#you even crushed dean a little like !! jerk move.

[angelsdean]

and if i said it's sam's fault ronald dies? yea yea i know it's not Really his fault, chain of events, many choices were made by many people to get to that point, etc etc. BUT. sam was the first domino. sam decides (without even consulting dean) to keep ronald in the dark abt the case, despite the fact that ronald seems perfectly capable of wrapping his mind around the strange and unusual. and ronald has done literally ALL the legwork in this case. dean wanted to "throw him a bone" and tell him the truth, or at least part of it. but sam completely shut ron down, driving ron to desperately take matters into his own hands because he KNEW he was not crazy and was right. if they'd have just told him from the start abt what was going on like dean wanted to, ronald wouldn't have even been there at the bank.

[somethingthing]

Head Scratches

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: slight sexual indications, tiny bit of angst if you squint, other than that, FLUFF

Word Count: ~900

A/N: I’ve literally forgotten how to write but I wanna start again so i apologize for any mistakes and feedback is always welcome!!

Hope you enjoy!

It was a quiet evening, in fact the whole day had been quiet. Your last hunt had drained all of you, making you come to the decision to not go looking for your next.

Dean had protested at first. Not wanting to waste anytime in finding the yellow-eyed demon, yet here he was. Laying with his head in your lap on the dusty sofa in the corner of the even dustier motel room you´d all taken into for the night.

"You know, one of these days we have to splurge just a little bit. Get a proper hotel room, or at least a room that doesn't make me sneeze every five minutes." you said mindlessly as one of your hands ran through his short hair. When you didn´t get an answer you stopped for a second and looked down at him. His eyes were shut. "You´re not falling asleep on me, are you? Sam will be back with some food soon" you stated.

Dean gave out a small huff "Why´d you stop?" One of his hands reached up behind his head, fumbling to find yours, he took it and firmly tangled your fingers back into his hair again "Please do continue sweetheart" eyes still closed.

You smiled softly, not being able to deny how much you enjoyed the nickname "For someone who was so determined to not take a quiet day in, you seem to be enjoying it an awful lot" you giggled out.

"How couldn´t I?" he slowly opened his eyes to look at you, letting a sly grin grace his lips "I´m in company of an very hot woman who continues to stroke my head when i tell her too" he wiggled his eyebrows at you, flashing an even bigger grin.

You rolled your eyes at him "Ha ha very funny" you slapped his chest gently "I´m staring to wonder if this head," tapping your fingers against his forehead "actually does any thinking, and not just the other one" you let your eyes dart to the lower half of his body.

"Not when you´re around sweetheart" he closed his eyes again with a content sight "The not so little, little man down there is perfectly capable of thinking on his own" he said, a bit too proud of himself.

"Jerk" was all you got out, trying keep the heat on your face from rising. You and Dean were something, a thing as Sam would call it, and yeah, maybe you were, but nothing ever really happened.

He´d flirt, you´d respond with something equally as flirty or do your best to try and sound grossed out. Other than that, nothing happened. You didn’t really know what you felt, you liked him, really liked him, but then what? Both your lives where chaos, always on the move, putting your lives on the line almost daily.

Too deep in thought you hadn´t noticed Dean staring at you, nudging you slightly "Hey," snapped out of it you looked down at him "what´s up? That wasn´t too far was it?" he looked at you, slightly concerned.

Still slightly out of it you shook your head "What?" his words slowly coming into your mind "No... no it´s..." you didn´t know how to phrase it, so you just blurred it out "What are we?" Dean opened his mouth and closed it again, you held your breath, anxious for his answer.

At last, he sat up and turned around to face you, cornering you at the edge of the couch, between him and the armrest "Can´t say i haven't thought about it, with my brain, mind you" you couldn´t help but to giggle a bit, letting go of some of the anxiety gnawing at you "I´ve never lied to you, every little flirty comment have been true, i really do like you" your eyes darted to his lips for a second.

"I- I like you too" you felt like a teenager with a crush, all warm and giddy, confused what to do with yourself "I really, really do, but our lives, not knowing what happens next, not-" you were cut off.

He scooched closer, propping his arm up on the back rest of the couch, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear "We´ll never know what´s gonna happen next, even in a normal life we wouldn´t" now it was his turn, letting his eyes rest of your lips for a moment "Question is, what do you want to happen next?" his eyes met yours again.

You didn´t even think about it "This" was all you said before your lips found his. It was slow, almost shy, until Dean cupped your face in his hands and deepened the kiss. It was still soft but more passionate, urgent.

The qlick of the lock on the door made you break away, sucking in air sharply. You shifted slightly just in time for Sam to open the door "Food delive-" he stopped in his tracks, giving you and Dean a funny look "Did I interrupt something?"

"Yes!" "No!" Dean and you exclaimed. Sam looked between the two of you and shook his head "I´ll just, uhm, I´ll just set the food up" he spun around awkwardly.

You looked at Dean, feeling like a deer in headlights "What now?" you whispered anxiously.

He looked at you for a moment, leaned forward and gave you one last kiss, letting his face stay close to yours "We table this for later`" he gave you a smirk and a wink as he licked his lips "All this touchy feely has made me starving" he joked and stood up, reaching his hand out the pull you up.

He pulled you up faster then you had expected, making you come crashing into his chest "But take out isn´t really what I´m hungry for" he smirked before turning a round, dragging you to the dinner table with a heat rising on you face and traveling elsewhere.

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

Am I back?? Who knows? Might disappear for a year again hah. But thank you for reading and I really do hope I get my writing motivation back cause it’s was fun<333

[nuemanfilms]

UNEXPECTED || S.W

— He didn’t mean to be a pervert, that's not what he wanted to be, or what he thought he was.

Summary; It’d been four months since Sam was introduced to you as his roommate. In the span of those four months, he was starting to develop feelings. Maybe next time you should close your pantie drawer after you go out.

Content Warnings; Sam’s POV, m!masturbation, obsessive lustful behavior, mentions of teasing, Fem!reader is a sorority girl, pervert!sam, panty stealing, sam’s desires are mentioned, brief mentions of Sam’s time at Stanford.

A/N; Stanford!Pervy!Sam my beloved, just a little drabble, 500+

xoxo, roro <3

After you and your friends left to go to some sorority party, Sam was alone in the dorm.

He’d been roommates with you for four months. It was unexpected, he was settled in the dorm before a knock on the door came and there you were standing there. His first thought was probably how fucking gorgeous you were, his second thought was why did no one tell him he was having a roommate?

You’d distracted him all these months, despite the Winchester keeping his grades up, his eyes still trained on you everytime you walked in that classroom with the shortest skirt on. The frat boys to the playboys all had eyes for you, yet he somehow managed to gain your attention.

You’d been friends since then, he was surprised when you chose your assigned seat next to his for the rest of the year. All of your friends were on the other side of the classroom, but you made no move to switch seats through those months.

Sam eventually found himself gaining a crush on you.

He didn’t mean to be a pervert, that's not what he wanted to be, or what he thought he was. But it seemed like you were always teasing him by bending down in front of him or wearing those skirts knowing how much he liked them. God, the way you bit your lip when he was talking about his major in law. How he would explain his take on criminal justice and the law enforcement system. Your eyes always trained on his, and you always paid so close attention to each word spilling past his lips.

Now that you were gone, the ache in his boxers seemed to strain even more. He was alone. In your shared dorm, with your items. The outfit you wore when you went out the door lingered in his head. He remembered how he could see the tiniest bit of lace from your bra hanging on your shoulder. He wanted to be the one to rip it to shreds. He wanted to be the one to ruin those pretty panties of yours.

God, why did you always leave your dresser open?

He was unzipping his jeans, he’d removed his belt when he got back from a class with you since his jeans felt way too tight. The white lace was laid beside him on his bed.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he finally freed his length from its confines. Without hesitation this time, he wrapped your panties around his cock, his hand holding it in place as he began to thrust his hips up.

He’d never been this worked up in his life. Even watching those stupid pornos that Dean snuck home, he’d never gotten this fucking hard before. It was painful.

Precum dribbled from his tip that he soon collected with his thumb when the mental image of you came flooding back in his brain. Just using your panties had him on the verge of cumming. He wanted more, he needed more. But this would do for now.

His bangs were messy and stuck to his forehead from the sweat. Each time the lace came in contact with his tip, he let out a whimper. It felt so fucking good, he could only dream of how your pussy would feel wrapped around him.

His hand jerked faster, his mouth going agape as he felt himself edging closer. He didn’t bother in covering his moans. No one was here anyways.

Those pretty, pink lips that were coated with strawberry lip gloss haunted his thoughts, how he desired to see the tint smeared around his shaft. Watching the tears roll down your cheeks as he fucked himself into your throat. God, he craved to see the mascara smudged underneath your eyes.

He wanted to see his cum painting your face. He wanted to see you stick your tongue out as he came down your throat.

He let out a pathetic whine as the thick, white spurts coated his abdomen and the now ruined lace wrapped around his hand. His breaths were heavy. Yet lust still beamed in his eyes.

He was down bad.

[prentissluvr]

fake-dating!au headcanons — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, pining!!!, blood mention, kissing, lil bit of swearing, poor editing, 1K words. requested !

prompt : you and sam pretend to be dating for a case.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

⟢ “you’re too stiff, sam,” you hiss into his ear, leaning in close and making your features look all pleased as you say it, “we have to make this believable.”

⟢ when you pull back, sam looks like he’s trying not to blush, only because you’ve got your arms wrapped around his big upper arm, and you’re whispering things into his ear

⟢ he can feel your breath as you speak, and he thinks it could make him go absolutely crazy

⟢ he’s so flustered, and yet he’s starting to become determined to match your level of dedication, less so to succeed in the hunt, and more so to make you just as flustered as him

⟢ tonight, you pose as a lovesick couple in a decently nice restaurant

⟢ the monster you’re after has been scouting out couples here and preying on the most especially lovey dovey, affectionate couples it can find

⟢ you almost asked to do it with dean; he’s your best friend and you don’t have a massive crush on him like you do with sam

⟢ despite the fact that dean’s a weirdo, it would actually be easier to act the part with him because you’d feel exactly nothing except silly, but he insisted you do it with sam before you could even suggest anything else

⟢ and this close to sam, snuggled up into his side, you feel exactly… well, maybe, everything

⟢ you feel so much that you’d be zero percent surprised if you spontaneously combusted right then and there

⟢ and yet, you’re dedicated to finishing up this case, and you’re learning to enjoy the situation; if you have an excuse to be like this with sam, even just for a night, you’ll take it and make the best of it

⟢ you think you’re doing a grand old job at surviving the close contact, mostly because sam can’t seem to relax for longer than a minute

⟢ but you’re so in tune with him that you feel it the moment his perspective shifts from ‘i don’t know how to act, but i’m trying,’ to ‘i’m trying to induce a heart attack and kill you’

⟢ you’re sure that’s not how he thinks of it, but that’s what it feels like when he finally relaxes into your touch, then loops his arm around your waist and tugs you even closer to him

⟢ he leans close, his lips by your ear as he whispers, “yeah… and it looks like we have competition.”

⟢ you try desperately to keep your face from straying from its carefully constructed lovesick daze, but his breath against your ear makes it more than difficult to keep your composure

⟢ the lovesick look that you have for sam is actually a very natural state of being for you, but normally it comes about when you look at him from afar… 

⟢ or just not when your face is mere inches from his and his arm is solidly draped around your waist

⟢ it takes you a moment to register what sam actually said, and not thinking straight, you turn your head to look at him and ask for an explanation

⟢ you just don’t seem to recall that his face is only inches from yours, so close that your nose brushes against his and you suck in a sharp breath of surprise

⟢ it takes everything in you not to jerk backwards, but you stop yourself by grabbing the lapel of his suit

⟢ “competition?” you repeat, voice coming out quiet and a little raspy

⟢ “yeah,” he whispers back, eyes flicking away from yours for just a moment in the direction of another couple that had just walked into the restaurant

⟢ you glance over; they’re glued to each other’s side, wide smiles and heart eyes to rival anything you’ve seen

⟢ competition is right, which means that you and sam have to step it up, because you’ve spotted the monster already and he’s watching, looking for the best, most affectionate couple to take like he’s been going the past few weeks

⟢ you turn back to sam, looking him in the eyes with a sweet smile, “sam, can i kiss you on the cheek?” you whisper

⟢ “y-yeah, yeah, you can,” he whispers back

⟢ you think your heart could beat out of your chest as you lean closer, then press your lips to his cheek bone

⟢ you linger, then drop your head onto his shoulder and snuggle into him so that he can’t see the look on your face

⟢ whatever’s in your eyes isn’t just an act, and you’re unsure if you can let sam see that

⟢ though maybe it’ll help if the monster can, you’re sure that you look beyond in love at this moment

⟢ sam returns the favor with a kiss to the top of your head and a squeeze to your waist and he’s glad that you can’t see his face either because he looks just as completely and irrevocably in love as you do

⟢ it turns out that the other couple isn’t real competition; the monster clocks that they’re just a short fling, but you two? oh, you love each other and anyone can tell it with ease

⟢ you pretend to be lured out by the monster when he approaches, but the two of you make quick work of him in mere minutes

⟢ it’s the aftermath that’s hard

⟢ it’s the lack of an excuse to be so close to him, the thought of what if i never get to kiss him on the cheek again, what if i never get to kiss him at all? that really gets you

⟢ and now sam knows without a doubt that he goddamn needs you; he’s wondered before but now he knows

⟢ so when he reaches over and wipes away a splatter of blood from your face, you lean into his touch, you step towards him with intent

⟢ he’s not even thinking when his hand lands on your hip, not even when it pulls you closer

⟢ and he almost doesn’t think when he leans in, but he stops just inches away and whispers “fuck, can i kiss you?”

⟢ then your hands are in his hair and your lips are on his, kissing him hard and he’s kissing back with everything in him

⟢ you’re really fucking in love with each other !!!!

[lyssak09]

Yandere Sam hcs

I don't simp for Sam (he is an amazing character tho) but I know half of the fandom does so this is for all you Sam lovers. Enjoy 💙

P.S. here is the song I mention later in this. I highly recommend it.

I know everyone thinks Sam would be a sweet yandere, which is true! But I believe Sam is a bit more sinister than what people think. He can get violent

Sam is a trained hunter for god's sake

He could take you down in two moves flat

But just be good and he won't

Sam is a semi-deliosional, obsessive yandere. He loves everything and anything about you. And you love him too. Right?

When you and Sam start dating he will show you off to Dean and Cas. Totally not to get family approval

Sam will keep track of everything about you. Your daily schedule to your favorite brand of chips

Slowly but surely he will get you to up your relationship. From just dating to boyfriend to moving in together to talking about starting a family very quickly. Maybe in the span of a year. If you get freaked out about how quick you're moving you'll get his puppy eyes and maybe a sad sob story about how he has always wanted this, how you're meant for him.

You are Sam's greatest strength and his biggest weakness. And some of our biggest bads know this. Lucifer might kidnap you and use you against Team Free Will. Or he might fall for you. But that's another headcannon for another day.

Sam loves you so much. If anything were to happen to you he would lose his shit. He would use anything he has to get you back. Like being Lucifer's vessel. If he has to he is willing to sell his soul. He'll get it back eventually. He's a Winchester for crying out loud.

If you thought he worked so hard to save the world because of the human race then you are so damn wrong. After he met you he stopped caring about everyone but his family and you of course. There is no one worth protecting and saving the world for except you.

His family loves you. Especially Dean. Now Sammy has two people making fun of him. How great is that?!

Later on if you get piss at him and call him a bitch after he made you mad then he will instantly call you a jerk on instinct

You let out a loud sigh, "Sam, why are you crying?". You heard a little sniffle before he replied. "I-I called you a jerk because I say that when D'Dean calls me a bitch. But you're not a jerk! I love you so much" he told you and crushed you in a hug.

He's such a crybaby when it comes to you

So I said Sam is semi-delusional right? Because he his. Some days he thinks its his right and for your own good that he is doing this. Yes he knows some people might think its wrong and maybe he has "kidnapped you against your will" but what do you know? He knows more than you and is just doing this for your own good. And possibly because he wants to as well.

Sam will make you be his little nurse when he comes home injured. Depending on if he told you what he really does you'll get a different story as to why he is coming home seriously bleeding or coming home with a bullet wound. Hope you can stand blood.

He will baby you. Especially if you had a rough childhood. It sounds nice right? Wrong

If he enjoys babing you enough then say goodbye to walking, for he will carry you everywhere. Oh, you wanna feed yourself? Too bad. You might lose autonomy. And if you fight him on it then maybe its time for you twos nap time!

By the way, this man is a cuddler. You have no personal space. But as least you have your own personal giant ass heater. So, yay?

If you wanna try and butter him up to get something then play with his hair. He takes great pride in it for whatever reason.

Sam has a hand on you at all time. He has to be touching you in someway or else he gets antsy.

Also you're gonna get kisses 24/7 whether its on the lips or where ever else. Even is passing by he'll give you a kiss on top of your head. You only get kissed on the cheek when he is sitting with you. It gets tiring basically squatting down just to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

If you disobey Sam or just put up a major fight all the time after he kidnaps lovingly taking you home by surprise, then expect some privileges taken away and or punishments.

Sam's punishments aren mainly mental. He will guilt trip the hell out of you. If you piss him off enough he will either freeze you out or just straight up isolate you.

But if soul less Sam kidnaps you and you piss him off then you're getting brutal punishments. Like extremely mentally hurtful or maybe even physical.

Normal Sam thinks that when he punishes you its for the best and will feel some guilt. You need to learn to not disobey. And he knows not every couple does this. But Soulless Sam thinks it is how truly in love couples work through issues. And its his right to correct your wrongs and behavior. He also might enjoy it a tiny bit.

Also, yes, Soulless Sam does love you.

Remember how I told you that you're Sam's biggest strength as well as his biggest weakness?

Well the boys' enemies will use that to their advantage. Like instead of Sam being forced to watch Dean die over 100 times, Gabriel makes you die over 100 times.

It really f*cked with him after

"I'LL KILL YOU TRICKSTER!". Sam screamed as he held your dying body in his arms, again.

Once he finally got it to end he never let you do or be near anything that could kill/injure you.

"I was an island, 'fore you came along," Sam heard you singing under your breathe once he jolted awake. "Y/N WHAT DAY IS IT!?" He yelled and jumped at you. "Its Wednesday Sam." You said and tried to go back to your chores around the bedroom. But Sam wouldn't let you move. He pulled you to his chest and squeezed you so hard you started to get lightheaded. "You can't leave me. I won't let you. You're never getting out of my sight." He repeatedly said. "Sam, losing air!", he loosened his grip. "You're mine. You're never leaving. Even after death. You belong to me."

Sam loves to support any all all of your hobbies. Except ones he might see as dangerous. Such as whittling/carving (knifes & sharp objects), candle making (fire), stitching/cross stitching/sewing unless he trusts you enough to be careful.

He might let you cook. But he has to be in the kitchen with you and does the chopping. Be glad he lets you even use the oven.

Pottery might (very unlikely tho) be an option. If he does allow you to do it then he has to put the pottery in the klin or whatever.

Sam loves when you create things. Like art, writing, etcetera. He will frame or display basically everything you make. Except food. That gets to be displayed in his stomach.

He loves your art soo much you that if you don't wanna share whatever you have made to him then you'll get a sad/pissy puppy.

"Can I please see it?" Sam had asked you for the 100th time. You grumbled. "For the last time. No! If I don't want you to see it then too bad!" You started to raise your voice in frustration. Sam pouted at you. "You know I don't like secrets! And no matter what it is I'll love it!". You being in a snarky mood rolled your eyes, "even if its a smutty drawing/ short story of someone I think is hot?". He stayed quiet for a minute. "I'll burn it to the f*ckin ground and kill whoever you was in it. " Sam said monotonly. Your mouth hung open. Some how after months of being stuck with this psycho he still manages to surprise you. He kissed your head all of a sudden, "Can't have my sweet Y/N being tempted by others can we? Now lemme see it."

One of his favorite pass times with you is him reading to you or reading while you watch tv all nice and comfy like on his lap.

Sam has no boundaries with you. Like while you're showering he might pop in and sit on the counter or toilet lid and just talk to you. Or listen to you if you talk to yourself or sing in the shower.

He might not even make it know he was in there with you. It doesn't really matter. Couples do this all the time right?

Also he will change your eating habits. If you don't drink enough water he will watch and make you drink multiple glasses. Don't eat enough? Then you get to be started at like a hawk until you eat your whole plate.

And if you eat non-health stuff all the time then be ready to eat a whole lot of "rabbit food"

Just remember he is doing it because he loves you and wants you to live a long time with him

Sam follows you around like a puppy. He just wants to be with you all the time. Can you blame him?

He also could talk to you for hours. Especially about his nerdy stuff.

Also don't argue with him. He was trying to be a lawyer. There isn't a point in it.

And I don't recommend escaping. He knows everything about you. Which means he knows everywhere you could have gone to hide

If whoever you hid with tries to fight him off or anything except turn you over to him will get shot. Sam isn't in the mood. He just wants to take his stubborn sweetheart home

"You're not taking her! I'm calling the cops" your friend yelled and tried to grab their phone and shield you. "No! I'll be fine, F/N. He'll hurt you if needed." You panickly said to them. You started to slowly walk towards Sam who had his hand on his gun. "Damn it Y/N! I'm not letting you go to that sicko! Come back before he-" your friend was cut off with a giant BANG. There stood Sam, pointing his gun at your friend. Blood started started to pool at your feet. "I'm too tired to deal with your shenanigans babe. Get in the car now."

Sam doesn't like having to chase you down

Sam will use his powers on you if needed. Its an advantage that would be stupid not to use.

He will anything for you. Never forget that

[future-dregs]

A WW ask for you ~

In line with your teen themed as to me, who do you think made the big first move between Sam and Dean? And what would it have looked like/what was the context?

Ah the big First Time. I'm very fond of it ^_^

Well, its always Sam. No matter what, Sam's always the one to make the first move, the first one to acknowledge that things between them aren't typical or normal, and that he's okay with that.

So I dont think anything happened until the Christmas after Dean's deal. Sam was really feeling the sand in the hourglass then. I think he'd wait a day or two, to make sure Dean couldn't shrug off his confession as a side effect of the holiday nostalgia or the adrenaline or the liquor or the hangover. I see it happening as something like this- Sam tells Dean that he loves him, Dean's like yeah man I love you too. And Sam's like no NO *grabbing at his hands* I LOVE you I'm IN love with you, and he kisses him. And Dean doesn't kiss back at first but Sam keeps kissing and telling him how much he loves him and how he wants as much of him as he can while they can still be together. And that's when Dean kisses back, and he's got his hands all over him just touching as much as he can reach. Its not even sexy it's just desperate and amazed that he can. Like, he's cupping Sam's ear and just absolutely CRUSHING their bodies together just to do it. And he's crying and Sam's crying but also laughing and I'd imagine it'd be a little hysterical.

And they end up cozied together. In the Impala or motel, half dressed just have skin to skin contact and going over their lives and memories with a new lens. "There was that summer you ran around all season without a shirt, you remember that?"

"Yeah cause I kept wanting to LOOK at me, and you never did! Jerk."

"Listen Bitch I was trying to be a good brother. It was hard okay? I noticed!"

Stuff like that.

Though, I could also be persuaded to the idea of Sam trying something before he left for collage, kisses and promises, maybe even trying to convince Dean to come with him. That he could start over just like Sam is, nobody even had to know they were brothers, they could be anyone they wanted. They could be together. They're much more open to that sort of thing in California.

Though that one didnt go over so well.

--

Thanks for the question! First time and confessions are some of my favorites ♡

[rizlowwritessortof]

Savage

Dean’s always fired up after a hunt. But this time, the Mark of Cain is in control.

Pairing - Dean x Reader

Word Count - 1830

Warnings - Smut, rough sex

Dean’s POV in italics. Divider for tags by @talesmaniac89​

I toss the machetes into the trunk and close it, the moon’s reflected light gleaming brightly in the Impala’s shining black surface. His fingers close roughly around my upper arm without warning, and I am jerked around to face him, his lips crashing down on mine in a ravenous kiss, his lower body pinning mine against the car.

She’s throwing the machetes into the trunk, not even aware that I’m staring at her, hunting her for an entirely different purpose, my body still thrumming, alert and alive from the slaughter of vamps and the almost irresistible driving need from the Mark on my arm. She closes the trunk and I grab her arm, whip her around and kiss her, if you can even call it that. All I know is hunger, and my cock is so hard it hurts. I grind against her, crushing her between my body and the car as I assault her with my lips and teeth and tongue.

The adrenaline that had just begun to ebb fires up again as his arm crushes me close, his other hand gripping a fistful of my hair. He is hard, very hard, grinding against me desperately as he swallows the sounds I make. When he raises his head, his eyes are glittering with a savage need, and as his hands drop to the waist of my jeans, I see a hint of something else, fear or apprehension, gone too quickly to analyze.

I can feel her heart pounding as I wrap an arm around her, holding her so tight I wonder if she can breathe, but I can’t control it. I bury a hand in her hair, gripping hard to hold her as close as possible, ravenous for her. I’m smothering the little, desperate whimpers trying to escape from her, swallowing them down, and the Mark likes it, wants more. I know I should stop, should slow down, but I’m barely in control, and finally I force myself to raise my head and look down at her, my hands moving to the button of her jeans as I fight to speak, to ask and not just take, the scar on my arm on fire and throbbing.

“Want me to stop?” he forces out, the restraint making his hands shake, and I know if I looked down, I would see the mark on his right forearm glowing an angry red. I look into his eyes and shake my head, pushing down the little thrill of fear at the fierceness of his stare.

I’m scaring her, I can see it in her eyes, but she wants me, too. She always does, but this time it’s different, I’m different, and she’s not the only one who’s afraid. I clench my teeth hard, finding the strength to speak the words, and I can feel my hands shake as I force them out, wondering how I will handle it if she tells me to stop. She doesn’t - she believes that I won’t hurt her, and fuck, I hope she’s right. The moment she shakes her head, I’m ripping at her clothes, wanting to tear them apart to get at her.

The second I respond, he is yanking at the button and forcing apart the zipper, shoving my clothing down around my knees and spinning me around to face the car. He grips my hips, pulling them back and then shoving his hand between my thighs, fingers stroking roughly once before two digits plunge in to the last knuckle, forcing a gasp from me as I brace my hands on the trunk. He slams them into me again and again, his other hand with a bruising hold on my hip to keep me in place, and I clench my teeth together to help muffle the sounds I can’t control. He finally pulls his slick-coated fingers free to rub them hard over my swollen clit, and I let out a desperate cry.

I’m so harsh with her, I know I am, but I can’t stop, barely reining myself in. I flip her around and grab her hips, pull her back and force my hand between her trembling thighs, running my fingers roughly through her already slick folds and then jamming my fingers into her hard. She gasps, clenching around them, and I fuck her with them brutally as she struggles to keep herself braced on the car. She’s wet, and warm, and I need to be inside her, my cock feels almost as if it’s on fire like the blood roaring through my veins. I pull my fingers out and shove my hand forward, rubbing her clit hard, a vicious joy filling my chest as her cry echoes through the clearing.  

My body is already shaking as he stops touching me long enough to get himself free. His erection feels feverishly hot, and he drives into the deepest part of me hard and without hesitation, making me forget to breathe as he fucks into me like a man possessed. When I finally draw air again, I surrender to the uncontrollable noises he forces from my lungs with each violent thrust.

Her body is trembling as I stop touching her to claw at the zipper of my jeans, throwing my head back in relief as I shove my jeans down and let my throbbing cock bounce free from its restraints. I wrap my fist around it, sucking a breath in through my teeth at the sensation, pleasure on the razor’s edge of pain. It feels hot to my touch, pulsing and needy, and I line up, burying myself inside her with one savage stroke. I lose control, fucking into her, slamming her body against the car, taking her like the animal I feel clawing me apart from the inside, the Mark burning like a brand on my arm. The strangled noises driven from between her lips with each thrust spur me on, the curse in full control for the moment, wanting more, faster, harder, HARDER. I need her to come, to feel her squeeze around me, drench me, come undone, and so I reach down in front of her, rubbing at her clit with no mercy.

He reaches down in front of me, rubbing at my clit, and I come so hard it hurts, muscles clenching, vision whiting out, my head pounding with my heart as I scream into the night. Dean growls behind me, somehow slamming into me even faster until I wonder how much more I can take. Finally a jagged shout is torn from his throat as he comes, his release unnaturally hot, and I hear myself softly begging, “Please, Dean… please,” until he slows and stops, his body shaking.

She screams as though she’s dying, and the Mark pulses with heat, dark power singing through my veins, a feral growl forced from my throat. I am lost, driving into her harder, faster, even as she goes limp beneath me, and I can’t stop myself, my hands clawing harder at her hips to hold her. I feel myself nearing the edge of oblivion, my balls draw up so tight that I shout, hoarse and desperate, as I swell and explode, and it feels like it will never stop. Searing bursts of heat spurt from my aching cock, filling her up and flowing around me, and I can barely hear her begging over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Finally spent, I begin to slow down, then stop, my whole body quaking and on the verge of collapse, the red haze starting to clear from my mind.

I lay sprawled on the trunk of the car, unable to move or think, still whimpering helplessly as he pulls himself free. Hot fluids spill from me, running down my thighs, and he cleans me, hands gentle now, with the overshirt he stripped from his body. He pulls my panties, then my jeans, back into place, then lifts my upper body from the car and turns me, pulling me into his arms. He turns to lean against the car, his body still shaking as he cradles me close, and I feel more than hear as he whispers, “Baby...” into my hair.  

I lean my hands on the car, letting my head stop spinning before I pull out. She’s just laying there, and I know the Mark is satisfied, but I feel like shit. I take off my flannel and clean up my mess from her as carefully as I can, as if it’s not too late to worry about hurting her. I pull her clothes back into place, then stand her up and turn her to face me, wrap my arms around her, holding her tight. I’m still shaking, the Mark took everything I had, and I turn us around so I can lean against the car, my face resting on top of her head. I can’t even speak, I don’t know what to say, just mumble ‘Baby’ into her hair, wishing I could put into words how I’m feeling.

He’s beating himself up, I can tell by the way he’s acting, the way he’s holding me, his silence. “Don’t,” I say softly, my words muffled in his chest. “Please don’t, Dean. I’m okay. It’s okay.” I can feel him shake his head, and I squeeze my arms tight around him. “I mean it, Dean. We’re good.”

He still doesn’t answer, but squeezes me back a little in return, and we just stand there in each other’s arms until he has calmed completely, his body no longer shaking, his breathing slow and even.

I don’t know how I deserve a woman like her. She tells me she’s okay, that we’re okay, but I know how out of control I was, and it scares the fuck out of me that the Mark can take over like it did, like I was just along for the ride. It can’t happen again. I won’t let it. I just hold her, and hold her, waiting until I feel almost normal again before I speak. “Sammy was right. You can’t hunt with me anymore. Not alone. Not unless he’s with us. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t be hunting at all.” She pulls back from me, looking up into my eyes, and hers are shining with tears. My heart hurts at the love in her expression, I don’t deserve it. I’ll never deserve it. I bend down and kiss her with everything in me, gentle and slow, trying to show her what I can never seem to express in words.

I don’t argue with him, I know he won’t listen. I just kiss him back, willing him to feel what I feel for him. We finally climb into the Impala to head for home, and he tucks me under his arm as he drives, my head on his shoulder. I’ll talk to Sam when we get back. There must be a way to rid him of that curse. There has to be.

@saenalife​    @deanscarlett​    @jensensgotyoudean​    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis​    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​    @geeklibrarian​    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​      @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​    @mrswhozeewhatsis​    @littlegreenplasticsoldier​    @sleep-silent-angel​    @darcia22​    @winchesterprincessbride​    @cavillanche-archive​  @ellen-reincarnated1967​    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess​      @deanslittleangel2y5​    @melanie451​    @lovin-ackles​    @spectaculacular-sammy​     @bookchic20​    @jodyri​    @selma-jean-blog​           @savingapplepie-eatingthings​    @angelofwinchester17    @kittenofdoomage​    @masked-maiden42​    @lean-mean-deanwinchester​    @ericuhlorain​    @undecided-garden​    @ceeceewinchester​    @typicalweirdbookworm​          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit​    @youtoldalie​    @tanithlowisabamf​    @deandoesthingstome​    @jxackles​    @nerdwholikesword​    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic​    @kreweofimp​  @gabavaldman​    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog​    @darkx143​    @disassociativedogma​    @ioanashalala​    @jencharlan​    @deansthirstblog​     @dorky-and-i-know-it​    @mischief-maker1​    @hamartiamacguffin    @winchestersandwordprocessors​    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​   @akshi8278​  @torn-and-frayed​    @sandlee44​   @wingedcatninja​  @evansrogerskitten​   @emoryhemsworth​  @peaceinourtime82​   @marvels-mistress​

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Hollow Pass (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader has to spend a day in the mines for work, she’s less than thrilled. When the miner showing her around for the day, Dean Winchester, is an ass, she’s even less thrilled. But an accident will change all of that and if they want a chance of getting out of the mess they’re in, they’ll need to put their lives in each others hands, literally...

Pairing: Miner!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, injury, frightening/claustrophobic/near death situations

A/N: Please enjoy the first of this 2 parter!

_______

You sighed as you stood in the trailer of the manager’s office, a jumpsuit and a pair of boots sat in a chair. Your boss, bless his heart, thought it was always a good idea for corporate positions to experience a day in the mines to truly understand the product and what the little guy went through on a day to day basis. The argument that you were not really corporate, not even close, seemed to go over his head.

“Y/N, you gonna change? I need my office back,” said the manager through the door. You pulled it open and pouted. “I don’t want you going down in the mines anymore than you do but if you want to make corporate, you gotta do what the CEO says.”

“Dad I don’t even want to work there. I like my simple office job.”

“Then why have you been in all those development programs at work?” he asked. You shrugged and he sighed. “Cause you can’t say no.”

“Do I have to?” you asked, looking back at the overalls.

“Do you want to quit?” he asked.

“I don’t want to lose a good paycheck. But I don’t want a corporate job either,” you said. 

“Then you’re shit outta luck,” he said. “I’m gonna put you with the Winchester boy. He’s on safety checks in our most secure mines.”

“You mean the ones that never have problems.”

“Funny how that all coincidentally happened today of all days,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks dad.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere near explosives. You’ll be safe doing the checks with Dean for the day.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said twenty minutes later. The man in overalls and a hard hat rolled his eyes.

“I’m ten minutes late because of you which means I’m gonna get docked those ten minutes of pay so thank you little miss corporate.”

“I’m your boss’ daughter, jackass.”

“Still ain’t my boss,” he said. You huffed and headed over towards the mine entrance when he grabbed the back of your overalls. “No, dummy. You have zero safety gear so unless you want to die, you’re coming with me.”

“Asshole.”

“Dean Winchester at your service,” he said, dragging you over with him to some lockers. He punched a card and went to the storage racks, seemingly grabbing a few items and putting them on. He picked the hard hat off your head and grabbed one with a light and a wire attached to it, clipping it on your belt. He put something over your shoulder you put your arm through like a sling and clipped a mask onto the back of your belt, a flashlight and a small hand pickaxe going through your other loops. “Turn this lamp on anytime you’re in the mine and never, ever, take off your hat. If I yell at you or you smell something funny, get that mask on. Flashlight and the axe are backup for emergencies.”

He put a radio in your pocket and looked you over.

“Oh and for the love of God, do not wander off. I don’t care if you see a bug or break a nail or gotta piss.”

“What do you do if you have to…” you said.

“Normally you piss against some rock like a man but special manager’s daughter we’ll walk you back out here, take our slow ass time, make me go longer than my shift and because I was late today, I don’t get overtime.”

“That sounds kinda illegal.”

“The contracts for this company are a fucking nightmare,” he said, walking out of storage.

“Why work here then?” you asked as he went to an area and grabbed a clipboard. He took two water bottles and clipped them on each of your belts before whistling for you to follow after.

“Well somebody had to pay for his baby brother to go to law school and it wasn’t going to be my drunk of a father now was it,” said Dean, stopping and writing something down. 

“So you didn’t grow up with mining in your family?” you asked.

“No. I’m not some redneck hillbilly like you imagine either,” he said. He flipped on his light and turned yours on when you got to the mine entrance. “Crouch.”

“Huh?”

“We ain’t riding the cart which is missing, dumbass. Crouch down so you can fit in the tunnel,” he said. You swallowed and had to bend down some, following Dean closely. “Ain’t claustrophobic are ya cause now’s the time to tell me.”

“No,” you said. “Jerk.”

“Ah, see? We’re getting along already.”

You walked for five or so minutes before the ground sloped down further and an entrance to the right opened up. Dean straightened up and you did the same, stretching out as he grabbed the back of your jumpsuit.

“Dude, would you stop doing that?” you said.

“Would you stay in my line of sight?”

“That’s harassment. You can’t touch me without my permission,” you said, crossing your arms. He blinked a few times and rolled his eyes quite possibly the most dramatically you’d ever seen in your life.

“This? This is not an office building. Every single time you step in here you run the risk of dying and you have zero clue on how to stay safe down here. I hate it when you people with your big offices and penny pinching bullshit come down here and complain about every goddamn little thing. If you want out, get out of the fucking mining business.”

“You’re an irritable person,” you said. He grumbled and tugged you along with him until you brushed him off. You followed him down a hallway and another, Dean checking things off on his clipboard as he went. “Are you gonna explain any of this stuff?”

“What do you think?” he said. He whistled and you followed him down a few more hallways when he stopped a gauge looking contraption. He checked a few different numbers and valves on it as you spun around. 

“I guess it is kinda cool. That somehow you guys know how to block up rocks and leave all these cracks and know how to make it so it doesn’t all come crashing down.”

“Cracks?” he asked as he squatted down and read off a meter.

“Yeah like that big one,” you said, pointing at the wall across the way. He turned around and looked at it for barely a second before he grabbed your arm. 

“Move. Now,” he said. He pulled out his radio and pressed down the button. “We have a grade five crack in Lodge Six West. Do not blow. I repeat do not-”

The ground rumbled and you heard a splintering noise, Dean pushing you back into the hallway you’d been in. He jumped on top of you and covered your body with his, all the lights going out, a loud thundering of falling rocks happening close by. It seemed to go on and on before it finally stilled, the hallway pitch black.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said, coughing when you felt dust in the air.

“Don’t move,” he said. He lifted his head and there was some light, Dean looking around before climbing off of you and staring at a new wall of rock. He looked at the hallway you’d been in, clicking on his flashlight and you saw where the rock dropped off about a hundred feet away. “Well. Shit.”

“What just happened?”

“The rock was unstable and they already set off the charges and it shook the mountain so now there’s a giant hole over there and our exit is blocked.”

“What’s that way?” you asked, nodding down the only unobstructed hallway.

“Further down into the mine before you hit the decommissioned area.”

“Is there a way out,” you asked, Dean patting his side.

“Fuck. My radio is under all that,” he said. He took out yours and handed it to him, Dean nodding before he turned it on. “Main do you copy, over?”

There was silence on the other end and Dean hit the button again.

“Main this is Winchester in Lodge Six West with…what’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, manager’s kid. Copy, over.”

“Winchester this is Main. We got lots of calls coming in from ground crews about a shaking.”

“Lodge Six West Hall K is a giant crater of death and Hall H is buried, right up to the entrance of junction HJ.”

“Injuries?”

“We’re okay,” said Dean.

“Give me a second.”

Dean took a deep breath and coughed. He tapped your mask on your belt and you put it on, the air a bit easier to breath. 

“Winchester this is Melvin.”

“She’s okay, boss. Just a little shook up. Saved our asses from winding up in the ground even if she doesn’t know it yet,” he said. He held out the radio and you pulled down the mask. 

“Dad I’m fine, really. We both are. It’s just kinda dark and smelly is all.”

“I know. Put your mask on sweetie until you can get to some cleaner air,” he said. You put it back on, Dean, getting to his feet. He pulled you up and looked back at your blocked path. 

“Any other collapses?” asked Dean.

“None reported so far. Everyone should be out of the mine’s or on their way. Alarm is blasting.” You looked back at Dean, his eyes shutting.

“Melvin we can’t hear it. At all.”

“Rodney’s out checking where our side of the collapse starts. We’ll get you out,” he said, someone panting in the background.

“Hall B, Mel,” he said. Dean turned away from you and sighed. No one said anything for a long time until Dean finally raised his head.

“We got two 16 ounces bottles of water. If she rations it, she’s got a shot,” said Dean quietly.

“No, she doesn’t,” said your dad, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “How long does your radio have?”

“Mine got crushed. Hers was on a quarter charge. I’d guess maybe an hour or two tops,” he said.

“Should we call your brother?”

“He’s hiking in Glacier Park this week. No cell service,” said Dean quietly. “Just tell him to check my bottom desk drawer. There’s something for him there.”

“I can do that,” he said. “Is there anyone...parents-”

“All due respect sir, I’d rather you talk to your daughter,” he said. Dean held out the radio to you and you picked it up, Dean skirting around the corner to the one unblocked hallway.

“Dean?” you asked, following over there. He was leaned against the wall and looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s going on?”

“They can’t dig us out in time.”

“What do you mean-”

“Talk to your dad. You’re wasting time. That battery won’t last forever,” he said. He turned back and you walked back around the corner, sitting down against the wall.

“Hi dad,” you said.

“Hey,” he said, his voice shaky. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom’s on her way down to talk, okay? She’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“I so quit this job,” you said, wiping off your eyes with the back of your hand. He laughed and you threw your head back. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna stay on the line as long as I can, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

Two Hours Later

The battery in the radio had died about fifteen minutes ago. There was no sound aside from your sniffling and Dean’s down the hall. You got up eventually and went into the hall, sitting down beside him. You handed him the radio and he clipped it back on his belt.

“You okay?” you asked, voice hoarse.

“You try listening to someone say goodbye to their parents and not bawl,” he said. He wiped off his face and took a deep breath. “Air’s better now at least.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now,” he said, clipping his water bottle onto your belt. “You sit there and try not to exert a lot of energy and that water will last you a few days.”

“We both heard my father. They can’t drill or dig or do anything fast enough. It’d take weeks. I’m not sitting here next to your dead ass so take your damn water back,” you said, shoving it back in his chest. He didn’t speak but put it on his belt, pulling his knees into his chest. “Why were you so mean to me before? You gave up time on the phone for me. I don’t think you’re what you pretend to be.”

“I’m a dead man walking and that’s a fact.”

“Technically you’re sitting.”

He smiled and rested his face in his knees. He sat up and reached over behind you, hitting off your headlight.

“We need to conserve power as long as possible,” he said.

“Will our lights go out before we dehydrate to death?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “This is what it’ll be like.”

He flipped off his lamp and you swore you’d never experienced a darkness so deep. You felt his hand graze yours before holding it and you swallowed.

“Kinda less scary knowing you can turn it back on again,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why such a brute?”

“You do this job long enough and most people think you’re a dumb sack of shit with nothing in his head. You’re dead weight, odds are you’ll die down here or get into some kind of accident and have to go on disability the rest of your life. You corporate people are always so stuck up, like I’m not even good enough to be the dirt on your shoes. I didn’t give you a chance because odds were you were like all the rest of them. You’re the only reason we didn’t die in that hole, very painfully.”

“Wouldn’t we have-”

“No. It’s not a simple hole we would have fell in. Falling rocks, crushing and hitting, landing on you, ones you hit yourself. Might not kill you immediately. You’d feel it.”

“Dying of thirst is better?”

“I’d say so. Still get to keep this handsome face, or what’ll be left of it,” he said. He flipped his light back on and you scooted closer. “I think you’re very attractive.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m gonna die in like three or four days. Life has no consequences now and I happen to find you very attractive and you seem like a smart, sweet woman that put her parents a little at ease during the worst moment of their lives.”

“Who’s your brother?” you asked. “No consequences after all.”

“He’s a lawyer...and my best friend.”

“You said you did this job for him.”

“Student debt is a bitch. I try to help him out and the overtime helps make dents in it,” he said. “Our parents had debt out their asses. It caused so many problems for us. I wanted him safe, never have to worry about the next meal on the plate or the roof over his head or having to wear my hand me downs ever again. At least he’ll get my life insurance policy. That should help.”

“I have been busting my ass since I was a college freshman in that office to move up the chain for a job I didn’t even want. I completely lost nearly all of my twenties to work. All so I could die in here.”

“Well I know this doesn't sound good but I’m glad I didn’t die all super painful. Or that I’ll be alone,” he said. You smiled and nodded, Dean returning it. “Got any bucket list shit we can pull off down here?”

“We could make out,” you said. “Never knew anyone could make that jumpsuit look good.”

“Why the fuck not,” he chuckled. He leaned in close and your helmets bonked, Dean pulling his off and yours, quickly cupping your face. 

His lips were gentler than you thought, the two of you stopping when your lips were pressed together. You rested your forehead against his and broke off only an inch.

“Not as much fun at the moment as it sounded,” you breathed out.

“Pretty good last kiss though,” he said. You put your helmets back on and you grabbed his hand again. 

“Don’t let go down here. Please.”

He reached to his belt and undid a little pouch, pulling out a small tether of rope. He clipped one end onto him and the other to you.

“For when the lights go out,” he said.

“How long do we got?”

“About a day, maybe a little more,” he said. You sighed and turned your head, staring down the rest of the hall. “It’s decommissioned, Y/N. It’s a death trap.”

“Is there a way out?” you asked.

“Maybe. Maybe they never find us though,” he said. You stared at him and he nodded, hitting your headlamp back on. “Enough of the pity party. Let’s go get out of here or die trying.”

He stood and held out a hand, hoisting you to your feet. 

“So. What’s our best option?” you asked.

“It’s alright for a bit until we get to the decommissioned section. When we get there, that’s when it gets dangerous. Technically it’s dangerous now considering the blast but we’re okay for a bit,” he said. 

“Let’s go then,” you said. He nodded and you followed him down the hall, walking side by side. 

“Alright so the decommissioned section is called Hollow Pass. Beyond that is Upper Seven. If we can get to Upper Seven, we can get out the old entrance I’m pretty sure. Never been in there but hopefully it’s not a maze over there.”

“So Hollow Pass is the hard part.”

“Yeah.”

“Why was it decommissioned?”

“Unstable ground. Holes, pockets of air, rotted support beams, wood planks.”

“So it’s a death trap.”

“Yup,” he said. “We’re probably gonna die down there.”

“What do you think our odds are?”

“Well it’s been out of order for over fifty years, we have no map, I have no real idea where exactly to go...I give us 1% odds.”

“Beats are 0% odds here.”

“Good way to think about it considering we’re going to most likely die.” He stopped walking and took a deep breath. “If I fall or whatever, follow the widest hall possible and keep away from wood and cracks as best as possible. Ration your water and eventually you’ll find your way out.”

“If you fall I’m definitely not gonna make it.”

“Well at least try. You can tell my brother how devastatingly brave I was that way.”

“You just spent the past hour crying.”

“So did you,” he said. You bumped his shoulder and he returned it but it was playful and soft. You walked together quietly for a moment until Dean rounded a corner and took a deep breath.

There were a few planks across a hallway, Dean kicking them down, frowning when they broke pretty easily.

“There’s gonna be rot.”

“Lovely.”

“We don’t have to go,” he said. “You don’t have to. There’s a chance-“

“There’s no chance Dean. Not if we stay up there. If you don’t want to go, I will. Maybe I can get help back in-“

“We’re doing this together or you’re staying. I can go and you-“

“We both go,” you said. 

“I go first. You step where I step and if I tell you to do anything, you do it.”

“Dean. We already established that you’re not a hardass. You can lead the way but you know, nicely.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. He gave more slack in the rope attached to the two of you and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He was calm for a few minutes until you were turning down a hallway, Dean suddenly stopping in front of you.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Look,” he said. You poked your head around him, swallowing at the rotted wood on the ground, holes worn into the planking. “Y/N that’s not good. Rot means there’s water and water means erosion and erosion means big shafts hundreds of feet straight down under those wood planks.”

“How much of it is wood?” you asked. You both looked ahead and sighed, the whole hall flooring covered in wood. “Shit.”

“Y/N. This is too dangerous. I’ve worked in mines since I was 18 and it’s way too dangerous.”

“Dean. I don’t want to die. If we don’t do anything, we’re dead in three days, maybe less.”

“Maybe they come up the decommissioned mine and get us,” he said. 

“Dean. The mountain collapsed from what my dad said. They are not coming in here, risking even more lives, in this mine. It might even have collapsed on the other side on the way out. We don’t know. All we do know is we stay and we’re dead or we go and we’re maybe dead.”

“You still won’t let me go on ahead on my own to try to get some help?”

“You’re not leaving me alone,” you said. You stepped ahead and he yanked on the rope, pulling you back. “Dean. Stop.”

“I go first,” he said. You held up your hands and he swallowed, Dean stepping past you, carefully putting his weight down on each plank. “Follow. Every footstep exactly where mine go.”

You followed after, the only sounds your breathing and the occasional board creaking. Dean put a foot down and stopped moving forward when you heard snapping. 

“Go back. Slowly.”

You stepped a foot backwards, putting weight on it and your foot going straight through. Dean grabbed your arm as you pulled your foot up, a few sticks falling into a deep dark pit. 

“What do we do,” you breathed out.

“Well we’re over rock that fell away so there’s a big hole beneath us if the rotted wood is anything to go by,” he said. You heard the slight waiver in his voice and sighed. “We make a choice. Forwards or backwards.”

“Back looks bad. Plus we already probably broke the supports.”

“I think solid ground is in front. But I have to jump for it,” he said. You looked past him and shook your head. 

“Dean, it's way too far. I can try to walk over there if you let out the rope. I get to solid ground and then you walk and if you fall, I got you with the rope.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no way.”

“You’re too heavy and we can’t stay here,” you said. You slipped past him and he tried to grab you but you went quickly. “Dean let out the rope. Now.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna die.”

“No we’re not,” you said, walking quickly, planks creaking but you sighed when you had solid rock under your feet again. “Alright. Just go where I did and fast.”

He took a deep breath and walked a few steps, a loud groaning of the wood making him move faster.

You hit the ground the second you saw him go down, the wood breaking away. Dean shouted and you dug your heels into the dirt. 

“Y/N!” he said, falling straight down into a hole and out of view.

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[smol-and-grumpy]

Home To You - Ten

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean enlisted in the hopes to help secure enough money for Sam to be able to go to college. Of course he didn’t tell Sam. Why would he? Sam would understand, right? Turns out, Sam didn’t get it, and is giving Dean the silent treatment for over a year. In Dean’s desperation to reconnect with Sam, Dean reaches out to his brother’s best friend. Little does he know that the hurricane named Y/N will turn out to be the reason he wants to stay alive and go back home for.

Chapter Warnings: Aaaaand, they’re still idiots. Contains flangst.

WC: 3569

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​ <3

Read ahead on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,” 

She wakes up to a soft voice ringing in her ear. It’s deep and gravelly, just slightly above a murmur. There’s also a feeling of something nuzzling against her temple. Hot breath fans over the side of her face, making her shiver - but in a good way.

“Wake up,” The voice whispers again, it’s smooth and soft, bathing her in warmth, making her feel less likely to want to burst the comfortable bubble she’s wrapped in so she doesn’t move. 

“Nuh-uh,” She tilts her head, trying to bury her face deeper into the pillow. 

There’s a rumbling sound from underneath her face, it resonates out of her pillow, and then it starts to shake as a chuckle sounds off of it. The sound is deep and scratchy, it makes her feel warm.

Oh.

It’s not a pillow at all, she realizes. 

It’s Dean.

God, but he’s so soft and she feels so content. He’s better than all the pillows in the world.

“You should let me get up, I hear the nurses walking around outside.” 

That’s the cue because all of a sudden, it all comes rushing back and she bolts up abruptly, knocking her head against his jaw in the process and sends him jolting back. Dean cups his face while groaning out painfully, cursing something intangible under his breath.

“Shit, Y/N, you wanna knock me out?” 

She covers her mouth with one hand, muttering apologies and honestly, just trying her best not to burst out laughing too loud as Dean rolls himself off the bed. She absolutely hates the way he takes the warmth with him, and is already feeling colder as soon as he inches away. 

He stops swearing after a while and begins to tie up his boots before standing up straight next to her bed, his hand moving to push her hair out of her face. “You’re still so hard to wake up, huh?”

The memories come back to her. Memories of her mornings at the Winchester’s house where Sam and Dean would fight about who has to wake her up because apparently, she’s a grump in the mornings. Dean always lost to Sam at rock paper scissors and it took him a while to know how best to wake her up, starting with a ten-foot pole, and soon enough, he figured that the best way was to just sit right at the bed with a mug of hot coffee in his hand. 

She’s not allowed to have coffee right now, and knowing that actually makes her grumpier. She scrunches her nose, “Yeah, well, you’d be happy to know that some things never change.” 

“I’m glad they don’t.” He grins. It’s the grin she loves. All bashful and with a slight hint of boyish charm. It makes him look a lot younger. It definitely suits him, it makes her think that he’s just a man who hasn’t seen death and isn’t trying to carry the weight of the world on his own. “Listen, I-”

Before Dean can finish his sentence, the nurse bursts in.

“Good morn-,” The woman who she has gotten to know as Carmen chirps before stalling upon seeing Dean standing there, “-ing,” The brunette nurse finishes and tilts her head down a little. A bright shade of crimson is visible on her face, her mouth curving into a shy grin. Carmen takes a moment to gather herself before she looks back up, “You’re still here,” She states and Y/N just knows that the statement is not directed at her. 

Dean smiles warmly at the nurse, “Yeah,” 

There’s something that bubbles inside of her, rising from the pit of her stomach to her chest and she doesn’t know what it is but she doesn’t really like it. Trying to push that feeling away, she forces a smile of her own.

Carmen just nods at Dean as she walks closer to the bed, probably realizing that she has a job to do. Dean moves to the window, looking out while he lets the nurse check up on her. 

“Before we bring breakfast, the doctor will be here,” the brunette informs her and she sighs. Carmen then turns to Dean, “Would you like something as well, Dean?”

Oh, so they on a first name basis? She must have looked dumbfounded and of course Dean notices because he always does. 

He clears his throat before he speaks to her before even answering Carmen’s question, which somehow makes the jealousy less obtrusive, “Yeah, I came in last night and Carmen was here,” he explains, even though he doesn’t need to. She nods and only then does he turn to the nurse still waiting for him to answer her, “I’m good, thank you. I’ll grab a coffee later.”

The brunette doesn’t seem to be fazed that he took longer to get back to her and now that he did, her face goes tomato red again. Y/N’s used to seeing that. She’s used to knowing what effect Dean has on women and apparently, he still does have that same effect. Things haven't changed at all.

Carmen walks out after doing her work and Dean comes to stand close enough so Y/N can elbow him in the ribs. 

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Duh,” She grins bravely, hiding her true feelings because it has no room here. “She’s obviously into you.”

Dean frowns before cocking an eyebrow, “You think?”

“Jesus, did you not watch the show that just happened?” She smiles teasingly. The smile doesn’t really reach her eyes but she doesn’t think Dean notices, “Maybe you should ask if she wants to go for a drink?”

He looks down to his feet, seemingly in thought. She can see his mouth working from him biting on something on the inside of his cheek. Dean licks his lips before he shakes his head to look up at her, “I’m here for you, Y/N.” His hand comes up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. His words make her face warmer too, which she hopes he doesn’t notice. 

“And I didn’t tell you to.” She replies, knowing full well that she’s been unreasonable, but it’s the truth. She doesn’t want him to worry, and least of all, she doesn’t want him to think that she’s another burden to him. If anything, Dean deserves to have a slice of happiness of his own. 

“Oh, so, you want me to leave you here and go on a date with Carmen?” He raises his voice a little, which stuns her. Dean normally never raises his voice at her, only when they’re bickering but then they know that neither of them really mean it. 

“I’m just saying-”

“What?” He cuts in, more agitated now, “That I will abandon people I love to go on a date with a girl in the short time I get to be with you?”

His words hit her a little too hard and she’s momentarily speechless while her heart is beating a little faster. The pain in her head comes back and she has to squint her eyes as she lifts her hand to her temple. Dean’s quick to rush the two steps forward and laying his hand on hers, “You okay? God, that’s a dumb question, of course you’re not.” 

“You love me?” She asks, because those were the words that stuck. 

Dean’s jaw drops a little and he licks his lips, the pink in his ears showing, which she thinks is absolutely adorable. He always gets the most color there. “Yeah, of course. You’re family, Y/N.”

Yeah, she’s family, just like he is hers. They will never be more than that. The thought just about shatters her heart. 

Before she can dwell on the disappointment that is spreading and clearly taking heavy roots in her guts. She doesn't even realize that Dean has his forehead leaned on her temple until he jumps apart from her when there’s a knock at the door. 

“I’m sorry,” Carmen says and smiles shyly at both of them as she walks in with a fresh jug of water, “The doctor will be here in about five minutes,” 

“Okay,” She nods at the nurse and looks at Dean to direct the next question to him, “When will Sam be here?” 

“He told me he’s going to pop in before his first lecture at 9 AM,” Dean flips his wrist to look at the watch. He’s still wearing the same one, the one she and Sam got him for his twenty-first birthday. The thought of him holding on to simple gifts makes her smile. “He should be here any minute.”

“Right,” 

“Just ring me should you need anything, okay?” Carmen says, already halfway out of the door. 

“We will,” Dean replies for both of them and she keeps on looking at him, glaring even. He sighs before he rolls his eyes. Looking back at her after his eye roll, he lifts his eyebrows and she just jerks her head in the direction of the door and grins, although she doesn’t feel like grinning at all at this moment. He sighs again before he speaks, “Actually, Carmen,” 

Y/N watches as the nurse turns around, and when Carmen speaks, she sounds hopeful. “Yeah?” The woman’s lips curl up into a bright smile while her eyebrows climb up her forehead in anticipation.

“Um-,” Dean half mumbles and sends Y/N a last look. She doesn’t falter, at least she hopes her grin doesn’t falter, but the corner of her lips starts to twitch uncomfortably from the strain so she stops grinning but winks at him instead, her way of telling him to go forward. He frowns at first but then his whole demeanor changes, his eyes a little cold towards her. Not that she can dwell on them too much because Dean turns away from her to look at the brunette instead, “Let me walk you out,” 

She watches him sending her another look. She’d like to say one that is less cold but actually, it turns icy before he turns his back on her, following Carmen out. It honestly makes her feel crushed but she guesses that she brought it upon herself.

Not allowed to get out of bed, there’s nothing else to do for her other than staying behind, and to pass the time she looks out of the window while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Of course, she doesn’t want to share Dean with another girl, but what can she really do about it? He said it himself. She’s family. There’s no way Dean sees her the way she sees him and who is she if she doesn’t want him to be happy? 

“Hey you,” Sam sticks his head through the door, wearing his dimpled smile as he strides in afterward to walk to the bed. He wraps her up into a bone-crushing embrace. She takes the time to breathe him in. “How are you holding up? Jess will come later, she has a meeting with her professor.” 

“Of course, I forgot that life is still going on even if I’m not a part of it.”

“I’m sorry to say this, Y/N,” Sam sits down on the empty chair next to her bed, “But I think you have to sit this semester out. There’s no way I will let you worry your head.” 

She has to grin at that. “That’s okay, I don’t even know if I want to continue, Sam.”

“What do you mean?”

She stares at her hands that she has folded in her lap, “I came here to be your cheerleader, remember? I don’t need to study, I don’t think I even need to work for the rest of my life.” 

It’s not a lie. Her parent’s house is hers, they have left enough money for her to be comfortable, and last but not least, there was the insurance money and from the lawsuit her uncle started in order to get the maximum out of her tragedy after her parents passed away. She has enough money and if she keeps on living as she does, it will last her a long time. Long enough for her to figure out what she really wants out of life and a little beyond, probably.

“You’re awfully bad at sitting still, though.” He chuckles, which again, is true. Sam lays his hand on top of hers. They’re incredibly large, her hands looking ridiculous in comparison.

“I don’t know…” She starts, “I just might go back home, would that be okay?” 

“Why?”

“I hate it here.” It blurts out of her and to her surprise, it feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

“Wow, tell me what you really think, why don’t you?” Sam’s full-on laughing, but when it dies down and he looks at her, he sees that she’s not joking. “You know I can’t leave until I graduate, right? I’m still stuck here and maybe, just maybe, if I study hard then I can get out sooner.” 

“Sam,” He lays her hand on top of his, “I’m not telling you so that you will come back with me. Your place is here, at least for the time being and until you get your degree. And I’m not even saying that I’m leaving tomorrow. Right now, I just want to take one day at a time.”

“First of all,” the younger Winchester smirks, “How dare you think that I would want you to be all on your own. And second?” He smiles now, “One day at a time sounds about right to me. We’ll be okay, Y/N. I promise.”

She nods. Somehow she really wants to believe that they will be. 

Dean slips in before the doctor. He pauses at the door and takes a look at his brother and Y/N.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a hint of concern lacing his voice. 

“Where were you?” Sam asks, skillfully dodging Dean’s question and she doesn’t know if it’s the residue of animosity still resting inside his bones that he doesn’t want to tell Dean everything that worries him yet. 

His brother seems to sense Sam’s reluctance not to answer, of course Dean does. Nothing really gets past him, but she’s glad that he doesn’t pry. Dean never does when it comes to Sam, knowing that his brother will talk when he wants to. 

“Did you get her number?” Y/N jumps in before Dean can even start to open his mouth to answer Sam’s question.

Dean groans out audibly before he sits on another empty chair that’s propped against the wall on the opposite side of her bed. He’s too far away, and somehow she wishes that he was closer like last night. 

“Yeah,” He answers her question but it doesn’t sound like he’s super happy about it, “Are you happy now?”

No, is what she thinks. “Yes,” is what she says and surprises herself by being able to curve her lips up into a small smile. 

“You what?” Sam’s nose scrunches a little in irritation. “You asked some girl for their number? Here? While Y/N’s waiting for surgery?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He’s taking Sam’s anger with a squared chest and his chin held high, and she sees that he’s zoning out. She’s seen that posture before, whenever his dad took the anger out on Dean instead of on them even though it wasn’t Dean’s fault. 

Instead of answering, Dean just looks at Y/N and his eyes change, giving in to blankness.

“Sam, it’s nothing.” She says, trying to calm the younger Winchester down. “I told him to.” She explains.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Dean mutters under his breath but it wasn’t said with any malice. He leans his head against the wall and sighs heavily and she can’t help but think that he looks exhausted. She wonders if he did get any sleep at all.

She worries her lips, hoping that it isn’t her that keeps him awake, it’s the last thing she wants to do after he makes the journey back to be here for her. Before she can ask or even apologize the doctor who’s been examining her the whole of yesterday comes in to greet them.

His gaze flickers to Dean whom he obviously hasn’t seen yesterday. “And you are?” 

Dean stands up, making himself straighter, puffing his chest out a little, and holds his hand out for the doctor to shake, “Dean Winchester, sir.” 

“Ah, you must be Sam’s brother.” 

“That, I am.” 

“So, I guess the whole family is here now, right?” The doctor’s gaze flickers around the room and she nods. 

He begins to explain his findings and what’s going to happen.

Somehow, though, her brain turns off. She hears everything but she doesn’t let it get under her skin. She heard how he said that there are multiple aneurysms. There’s someone muttering in the back too, saying “Shit!”. Her brain doesn’t register who it was, her guess is on Dean, though. She heard how the doctor said that the chances that anything happening is slim but it’s there but that if they don’t operate, she doesn’t have a chance of surviving once they burst. It’s like a ticking bomb in her head, ready to go off at any time. She tunes the rest out, staring holes into the air. Suddenly, her feet under the thin hospital blanket are so much more interesting to look at. 

“I’ll see you in surgery at 2 PM,” The doctor nods at her.

Y/N can’t answer, waits for the weight of the knowledge to settle down.

“I can’t eat anything, right?” She looks at both men who are left in her room. Maybe it’s the shock sitting inside her but she feels very hungry and it’s the only thing she can think about, which again, is absolutely weird.

“I’m sorry,” Dean answers the question and steps closer, leaning his hands on the mattress and nuzzles his forehead against her temple. She doesn’t really know what he’s sorry for, but Dean answers the question in her thoughts for her, “About everything, you don’t deserve this.” 

Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, fingers rubbing over his scruff, “It’s not your fault.”

“Well, it isn’t yours either.”

She nods in understanding and Dean places a chaste kiss on her temple. They were both a little lost in the moment when she’s brought back to reality by Sam’s sniffing. 

God, Sam. It’s harder on him than on her. 

Dean seems to know too, steps aside to make room for Sam. The younger brother doesn’t hesitate, his hand finding the back of her neck to guide her towards him. He kisses her cheek, lingers there longer than needed but it’s necessary.

“I’ll be back after lunch, okay?” 

“You don’t have to,”

“Oh, believe me, I do.” Sam sniffs again before taking a step back and she does her best to ignore the tears in his eyes. She can’t look at them, knowing that she would break down instantly.

“You should take Dean with you, get him cleaned up at my apartment.” She suggests.

“Why, you wanna get rid of me, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is teasing, trying to ease the air filled with uncertainty. 

“Ya, you stink, man.” Sam grabs his brother’s shoulder and she doesn’t know if it’s the first time they touched since what seems like forever, but from the way Dean tenses up, she guesses that it is. He recovers quickly, though, the tenseness giving way to softness. 

Dean just cocks one eyebrow, eyes flicking to her as if to ask if that’s true. The tip of his ear showed a soft pink shade. She grins and he shakes his head. He doesn’t or maybe she’s biased. She likes how he smelled last night. Pine and musk and something that’s just Dean. Something a home is made out of.

“Come on,” Sam shoulders past Dean, waits at the door because Dean hesitates. “She’s in good hands.” Sam reminds his brother.

“You really want me gone?” Dean turns to her, crossing his arms over his chest and she tries not to look at how the material of his shirt stretches awfully tight over his shoulders and arms. 

“You should go get breakfast. You can take a shower, even take a nap in bed if you want. Mi casa es su casa.” She smiles, “Sam has a key, fresh towels are in the bathroom. The shower is warm and has great water pressure.” 

“K,” He nods, his eyes light up a little at the prospect of a warm shower. Guess there are not many of those out in the desert. He bends down, kisses the crown of her head and moves to rest his forehead on hers, “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

She bites on her bottom lip, he’s so close and all she actually wants to do right now is to move forward and kiss him. It would be so easy. She’s been thinking about his lips a ridiculous amount of time. Wonders if they feel as good as they look. Y/N knows that she can't, that's why all she says is “Okay, I’ll be here.” And laughs lamely. 

“Behave,” He chuckles, pressing another kiss to her temple before he bends down to retrieve his bag from the floor. 

Eleven

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

​

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

*

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

*

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

*

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

*

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

[lonelychicago]

CRIMINAL MINDS X SUPERNATURAL HEADCANONS

Spencer probably reads everything that involves the fbi and cold cases bc he loves those. he once read about two brothers pretending to be fbi agents and looked into it.

He eventually found Sam and Dean and confronted them. Reid never believed in the supernatural stuff, he was a man of science but then Sam shows him evidence of the creatures they hunt and reid has no choice but to accept it.

Sam and Spencer are besties after that. Spencer loves learning new things and Sam loves nerding out about everything he knows ( he usually has to keep it to himself bc dean doesn't really want to hear it ), so they talk a lot and have long deep conversations.

Then one time they're in town, they call Spencer to hang out and Derek was with him so he tags along bc he needs to meet the misterious guys who keep making his pretty boy smile and be all secretive.

Derek and Dean become besties too.

Spencer faints when he meets Castiel. His mind can't wrapped around the fact that angels are real. But then he moves on and now they're besties too. Sam, Spencer and Castiel are the best trio ever.

Spencer loves that Castiel doesn't understand social cues, just like him. He also find out that Cass is the best listener, curious and always making the best questions. So everytime he wants to info dump, he calls the angel and they end up talking for hours and hours.

Everytime a case is too hard to solve and there are things that can't be easily explained, Spencer calls Sam and Dean.

"You need to come to Virginia right now. I got a case for you."

"Calm down, genius. We'll be there as soon as we can."

And then Spencer can hear in the background Dean saying: "Not all of have private jets to take us wherever we want."

And Sam: "Shut up, jerk."

Hotch starts to be suspicious so Spencer has to explain everything and introduces him to the brothers.

Hotch right away hates Dean. ( Dean is sassy and sarcastic and has this 'i don't give a fuck but i'm also absolutely depressed' vibe and Hotch can't handle it )

Hotch tells Castiel "I like your trenchcoat" and then they're besties too.

Garcia and Charlie fall in love, they're goddesses and they immediately hit it off.

Emily and Dean compete on who can drink more without throwing up.

Emily wins. Emily always wins.

Dean is a sore loser. "Whatever, Prentiss. I let you win."

Dean has a little crush on Emily even though he knows she's a lesbian and could never be romantically attracted to him.

Don't know where this came from, I just started thinking about them and... yeah. This is the first time I do something like this so if everything is wrong and you think i'm delusional... you're probably right lmao.

I'll probably delete this later once i overthink it but for now i like it so i'm gonna post it.

[calaofnoldor]

Fake It ‘Til You Make It

Characters: Sam x Reader (gender neutral), Dean

Words: 3,295

Summary: Dean and his lady of the night are being obnoxiously loud, so you and Sam devise a plan of retaliation.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, wee bit o’ language, mutual pining and other fun tropes

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on “Dean, Don’t” (there will be a sequel due to positive feedback!) tbh, i’m not sure how i feel about this one, but every single like, comment, and reblog is always super-duper appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Another hunt for the books, another bar tab for your fake credit card. Another leggy blonde for Dean, and another evening spent harboring your secret yet ever-growing crush for Sam Winchester. This was becoming a pattern lately.

You'd decided to join the brothers on their last several hunts after bumping into (and nearly decapitating) Dean in a vamp-infested warehouse in Colorado. That night, you bought him a beer to recompense, but he was rather swiftly distracted by the busty barmaid, and you ended up talking to Sam all night instead.

There was an instant chemistry between the two of you, what with your shared passion for monster lore and college dropout histories, conversation always flowed easily and often without end.

Tonight had been no different, from the moment you walked into the rundown bar in Iowa, and immediately placed a bet on the fate of Dean's evening entertainment.

"Twenty bucks says he goes home with that blonde in the red dress over there," you jerked your head towards the woman in question.

"Oh, you're so on L/N. She's way too classy for him. My money's on that short one over there with the space buns."

"Deal," you shook on it, while struggling to ignore the spark his touch ignited.

Three beers in and you had almost completely forgot about your bet, until Dean swaggered over with one arm draped casually around the shoulders of his blonde conquest. "We're gonna head out for the night, see you guys later."

You waited until the front door closed behind them before turning to Sam with a triumphant grin. "Pay up, Winchester," you held your hand out expectantly.

“How are you so good at that? I’m the one who’s been watching him my whole life.” He shook his head with amiable amusement while digging out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

You shrugged a little, “You learn to read people fairly quickly on the job.”

“Y/N, we have the same job.”

You pretended to ponder this fact for a moment, your brows furrowing, “I guess I’m just a better hunter then?” It was an obvious jest, and you both knew it, as evidenced by the wide, matching smiles that broke out across both your faces.

God, how you loved his smile, especially the genuine ones that brought out his dimples and lit up his eyes, but even more so, you adored any smile behind which you were the cause. Those you stored amidst your most cherished memories and replayed in your mind a hundred times over on nights when the insomnia hit… Oh no, had you been staring for too long?

Abruptly, you turned towards the bartender, waving the newly acquired bill in your hand, and proceeded to order the next round.

Fortunately, the night carried on with its jovial tone, and you were almost able to disregard the desire to touch Sam’s veiny forearms when he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid, or the need to run your hands through his luscious locks whenever a wayward strand fell before his glimmering eyes.

“I guess we should head out soon. Dean’s probably gonna want to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Right, yeah.” At this point, you were feeling a little woozy from the alcohol, and Sam’s hands were suddenly grasping your biceps as you rose unsteadily from the barstool.

“I’m OK,” you laughed it off, but instantly missed the warmth of his palms that seemed to seep through your clothes and set your skin alight. Sam simply smiled at you, yet something in his eyes was so resplendent you felt goosebumps replace the fire along your arms. You must have been staring again, for Sam looked away somewhat embarrassedly and asked if there was something on his face.

Ugh, why did he have such an effect on you? You’d been around plenty of male hunters in the past, some nearly just as attractive, but you’d always managed to keep your wits about you. Indeed, your unrelenting rationality was usually a subject of pride for you, yet here you were, a blubbering mess after a mere touch on the arm and that stupid smile.

Looking down, you grumbled a quick apology and a senseless explanation that involved blaming the booze before you took off.

Sam followed after you, but not before double checking that you had grabbed all your belongings. There was a strong and instinctive urge to look after and protect that stirred within him whenever you were around, and he couldn’t neglect it if he tried.

It wasn’t that you were weak and needed someone to look out for you. Sam knew you’d been more or less hunting on your own for years now, and could certainly roll with the best of them, himself and Dean included. No, Sam knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, yet he still could not brush the nagging need to keep you safe and by his side whenever possible.

At times, he felt as if a spell had overcome him and he was no longer in control of his senses when it came to you. It was annoying, really.

Tonight, for instance, Sam could have sworn he spent the better part of your time at the bar glaring down any man who came within three feet of you, foolishly daring to try their chances with you. He was sure you’d notice his strange behavior at some point, but you simply talked the night away with him, smiling that stupendous smile, the one that made him lose his breath.

Everything about you enchanted him, and Sam often found himself wishing he could just dive in and kiss you, hold you in his arms and never let you go. He was sure you could read it all in his eyes by now.

To his disappointment, however, you never gave any indication of reciprocation, always treating him in a strictly platonic manner, whether intentionally or out of ignorance, Sam didn’t know. But he never dared make a move, and he convinced himself that he felt fortunate enough to have you as a friend.

The walk back to the motel wasn’t long, although Sam took deliberately small steps to prolong your time together. When you reached the brothers’ room, your eyes fell upon a grey sock dangling unceremoniously from the doorknob. So Dean had taken Blondie to his motel room.

“How’s that for classy?” you looked up at Sam with a small smirk.

He let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head while staring at the sock. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he spent a night in the Impala.

“Hey, why don’t you just come over to my room,” you suggested as you motioned next door, “We can chill in there for a bit, wait it out?”

Sam’s eyes shot up to your face. All he had to hear was “come over to my room,” and his brain immediately began imagining all the potential scenarios those five little words could lead to… if you felt even an inkling of what he felt for you. He gulped and tried to reel his thoughts in, meeting your gaze with a dreamy look.

“Um… yeah, OK, sure, yeah. That sounds good. I mean, you sure you don’t mind?” he stumbled out.

You laughed that brilliant laugh, “No, I should probably sober up a little before I sleep anyway.”

Sam nodded, afraid of what words might escape if he opened his mouth again, and the two of you made your way towards the adjacent motel room. He watched as your delicate hands worked the key and instantly took note of the angry red scrapes and cuts along your palm when you turned your wrist to unlock the door.

Brows knit with concern, Sam silently berated himself for failing to take better care of you. He remembered you took a nasty fall when the ghost had thrown you aside to get to the brothers as they burned the necklace that tethered it to this realm. You must have landed on the concrete and braced yourself with your hands.

As you both stepped into the dim and modest room, Sam was about to ask for your first aid kit when you suddenly brought your arms overhead and stretched out your lithe body with a soft, satisfactory grunt. When the hem of your shirt rode up, Sam had to look away to stop himself from staring at the anti-possession tattoo that peeked out above your hip bone. Just that sliver of skin was so alluring to him; he really was in deep.

When you lowered your arms back down, you sent him a small, apologetic smile, “Sorry, it just always feels good to do that after a hunt and a night out in town.”

Sam nodded again, still finding it difficult to come up with the right words, but then he remembered his previous mission. “Give me your hand.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, dumbfoundedly. It was your turn to wonder if you’d heard right.

“Your hand, let me see it.” He repeated, and this time he simply caught your wrist and took your hand gingerly in his, turning it such that your palm faced up, so he could examine the extent of the damage.

“Oh,” you breathed out, slightly relieved, “It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” You tried to pull your hand out of his intoxicating grip, but he held on quite firmly.

“Y/N, we need to clean these and bandage them so they don’t get infected.”

He had pulled you rather close to him, to the point where you could feel his body heat emanating towards you, and you hated to admit the proximity was really messing with your mind. All you could think about was the deliciously muscled torso that surely lay beneath those layers of cotton, and what it would feel like to run your hands across it.

Sam took advantage of your lack of response and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. As he went to look for the first aid kit, you couldn’t help but admire his backside, especially when he bent over to rummage through your duffle bag in the corner.

When he returned to your side, you quickly closed your jaw and reached over for the cleaning supplies, but he held it out of your reach and grasped your hand again instead. Your eyes met for moment, and almost as if on cue, a loud, lascivious moan came through the room’s thin walls.

Sam felt his cheeks heat up, and hastily averted his gaze. He mentally cursed his brother’s wanton ways, but when he heard your giggling, all was forgiven.

“I guess someone’s having a good time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this’ll be quite as enjoyable for you.” He motioned to the alcohol in his other hand with a sheepish smile, “I probably don’t need to tell you this is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head slightly, but still winced a little when he poured the disinfectant over your wounds.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sam sounded truly remorseful and you chuckled.

“What are you sorry for? It’s not like you threw me to the ground, and besides, you’re helping me now,” you murmured softly.

“Well you did get in it’s way to protect m- us. And I don’t like to see you in pain.”

He meant ‘people’ of course, you told yourself in vain. He’s obviously a nice guy and he doesn’t like to see anyone in pain. That’s why he’s a hunter. Duh.

You were trying, unsuccessfully, to slow your heart rate when another emphatic cry came from the direction of the older Winchester’s room.

“Oh! Oh my god!” The high pitch had your eyes widening.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” came the muted reply.

You and Sam both rolled your eyes before he continued to treat and bandage your hand. His fingers, though rough, were improbably gentle against your skin and frequently sent shivers down your spine. It was all making you quite jittery and you really weren’t sure you could take it much longer. To exacerbate things, Dean and Blondie managed to vocalize their passions on at least five more occasions by the time Sam completed his work.

It was becoming rather aggravating, particularly because you found it extraordinarily hard to look Sam in the eyes or maintain a normal conversation with him when you were constantly getting bombarded by the sounds of his brother and his lady of the night copulating next door.

You stood as soon as Sam let go of your hand, needing to release some energy. “You know what, we can’t just let them dick us around like this all night!”

Sam laughed at your word choice and looked up at you, a fond curiosity shining through his eyes, “OK, but what could we possibly do to get back at them?”

You paused your pacing for a minute, racking your brain for an answer to their impudence. Sam watched as a gleam appeared in your eyes and a mischievous smile took over your features.

“I’ve got it! My friend and I used to do this back in college when our roommate brought dates home and they got a little too carried away. It’s basically a game of chicken.”

Sam raised his brow in question so you continued, “If they’re gonna be obnoxiously loud with their fornication rituals, then we can go at it too.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. An eye for an eye. We don’t even have to make it sound real, just as long as it’s equally loud and disturbing.”

“Y/N, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? That we pretend to have s-sex?” Sam was feeling considerably dubious about your plan, as he couldn’t imagine himself holding back if you were to act in any way sensual around him, even if it was all make believe.

Just then, another resounding squeal of pleasure travelled to your ears and before Sam could stop you, you took the opportunity to show him what you were talking about.

“Oh! Yes!” You exclaimed salaciously in return.

Sam’s eyes grew as he stared at you in disbelief. Your own eyes were closed and your face contorted to an expression of intense pleasure that Sam had only dreamed about. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his place on the bed, thankful that the first aid kit still sat on his lap as he adjusted his trousers a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t-“

“Come on, Sammy, join me! Trust me, it works every time.”

Sam didn’t have time to contemplate how much he loved the sound of his childhood nickname rolling off your tongue because a second howl came from the next room, this time lower in pitch, though you were there to answer regardless. “Oh my gosh, yes! Right there!”

If Sam thought the effect that you had on him normally was overwhelming, he was undoubtedly unprepared for the way his body responded to you making ludicrously pornographic sounds not two feet from him. Everything seemed to disappear around him until only you remained and held the entirety of his focus.

“Ooh, faster! Harder, Sam!”

Fuck. You said his name. And you said it with lust in your voice. It was as if all his fantasies had come to life before him in some twisted and desperately maddening form. Something in him snapped, and before he knew it, he was standing across from you, staring fixedly at your face, as you shouted in unison.

“Ungh! Oh god, Y/N!”

“Yes, that’s it! Don’t stop!”

Sam’s deep voice compelled your eyes to snap open. He was already looking straight at you, and you could almost taste the tension.

“Oh, baby! You feel so good!”

You didn’t join him this time. You couldn’t. He had you in a trance, his lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, the way his chest moved towards you when he inhaled, the sheer size of him. It was all too much. So you simply stared, feeling your breath come and go faster than you were used to.

There was a split second, or perhaps it was a lifetime, in which the two of you stood still, eyes locked in a fiery exchange, but in the next instant you both lunged forward, lips and teeth and noses and bodies clashing in a passionate, long-awaited display of carnal thirst.

But the kiss ended far too soon for your liking. “Wait, wait, Y/N. I really want this, but you’re probably still drunk, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you or the situation.” Sam panted hurriedly.

You smiled at his chivalry yet shook your head in disagreement, “Sam, don’t be an idjit. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sober, and I definitely haven’t wanted anything more than this, right now.” Your voice was just as breathy.

Sam moved his hands back to your face and that glorious, dimpled smile returned, “Baby, are you sure?”

The nickname brought a flutter to your heart, “Yes, I swear to heaven and hell, if you don’t kiss me again, Sam Winchester-“

His lips cut yours off in another bruising yet completely satisfying declaration of need. Your back arched and he brought one hand down to pull your waist flush against his solid form.

“Mmph,” you moaned against his mouth.

God, Sam couldn’t handle the sounds you made. A man could only hold back for so long. His enormous moose hands frantically grabbed at your ass, hoisting you into his arms in no time and carrying you back towards the bed.

Let’s just say Dean and Blondie truly had no idea of the spectacular and thunderous show they were in for.

The next morning, Sam awoke with a warm weight on his chest. He looked down to find your slumbering form nuzzled against him, head tucked beneath his chin and legs messily intertwined. A fond smile crossed his face as he subconsciously tightened his hold on you and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. The feeling of elation didn't fade as he closed his eyes to rest again, but it did recede ever so slightly to the backburner when the door clicked and his brother came barging in. “Alright, rise and shine, lovebirds! That was quite the show you guys put on last night, hope it didn't-“ “Shhh! Dean, shut up!” Sam shushed his brother with a stage whisper whilst scrambling to cover your bare back with the disheveled sheets surrounding you, but Dean had already glimpsed the evidence. “Sammy, you sly dog!” He wiggled his brows, grinning proudly at his little brother, "And here I thought I was the only one who got laid last night." “Dean, get out.” "Yeah ok, I'm gone," he raised his hands in assent. "But tell your sweetheart we're leaving in twenty," Dean added before he finally let the door shut behind him.

His sweetheart. Sam sure liked the sound of that. The corners of his lips struggled not to raise with glee. "Mm, was that Dean?" you mumbled against Sam's chest, fingers tracing the ink of his anti-possession tattoo with half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, just came to tell us we're leaving in twenty." He gave your hip a gentle squeeze "He knows, doesn’t he?" You rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Sam chuckled at your adorably sleepy state. “Yeah, sorry…” he trailed off, unsure of how you would respond to the news.

“Well, don’t be. That just means I get to do this whenever I want.” You lifted your head to kiss him hard, and his hands instinctively cradled your face, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap and completely awake.

“You know, I think we still have about 15 minutes.”

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! i’d now like to apologize for this obligatory self plug, but there’s new stuff available at lexicolor.redbubble.com, just fyi :)

[adhdeancas]

for trans man!dean, him mcfuckin dipping to totally transition how he wants then posting up at a family reunion as his badass self with Sam proud of him? also cas comes as his plus one/emotional support/husband idk

mcfuckin love how you worded this. here you go, more trans dean for everyone. minor trigger warnings for a little bit of dysphoria and a little bit of transphobia

Dean didn’t tell anyone when he went away. He just left. Wasn’t anybody’s business, and it’s not like anybody cared enough to keep up with him. 

Sam was too busy with school and work, Dad was too busy being a drunk asshole, and, well, there weren’t many other people who gave a shit in Dean’s life. 

The only person he told was Bobby, and that’s because Bobby would’ve hunted his ass down just to kick it if he just stopped showing up at the garage. 

Sam texted every few months, sure, but Dean always got by with vague answers. He didn’t tell Sam that he was having top surgery, or going on hormones, or shacking up with a hot former-priest in Canada. Nah, not important. After all, he’d told Sam he was a dude years ago. So he shouldn’t be too surprised. Right? 

Except then he has to go to this stupid Winchester Family Reunion.

“Dean, it’s going to be okay. They love you,” Cas placated him for the thousandth time. He came over and fixed Dean’s tie, which Dean resolutely batted away. He was the one used to fixing Cas’s tie. He glared at his boyfriend. 

“You don’t know them.” He said quickly. He stomped over and flopped down face first on the gross motel comforter they’d rented out halfway to Bobby’s. (Dean wanted to just power through, but Cas insisted on making a road trip out of it. He hadn’t been on many.) He let out a muffled moan out of frustration.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s why we’re starting with Bobby. Baby steps, right?”

Dean sat back up and cringed at his boyfriend. “Yeah, baby steps for me and giant leaps for Bobby.” Cas smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked like a freaking doctor visiting a patient, and it was so cute Dean wanted to end the conversation and pin him to the mattress instead. 

“Bobby knows you’re trans, right?” he asked patiently

“Yeah.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a surprise to him that you look a little different. I mean, it’s been two years.” Dean grinned at him. Cas had a way of making everything seem so manageable. 

“Sure, just a little bit different. Two boobs lighter and a beard heavier.” He gave Cas a shit eating grin and looped a leg over him, sitting back on his heels. 

Cas pursed his lips, running a hand over Dean’s stubble. “I don’t know, would we call this a beard?”

Dean growled at him and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey, asshole, aren’t there better things you could do with your mouth than talk?” Cas laughed and kissed him back. 

“You make a good point.”

They left the motel room a little dirtier than they found it.

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

Dean spent a full minute pacing back and forth behind an old clunker before he ran up to the front door and knocked. Cas eased up from where he’d been leaning against the Impala and joined his boyfriend where he was now awkwardly drumming against his thigh. “Do I look okay? Do I look-uh-” he faltered, not sure how he wanted to look. Did he want to look like a guy? Or enough like a chick to look like his old self, so Bobby would let him in? 

“You look great.” Cas reached for his hand but Dean stole it away so he could turn around when he heard the door opening. 

“...hello?” Bobby asked gruffly. Dean grinned and put his hands on his hips, then down at his sides when he realized he didn’t want to emphasize how wide his hips were. 

“Hi, uh, Bobby. It’s… it’s Dean?”

Bobby did a double-take, and then Dean shifted uncomfortably. He knew he was looking for what Dean used to look like in how he looked now. He cleared his throat. Bobby blinked at him. “Well, shit, Dean. You- uh- you been working out, kid?”

Bobby pulled Dean into a bone-crushing hug, laughing. Dean pulled away with just a grin just as big. “Lil’ bit.” He said, blushing. “Oh, uh,” he stepped back and grabbed Cas’s hand, pulling him forward. “This is Cas. He’s- he’s my boyfriend.” Dean was absurdly more nervous to admit he liked guys (again) than he was for Bobby to see him post-op. Would Bobby still believe he was a guy if he was queer too? 

“Shit, a boyfriend? What, you got a mortgage too, you hiding a kid under that jacket?” Bobby huffed and stalked into his house. Cas seemed a little taken aback by his gruffness, but Dean just grinned and squeezed his hand. This was a good sign. They followed him into the kitchen, where Bobby was making coffee and muttering, “What, go away for a couple years and come back a man?” 

Dean beamed. 

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

Dean took a deep breath, and Cas squeezed his hand. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “You’ve got this, babe.” Dean nodded shakily. He could do this. 

Surprisingly, he could do this. From the second he walked in the door, Dean took no shit. Most people didn’t give him more than a glance; they didn’t recognize either of the new men. Dean looked for Sam’s messy mop of hair and made a beeline as soon as he recognized it. Easy, when Sam towered over practically everyone. 

“Sammy!” Dean poked his brother in the back. “How the hell are you?”

Sam turned around, his furrowed brows loosening into a look of pure surprise when he recognized his brother. Which of course he did. “Dean!” He hugged Dean, pulling away so he could look at him. “Holy shit, you- you got top surgery?”

Dean grinned. “You know what top surgery is?”

Sam looked offended. “I research.” Dean laughed and lifted up his shirt quickly to show his scars. 

“Pretty cool, right?” Cas laughed at that and Sam turned his attention to the dark haired man standing behind his brother. “Oh yeah, I brought moral support.” He dragged Cas forward with a hand on the small of his back, and Cas thrust out his hand. “He’s a grad student too. I’m sure you nerds have a ton to gab about.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook Cas’s hand. “Hey, man, nice to meet you. What’re you studying?”

Dean zoned out almost immediately, keeping a hand on Cas out of comfort. All around the room, his family didn’t recognize him. Usually he’d have people coming up to him, Aunts screeching “Deanna!” and talking about his weight or his outfit or his hair, he’d have uncles throwing him over their shoulders and talking about last time they’d seen him when he was a little girl. Now? Nothing. Clean slate. It felt like freedom. He was him, in front of his family. For once. Then Dad walked up to him. 

“Sammy, who you got there? Thought you weren’t bringing a plus one.” John asked gruffly, suspiciously. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“It’s Sam. And I told you, Jess couldn’t come, she’s got too much on her plate right now.” He reminded his dad quickly that he was dating a woman right now, fuck you very much. 

“Yeah, sorry Dad, that’s my date.” Dean grinned and looped an arm low on Cas’s waist. He felt Cas look at him and he swore he heard him sniff. Motherfucker was checking for alcohol on his breath. He laughed and turned to give him a quick kiss, which surprised him even more. Confidence was a helluva thing. 

John was frozen in place. One of his eyes was twitching like he was overloaded with information. Which, Dean guessed, he was. 

“Dad, Cas, Cas, John,” Dean said, still grinning. Sam let out a snort from his other side. Cas extended his hand coolly. John stared at him as he returned the favor, turning Cas’s knuckles white with the force of his grip. “Oh and I’m Dean, by the way, in case you didn’t get the email.”

Dean extended his hand for his own handshake, and John took it equally slowly. “So you’re just going to show up like this, no warning or-”

“Yup.” Dean said happily. “Now I was promised burgers. Where are the fucking burgers?”

“What have you done to yourself?”

“Upgraded.” Dean shrugged and fixed his jacket. 

“And you’re…” He looked at Cas.

“Into men.” Dean nodded. “And women. No offense, Cas, but women are just prettier.” Cas nodded sagely, and Dean offered Sam a fist to fistbump. Sam did it with a smirk. “Guess you got two queer sons, daddio.”

John made no move. “Burgers?”

“Over there.” Sam answered this time, pointing. Dean looked. 

“Oh over by Grandpa Henry? Sweet. Thanks, Sammy. Wanna join?” He looped an arm around Sam’s shoulders before he could answer and dragged his two best guys toward the food. 

“Dean, hey, I’m- I’m really proud of you.” Sam stopped him and put a hand on his chest, and Dean felt a warm feeling both due to his words and the fact that Sam could pat him on the chest now without it being weird. “I know you’ve had a rough time- I mean, with everybody, with caring what they think- I’m just really proud of you.” 

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks, Sammy. That’s all I need.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

[peyton-warren]

Chaos and Clothes Part 2- Clothes

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jo Harvell, Ellen Harvell, Impala

Pairings: Dean Winchester/ Jo Harvelle

Fandom: Supernatural

Word count: 2949

Type: Angst, fluff, smut

Warning: 18+ only!  Language, horrible flirting, SPN flavored violence and eventual sexual situation.  

Summary: Some how they forgot about Sam

Part 1 

Ask Box: Open

Master list

Dean sank to his knees on the floor, and cradled Jo to him, pulling her into his lap, their mouths never leaving the other.  He nibbled on her bottom lip as his hand skimmed down her back, seizing her ass tightly to draw her as close as possible, raising them both to their knees.  Her fingers scraped at the back of his neck, sending a low growl into her mouth.  

The young woman tangled her arms around him, her other hand finding its way to that beautiful dip at his lower back.  His mouth tasted like salvation, and, if she allowed herself to think it, he might even smell like home.  But Jo willed herself to keep her school girl crush under as much control as she could, focusing on the here and now as his grip tightened on her ass.  His other hand coursed down her neck, fingers curling behind her head, tilting her head to his exact liking as he continued his onslaught.

Jo whimpered against him, her hands exploring down his sides, curling her fingers toward her palms.  She almost giggled at the feel of him involuntarily jerk at her touch over his ribs. Is Dean Winchester ticklish?  She tested the same area again, only to be met with a more forcible reaction of him grabbing her wrists and  pushing her hands to his chest, wedging them between their bodies.  

“Behave,” he growled threateningly as his teeth nipped her lips.  She grinned up at him through her eyelashes.  He swatted her ass and nibbled a gentle trail to her jaw, up to her ear.  His breath and her heartbeat were the only sounds she was aware of; she was more than a little surprised when he all at once pulled away from her, pushing her hands back to her sides.  

Jo groaned rather unladylike, as her eyes flashed hotly toward Dean, who only half waved her off as he slid back up into his chair.  “What the hell-” she muttered under her breath, only to be cut off by the front door popping violently open.   She wanted to whine, cry or whimper at the unfairness to finally get her hands, or well mouth, on Dean only to be cut short by the brother she had temporarily forgotten.

Too late to move elegantly, Jo just pursed her lips and leaned back against the foot of the recliner as the younger Winchester came into view over his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, Sam,” she muttered, trying to school her voice to a normal level and hide what to her seemed to be obvious frustration.  She could only hope it wasn't overly obvious what had just been happening as he struggled with the lock.  

Concern filled his face as he looked at her slumped on the floor almost at Dean’s feet.  “You ok, Jo?” he looked from her to Dean and back again, trying to make sense of her unusual seating choice.  

“Cramp...” she trailed off with a scowl as Dean simultaneously responded, “Too much to drink.”

Sam’s face scrunched into a look of complete confusion.  “Yeah, ok,” he muttered almost to himself before offering Jo a hand up.  As he got her settled back into the recliner, he gave his brother a confused look that was met with a “shut-it” glare over the curved end of Dean’s bottle.

“How’s Theresa?” Jo suddenly asked, looking for something to cut through the tension in the room as Sam shed his coat, draping it across one of the empty chairs. She tucked her legs underneath her,  curling into a ball on the seat.  She tried to push everything that had just happened between her and Dean to the side, taking a deep breath and focusing on the aftermath of the case.  The tanglable aftermath, she told the devil on her shoulder who tried to convince her fucking Dean senseless was a perfectly wonderful way to spend the aftermath.  

Running a hand through his hair, Sam let out another sigh. “She’s ok.  Shaken up mostly.”

“Understandable,” Dean muttered as he emptied his beer, obviously avoiding Jo’s gaze as much as she was avoiding his.  

Jo chose to watch Sam move through the kitchen.  “How much did you tell her?” she asked, curious.  One of the several aspects of hunting she hadn’t had to consider before today, she never thought about what to tell others who experienced the creatures they encountered.  

Opening the beer and tossing the cap toward the sink, Sam gave her half a shrug before taking a sip.  “Not much she didn’t already figure out on her own, truthfully.”  He stood at the kitchen counter for a moment, lost in his own thoughts before continuing.  “Tried to convince her she was safe here now but sounds like her boyfriend was already on his way over to pack up her stuff.  I think I ran into him hauling boxes out in the lobby.”

 “Should I go see her?” Jo asked the room in general.  “For, you know, some sort of solidarity?”

She was met with a pair of infuriatingly clueless shrugs.  “Kinda late for visiting hours now,” Dean responded patronizingly.  He gestured toward the windows with his chin as he strode across the room to snag a shirt from his bag, pulling it on.   With an exasperated sigh and a turn of the chair she was in, she followed his line of sight, putting her back and the recliner between her and them.  The man did nothing but push her buttons, both good and bad.  

“Fine,” she started, anger barely restrained under her tone as he crossed the apartment, and out of her view.  “I want to stop at Mercy on our  way out of town tomorrow, ”she stated as she stood, striding toward the fridge, and taking an unopened beer from Dean’s hands.   Effectively breezing through yet another brotherly silent conversation, and noting their hesitation, she let out a harsh breath as she laid the opener on the counter between her and the older hunter.  “I am fine, guys.  I’m not going to melt down.”

Sam set his beer down on the counter with an unreadable expression, and she quickly realized he was the only one who had really seen Theresa and her injuries.  He had quickly got the other woman out of the sewer, while she and Dean discussed their plan and started to lay salt down to capture Holmes.  Jo had been so set on getting the job done and over, getting past being bait, she hadn't even thought about asking the extent of Theresa’s injuries until now.  She had assumed Theresa’s would mirror her own, a few bumps, scrapes and bruises.  

“What aren't you telling me?” Jo asked, putting her beer on the table before settling in a chair opposite Dean’s, trying not to notice him sit back down.  The tension between them was quickly being replaced by annoyance on both sides.  “Thought I made it pretty clear I could handle myself, wouldn't you say?  I’m not some squeamish school girl.”

Dean pursed his lips in that smug way of his as his eyes drifted to the front of her shirt. Realizing she couldn't have picked a worse way of stating that, Jo huffed, crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.  “Jerkface,” was the best comeback she could come up with.

With a small smile of his own, Sam joined them at the table, sitting at the far end with his back toward the bathroom.  His eyes flicked between the other two, seeming to note a tension he couldn't quite place.  Not appearing to worry too much about it, and just letting them glower at one another for another second, he took a quick drink out of his bottle while scanning the tops of the boxes left on the table.  Grabbing a set of chopsticks, a box of fried rice, and snagging an eggroll that Jo had somehow missed earlier, Sam set about eating.  “Look, Jo, because she was held longer than you, and didn’t have your....” he trailed off, seeming to look for the right words as he chewed slowly.  

“Pain in the ass-ery?” Dean filled in for him, looking rather pleased with himself.  Grabbing his suddenly empty bottle and heading for the fridge, he punctuated his jab by ruffling her hair as he went by.  Jo shot him one of the best death glares she had learned from her mom, making Sam almost choke on his food.  Dean only smirked and waggled his eyebrows at her as he used the edge of the counter to open his beer. 

Once Sam’s mouth was safely clear of egg roll, he tried again, clearing his throat first.  “Theresa wasn't prepared for what you encountered down there.”  Pulling her eyes from Dean, Jo turned back to her bottle focusing on the label as Sam continued.  “You at least kept your wits about you.”  She nodded, briefly reliving the horror she felt after she woke in her cell, swallowing hard around the bile filled lump that played in her throat.  “She panicked,” he admitted, picking at his rice, keeping half an eye on Jo as he continued.  “And scraped at the walls and ceiling until all of her nails were shredded from her fingers.”

Jo could not help the terror that raged through her at Sam’s words.  Her mind flashed back to the first thing she saw when she turned her flashlight on in her prison cell.  The scratch marks of so many other young women, the gouges that ran deep with red and brown stains, denoting years of torture Holmes had inflicted on others.  

Inwardly cursing herself, Jo fought against the wave of nausea that filled her and the tears that stung her eyes.  Drawing a heavy breath, she pulled her legs under her chin on the small chair.  She wished, not for the first time in the past day, she had the resolution that these two men had.  Hoisting her almost full beer to her lips, she drained it before taking what she hoped sounded like a calming breath.

With her eyes closed as she settled the bottle back on the table, she felt Sam’s hand on her arm, giving her a gentle squeeze.  On instinct alone, she placed her hand on top of his and patted it.  “I’m okay.  I’m...”  Even to her own ears she suddenly sounded drained and tired.  

“You don’t have to be,” Sam stated simply.  Opening her eyes in surprise, she looked over at him with a weak smile, which was answered with one of his own.  “You can talk to us about what you saw, what he did, how you feel, anything.  Any of it.”  

Jo only shook her head and brushed his hand away as she stood.  “I’m fine,” she insisted again.  She did not miss the unsettled look the brothers shared.  “I am!” she maintained, tossing her bottle in the trash.  Half wondering if Dean had picked up anything with more of a kick than these laugers, Jo just opened the fridge, grabbing two more.

After a painful moment of silence, the eldest member of the group suddenly spoke up, cutting through the heavy atmosphere filling the apartment.  “Sammy,” Dean started, voice leaving little room for argument.  “You stink, man. I think you need to hit the showers.”  

Handing him his beer, Jo had to fight rolling her eyes at the not-so-subtle subtleness of Dean’s suggestion.  Glancing over at Sam, she watched him try to read his brother’s play.  She just shrugged, settling in the recliner, taking a longer sip.  

“I got her,” Dean insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand, sucking back his own beer.  

Sam looked at Jo with a questioningly arched eyebrow, before looking back at his brother, his voice straining against some sort of emotion. “Gonna give her one of your world famous ’Suck it up, buttercup’ speeches?  Cuz I'm not sure that's exactly what she needs right now, Dean.”

“And ‘Here, lean on my big, broad shoulders’ is the way to toughen her up?” Dean replied, his face pinched, letting the beer down harder than he had.  

Sam stood up, and shook his head.  “Cause you always know what's best for people,” his tone was snide and spoke of something other than what was happening here.  

“Believe it or not, in this case yeah I do.”  Dean stared hard at his brother, his tone unwavering, making parts of Jo slowly simmer.  Maybe it was just the beer, or....   “Especially now.  How many hunters have you helped deal with their first hunt?”

Suddenly snapping back to the conversation, Jo’s face filled with indignation. She sat forward on the chair, elbows on her wide splayed knees.  “Who said this was my first hunt?”

Dean didn't even hesitate as he turned his grumpy face toward her.  “I do,” he asserted, pointing to himself, his eyes filled with certainty, his tone full of arrogance. 

Within the briefest of moments, she was beyond pissed that he would make such an assumption.  How the fuck did he know this was her first hunt?  “Who the hell died and made you king of all hunters?” she demanded, her ire running deep.   She barely tolerated her mom treating her like a child, but another hunter who was scarcely a few years older than her, and had only known her for a brief period of time? No way in hell. He had no idea anything about her life. Her hackles went up;  she was done putting up with Dean Winchester and his crap today. 

“You reach back to grade school for that insult?” he asked snidely, that arrogance she found attractive only minutes ago suddenly grating on her nerves.  

“Dean,” Sam called his brother’s name before Jo could open her mouth.  “Leave her be.”

Taking a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes, and rubbed them with the heels of his hand, emotions skitting across his face quicker than Jo could assign them all names.  “Fine,” he relented, dropping his hands to the table top, his voice calmer.  “Go take that shower, Sam. Seriously.”  

The younger man knit his brows and looked over at Jo.  It took the woman a few seconds to rip her eyes from Dean.  She wasn't sure what she was feeling right now; the emotions swirled in all directions, making her head swim.  Is this what it was like after every hunt?  She guessed she had seen all forms of dealing with the adrenaline from hunters at the roadhouse, everything from drinking until passed out on the floor, fucking anything that had a pulse, to bar fights to shame any MMA fighter.  She shouldn’t be any more surprised this was the route the outcome of this hunt was taking, considering the three personalities involved in this conversation.  

“Jo?” Sam asked, softly, snapping her out of her own brain.  

She shook her head, and focused on him with a small shy smile, the room less tense.    “Yeah, go, Sam.  I’m good.  I’ll manage til you get back.”  

The dark haired man stood and took a final sip of his beer before heading to the bathroom, shucking his shirt over his head as he went, which almost went completely unnoticed by Jo.  “Don’t kill him.  He is a dick but he’s the only brother I’ve got,” he requested.  

“Being an only child has its perks,” she insisted only half-jokingly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Dean turn in his chair before Sam had the door fully shut.  He held his hand out to her, which she looked at questioningly, unsure what the gesture meant.  With a small playful huff, Dean reached out to squeeze her hand that sat on her knee.  They both stared at where his thumb brushed over the back of her knuckles. 

“He’s not wrong, you know,” he muttered, with a nonchalant shrug, his voice softer around the edges.  “If you need to, you can talk to us.  I’m sure today wasn’t easy for you no matter how much you want to front that it was just another ordinary day in the life of Hunter Barbie.”  

Watching as if it was someone else’s movements, Jo turned her hand in his grasp and laced their fingers, while she got lost in her own thoughts, not really hearing what Dean said.   He allowed it to happen and even gently squeezed her fingers with his own.  There was no lasciviousness in Dean’s movements, nothing remotely suggestive, just support, which only confused Jo further after his tone with Sam just a few minutes ago.  She was swirling, too many emotions, too much to think about.  

“Jo?” Dean asked softly, dragging their hands toward him, settling them against his own knee, making her lean forward, eyes still focused on their grasped hands.  

Before she could start to answer, the bathroom door opened.  Neither flinched but just looked at Sam dressed only in his shorts and holding up a plastic garbage bag.  “Sorry, ah, I just need a hand wrapping up my cast.”  

Faintly, Dean squeezed Jo’s hand before stalking toward his brother, grabbing a roll of tape from his weapon duffel that never seemed to be too far out of his reach. “You gonna want a sponge bath to go with that too?” he mocked, putting the bag over Sam’s right hand.  Jo didn’t miss the slight blush that appeared on Sam’s cheeks as he glanced at her while Dean wrapped the bottom of the bag with duct tape.  

“Just this should do the trick,” Sam insisted, as he smoothed his hand over the tape.  “Thanks,” he gave them both a shy smile before disappearing behind the door again. 

[apatheticanvas91305]

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas​ celebration day to @firefly124​! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though. 

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed.  Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Hi! Anon form HP's classmates ask. After reading the Lavender, Parvati, Dean, and Seamus, I forgot to ask you these: Cedric (I don't think you did him), Cho (pretty sure you didn't do her), and Marietta (even though we barely see anything of her). Oh and also Colin if you can. If it's too long just do the first two. Thanks, and have a good and safe day! =)

Well, I have to confess, these will probably be a lot more boring than you’re expecting. I do tend to have opinions on arbitrary Harry Potter characters, but there’s also a lot of NPCs that, well, I really don’t think about them much. They’re kids, they go to school, seem nice enough, the end. 

Not all my opinions are made of spice.

But, with that, let’s begin.

Cedric Diggory

Really not much to say on him.

Seems like a nice enough guy, I appreciated that he was a Hufflepuff so we got to see at least someone from that house that was a really cool dude, the house division also helped explain why we’d seen and heard so little about him (I think he gets a brief mention as being Seeker for Hufflepuff in Prisoner of Azkaban).

For me, what stands out about him is mostly the tragedy. Here was this young man, in the prime of his life, with his whole future ahead of him who senselessly dies.

Had he not accompanied Harry, he would have lived, and it was pure unfortunate luck that he did. And then it’s over so quickly, just a demand of “kill the spare” and he’s dead. That’s it, it’s all over.

And then his death is made a mockery of, overwritten, then willfully forgotten by society.

He’s used as evidence by Harry and Dumbledore for Voldemort’s return, his murder is pinned on Harry by the government, and by the time the government admits to what happened they’ve moved on to bigger problems.

We only really see the mourning of Cedric from his father and later Cho. Harry’s messed up about it, but it was more from witnessing the event, he didn’t really know Cedric that well as a person. In fact, he feels very awkward and put out when it becomes clear that, a few months later, Cho is not handling her boyfriend having been murdered by a dead man very well.

And that’s what strikes me about him, just how easily he’s forgotten, and how sad it all is.

Cedric might be the reddest of red shirts in Harry Potter.

Cho Chang

I wish more had been done with Cho.

I know, I know, we get a lot of Cho.

But we get Cho in the context of Harry’s first romance, his crush that later sets him up for Harry/Ginny (JKR is fond of using other pairings to set up her main pairing, we see this also with Ron/Lavender). They give it a whirl, Harry finally gets what he wants, and it turns out to not really be his thing.

Cho is too girly, enjoys things like Madame Puddifoots, and is clearly still hung up on Cedric. The whole thing ends very awkwardly and we get a Harry who’s ready to move on to Ginny by book six.

That said, that’s what I like about Cho. She has this great boyfriend who she really liked, he dies horrifically and tragically, and she’s left trying to sort through the aftermath. She ends up clinging to Harry as he is a) Harry Potter and essentially Jesus b) the only witness to what happened to Cedric. To her, I imagine, she and Harry share this unbreakable bond after fourth year. She was closest to Cedric in the school, the only one who truly seems to want to mourn him, and Harry watched Cedric die. 

Cho lives in this world where Cedric’s death has been made a political issue. That his dying seems not to have mattered, indeed, is barely discussed so much as the manner in which he died. People are constantly fighting whether a deranged Harry did it, Voldemort came back, and Cedric gets forgotten somewhere in the middle.

And Cho tries to move on, she tries to embrace the fight against Voldemort, prepare herself to defend her nation and help fight against the man who murdered Cedric, but it just doesn’t work out. Because ultimately, they’re a bunch of kids in a room practicing the patronus. And even in the DA, despite acknowledging that Voldemort’s back, it’s still never about Cedric. It’s all about Voldemort and what’s coming, Cedric, oh yeah, poor guy, what a tragedy, the first casualty of war.

So, mostly I just feel very bad for Cho, and wish we could have seen more of her to see what the effect death has on people. We have Harry’s reaction to Sirius’ death but... in a weird way he actually gets over that kind of quickly. This isn’t the post for it, but to me Harry was always more upset by the loss of what Sirius represented than Sirius himself.

Marietta Edgecombe

Marietta does not deserve the hate she gets. Sure, she decided to leave the DA and snitched. But you know what, they’re fifteen year olds in a boarding school, and the DA while stupid was also kind of terrifying.

I mean, you suddenly find yourself in a group called “Dumbledore’s Army”, which is actively preparing itself for “fighting against the dark lord” and possibly “against those who deny his return”. The club has all these rules about secrecy, which at first seem reasonable as it’s against the rules, but then start sounding pretty scary. It sounds like you just signed up to launch a coup against the ministry on Albus Dumbledore’s behest. Had I been in DA,I like to imagine at some point I’d start thinking “what the actual fuck?”

More than that, Marietta’s family is on the line. Her mother works for the ministry. Her mother could be fired or perhaps even persecuted if this got out. Shit starts getting very real for Marietta.

So, Marietta leaves and snitches, and then she gets stitches.

Hermione gleefully scars and deforms her, something Marietta will carry with her for the rest of her life. I mean, can you imagine if Hermione had said, “Oh, by the way, if you rat us out I will personally murder you. Just kidding, but I will cut up your face, snitch” that anyone would react well? Which is probably why Hermione just stuck to an ominous vague warning instead. The true noble members, after all, would never think of leaving.

So yeah, given Hermione, actually given all of it (including Harry’s complete lack of sympathy for Marietta being branded when Cho tries to bring up her situation) the DA absolutely should have been shut down. My god, it was spiraling out of control, and given Harry and Hermione could have honestly gotten to the point where they took out hits on, oh I don’t know, Draco Malfoy. 

You laugh, but I’m serious, they would totally do that.

Colin Creevy

It’s very bold of JKR to assume I care at all about Colin.

Colin’s one of the typical HP NPCs, quirky enough to be memorable, gives us a nice muggleborn student, weird kid but around enough that we remember him.

Then he dies in the Battle of Hogwarts, where many of our main characters survive, and I’m supposed to be absolutely devastated. COLIN IS DEAD, FRED IS DEAD, THE WORLD IS SO SAD.

We barely know Colin, his dying is just there to wrack up the red shirt numbers and make the last book of Harry Potter feel more like an actual war with actual consequences.

Sad that he died, but certainly not a tear jerking moment for me.