it had been Captain Sobel, some might have been tempted to throw the proverbial wrench into the plans, as it were, just to watch him flounder. Lieutenant Winters is not someone who you intentionally fail. Genius.

As if on cue, the door opens and a dark-haired man steps in. Another lieutenant, from the bar on his collar.

“He’s on his way,” he tells Lieutenant Winters.

The door opens once again, and the men all stand as another dark-haired man bursts into the room, making a grand entrance. His face is stern and he looks down on them, his eyes roving over every one of them in turn, just to make sure he has their attention.

“Easy Company!” he begins in a booming voice, much more formidable than the tone the previous speech was delivered in. “Today, the female paratroopers are being absorbed into our company as the brand new Women’s Squad. There will be no funny business – no fraternization – under the threat of having your weekend passes revoked. My company will not be subject to rumors and scandal – it will continue to uphold its excellent record. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” everyone mutters, much more subdued than when Lieutenant Winters had asked for their understanding.

Captain Sobel nods firmly. “Good.” Then, just the way he came, he blusters from the room, slamming the door behind him.

All the men instantly relax at his departure.

“There’s a guy that makes you almost want to fail him,” the man next to David mumbles, glancing his way. He does a double take, giving him a onceover with scrunched brows. “Say, who the hell are you?”

David blinks, discovered all at once for his newness. “David Webster.”

The man looks him over again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” He tilts his head. “No, I haven’t. Where’d you come from?”

“I just transferred into Easy, from Fox Company,” David admits, proud that his face only heats a little from embarrassment. “It’s my first morning here.”

The other man shrugs. “Guess you picked the right day to join. Everyone’ll be so busy with the gals that they probably won’t notice a new guy enough to pick on him.” He pauses. “Probably.”

My thoughts exactly, David thinks, although he gets the feeling that this man might just have some thoughts of a few jabs to throw his way.

He sticks out his hand. “Don Hoobler. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

It was a nice six minutes or so of being unnoticed as the new guy. 

It’s still early in the morning, yet the humidity is thick, and made thicker by the cicadas in the trees all around the camp. No longer are their cries simply scattered ambient noise throughout the day, but the unrelenting screeches that drone on and on in a sound that blankets the air above their heads. If the men can’t complain about the heat and the layer of sweat that perpetually exists no matter what they do, the bugs will do the crying for them. From the sound of it, they’re just as miserable as the men doing PT are. The Dog Days in Georgia are nothing to sneeze at.

The women are already gathered on the parade grounds when Lieutenant Winters leads them to PT. Captain Sobel has stormed off ahead. Everyone is at least a little eager to meet these women. Even the men who claim not to care, to have no interest, perk up a little bit as they approach the small group.

Winters gives them a look over his shoulder. Not demanding, not a warning. Just expectant. He’s given them his thoughts. The rest is up to them.

Two women stand in front of the others, leading them in stretches. They stop as the men approach. Behind their crisp salutes to Sobel, their eyes wander to the men, questioning; how is this going to go?

“At ease.” From behind, it’s not hard to notice that Sobel is looking the women up and down, hands on his hips while he surveys them. After a moment, he nods to himself. He points to one of the two women that stand apart from the others. “Aphrodite, introduce your women to Easy Company.”

The woman who is slightly taller blinks, her dark eyebrows shooting up one second before descending into a furrowed position in the next. She purses her lips, throws a quick glance at the woman standing next to her, who looks less angry and more confused.     

“Come on,” Sobel urges, clapping his hands. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“Sergeant Minerva Revels,” the woman, Minerva, stresses in an accent unlike anything that Webster has ever heard before. Slightly Irish, maybe? Australian? 

The woman next to her sounds off next. “Sergeant Diana Bradham.”

It doesn’t take long to get through the other eight of them. There’s Privates Keziah Crowe, Bianca Mancini, Juanita Valdez, Anna Wallis, Anita Houston, Lucinda McNair, Katherine Scott, and, to Webster’s ultimate surprise, Lori Sinclair.

Lori?! He can’t help but be taken aback. She’s the last person that he would have expected to find here, although her red hair should have given her away instantly. Then again, maybe it makes sense, what with her family being so well connected, and all. Probably good publicity for both the Sinclairs and the Army. Last he heard, Lori was off getting a degree in journalism. Huh. Well, hell of a story that she’s going to have. Like him. Who knows? He remembers her as being a promising writer. Perhaps they could co-author a book when all this is over.

Before his mind can wander to close to the New York Times Best Seller’s List, Sobel speaks up again.

“Easy Company, you can take the time to introduce yourselves later. But now, we’re running Currahee.” No one dares let their groans escape them. Sobel whirls back to the women before anyone can think to complain. “Sergeant Bradham, who is the weakest runner in the Women’s Squad?”

The shorter of the two sergeants hesitates. Everyone freezes, waiting to see if her lack of an answer is because she doesn’t know, or because she doesn’t want to embarrass anyone.

“Quickly!” The captain urges.

“I – uh, I don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t know? You are a sergeant, Bradham. Why don’t you know?”

“Well . . .” She bites her lip, glances at the other sergeant. “It’s our first day of organized PT, sir. I’ve never seen any of them run.”

Snickers run through the men as they realize Sobel’s misstep. Glancing around, several men look elated by his mistake, while others just look downright done. It gives Webster the feeling that this sort of occurrence is more common than anyone would like to think.

Sobel whirls around. “Lieutenant Winters!” He barks. “Take everyone up the mountain. I’ll be recording their times. Anyone under forty-five minutes will have their weekend pass revoked. Go.”

In the short time that he’s been a member of Easy Company, Webster has heard Sobel threaten to revoke their weekend passes twice now. This must be commonplace, and he must be serious, because a mad dash up the mountain begins immediately. In the heat of the morning, clouds of dust kick up from the dirt, clogging the air on the trail as they run.

Of course, Webster has run Currahee before. But never like this. Rumors about Easy Company’s running abilities have floated around the camp, and it seems as if this is one of the rare occasions that the rumors are true.

The amazing thing is, hardly anyone falls behind. Some runners are stronger than others. The dark-haired sergeant – Minerva, he remembers – charges straight ahead, easily keeping time with Lieutenant Winters up at the front of the group. Her glossy ponytail swings in time with her steps.

How ironic, Webster thinks, that the woman named after a goddess of war can do this with such ease. As if it’s been predetermined that she can lead people into battle, charging ahead like this.

After the switchback that plummets straight down, the trail dramatically reaches upward, stretching for the sky. Breaths come in pants and white shirts are sweated through, becoming a second skin as they stick to men’s backs with the water from their bodies and the moisture of the air.

But before anyone can truly come to appreciate how miserable this exercise is, something unexpected happens. Above all the heavy breathing and the crunching of boots hitting the ground, a voice rings out over the din.

“He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright,” a voice sings, clear as a bell and sweet as honey. Whoever the voice belongs to, she must have quite the set of lungs on her, because she doesn’t sound nearly as exhausted as she should while simultaneously singing and running.

The next thing that anyone knows, everyone is joining in on the chorus. A siren song and the dark-humored lyrics carrying them up the mountain, and before they can consider being miserable again, another song is started up to carry them down. It goes on like this, with everyone being so distracted by the music, that when they reach the camp again, it doesn’t feel like the worst run of their lives after all.

Clouds of dust kick up as the company slows to a stop in front of Sobel. The captain’s lips are pressed into a thin line. His eyes betray nothing. He could be pleased with them or absolutely pissed, it’s anyone's guess.

“Forty-eight minutes,” he finally announces. “All weekend passes are revoked. Spend that time working on your running. Now go change and report to the firing range. Move with a purpose!”

Once again, the company manages to hold in the groans and eyerolls that they all so desperately want to let out. Good soldiers, all of them, they hold in their complaints and head off for the barracks to change out of their PT clothes. As they walk, several of the men give the women a wide berth, occasionally throwing glares their way, like the revoking of weekend passes is all their fault. Have they already forgotten who started the singing that buoyed their spirits to get them up and down the damn thing in the first place?

The women are hustling back with such purpose that Webster has to enter a slight jog to catch up with them. He ends up next to the sergeant with the unusual accent.

“Hello,” he says, suddenly remembering what it was like to approach other children on the playground as a child at school and introduce himself in the hopes of befriending them. “I’m David Webster.”

Sergeant Revels quirks an eyebrow. She has green eyes, he realizes now that he’s looking at her up close. Like the ocean. And a spattering of freckles across her nose. “Minerva.”

“The Roman goddess of war.”

She nods. “That’s right. Not Aphrodite, like some people seem to think.”

“Well, some people have no appreciation for the classics,” Webster quips, which makes the corner of her mouth pull slightly in the faintest of smiles. Before he can lose her attention, he adds, “Welcome to Easy Company.”

Minerva does smile this time, as something like relief washes over her, relaxing her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Minerva!” Someone calls from up ahead. “You better come quick!”

It’s quick, but Minerva’s fingers ghost over his arm in the lightest touch. “See you around, Webster.”

And then she’s gone. The goddess of war, off to fight another battle.

[pickinglilahs]

My Boys Ch 5.

AO3 link, Chapter 1 Ch 4; Ch 6 (2.1 K) I cannot tell you how hard it was calling him Malfoy instead of Draco. This feels so much better now.

The eighth-year friend groups sort of... merged after that.

Hermione and Draco were often found consulting one another on homework. Seamus and Dean had taken to showing Greg 'controlled' explosions. Blaise and the Patil twins could often be found discussing their past travels and where they would like to visit in the future. Ernie, Terry, and Theo bonded over the lack of drama in their common room and started placing bets on... everything really.

Haze floated from group to group. They talked philosophy with Neville and Luna; Quidditch with Dean, Seamus, and Greg; Muggle v Wixen travel with Blaise, Padma, and Parvati; Bet on Seamus and Dean's relationship with Ernie, Terry, and Theo.

~~~

It was Thursday before Draco asked if Haze wanted to work on the project again. Haze readily agreed, even though Hermione wouldn't be able to make it this time. So, Haze and Draco set off alone to find a quiet corner in the back of the library after Potions.

They talked softly about the potion they had been making and made fun of Slughorn's awful commentary as they made their way and set down their things. Draco pulled out his notes and Haze waited patiently—albeit a touch nervously—for him to start.

"I wanted to thank you again for the memory." Draco finally looked up at them. "I cannot tell you how valuable it is to my research."

Haze gave a small smile and shrugged. "Glad someone's getting a use for it."

Draco smiled back, understanding the sentiment. "I must admit, seeing the memory the way you remember it, finally having the whole picture, it made quite a few things fall into place for me."

Haze cocked their head, not quite understanding.

Forging on, "Memories are funny things. They are shaped by our understanding of the world, tinted by our emotions, blurred by our expectations. That's why memories are hardly ever used in trials, they are too unreliable. Too susceptible to unconscious editing."

Haze was beginning to understand but was also becoming even more confused. "So, seeing my memory showed my intentions, even when I couldn't voice them."

Draco nodded.

"But if my memory is 'tainted' by my own feelings or whatever, how does that show you the whole picture? My memory is just one side of the coin."

"Yes." Draco smiled at Haze's frown. "There is your side, my side, and the truth. Which, according to the saying, lays somewhere in between." Draco folded his hands atop his notebook and leaned over them, as if to impart a secret. "The incredible thing, though, is that your memory hardly seems 'tainted' at all."

Haze blinked, uncomprehending.

"You've seen other people's memories before, correct?"

Haze nodded slowly, not knowing where this was going.

"And did they seem blurry? Stilted? Too fast or too slow? Like certain parts seemed to be unclear or forgotten?"

Haze thought about it.

Dumbledore's had never been like that; they had always been as clear as watching the telly.

Slughorn's had been muddy, especially the part he had changed. There were parts where the conversation seemed to speed ahead or slow to a stop.

And Snape's... His had cut around, showing flashes and clips; none of it solid. As if they had been fleeting thoughts contaminating the message he was supposed to deliver.

Haze tried to focus. Getting sucked into those memories this early in their session wouldn't do anyone any good. So, with a great effort, Haze pulled himself out of his mind, pushing the memories out on the same breath as, "I've seen a few. Everyone seems to remember things in a different way. Focusing on different parts of their memories."

Draco nodded. "Exactly. Most people only remember what's important—or, more accurately, what they think is important—and not the whole picture. You," he emphasized, "remember everything."

Haze frowned. "What do you mean?"

"My memories are fuzzy and imprecise. When I tried to watch mine, I could barely see anything and half of it was missing. But yours," Draco paused, collecting his thoughts.

He had realized that talking of that specific memory was probably dangerous territory, so he switched gears.

"If I were to look at my own memory of this conversation, I would see us sitting here talking. If I were to look at your memory of this conversation. I would be able to make out the texture of the table; the fly-aways in my hair; the words on the page of my notebook; every word we say complete with the inflections and facial expressions. Your brain captures moments like a camera."

Haze's eyes unfocused as they thought about it. They were able to recall every word in Draco's notebook without looking. They could recall every single word they had shared since leaving potions. But-

"Why can't I recall everything then? I sit down for tests and forget half of what we learned. I go to write essays and have to look up information we've already read or discussed. If my memory is perfect, why do I have gaps?"

Draco's brows furrowed, head cocking. "Not sure. Maybe it requires focus? Intent? If you just skim over the readings, they don't really sink in? But things you put your full focus into, things your brain marks as important, are captured down to the last detail."

Haze considered this. It was a reasonable explanation but didn't bring them any comfort.

"So, my brain marked all of my most traumatic experiences as important, and now I get to relive every last detail. Wonderful."

Draco's brows scrunched in concern. "Surely, you remember good memories too. Like that wonderful opening dance at the Yule Ball."

Haze groaned as his mind flashed back to that night. The awkward steps and uncomfortable feeling of the whole hall watching. "Merlin. That was awful." In his mind's eye, he could see himself dancing with Parvati. See her face and the way his body tensed. See the expression on each person's face as they watched.

Distantly, Haze heard Draco's chuckle. Heard him say something else, ask a question.

Haze's mind, though, had focused on the face of Alastor Moody. The face of Alastor Moody that was being worn by Barty Crouch Jr. The face that was hiding at the back of the crowd, taking a swig from his hip flask.

Suddenly, Haze was back in that office, the night of the last task. They were back in the maze. In the graveyard. Seeing their parents.

The hailstorm of memories assailed him all at once. Every detail of every moment, all at once. Haze sank into themselves, trying to hide, to block it out, to survive.

Phoenix song swelled from underneath the storm of memories, growing gradually louder. Haze latched onto it; gripped it like a lifeline. The more they focused on the music, the easier it was to ignore the memories.

They let the music wrap around them, cocooning him like a hug. The music morphed into something else. Or maybe Haze was registering that it was not pheonix song at all.

The melody was soft, gentle, almost like a lullaby. There were words, too, but they must not have been English, because no matter how hard Haze listened, the words meant nothing to him. Regardless, Haze tried to bury themself in the sound, wanting to feel the vibrations in his bones.

A chuckle interrupted the sound. Their body moved with the short laughs as it had vibrated with the music. Eyes flying open, Haze froze.

Assessing, they suddenly found themselves back in their own body, in Draco's lap, face buried in his chest. The two must have been on the floor as Haze was sitting on Draco's crossed legs, their own wrapped behind his back. And, perhaps most shocking of all, was Draco's arms wrapped around them, chin resting on top of their head. He had one hand tight around Haze's waist and the other carding through their hair.

The song resumed and Haze couldn't help but sink into it. It was a lullaby, French from the sound of it. Draco's beautiful voice flowed over him, warm as his touch. Haze could feel Draco's chest rise and fall as it vibrated with music. They wanted to crawl inside of him, to live in that feeling.

Haze couldn't muster the shock at how lovely Draco's voice was, nor how strange it was to feel so comforted in his arms. All they could do was cement this moment in their memory.

Every note.

Every breath.

Every place their bodies touched.

The way Draco's fingernails gently scratched at his scalp.

The way their own breathing synced with his.

The way their heartbeats kept time.

When the lullaby came to its end, Draco fell silent, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he called a soft, "Haze?"

Not quite able to speak, they squeezed their arms tight a moment to let him know they were listening.

"I... I think I broke your music player."

Haze jerked back to look up at him. He wouldn't meet their eye, looking sheepishly to the side. Haze turned his head—they were in fact on the floor beside his chair—and held out his hand. The Walkman floated down from the table, and they smiled at it.

He had popped the lid open.

Looking up to make sure Draco was watching, Haze carefully shut the top and pressed play. Picking up the headphones, he carefully set them over Draco's ears and watched as his eyes went wide.

Smiling, Haze sat as Draco's hands—both on their back now—began to twitch to the music, as if Haze's spine was a piano, and he was playing along.

When he started humming along, Haze set the player on the floor, careful of the cord, and tucked himself back under Draco's chin. Haze could feel Draco's humming reverberating through their own chest. Paired with Draco's fingers on his back, he felt like he was the piano.

~~~

And that was how Hermione found them when she came to get them for dinner an hour later.

She debated on just leaving them, but Haze hadn't been eating or sleeping as they should. Besides, she acknowledged, it was highly unlikely Draco would have been able to work the player by himself. Nor would he put the headphones on himself if Haze needed them.

Decided, she knelt and placed a gentle hand on Draco's upper arm.

He jumped.

Which made Haze jump.

They both whorled on her and she smiled. "Dinner."

Haze blinked for a second, then nodded. They turned back to Draco, gently taking the headphones before stopping the music.

"I assume it's dinner?" Draco asked, having been unable to hear her before.

She nodded at him. "I almost left the two of you. You looked so..." Cozy. Content. Comfortable. "Peaceful."

Draco gave her a hesitant smile, ears turning pink. Haze felt the blood rush to his own face, but it wasn't nearly as noticeable on their darker complexion.

Disentangling themselves, the two stood and gathered their things. Nobody spoke on the way to dinner, but they were all obviously thinking about the scene in the library.

It had been so easy, natural.

Not that Draco hadn't panicked when he realized he'd lost Haze. He had knocked his chair over his haste to round the table and kneel at their side. When calling for Haze and tapping his face hadn't worked, Draco recalled the music player, knowing exactly what pocket it was in.

He had balked at all the buttons and cursed himself for not asking how it worked before they'd started. Unable to make out the words around the buttons, Draco had pushed the largest one and hoped for the best.

He had almost cried when the device seemed to break in half.

Panicking, not sure what else to do, Draco's mind had produced the lullaby Maman used to sing to him when he had nightmares as a child. Humming the melody—a little frantically—he had tried to recall how it started as he pulled Haze onto the floor with him.

Haze, for their part, had seemed to lunge towards the sound. They wrapped themself around Draco and clung for dear life. When he finally recalled the lyrics, he'd felt himself relax with the familiar melody.

He had wrapped himself around Haze who, in turn, nuzzled into him. It almost felt like they were trying to crawl inside of him. A chuckle had escaped him at the thought and Haze had stiffened in his arms for a moment. Cursing himself silently, Draco had resumed his singing and Haze had relaxed into him once more.

As terrifying as it had been, Draco was... almost glad to help Haze. To be able to share that song with them. After everything the two had done—in general, and to each other—this felt like they really could move on. For once, Draco didn't feel held down by the past.

For once, he felt light.

@bradley-95147-blog @shyshadows430

[hekate1308]

There Are Berries This Year On The Holly, A Drowley Advent Calendar, December 4

Read it on AO3

Masterpost

After the day the power went down, his obsession, for such he had to call it, with Dean Winchester only grew worse. It was absolutely unreasonable, of course – Dean had made clear that he’d been around the entire neighbourhood to make sure everyone was safe (it seemed he wanted to play the white knight when he could get away with it) so it wasn’t as if he had checked up on Crowley specifically, and it had only made sense to leave his house to the last because they lived next to each other, so it didn’t mean anything that he’d stayed for a drink. But no matter how often he told himself that, he just couldn’t seem to get it through his head, which was disconcerting. He’d never had a problem forgetting people before, especially those he had not slept with and had no intention of sleeping with.

And yet this man had just waltzed into his life and for some reason refused to leave. Well, it was always on Crowley to ensure there were no more encounters, but he had to admit to himself that he did indeed want to see Dean Winchester again. There was just something about him…

He was the most intriguing man Crowley had met in quite some time. That was it. He would just have to deal with that.

But even after having admitted to himself that he wanted to see Dean Winchester again, he could not have foreseen that that very evening, the doorbell would ring out.

He did not even waste time thinking about who it could be. He was right.

Dean stood on his doorstep, but he was not sporting his usual smile. Instead, he looked downcast and haggard. “Hey man, sorry if I’m disturbing you…”

And this was where he could easily set bounda –

“You’re not. Do come in.”

 Apparently his mouth had decided that this was not what was going to happen.

“Thank you”. Dean sighed. “Sorry. I had a bad day at work, and now I’ve had a fight with Sammy…”

Having heard quite a bit of Sam during the drink they had shared, he felt reasonably sure that this was rather an exception. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Just the usual”. Another sigh. “About how I’m not getting younger and all of that… as if we could all just marry our college sweethearts.”

“Or need the feel to get married in the first place” he said.

“Exactly. Knew you’d get it.”

He didn’t quite know what to say, so instead he asked, “Drink?”

“Oh God yes please.”

And that was how they ended up talking late into the night yet again.

It did not surprise Crowley when Dean greeted him the next morning with his usually happy demeanour and immediately told him that he and his brother had made up. After everything he’d heard about these two, he would have been very much surprised if that hadn’t been the case.

Still, there was something else he had to consider now.

Dean Winchester was most definitely single. Otherwise, his brother would hardly have told him he was in danger of becoming an old maid, which was ridiculous in its own way because this was Dean Winchester they were talking about. He would certainly have no problem picking up anyone he wanted.

Still – it wasn’t as if that had to mean anything concerning them, as a matter of fact, he was determined that it wouldn’t. And it wasn’t as if he had any reason to think that Dean was interested in him anyway.

Yes, it was sort of a pity, but there was nothing he could do about that.

It quickly grew colder, and he got used to seeing Dean with all kinds of ugly sweaters and had to eventually realize that he actually sort of liked them as long as his neighbour was the one wearing them, which prompted another realization – he probably would have liked anything that Dean Winchester wore.

Well, no one had to know.

As usual this time of the year, business was busy, so he didn’t have time to think about his neighbour as much as he otherwise would have, but he told himself that was a good thing. After all, beautiful or not, he should not pay too much attention to a single individual. Things tended to get… complicated when he did.

Still, he supposed it was alright if Dean now and then came by and they had a drink. It was even something where no one could get hurt, which was more than could be said about other things he had done in his life.

Dean also continued to add more decorations, causing him to wonder what the house looked like from the inside.

Not that he was ever going to find out.

[usagis-tsukinos]

He Had the Whisper of Lust

Read, Comment, or Kudo on Ao3!

Pairing: Lucifer! x F!Reader

Rating: M/18+

Warnings: Cockwarming, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dressing Room Sex/Public Sex, Virginity Loss

Words: 2,570

For @serpentsam, Merry Belated Christmas/Early Valentine's Day!

Shopping can be fun sometimes.

“I don’t understand why we have to go to the stupid mall, anyway.” Lucifer mumbled as he got out of the car, slamming the door shut. When did he become so human in his ways that he wasn’t just flying to her side the second she got out of the car? Making sure it was locked, she made her way towards the entrance as he quickly appeared beside her to show, you know, they were together, but not like. Together, together. Just two people having a shopping trip to the mall, nothing fancy.

As they walked around, Lucifer kept close by, his hand hovering above her waist as she window shopped. Eventually, he had to ask, “Why aren’t you actually walking into any stores? Don’t you like the clothes? If you’re worried about me, I don’t care what you wear, all you humans look the same to me.” As he rambled, she shifted uncomfortably. They had stopped in front of one of the high end lingerie stores, something she could never afford as he went on about how “why do humans even need clothes? Adam and Eve didn’t have any!

You don’t see people complaining about them not wearing clothes.” In the display window, a mannequin stood with big fluffy angel wings with a white lingerie set while two others had adorned red and black pieces of a different kind. During his rant, the Angel costume must’ve caught his attention, causing him to go on a different complaint spree. “And that’s another thing! Why does everyone think we’re just halos and winged babies who sit on clouds? Do you know how many eyes I have in my Angel form?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “632! And don’t get me started on how many wings I have–”

Answering with an embarrassed hum and hoping no one was actually paying them any attention, she quickly grabbed his hand and went into the store, pretending to look around as he bitched and moaned about how humans don’t know anything about Angels and never get any depictions of them right. Feeling her phone vibrate, she looked down, seeing her brother Dean calling, “Hello?” Lucifer could still be heard talking to himself.

“Are you at the mall?” Dean asked casually.

“Yes, I’m with Lucifer.”

“Lucifer? Why the hell did he go with you?”

“I’m not 100%, but he’s here if you wanted to say hi-” “Absolutely not, just tell him not to do anything funny or I’m driving out there myself to kick his ass.” She closed her eyes, rubbing her lids softly in frustration, “He’s too busy talking to himself, but I’m sure he heard you.”

“I mean it.”

“I know, Dean.”

“Seriously–”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

With that she hung up, continuing to browse the shop before finding something she actually liked and stopped to admire it. Running her fingers over the fabric, she tried to justify such a purchase, but couldn’t. No one was going to see her in it, and it’s not like she’d wear her best underwear for some stranger, especially not for her first time. “Do you like something like that?” Lucifer’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he’d finally stopped complaining for a few moments. “Yeah, I just.. You know.” She cleared her throat, looking back at the outfit.

“Why don’t you buy it?” Dropping her hand, she started to walk away from him, explaining quietly, “You know I can’t afford something like this, Lucifer.” But he just furrowed his brows and reached into his pocket, producing a wallet with cash. “I’ll buy it.” Stunned, she looked between his magical wallet and his handsome face, “I can’t let you do that.” “Who says it’s anything about letting me?

I’m going to buy it if you want it. Do you want it?” Biting her lip, she looked down at the floor, mumbling, “At least let me try it on first so we know it fits.” Lucifer smiled in victory. The woman at the dressing room happily gave her a room to try it on, only to make a small face at the sight of Lucifer’s wedding room as he opened the door for her, not seeing one on her hand. Lucifer stayed outside the dressing room for as long as the attendee was around before zapping himself into the dressing room. Thankfully, she hadn’t gotten more than her shirt off.

“Lucifer!” She whispered as he sat on the little seat, holding her shirt up to her chest to cover herself. “What are you doing here?” “Well, I figured since I’m buying you the lingerie I’d get to see you in it.” Like it was obvious. She simply stared at him, processing this information. “And you didn’t think to ask me if I’d be okay with that?”

He blinked for a second before answering, “I can go. But I don’t care shout nudity-”

“I do!”

“Yeah, but all you humans are so weird about it. You all look the same.” As he said this though, his eyes never left her bare shoulders or stomach that he could see peeking out under her failed attempt at modesty. Feeling his eyes on her, her face became bright red. “If you’re going to watch me change-” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I can’t hear you.” Fucking lair.

“If you’re going to watch me change,” She repeated a little louder, “At least look away every couple of seconds.” “I don’t understand.” He crossed his arms, but for once wasn’t trying to argue, “Haven’t you changed in front of a man before?” He took her silence as his answer. “You haven’t? So I’d be the first?” He didn’t say it in his usual cocky manner, not thinking of it as some prize that he’d be the first person to see her undress. Lucifer didn’t care about those things because these things didn’t interest him. Or at least, they wouldn’t if they were anyone else.

He was more amazed than anything, watching intently but keeping his promise to look away for a couple of moments so she felt she had some type of privacy. But as soon as his eyes met her skin again he couldn’t not look, not even bothering to follow where her bra fell as her chest stood bare while she searched for the bra of the outfit. He noticed her nipples hardened in the cold air of the store, or maybe it was because he was watching her. He didn’t make his assessment just yet. As she put it on, snapping the back and standing back straight, Lucifer’s fingers gently found themselves touching the fabric under her breasts, just at her ribcage. She froze, not saying a word as he made his way around and up, stopping right before her breasts.

Nervously clearing her throat again, she spoke up, “You can-” she fidgeted with the fabric of her jeans, “You can touch them.” As soon as she gave the word, his large hands were on her, massaging her over the silky fabric, feeling her up. Her one hand went to his shoulder, holding herself up, the other through his hair as he began kissing over her chest and stomach, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him. With her head swimming, she almost forgot she didn’t put the rest of the outfit on, and attempted to remind him. “Lucifer,” she moaned softly, his cold lips kissing between her breasts, “I have to put the rest of the set on.” He slowly stopped, looking up at her with dark eyes, “I’ll let you put the rest of it on if I can take the rest of this off you.”

Licking her lips, she nodded, feeling his hands work on her jeans. As he caught sight of her panties, and just how wet she was, he groaned. “Shh!” She scolded, looking towards the door. “You think they can hear us?” He smirked, moving a hand to gently rub along the slit of her soaked underwear. “Baby, you have no idea the things I’m able to do.”

Pulling her jeans down just a little further, he grabbed her legs from behind to pull her forward, kissing her clit as her fingers tangled in his hair. She moaned softly, feeling his tongue move as far back as it could go as he licked her up, paying special attention to her clit before mumbling against her, “They all think I’m your sugar daddy, you know that?” The vibrations caused her to almost buckle forward a bit against his face. He kissed her clit again, swiping his tongue against her once more before continuing, “They don’t know I’m in here, but they all think you’re fucking me, and isn’t that what you want? For me to fuck you and buy you pretty clothes?”

He snapped away her jeans, stopping his ministrations before looking up to see her flushed face, gasping for air as she’d tried to stifle her moans. But he just smiled at her, reaching over to grab the thigh highs and the panties for her to try on. “Daddy wants to see how you look all dressed up for him.” “Lucifer, I don’t think I can stand by myself.” She confessed, too scared to let him go. She had’t cum yet, but if he had kept that up–the talking, the touching, his tongue– she would’ve soon enough. He continued to hold her up, removing her panties himself and marveling that she was even wetter than before, his fingers moving through her folds and softly touching her clit, causing a moan to escape her lips.

He was momentarily done teasing her, helping her lift a leg to get the panties on, and then the thigh highs. Strapping them for her, he looked her over, running his hands up and down her sides, “So beautiful.” He kissed her stomach, “The prettiest thing my Dad ever made.” Reluctantly he let her go, standing up as he helped keep her balance. He smiled down, "Be a doll and do a spin for me, won’t you? You just look so adorable." Moving steadily, she let go of him and did a little twirl, her face beet red.

“Now,” he sat back down, “come sit on Daddy’s lap.” Her knees immediately gave out, him catching her in his arms as he had her straddle him, his hands feeling her up once more. His lips moved to neck, kissing softly as he arms were tight around her waist. She felt his erection insistently pressing against her pussy, his hips moving to get closer to her with every thrust. She found herself grinding back, her hands gripping his clothes as she continued to moan his name but he interrupted her, “Not Lucifer, baby. Not right now.”

She tries fighting back just a little, just to say she tried, “Lucifer, we’re in public. Anyone could walk in, we’ve been in here too long-” He growls and bites at her neck, “How many times do I have to tell you I can do so much more than just snap my fingers and fly places?” She doesn’t know it, but not only has the room been soundproofed by him, but he’s also frozen the store in time. So that when he unfreezes it, they’ve only been gone for about ten minutes. All she can really do is trust that they won’t get in trouble.

“Lucifer,” She gently tries to push him away, he complies looking up at her. “I… If we’re going to do this I need to tell you something.” “What?” Looking away slightly, she says, “I haven’t been with anyone else. Ever. So, I don’t know…” Lucifer just listens before chiming in, “And you think I have?”

“What?” “What,” he echos, “You think just because I’m the Devil I’ve slept around? That’s rude. But it’s okay, I’m not mad.” He smiles, almost genuinely, “We can go slow. As much as I’d like to rip this off you and have my way.”

She gently slaps his arm playfully, but he doesn’t feel it, his face turning a bit serious for a moment, “Do you want to continue, then?” “Yes.” Knowing he had her consent, he snapped away her panties, and unzipped his pants. “I’d like to try something.” She nodded, and he very slowly put the tip in, stretching her out as he tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her. “Am I hurting you?” She took a deep breath and shook her head, “You’re fine, I just.. Have to get used to it.”

Keeping as still as possible as he bottomed out, Lucifer let out a sigh. He watched as she slowly began to untense her body and relax around him. They sat like that for a few moments, kissing and caressing each other softly, but Lucifer refused to move and wouldn’t allow her to try and ride him. “I just want to stay like this just a little longer.” He moved to her neck. “You feel so good on Daddy’s cock.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, becoming desperate for one of them to start moving but Lucifer wouldn’t have it.

“I like knowing we’re the first.” He admitted, giving her a sharp thrust to cut her off guard. “I think you humans call this ‘cockwarming’? I like it. I like seeing how long it would take to make you beg me to move.” Lucifer smirked at her, holding her hips down so he was completely engulfed by her, her panting music to his ears as he watched her struggle to move on top of him. “Please,” she finally begged, “Just fucking move!”

“What do you say?”

“I-I don’t know, ‘please fuck me, Daddy’?”

“Good girl! I didn’t even have to ask you!”

With that, he stood and pushed her against the wall, thrusting into her hard as she held on for dear life. “Oh, you’re so wet.” He moaned into her ear, “Now I understand why you all do this so much. That’s right, sweetheart. Take Daddy’s dick. It doesn’t hurt, does it?” “No,” She squeaked, wrapped her legs around his waist.

He began to move faster, slamming his hands against the wall to keep balance, not that he’d ever really need it. “You know what this means, don’t you?” He made her make eye contact, “It means you’re mine. I’m not sharing you with anyone or anything. Now your useless brothers really can’t get rid of me. Fuck, I think I’m going to cum soon.”

“Cum inside me,” She begged, tightening her kegel muscles to keep him in place, “Cum inside, Daddy, please. I wanna feel it, I want it.” As soon as she said it, he was cumming inside, squishing her body against the wall and him, marking her as his own as she came around him, moaning his name.

As they came down from their highs, Lucifer cleaned them up, putting her back into her regular clothes and giving her a small kiss before leaving the room. As she went outside, outfit in hand, she walked over to the counter, face flushed as she tried not to fall. The cashier smiled, “Find everything okay?” She felt Lucifer’s cold skin behind her as he got his wallet out, “Yeah, it was great. This is all we’ll need.” He spoke.

“Come back and shop with us next time!” Lucifer gave her a wink, “We will, don’t worry.”