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george-weasleys-girl · 7 months

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Hi love! I hope you're doing better! 🥰

Please could you write a fic on its the Quidditch try outs? Reader is Remus' daughter and is watching her best friends Fred and George being assigned keeper and beater, and back at the common room Harry talks to the twins about how he needs another beater after unsuccessful try outs for another beater. Then Ginny comes over, after telling the twins Dean broke up with her, and as the twins & Harry get up to kick Dean for hurting their sister, they find reader already there beating them to it. At that point, Fred realises he's in love with reader and convinces Harry to make reader their new beater which takes a lot of convincing as reader is an animagius which she's kept secret from everyone but sometimes it happens suddenly and she can't control it which is why she has such a poor attendance. During the match, reader stops all the bludgeons attempted by Slytherin and Grifindoor win the game. When they're waking back to the common room, McGonnal stops them all to show reader her Dad was a beater too, but she was a lot better and the best beater they've ever had at Hogwarts. . . Or something like that! Maybe a cute ending with Fred admitting his feelings or something?

I'm doing much better! Thank you for asking 💗

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: a couple of curse words

~•~

Y/N watched the tryouts from afar, sad that she couldn't join them, but grinning wide and cheering all the same, when her two best friends made keeper and beater.

She knew if given the chance, she'd make the team in a heartbeat. But no one wants an animagus who can't control her ability on their team, and she couldn't blame them. Shifting randomly into a raven in the middle of the game wasn't exactly a winning strategy.

"Hey Y/N," Ginny voice pulled her from her reverie.

"Oh hi!" She said, turning to greet her friend, her smile melting away when she saw Ginny's tear stained face. "What wrong, Gin?"

The younger girl sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Dean b-broke up with m-me."

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, sweetie," she said, pulling Ginny into a hug, letting her cry herself out.

"Did he tell you why?" Y/N asked as they walked back to the castle.

Ginny shrugged. "He just said it's not me. It's him."

The older girl rolled her eyes. "Typical."

~•~

Y/N walked with Ginny back to the castle. As they stepped inside, Y/N spied Dean flirting with another girl. Her blood threatened to boil over. He and Ginny had barely been broken up fifteen minutes, and he was already chasing someone else.

"Hey, um, Gin," she said, shifting her position so her friend wouldn't see the matter unfolding. "I just remembered I need to do something. Why don't you go on up and be there in a minute?"

"Yeah, ok," Ginny nodded.

Y/N waited until she was out of sight before rounding on Dean.

"Excuse us a moment," she said politely to his new love interest. Then, she grabbed Lee by arm and pulled him, tripping and stumbling behind her, across the hall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Y/N demanded.

~•~

Nobody hurts Ginny Weasley and gets away with it. George, Fred, and Harry stormed downstairs on the hunt for Dean. However, much to their surprise, someone had found him first.

Y/N had him cornered, wide-eyed against the wall. They couldn't make out everything she said, but the words Ginny and dumbass were pretty loud and clear.

"I think I'm in love... " Fred whispered to his twin.

"Just now if figuring that out, mate?" George chuckled.

"What??" Fred's head snaps toward his brother.

George snorted and shook his head. "C'mon, let's go give Y/N some backup. Let Dean know he messed with the wrong little sister."

~•~

Fred had spent the better part of the evening trying to convince a very reluctant Harry to choose Y/N as the second beater for the Quidditch team. The moon was high in the sky, and fire was nothing more than embers when Harry finally agreed.

"One game," he stipulated. "But if it doesn't work out, that's it."

"Thank you, Harry! It'll all work out, I promise you!" Fred hopped up, running upstairs to Y/N's dorm room to break the good news, forgetting it was almost two in the morning.

"Fred?" Y/N answered the door, bleary-eyed and confused. "Um... is everything ok?"

"It's better than ok!" He bounced up and down. "You'll never believe what I'm about to tell you!"

~•~

It all did, indeed, work out, just as Fred said it would.

Not one bludger got past Y/N.

Not one.

And they won the game with one of the highest scores ever recorded.

"You were right," Harry said to Fred on their way back to the common room, the victory celebration already well underway as everyone cheered Y/N for her flawless performance. Even McGonagall was downright giddy... for McGonagall.

"I want to show you all something," she said, stopping the group as they passed the trophy room. "I don't know if anyone knows this, but Y/N's father, Mr. Lupin was a beater back in the day. And a very good one, at that." The professor turned her attention to Y/N. "But you, my dear, have quite surpassed him. He'll be very proud, indeed."

Y/N beamed, warming Fred's heart in a way nothing else ever had.

~•~

The party carried on late into the night. It was only once things began to wind down that Fred got Y/N all to himself.

"I love having you as my beater partner," Fred grinned. "You were really amazing out there."

"Thanks," she smiled. "We make a pretty good team."

"We do," he agreed, then stared into the fire for a few minutes. "I, um... I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmede with me next weekend."

"Of course," she said. "We always go together."

"No, uh, I mean..." He stammered. "Not with the group. Just you and me. Together."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Like as in a date?"

"Yeah, if you want to," Fred pulled at a loose string on the sofa.

"I'd like that," Y/N placed her hand over his.

Fred's eyes snapped up. "Really?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes sparkling.

"So it's, you know, a date?" He asked.

Her smile lit up the room. "It's a date."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @charmedfandomgal @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @whotfskai @netflix-addict @lunacurlclaw

#fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #hp fandom #hp universe

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mlobsters · 1 month

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supernatural s15e18 despair (w. robert berens)

well, i know what happens in this one. curious how i'll react because historically i haven't connected emotionally much with cas. also no idea the plot machinations that lead us to that point. ah, didn't realize this is a speight jr directed episode too

laughed at sam bitchily throwing the book on the table instead of handing it to billie and going to sulk on the weird little step things. my middle kid pulls similar moves

dean's turn to sulk attractively. he was almost 2/2 for killing death

DEAN Sam, I'm sorry. About everything that– SAM Dean, you don't have to... DEAN I pulled a gun on you. It's like I just couldn't stop. You know, we were so close to beating him. It's like I could smell Chuck's blood in the water and I... Nothing else mattered. It was everything. And I just couldn't snap out of it. SAM Well, you did. You've snapped me out of worse. DEAN Mm. SAM You have.

power of their love snapped dean out of god's manipulations and snapped sam out of lucifer's possession in swan song

cheesy fucking music reminding me of a 80s-90s emotional beat in a sitcom. let us see who we can blame.... surprise surprise, it's mr jay gruska

JACK I feel... strange. I don't know if that's because of what happened to me, if it means something, or if I just feel strange because... It's over. The plan. My destiny. I was ready to die, and I wanted to. For Sam, for Dean, for the world. I wanted to make things right. And now... I don't know why I'm even here. CASTIEL Jack, you never needed absolution from Sam or Dean, or from me. We don't care about you because you're useful or because you fit into some grand design. We care about you because you're you. JACK God, The Empty, Billie... Everyone's so mad at us, and I don't have my powers. There's nothing I can do to protect us.

well this is awful

CHARLIE A pattern? I said I wasn't gonna do this again. The love thing. And I do. And the second I let my guard down, Stevie is just… She's gone. So, what, is she just some collateral damage to you? Is that what I'll be, too?

and even more awful. despair is right

and then run out to get to eileen to... somehow keep her from being zapped by billie

so where is she zapping them to? out of existence via their home world? back to heaven/hell as the case may be? to the empty? i don't even know what sort of teleportation range capabilities she should have -_-

DEAN Sammy? SAM No. I can't... Um... If I let myself go, then I'll lose my mind. I can't right now.

they've done the least when it comes to this relationship but padalecki is making up for it with his reaction in selling that it matters a lot to him

and now dean is gonna try to make it 2/2 on killing death after all, with cas tagging along

CHARLIE Yeah, um… I just don't want this to happen to anyone else.

bond over nebulously dead girlfriends

BOBBY They get it, Sam. Now whether you like it or not, you're the big man, here. Told them getting here was the order from the boss, and they came runnin'. No hesitation.

do we really need this big leader sam thing again?

BILLIE I didn't hurt your friends. DEAN What? BILLIE You're in the wrong place, Dean.

color me not surprised

everyone gets the good makeup and styling in their last episodes

chuck, presumably, snapping everyone away a la how he snapped becky away. which i don't recall if we ever determined if that was actually dead or whatever

BILLIE It's you, Dean. It's always been you. Death-defying. Rule-breaking. You are everything I lived to set right. To put down. To tame.

and now billie wants to kill dean even though she's already dying just because he makes her mad

DEAN We'll lose. I just led us into another trap, all because I couldn't hurt Chuck. Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill, and because that's all I know how to do.

this is a little much. pretty sure my reaction verbatim was "ugh", really going heavy handed with the despair theme

CASTIEL The price was my life. When I experienced a moment of true happiness, The Empty would be summoned, and it would take me forever.

this is gonna be the moment of true happiness???? oh my good god. take a moment to observe the really not great musical score for the big moment

CASTIEL I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want… It's something I know I can't have.

cue me shrieking/squeaking out a "WHAT??" what the entire fuck, man. that whole speech made me feel so awkward i couldn't even watch and i started sweating

from 12x12 stuck in the middle with you DEAN Cas, come on. CASTIEL No, you listen to me. You– Look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you, it… it’s been the best part of my life. And the things that... the things we’ve shared together, they have changed me. You’re my family. I love you. I love all of you. Just please… please, don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.

cas has said i love you to him before, so this was clearly supposed to be Something Else if this was his moment of true happiness but talk about out of left fucking field??

what in the world, man. i was not prepared

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn clip #spn 15x18 #jay gruska #spn musical score #spn mushy music #robert berens

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sarah-dipitous · 11 months

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 161

We Need to Talk About Kevin/The Almost People

“We Need to Talk About Kevin”

Plot Description: After escaping from purgatory (but not alone), Dean heads straight for Sam, but the reunion isn’t exactly everything he imagined it would be

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: y’all still won’t catch me camping, but, uh, no one died. In fact, Dean came back from purgatory immediately and Benny (his vampire buddy) came with him and was brought back to life

SAM GOT A DOG AND A GIRLFRIEND??? Or is this a one night stand situation? A situationship? What have you been up to?

You know…it’s kind of funny that they just every so often remember to do all the creature tests (holy water, borax, silver knives…)

He was there a whole year??

Their reunion IS really fraught. I’m not 100% blaming Sam for trying to move on with his life after losing literally EVERYONE he loved, but also like…didn’t you think there was even a CHANCE Dean wasn’t gone for good? Both of you have died and come back, you’ve done it multiple times

Oh no…Kevin calling Sam for help…and omg his downward spiral in four voicemails over six months…

It’s painful watching Dean remember how to do mundane things like get a snack from a vending machine and then get flashbacks to purgatory. He upgraded his weapons like he was in breath of the wild

It does kind of suck for Sam that he had to ghost his girlfriend because he saw how impossible it was for Dean and Lisa

Of COURSE he’s still on edge, he spent a YEAR on the run from and also killing all sorts of monsters. And that was pretty much all he ever had around him FOR A YEAR

OMG why are Dean and Benny so flirty right off the bat. DAMN. Good for them

I no longer like Kevin’s ex girlfriend. OH. She’s possessed. You are 90% forgiven, unless you really feel like Kevin is worthless because he’s not going to Princeton. Either way, you should kill your roommate for saying you should rebound with a guy BECAUSE he “has an Asian thing.”

All this staring into the middle distance as you recall how your previous year went is…well, it’s one way to ring in the new season, I guess

I love that Kevin fooled Crowley. Amazing. Though, when you’re the ONLY ONE who can read these tablets, you do have quite the advantage

Man…I’d be so much angrier at San than Kevin is…unless there’s more to what’s going on with

How do you spend all that time in purgatory constantly fighting for your life and STILL IMMEDIATELY lose your weapon??

It IS fitting that this kid’s name is Kevin given that he’s Home Aloned this whole house against demons

Oh that poor girl…

Oh my GOD but they do talk like war buddies who fell in love in the trenches. Stop calling each other brother, you were CLEARLY SOMETHING VERY DIFFERENT FROM THAT in purgatory

“The Almost People”

Plot Description: the danger reaches a terrifying climax as the Gangers plot their revenge

I LOATHE the dumb little introduction thing they have this season. All it does is waste time. At least on spn, you get a sense of themes and characters you can expect to show up…this is just like “I’m Amy, and this is how I met the Doctor, and we travel through time and space together” no

Ugh, two of the same Doctor was okay when one was burning up a sun to say goodbye and leave the other with Rose, but two working together? Kind of obnoxious

I can’t imagine how horrible it would be to remember every time you were killed because you were no longer useful. Even though you had every memory of the person who created you as though it was actually your own

I’m glad we’re winding down on this eyepatch woman plot line

I also like the way Amy’s wrong about which one is actually the Doctor…maybe not the whole time but…enough of it. And everyone else is, too

Oh Roryyyy, getting tricked by one or more of the Jens. I don’t believe that’s the original Jen, though…

She’s definitely being asked to trust HER Doctor

Rory, don’t you think it’s weird that she’s not suffering the same effects you are? And that she didn’t even use the human verification thingy??

I KNEW IT. The original Jen’s dead

But watching the doppelgänger Jen mourn the old doppelgängers that got discarded without a second thought is rather touching

I definitely have lost track of which Doctor is which…but I think…nope. No clue. They won’t show me his shoes and that’s the only way to tell them apart

I know things look nice rn but…there’s like…10 min left. There’s gotta be at least one more obstacle

Because extremely strong shapeshifting doppelgänger Jen needs to dealt with.

And here’s where we find out Amy’s not really Amy…which I did forget

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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chucksfavouriteprophet · 2 years

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It Should Be You (pt1)

The Winchesters x Reader

Summary: After a plan goes horrendously wrong, Dean blames you. Distraught and convinced by his words, you turn to some old, toxic coping mechanisms for help. Alone in the bunker, you become out of hand and time is running out for the brothers to stop you.

Warnings: 18+. This one is pretty deep I’m sorry. MAJOR TW for death, suicide, self-harm, addiction, overdose, alcoholism, self-hatred, depression. Also angry Dean and some domestic violence. Please please please do not read this if you get triggered easily - this is all fiction and doesn’t glamourise anything. If you ever need to talk, my messages are always open.

On a less serious note, spoiler for 14x14.

Word count: 1,361

The pyre was the biggest one you’d made yet. It had taken hours - you, Sam, Dean and Jack cutting down as many trees as you could. You were exhausted, but it had at least helped distract you from what you had just lost.

Maggie had become your best friend lately. You hadn’t realised how lonely it had been just living with the boys until the other hunters had come through the portal and started living with you in the bunker. Having another girl around made a world of difference, and pretty quickly you and Maggie had bonded. She was like the sister you never had. And now she was gone.

They were all gone. All the hunters who had been integrated into your world, who had made you a full team. Why? Because you’d been stupid enough to let Michael out of Dean’s head. Not your Michael, of course. He’d been gone since before you’d met the Winchesters. Which you were glad about, because this alternative Michael was horrific, and you never wanted to encounter two of them.

Tears were streaming as you watched their bodies burn before you, partly because of the abundance of smoke, but mostly because you felt torn apart. Why was it just loss after loss after loss nowadays? You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a win.

You cleared your throat, feeling like it was time to say a few words. “I didn’t know the crew for very long but...”

“Shut up.” Dean interrupted from your right. You turned to look at him, his stance wide, his head down. He didn’t look up at you when he said “just shut up. You don’t get to talk about them.”

You turned away, slightly taken back. Had you said something wrong? “Dean...” Sam moved between the two of you. “Don’t take it out on Y/N, c’mon.”

“Why the hell not, Sam?” Dean was angry now as he started walking towards you, shrugging his brother out the way. “This is her fault. She should have been the one to go on that hunt with you and Jack, not me. She should have been the one who got their head bashed in, not me. But because she didn’t, Michael got out. And now they’re all dead. So you don’t get to say anything about them, not a word, because they’re dead because of you”.

He was standing right in front of you now, eyes of fire fixated on yours. It was a little intimidating, to be frank. You’d seen Dean be like this to other people before, but never to you. “Dean I -” You didn’t even know what to say, not that you had much of a chance to, because as soon as you opened your mouth he grabbed you by the shoulders and shoved you into the tree behind you.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, reaching to grab his brother back. You caught Jack’s glance, realising with sudden guilt this was exactly the position he had been in time after time again. Dean was furious, and he was directing it all towards you this time.

“They were good people, Y/N. They were loved. Maggie, she helped us all. She was kind, she was genuine. She’ll be missed. But you know who wouldn’t be? You.” Sam and Jack were too stunned to move as you trembled under Dean’s tightening grip.

“It should be you up on that pyre.” The words were filled with venom as he spat them at you. “No one loves you, Y/N, and no one ever will. You mess everything up, every time. All you had to do was do your job, but no, you’re such a stubborn little bitch you had to do things your way. You should be the one dead. That way no one would care.”

Tears were streaming down your warm cheeks but you held your sobs back. “Okay Dean, that’s enough. Let her go” Sam took hold of Dean’s shoulder and pulled him back, but those eyes stayed locked on yours with their vicious anger. You felt Jack reach his arm round you, but you just shrugged him off. “I’m fine,” you snarled. “I’ll see you back at the bunker.”

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

The bunker felt cold and unwelcoming when you got back. It was just so empty, you started to freak out. Grabbing a beer from the kitchen, you did the one thing you knew could boost your mood - put some punk rock on and turn it up loud. While you and Dean had kinda similar tastes in music, you liked the up-and-coming bands which he usually shunned in favour of the old classics. With no one else here, this was the perfect chance to listen to what you wanted, as loud as you wanted.

You pretty much downed a beer each track, and by time the time you’d got to a 2000s medley, you realised it just wasn’t cutting it. You were still miserable.

“It should be you up on that pyre”. Dean’s words kept going round and round in your head. He was right; you consistently messed things up, and no one would miss you. You hadn’t spoken to your parents in years, not since they kicked you out for not being the good little Christian girl they wanted you to be. Everyone else who had been in your life left pretty quick. You couldn’t hold down a job. And now you’d got 6 people killed.

About half way through the second bottle of vodka, you realised you knew this feeling. You’d felt like this before, when you were about 17. Numb, useless, just taking up space. Panicky, anxious, pessimistic. The drinking had helped that, so did the drugs. You’d been clean for over a decade now - but then, you hadn’t felt this hopeless in that long.

Living in a bunker with a bunch of hunters meant the first aid kit was generally pretty well stocked. In fact, you’d been on a supply run just a few days earlier. You finished the bottle and headed back to the kitchen, grabbing the box before doubling back on yourself and taking a bottle of Dean’s favourite whisky just for good measure. He’d be livid when he found out, but something about that felt quite satisfying.

Now the party could really get going. You emptied a couple of pills into your hand, and within a few songs your mood instantly changed. Who cared about stupid old Dean? He was just a bitter, lonely guy with waaaay more blood on his hands than you’d ever have. And as for Maggie and the crew - they were in a better place now anyway. Probably.

You closed your eyes and let the room around spin. Blues, greens, pinks, yellows flashed around you like a dancefloor. You jumped on your bed, screaming the lyrics of song after song until your throat was dry and beads of sweat were running down your forehead. You didn’t care that the boys might get back soon, nothing could ruin your fun now. All you needed was yourself, your stereo, a bottle of liquor and a crate of pills.

The problem was, you weren’t 17 anymore, and you couldn’t party like it either. Boiling hot, you pulled off your sweater and slouched down the side of the bed in just a vest. Taking another handful of pills, you decided to switch things up. Upbeat punk pop became melancholy, heartbreak ballads. Before long you were swaying with yourself, making your way through the first aid kit and washing it down with Dean’s whisky. You didn’t even realise you were crying, you felt so distant. It was like you were on the ceiling, then under the bed, then climbing the walls. Up and down, down and up, you let your brain take you wherever it went. Running away from the hell you were in, far far away to somewhere full of kindness and love. But no matter how far you ran, Dean’s voice still echoed: “it should be you up on that pyre.”

“It should be you up on that pyre”

“It should be you...”

| PART 2 |

#supernatural #spn #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #sam winchester #sam and dean #jack kline #teamfreewill2.0 #tw #spn fic

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stratiotis-nth · 2 years

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Other Dean pulls Dean aside.

“Man tell me you’ve done something about Cas.”

“What?”

“If you’re anything like me, you know how we feel about him. Tell me you’ve done something.”

Dean splutters.

“Dude, I’m not gay.”

Other Dean raises an eyebrow. “Uh, hello?” He waggled the bracelets on his wrist and tugged at his cuffed pants. “Yeah we are. Kinda obvious.”

“I don’t—“

“Listen, I’ve got a Cas back in my world.” Other Dean cut him off. “In my world, angels come swooping in to save people sometimes, if they’re important enough. Castiel must’ve gotten assigned to me because he’s the only one who’a ever pulled my ass out of the fire. But he hates me.”

Dean frowned.

“Then why save you?”

“Orders, obviously.” Other Dean smiled sadly. “I’ve tried to talk to him, be friends with him, but he’s cold and silent. I pushed him too hard once and…his outburst wasn’t pretty.” Dean tugged up his sleeve to reveal the exact same handprint Dean had on his left shoulder. But there was something wrong with it. Dean’s looked like a kind of embrace, a hug from behind with the arm wrapping around the chest. The position of Other Dean’s hand was all wrong—it looked defensive. Like a shove. It left a sour taste in Dean’s mouth seeing something that had always brought him comfort displayed in a form of violence.

“Angels aren’t supposed to touch humans, but I was pressing him and he…he must’ve gotten in trouble with the big boss over what he did because he was even colder after that. He blamed me. Hated me. And I—“ He let out a long sigh. “I didn’t realize how far I’d fallen until I couldn’t go back. I love him, and he loathed me too much for there to be any chance at all.”

Dean gulped, hardly able to imagine living with Cas hating him. They’d already spent the past few weeks avoiding each other’s calls and eye contact, and that had been painful enough. Imagining a Cas that looked at him with hatred rather than fondness sounded…awful.

“But your Cas,” Other Dean’s eyes drifted to the angel, who stood talking to both Sams a few feet away. Dean could see the want in his twin’s eyes, and felt his hackles rise for a reason he didn’t want to look into. “I can see how he looks at you. Like you’re his whole world. He’s so…soft around you. It’s everything I’ve dreamed he could be with me. But I don’t have a shot at that, you do.” He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and leveled with him. “Promise me you don’t waste it. You’ve got a real chance, and I’ve willing to bet there aren’t a lot of other Castiels that are like yours. So do something about it before it’s too late.”

Dean was at a loss for words. He knew his own face well enough to see the disguised pain in his eyes, the tipping of his mouth and the slight squint. This version of him really was in love with Cas, wasn’t he?

The only difference was this Dean had obviously left behind his internalized homophobia and leather jackets a long time ago. Dean hadn’t. He’d pointedly ignored the feelings he had and locked them up in his mental box of No Touchy, because the world didn’t have time for his shit and his daddy issues didn’t help.

But a version of Cas that didn’t like it make Dean feel sick. Other Dean looked heartbroken and jealous telling him that Cas liked him. He had never seen that kind of earnest want in his own eyes before. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, okay.” He croaked. “I hear you, man. I do.”

Other Dean smiled, a little in anguish and a little in hope. “Do something about it before it’s too late.” He told him. “Don’t take him for granted. Not every Cas will love you like he does.”

And now Dean wakes up to soft kisses on his neck and blue eyes crinkling with beautiful crow’s feet. He smiles at the rumbly voice and dark hair brushing his cheek before he even opens his eyes. He wakes up every day to sun shining on his face and his one of a kind Cas next to him. Every morning like this he silently thanks the version of himself who saw a potential for happiness he’d been too scared to see.

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

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Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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sortasirius · 4 years

Note

what makes you think the writers want deancas? not trying to be an asshole, i'm just genuinely curious as to why you think that. i know berens' episodes are pretty heavy with subtext so i can see why you'd say that he wants it, but i'm not so sure about the rest of the writers/dabb. it seems like meghan isn't a huge fan either, given her "they twisted it so fast" tweet :/ of course she's a very new writer (think she's only writing one ep this season?) but still

OKAY this is a great question, welcome to my dissertation.

I’m going to address the end of your question first. Meghan is actually DeanCas positive, she has been for quite a long time. She actually, a few years back, posted a picture of her reading a literal book about Destiel and captioned it “writing reading” or something like that.

This whole thing just comes out of a boiling over of tensions because of how nasty fandom twitter can be. Like I said here, I think this has just gotten blown out of proportion, they shouldn’t have posted all this randomly disparaging stuff, but also like...can you blame them? The fandom is a lot, we always have been, and they’re probably also under a gag order not to talk about the finale, and are annoyed that people keep asking.

So nah, Meg is not anti Destiel.

To the first part!! So let’s take a look at the show runners since Cas has been around.

Seasons 4 and 5: Kripke

Seasons 6 and 7: Gamble

Seasons 8-11ish: Carver

Seasons 11ish-15: Dabb

So starting with Kripke. Okay, yes, I will be the first to admit that we have some pretty incredible Destiel moments in these seasons, but it’s less directly written into the plot and much more from Misha and Jensen’s uhhhh ~chemistry~. The only times it was directly written into the script was when the episode was handled by someone like Edlund (“On The Head Of A Pin,” “The End,” “My Bloody Valentine”). And you have to remember, if in season 5, there are moments here and there where you’re like huh that’s suspiciously romantic dialogue, remember that Cas took Anna’s place. Anna was supposed to be endgame for Dean, but due to a myriad of issues and Misha’s general greatness, Anna was replaced with Cas.

Onto 6 and 7. Hmmm. Gamble. 6 and 7 are my two least favorite seasons and that’s no secret, and that’s not only due to the plain old weird shit in the overall storyline, but also that homegirl killed off Cas in s7 and then Bobby like four episodes later. (Also it ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way they couldn’t have Baby in that season lol). We still had some great DeanCas moments, but again, it wasn’t really written into the overall arc (until they had to change the end of season 7 because of tanking ratings and bring Misha back lol, anyone remember the fact that Dean kept Cas’ jacket and would randomly dream of him? Yeah.). But we still had those moments, those distinctly romantic moments, probably the best example in these two seasons is from Edlund again, specifically “The Man Who Would be King,” I wrote a little about that here.

We move onto Carver, who gave us, at this point, the most overt DeanCas season with season 8 (season gr8 is a better name imo), and this is the first time Dean and Cas’ relationship is directly written as an arc of the season. I mean, you have everything in Purgatory, Dean “seeing” Cas everywhere, the fact that he felt so guilty that Cas stayed in Purgatory that he manipulated his own memories to think that he was the one that failed Cas, because he couldn’t comprehend that Cas would want to leave him, and let’s not forget Dean snapping Cas out of Naomi’s hold on him in “Goodbye Stranger.” It was a very obvious shift, not enough to alert the general audience, but more than enough for most of us in fandom.

It’s also important to note that this is when Andrew stopped co writing with Loflin and started writing his own episodes (”Hunter Heroici” anyone?) I like Loflin fine, but Dabb was able to stretch his legs a little bit more once he stopped co-writing, and we also began to see some DeanCas themes in his solo episodes.

In any case, them and their issues being a big part of the seasons continued with Carver, and Berens entered the scene, his first episode (”Heaven Can’t Wait”) is one of my favorites, with human Cas and the fanfiction gap and Dean and Cas just generally being awkward and funny and sweet. This is Bobo’s FIRST episode, remember that. He comes right out of the gate with it.

Also in Season 9, this is when Dean takes the Mark of Cain, and the Cas/Colette mirror is born, so obviously, Dean and Cas are the fabric of the season once again. This is also the season where Metatron says Cas is “in love with humanity,” and then immediately refers to Dean as Humanity so uhhhh yeah.

Onto season 10, Dabb and Berens continue with their greatness (I could write pages on the DeanCas date in “The Things We Left Behind” alone). And then we have one of the best scenes in the entire show in “The Prisoner” where the Cas/Colette mirror continues and Dean, driven by grief and pain and rage and the Mark, still doesn’t kill Cas. He still can’t kill Cas.

Season 11 is important because it takes choice away from both Cas and Dean, and shows us, as the audience, how much losing each other takes out of them. We saw in season 10 how much losing Dean takes from Cas, but what about Cas losing Dean? Dean loses his choice with his connection to Amara this season, and loses even more when Lucifer reveals he’s been possessing Cas, and plays on Dean’s connection to Cas like a mockery. It’s also worth noting that, similarly to season 8, Dean breaks out of the connection with Amara when he’s worried about Cas, and that’s something that even SHE is surprised by.

But then season 12, the beginning to the Renaissance. This is when we get the writer’s that become important for what Dean and Cas are today, and, truly, why I believe they want canon Destiel as much as we do.

This is the first season with Dabb’s writers: Davy Perez, Meredith Glynn, Steve Yockey, and of course Bobo all come in with their incredible talents and gave us episode after episode of good content. “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” is probably my favorite, probably the best example of what I’m saying. An episode where Dean is called out by an enemy directly, told to “roll the dice” on Cas’ life. And Dean won’t, it’s not even really a hesitation. And this comes from a character that has known Dean for ten seconds. I also wrote more in depth about this episode here. There are also some.....distinctly domestic details we get this season, specifically in “The Future” (written by Berens and Glynn) with the mixtape. The most tropey of tropes mixtape. Yeah, I’ll just leave that one here.

And then season 12 ends with Cas’ death, but also with the parallel between Sam and Dean with Jess and Cas. Sam literally has to drag Dean away from Cas, just like Dean had to drag Sam out of his burning apartment in the pilot. The episode drives it home in every way that it can: Dean is the one left kneeling by Cas’ body, while Sam goes to find out what is upstairs. Dean is the one who stares at the sky, finally broken. This isn’t a random thing, this is Dean’s whole arc, it’s the entirety of the beginning of 13. Dean’s pain, his anguish, his anger.

Season 13 starts with them burning Cas, with Dean, who has begged God to bring him back, who has split his knuckles punching a door, standing, staring at Cas’ pyre with brokenness on his face.

I mean.....

Anyway, season 13 is where it gets interesting (well, I think all of this is interesting but I’m a writer nerd so). So Cas comes back from the Empty in “Advanced Thanatology” written by Steve Yockey, and then a wombo combo of “Tombstone” by Davy Perez next (”Brokebacknatural” as the PR said at the time). Listen. This is the part that SPN crossed a line that they couldn’t come back from. With Cas being Dean’s “big win,” the fact that Dean and Cas watch movies together, “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear.” Talked about it here.

This is where, in my opinion, the network stepped in, but the damage was already done. They had already established that Cas was Dean’s big win, that Dean’s poor coping was not due to Mary’s disappearance, but solely due to Cas, and that Dean and Cas have more married energy than anyone else. The network had nixed blatant canon at this point, and they writing room had been pushing the boundaries of what the network would allow.

After these episodes, we see a marked drop off of DeanCas heavy scenes. They’re still there, still a part of the fabric of the season, but not as...obvious as it had been in early season 13.

And this continued through season 14, we’re back to scraps of Destiel scenes here and there, but to me it always felt like there was something bubbling under the surface, something distinctly unsaid in the themes of the season, even after the walk back of obvious “Dean and Cas are in love” scenes.

And then we get to season 15, which, y’all know I talk about all the time. What’s important here is that Bobo and Glynn are both executive producers, calling more of the shots than ever before. Additionally, it’s important to note that, though they only co write occasionally, Glynn and Berens refer to each other as “work husband” and “work wife.” Each episode has just turned up the volume, and, not for the first time, but certainly the most obvious, Dean and Cas ARE the season. Sure, they’re trying to beat God, they’re trying to finally find peace, defeat the final big bad, but really? This season has been about Dean, and Dean’s relationship to Cas.

And not only do we have obvious and clear Destiel in nearly every episode, but we have episodes like “Last Call” which canonize bi!Dean (wrote about that here).

And, maybe most importantly so far, we have “The Rupture,” the breakup, and “The Trap,” Dean’s confession (both written by Berens). And here’s the thing. These episodes feel connected, but also feel like they’re missing something. Beren’s last episode is 15x18, “The Truth.” We’ve all spec’ed about what could happen in this episode, and I think *I* know what it’s leading to. But for it to be leading to that, it means that the network has to have approved what we’ve all been waiting for years for.

Who got this change to happen? Who got the network to change their minds? It wasn’t us. It was them. I am fully convinced that Dabb and Berens quite literally put their careers on the line for Dean and Cas. They believe in them, they’ve shown that from the beginning, but the only thing standing in the way was the network, never allowing them to take the final step.

So, to answer your question: I think the writers want canon DeanCas because they’ve already shown us that they do. Take a look at their episodes, at Dabb’s, at Beren’s, at Glynn’s, at Perez’s, at Yockey’s. They’ve been telling us what’s going on with Dean and Cas for years.

Sure, I’m not in their heads, I guess I don’t know for *sure* that this has been their thought process, but if we put it all together, from the marked shift when Dabb fully took over in s12, to the change right after “Tombstone,” to the new shift, the blatantly romantic shift in season 15, what else is there?

I’ve said for a long time that we, the SPN fandom, are beyond lucky to have the writer’s that we do. They’re all going to go on to have prolific careers and we were lucky to get them at the end of our little show. I give them a lot of credit for what we have in the show today.

Just remember, they’ve been telling us in all of s15 who Chuck is. He says he’s the writer, right? But a writer who doesn’t have control of his characters? A writer who wants to do the same ending over and over because it “works”? That doesn’t sound like a writer, it sounds like a network exec.

They’ve been showing us what they want for years, and the way s15 is going? I think they may have convinced the network to let us have it.

#supernatural #destiel #spn #my writing #anyway yeah i love these writers #welcome to my essay lmao #spn writers #anonymous #lilly answers

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

Text

Invisible Stranger

Written for @clarensjoy‘s Hinny Fic Fest! Prompt #28: “Just... talk to me. Please.” Thanks to Ina for the quick beta :D Summary: When Ginny Weasley is eleven years old, Tom Riddle changes the course of her life. But she’s only eleven, so she doesn’t see it at first. TW: Coded/implied assault. Mild smut (later excerpts). ________________________________________________________ When Ginny Weasley is eleven years old, Tom Riddle changes the course of her life.

But she’s only eleven, so she doesn’t see it at first.

All she knows is that Tom talks to her when she’s lonely, although to say they merely talk would be a staggering understatement. She hears his voice more than anyone else’s. She sees his face when she sleeps. She cries to him, bonds with him, pines with him. She thinks of him so often — regardless of if they’re actually talking — that it doesn’t even occur to her that some of these thoughts might not be her own.

She doesn’t even realize he’s entered her until it’s too late. Until he’s done it. Until he’s made her do things… shameful things. Things she’d been embarrassed to report to her parents. She knows full well she’d only be met with reprimands for making herself vulnerable in the first place.

When she tries to ask her brothers for help, a tiny part of her is happy they don’t. How can she possibly explain this without feeling a hot, aching brand of shame deep in her soul? She’d have to answer some ghastly questions, ones that would make the whole situation even harder to believe. The thought of taking Veritaserum makes her shudder; she’d have to admit — perhaps to a Ministry stranger — that she did enjoy parts of this.

She’d have to watch even more of her agency slip away, right in front of her eyes, as her body betrayed her yet again. The mere thought of the sort of mortifying confession that might slide off her tongue is enough to shut her up… enough to keep her from being even more persistent.

Ginny just lies awake at night and grasps at the straws in her spinning mind until her head pounds from the exertion of trying. She’s desperate to remember something — anything — from the swaths of time that just disappeared. She eventually reaches the conclusion that perhaps she’s forgetting on purpose; perhaps she’s protecting herself.

She just hopes and prays that the memories won’t slam into her sometime in the future with the force of a freight train.

She ultimately decides it’s a blessing, really, that she doesn’t get help. After all, she’s spent eleven years trying to convince everyone that she’s not a baby. It would be the worst kind of setback to ask for help now, just as she’s gained some independence.

When she chucks the diary in the toilet, she’s confident she’s handled it herself. Her mother wouldn’t be thrilled that her only daughter found herself in this situation, but Ginny likes to think she’d be proud of her resourcefulness. Proud of her only daughter, who’s finally taken control.

Still, Ginny keeps her head down, keeps her face impassive, keeps her cloak pulled tightly to hide the deepest blush of regret that crawls up her chest whenever she thinks of Tom.

Then the worst possible thing happens: Harry gets ahold of the diary. The second she sees it with his books, she can almost hear the entire world crumbling beneath her feet.

She only has a single thought: No. She can’t let him. She can’t let Harry, of all people, have open access to the thoughts that have plagued her for months. The thoughts (the lurid, inappropriate thoughts) that she’s had about him.

So she steals up to Harry’s room and snatches it back, her heart pounding in her throat. She’s long past the point of needing the diary itself to hear Tom’s voice, but seizing it again — letting him inside of her again — doesn’t exactly help.

Because right from the off, this time is different. The diary hums against her fingers, throbbing in her palm; Tom hasn’t said a word, but she knows he’s going to punish her. She lets out a strangled choke, her eyes rolling back in her head. He’s going to make her regret her little stunt of chucking him in the toilet, isn’t he? Yes. He’s going to make her rue the stupid, impulsive part of her that thought she’d find a way out.

Her last thought as she loses consciousness is that maybe death will end it. Maybe in death, she’ll truly be free.

Ginny doesn’t die, though — and to her surprise, she can’t even hear Tom when she wakes in the Chamber. All she knows is that Harry’s there. And Ron. And… Lockhart? Seriously?

Shit, maybe it would’ve been better if she died. Then she wouldn’t have to endure the remnants of this mortifying, twisted nightmare. Then maybe she wouldn’t have to sit there and sob as Dumbledore and McGonagall explain this to her parents.

She just lets the tears flow as her father yells, as her mother makes incredulous sounds. With every intonation and raised voice, a single word thumps against her skull: Weak.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

She’s weak.

But at least for now, she’s alone in her own mind. At least for now, it won’t happen again… not like it has. In retrospect, she reckons she should’ve known better to think he’d ever truly left. Because Tom Riddle has already become her past, present, and future. She just doesn’t know it yet. _______________

Tom takes a different form during her second and third years at Hogwarts. He isn’t entering her or forcing her to do things or beguiling her with his charm and feigned interest, but he’s there nonetheless. He’s dancing, taunting her in the edges of her periphery… crawling in when the weather changes and everything grows cold and dark. Whenever she does poorly on an exam — especially in the winter months, the anniversaries of when things went from Vaguely Bad to Horrifically Bad — she swears she can feel his sneering lips pressed to her neck as his high-pitched cackle resonates in her brain.

“You’re a baby,” he jeers, his face split into a predatory grin. “I can’t wait to see how else you fail.”

When Ginny catches a glimpse of the way Harry peers at Cho, Tom only reinforces how she’ll never compare. “Look at her,” he taunts, and Ginny can almost see the leer curling his lips. “She’s poised and beautiful and perfect. She looks like a woman. Why would Harry ever want a girl?”

And he says it so much — and Ginny thinks it so much — that she starts to believe it. He’ll never want her, will he? It’s clear Harry likes girls, women, who don’t need rescuing. Why would he want someone who’s been tainted with darkness?

So Ginny moves on… slowly. She finds strength in other ways. She uses quidditch to regain trust in her own body, the trust she had before Tom made her question her own muscles and movements.

She even dates, as she feels a normal teenager would. Not that she breathes a word about Tom to any of her potential suitors. She knows they couldn’t handle it; most boys couldn’t, not that she blames them. She knows untainted boys would respond like her friends have: by awkwardly clearing their throats through a whispered, “Oh” or a strangled, “I’m so sorry.” Then they’d treat her like she’s made of glass, and it would ruin things.

Because if there’s one thing she won’t tolerate, it’s someone making her feel weak. Weak gets you in trouble; weak ruins your life and makes you undesirable. No matter how much Tom loves to bother her in winter, she’ll never let anyone see the resulting weakness.

_______________

Ginny considers herself fortunate, really, that Tom doesn’t outwardly come up when she ends things with Dean. It’s an accomplishment that she escapes from that relationship relatively unscathed. Her darkness didn’t accidentally show itself or lay there, sprawling and naked, for him to pick apart.

It’s different with Harry, of course. She knows it will be from the second he kisses her in the common room. He’s the first one who doesn’t need to see her in a mask of normalcy and constant contentment. He’s the first one who understands that she’s not asking for an apology or reassurance when she accidentally drops a sad piece of her backstory into a casual conversation.

On the few occasions when she does say things like that (because, again, she doesn’t have to watch her words with him) Harry just holds her closer, her ear pressed to his beating heart, as he runs his calloused fingers through her hair.

And Ginny thinks, for once in her life, that perhaps there’s an unspoken value in sharing that sort of darkness.

_______________

She tells Harry the full details of Tom pretty soon after they start shagging. She knows the war’s over; she knows they’ve kind of won. She also knows a well-adjusted person would have left this bit behind… but she reckons neither of them will ever be well-adjusted, really. They’re the sort of couple who cries when they hear I love you but remains stone-faced at funerals of their friends. For Harry especially, she knows that love presents as something that makes him feel uncomfortably warm, almost smothered. It can be a prickly, painful, cloying sensation… one he doesn’t always know how to respond to. With everyone else, he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing. Of seeming either too flippant or too mindful.

But as their bodies connect, as they rock together in the dying sunlight, his fingers digging into her hips as he pulses inside her, he doesn’t have to pretend, either.

Harry’s angry when she tells him… but not with her. He’s angry Tom ever made her feel that way. He’s especially angry with the worst of what Tom said: that on the off-chance Harry did want her, he’d only want her for sex.

Harry brings it up several months after her initial admission.

“You know what I think about a lot?” he slurs, his finger tracing the curve of her breast as she lies naked beside him.

She quirks a brow; no, but it doesn’t seem like a rhetorical question.

Harry sighs, flopping over to his back. “I mean, I know it’s horrible and everything,” he allows, raising his hand in warning, “but seriously, I can’t help but be confused that Tom thought I’d be good enough at sex to use anyone for anything in the first place!”

There’s a moment of silence.

And then Ginny cackles, shaking her head against the threadbare pillow in her bedroom. Harry joins her, pressing her against his side.

“I’m glad we’re both fucked up,” she says, when the giggles subside. “I reckon normal people are boring.”

“Probably,” Harry agrees, his hand unconsciously toying with her hair. “Guess normal isn’t really my type, though.”

“Oh, so you prefer funny and traumatized?”

Harry smirks. “I prefer you.”

_______________

Tom doesn’t come back in full force until she falls pregnant the first time.

Maybe it’s because they hadn’t planned on this— and regardless of how misty-eyed and excited Harry is, they definitely hadn’t planned on it.

Maybe it’s because she’s certain it’s a boy, which carries certain burdens as the son of the Chosen One.

Maybe it’s because she’s feeling a similar loss of control, like her body isn’t her own.

But mostly, she reckons, it’s because she’s plagued with the near-constant thought that she’s doing something wrong.

She had a glass of wine before she found out (strike one, Bad Mum). She trips on her trainers and lands on her bum (very, very Bad Mum). She starts spotting at 12 weeks after she goes for the only jog of her entire pregnancy (horrifically Bad Mum; utterly unfit to raise a child).

And all of this spins around in her head, faster and faster and faster, until she sees Tom’s face again one night. “You’re fat now,” he mocks, his voice a cruel whisper that slithers into the space between slumber and consciousness. “The nerve of you, thinking you’d do something so selfish as staying in shape at a time like this. I can’t wait to see Harry’s face when you tell him you’ve lost the ba—“

She bolts upright in bed, her heart pounding, and throws the blankets off to peer between her thighs. A ragged chuckle of relief escapes her lips. Nothing. There’s nothing, the baby’s fine, and—

“Ginny?”

Shit.

She bites her lip and turns to Harry. He’s peering at her, his expression exhausted but alert. She hates that look, she really does; it reminds her too much of when he’d woken from his own dreams, right after the war.

“A nightmare,” she whispers, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Only a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

Harry sighs and grips her hand. He knows better. “Just... talk to me. Please. You don’t even have—“

“—It’s Tom,” she cut across, biting her lip. She feels guilty enough for waking Harry when he’s got work tomorrow; she’d better make it quick. “It’s just… stupid pregnancy shit, taking the form of Tom. Or maybe it just is Tom, somehow. I don’t really know.”

She throws her hands in the air before settling back against the headboard. And then, in a small voice: “He just… he’s so great at making me feel stupid.”

There’s a beat.

Harry reaches up to cup her cheek; she leans into the warmth, unsure if she’s finding more comfort in the familiarity or the gesture itself.

“Well,” he says slowly; she can tell from his tone that he’s biting his lip, even if she can’t see it in the darkness. “You’re not stupid. But it’s also not stupid that he still makes you feel like that sometimes. Does that… make any sense?”

Her lips twitch in a soft smile. “It does. It makes sense. I just... I hate feeling weak.”

Harry chuckles and pulls her against him. She sighs into the crook of his neck, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin.

“I could use a lot of words to describe you, darling.” His fingers dance on the gentle swell of her belly; he always sounds so pleased when he touches her, especially here, like he can’t help but feel chuffed that he’s actually knocked her up. “But I’m afraid that weak doesn’t make the cut.”

Ginny giggles. “I’ll just have to settle for mad, I reckon,” she manages through a yawn. What is it about his bloody heartbeat that always settles her?

“Mad it is,” he agrees, kissing her forehead.

_______________

“It’s him again, isn’t it.”

It’s not a question. But if it were, the answer would be obvious.

Ginny’s staring out the window, her whole body poised and anxious. Every fiber of her being is taut. If she had a bit more self-awareness, she might compare herself to a hunting dog who’s just sensed a pheasant.

But self-awareness is the furthest thing from her mind. Not when she’s worried about her babies. And she’s worried about all of her babies, yes — but there’s something especially triggering about the involvement of her little girl. Her only girl. Her girl, who’s exactly the same age as she was, right when—

“He’s here!”

Ginny scarcely hears the words leave her lips as Pig flies through the air and into their open window. Safe. She hasn’t even read the letter yet, but she can tell from Lily’s messy scrawl across the parchment, from the agreed upon symbol of a tiny dragon, printed in the corner, that she’s safe.

Ginny has to draw a deep breath to stop herself from bawling with relief.

“Told you she’d be fine,” Harry murmurs, wrapping an arm around her waist. He rests his chin on the crown of her head as Ginny rips the letter open, nonetheless desperate for the proof she knows she’ll flnd. Desperate for confirmation that her baby’s made it to school all right. Desperate to know another little girl — her little girl — won’t find herself violated and alone.

Ginny reads the letter through a veil of tears and presses it to her chest when she’s done. Safe. Her baby’s safe.

A few minutes later, she turns to Harry with an apologetic shrug, brushing the tears from her eyes. “Ready for dinner?” she asks, gesturing towards the door. “Or did you want to stay inside all day and mope about having an empty house for the first time in ages?”

Harry rolls his eyes, but a smile plays at his lips. He mutters something under his breath that distinctly sounds like not sure which of us was doing the moping, darling.

But Ginny’s happy to ignore that as she links her arm in his. She’s pleased to go to dinner and drink too much and laugh too loudly. It’s just another reminder of what she has… and how she almost didn’t have it, at all.

Because while Tom Riddle might be her past, present, and future, Ginny will do everything in her power to ensure he never defines another little girl’s life like that.

Ever again.

#HinnyFicFest2021 #harry/ginny fanfic #harry/ginny #invisible stranger #tom riddle

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desencante · 3 years

Text

oi, march reads! I read a lot this month.

Please, don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos for the authors of these fics!

(The texts aren't the summary, just my ramble thoughts.)

Loving Cannibalism by glittering_git/@glittering-git (Mature, 2 works, 952 words) | Post-War, Angst, Established Relationship

Two marvellous and poetic histories about (loving) cannibalism. This is such a dark and heavy theme but the author does a great job writing and makes me enjoy reading them. (And I'm definitely here for more.)

(Please, read the Author's Tags.)

don’t say you love me, that’s extortion by LowerEastSide/@lower-east-side (Explicit, 1k) | Post-War, Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship

It is a domestic and loving and little sad history – about not saying 'I love you' but acting in that way.

The Pink Paradox by vina_writes/@dracothecupcake (Teen and Up, 1k) | Post-War, Humor, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Harry Potter Is Obsessed With Draco Malfoy TM. And Draco has pink hair. Have a fun time!

Harry's Promise by JosephineStone (Teen and Up, 2k) | Post-War, Angst, Reunion, Established Relationship

This one it's kind of part two of Circumpolar. The history continues the consequences of Draco's change, after the war – left me with a warm heart.

Burnt Casserole by Samunderthelights/@samunderthelights (General Audiences, 2k) | Post-War, Fluff, Established Relationship

Nervous Draco for Meeting Ron and Hermione. Getting back together and meeting your boyfriend's friends (who may hate you) showing them your (not) great cooking abilities.

Magical Homes, and Where to Find Them (in the arms of your lover) by Erebeus/@erebeus-roxy (General Audiences, 2k) | Post-War, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

Who doesn't want some fluff established relationship sometimes? Harry has a painful case at work and then comes home to a calm and domestic night with his husband.

Together Like This by shealwaysreads/@shealwaysreads (Explicit, 3k) | Post-War, Getting Back Together

Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World TM. I find it so interesting reading stories where Draco denies Harry's love because of the war, and Harry is there to change his mind. Here we have that and it's written the super talented shealwaysreads.

For Old Times' Sake by thestarryknight/@the-starryknight (Teen and Up, 3k) | Post-War, Drugs, Potioneer Draco, Artist Harry

This one gives me such a cosy and domestic vibe. "'It's Complicated' is their relationship status" resume perfect what this fic is. (There're some cool references too, so pay attention.)

Like Gold by The_Sinking_Ship/@the-sinking-ship (Explicit, 4k) | Post-War, PWP

(It's always good to see.) Harry Has a Motorbike Just Like Sirius! Harry rides a motorbike and Draco rides him.

Harry and Draco's Little Talk by Ladderofyears (Teen and Up, 5k) | Post-War, Angst, Established Relationship, mpreg

Who doesn't hear 'I need to talk to you' by someone you like and run with? Harry thinks Draco will break up with him and freak (a little) out but maybe the subject of Draco's conversation is quite the opposite.

Sugar Sweet by The_Sinking_Ship/@the-sinking-ship (Teen and Up, 5k) | Post-War, Humor, Fluff, Auror Harry, Healer Draco

It is a very sweet story with a surprise party for Draco and Harry getting late but not so late.

Show them the night that they dreamed about before by fluxweed/@fluxweeed (Explicit, 6k) | Post-War, PWP, Threesome, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dubious Consent

(Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/Percy Weasley)

All I have to say is: 😳😯🤫😈🔥🥵🔥🥵😈😏!

This Is How by bixgirl1/@bixgirl1 (Explicit, 6k) | Post-War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, a/b/o

Omega Draco has an incident in the ministry Alpha Harry is there to help. After they fall in love! (One more reason to read: it's written by bixgirl1!)

It Never Occurred to Me That I Would Fall in Love With a Frenchman by lamerezouille/@elsalapizza (Teen and Up, 6k) | Post-War, Angst, Humor, Established Relationship

OMG, I never read something like this! The plot was so surprising – you will ever think about the Malfoys meeting the Dursleys? BOOM! Here it's a very awkward dinner that looks funny but has some depth stuff going on.

Litany by thistle_verse/@thistle-verse (Mature, 7k) | Post-War, Angst, Pandemic, Isolation, Touch-Starved, Ghost Draco

Ghost's story isn't my cup of tea, but I give this one a chance and don't regret it. The magic world is passing through a pandemic (just like us!), Harry is doing quarantine at home alone until ghost Draco, directly from Azkaban, shows up. Then, we have fluffy and sad conversations between the two and a turn of events in the end. (And lots of lists.)

As the Crow Flies by thestarryknight/@the-starryknight (Mature, 7k) | Post-War, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Animagus Draco, Werewolf Harry

Draco helps Harry on a full moon night. Domestic vibes with some angst. 10/10!

Circumpolar by LowerEastSide/@lower-east-side (Teen and Up, 8k) | Hogwarts Era, Angst, Sectumsempra Scars

I see an amazing fanart and spend some days obsessed with Draco having worse scars from Sectumsempra. (There's, in this list, another two fanfics with this concept.) In this one, because of the pretty bad scars Draco's plan about the war change – is interesting to imagine how one incident could put another thing in perspective for him. And Draco and Harry have a touching conversation on the Astronomy Tower! (I'm a sucker for long expressive conversations about feelings.)

if somebody’s there, then tell me who. by kryptidfox/@kryptidfoxwrites (Explicit, 11k) | Post-War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Housemates

Much more like Idiots to Lovers! Draco has a disastrous way to make Harry notice him – bring every man possible to a one-night stand then call their name very loud – until things go wrong when he brings a guy named Harry. I constantly have a good time reading these two making dumb thing in their path to be together.

Commander by Cassiopeias_shadow/@cassiopeiasshadow (Explicit, 14k) | Post-War, Horror, Suspense, Drugs, Animagi, Auror Harry, Light dom/sub

Almost a case fic with dark things in the plot. Draco is addicted to potions and in a pretty bad place when he has a chance to help the auros in a big case. It turns out that Draco got so much involved with the case he needed Harry, to make him put his feet on the ground – the fine line between doing everything to make up for your past or lost yourself doing things for the great good. Featuring: Harry as a snake and parselmouth kink.

(Please, read the Author's tags.)

Fire and Wonder by Lomonaaeren (Mature, 15k) | Post-War, Dark-ish, Veela

Lomonaaeren written dark Harry, I'm here for! After the war, Harry get wing and has some controversial ideas about The Great Good. So, we see him put these ideas into practice with his mate Draco.

Hold what's dear in your hands (and never let go) by Fae_vorite/@faevorite-main-blog, PollyWeasley/@polly-weasley (Explicit, 16k) | Post-War, Arrange Marriage, a/b/o, mpreg

I was always here for some a/b/o and this story is a chef kiss! Harry can't find a partner; So he goes to an upgrade tinder and matches with Draco, then they live happily ever after. Featuring intersex Draco and a lot of sex kinks.

Keep Me Close (I Need Your Faith) by aviforsrose (Explicit, 23k) | Post-War, Angst, Friends with Benefits, Light dom/sub

Idiots in love! The old same GOOD story: I love him but he loves me? Yes, of course! Man, you two have been pinning each other for years now. Let's do some love confessions.

The Critiquer by dysonrules (Explicit, 24k) | Post-War, Humor, Romance, Secret Identity

Drunk Harry doing dumb stuff with Seamus and Dean, take him a very funny drive to Draco's hearty. Draco and his assistant interactions was another very humorous part. Can't forget to congratulate who made all of the edits, principally the text divisors.

The Nobility of Ascent by Lomonaaeren (Explicit, 27k) | Post-War, Angst, Politics

I love reading Lomonaaeren stories with dark-ish Harry. This is another great example of just not the good or evil side. Harry can't Make a Better World because of pureblood politics so he goes to Draco for help.

Can I tell you something? by GallaPlacidia (Not Rated, 33k) | Post-War, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sectumsempra Scars, Drugs, Auror Harry, Burlesquedance Draco

What I can say about this one? It's by GallaPlacidia, go read! The story takes place during a few years, after the war, Harry collides in parties with a drugged Draco, things happen – they lived a very real journey of connecting with someone, learning to love and to be loved and understanding the mistakes of the past... 10/10!

Says The Magpie To The Morning (Sorrow, Take Your Own Advice) by Femme/@femmequixotic (Explicit, 33k) | Post-War, Angst, Getting Back Together

Draco Horrible Sad TM after a breakup with Harry. Featuring so much PDA by Pansy/Ron, angst, miscommunication, angst, sharing a house with your ex and angst. If you are up to a sad time before a happy ending this nice story is here.

Eight Days (to Save the World) by gnarf/@gnarf (Mature, 47k) | Post-War, Friend to Lovers, Housemates, Case Fic, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Shit happens in The Wizard World again so Harry, Draco and company get together to Save The World Again. What will you do if you receive an order not so right by your superior? A very interesting story begins with the ministry's haunted easy target to blame for the new conspiracy. Enjoy too Protective Harry.

Turning Leaves by Kbrick (Explicit, 112k) | Post-War, Angst, Fluff, Time Travel, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Draco Tries to Concert His Friendship With Harry by Time Travel. This gives me The Cursed Child vibe but so much better, Draco goes to several scenarios trying to change one important moment in the past to make Harry like-like now. A great story who think about what will happen if Draco acts differently in the Hogwarts years.

Cannot Save You Now by tigrelilje (Mature, 132k) | Hogwart Era, Angst, Horror, Dark, Vampire Harry

Harry dies and comes back (as a vampire) for revenge! If you want to see Harry hating almost everybody this fanfic this here. Featuring: Slytherin Harry.

#desencanterec #drarry fic rec #drarry #drarry fanfic #if there's a mistake or some link is broken please let me know #hpdm

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

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So for the most part, I outright reject the finale. But I do think, in light of the whole "Jimmy was supposed to be in the bar, and Dean was disappointed by that because his perfect heaven would have Cas in it" just makes me all the more convinced that the final episode was some kind of djinn dream. Like.... There's no other explanation in my opinion. If Dean's perfect heaven was supposed to have Cas, and he tragically gets faked out by Jimmy (????? Why tf would jimmy be there anyway), it just proves that it's not ACTUALLY heaven. That, along with he El Sol beer he's drinking is all the evidence I need. I think after 15x19, Dean and Sam got whammied by some monster, and are stuck in a hallucination, and that's what we're seeing. (My headcanon is that it's actually The Empty doing it, because it knows if it doesn't keep Dean and Sam occupied and spinning in circles, they'll invade the Empty to save Cas. So its trying to prevent that) :)

Hello, anon friendo! I am gonna start by offering the socially distanced version of a high five, because yeah... There is just so much to unpack here, and you provided such a succinct and all-encompassing series of statements to start from. Thank you!

*flings open array of questionable suitcases*

First off, Congrats on having rejected the finale. I know a lot of folks are still struggling with that one, for many reasons. But you have hit upon so many of the points I’ve been trying to make about the finale since it aired. I’d just like to start with some of the assumptions I’ve heard from folks about the finale that make it impossible for me to consider it fully honestly canon. Because so much about it just makes no goshdang sense... like... not at all...

One of the biggest issues I have surrounding the reception of the finale in parts of fandom is that it portrayed a “happy ending.” The show itself spent the entire final season telling us that a gravestone marked Winchester was not and never would be a happy ending (thank you Becky Rosen-- words I never thought I’d say, but honestly and most sincerely meant). Let’s break this down a bit.

Starting from the assumption that “heaven was fixed” so that characters could have true free will there, making it satisfying in any way that Dean died so young and never got to truly experience happiness during life, I would like anyone who has adopted this attitude to then explain Kansas the band. I mean... explain that in any satisfactory canon-compliant way. (hint: you can’t. it makes zero sense in canon, if heaven is truly reformed and “happy” with everyone in possession of free will.)

Which brings me to Misha’s comments about Jimmy being in the Roadhouse. Why, if heaven were truly fixed, would Jimmy ever in a bazillion years attend a party for Dean Winchester? If Heaven were truly a “happy” ending for Dean, why introduce this element of eternal tragedy and heartbreak to his heaven experience? Why taunt him with the eternal loss of Cas-- even if you don’t think he reciprocated Cas’s romantic feelings, he was canonically the best friend Dean ever had, and being forced to exist forever in a place where he had everyone else he ever cared for except for Cas? Is frankly horrific.

How the actual fuck is that a happy ending, in any sense of the word?

How is this the sort of heaven that Dean would’ve made for himself before it was “fixed?” At least in the memorex heaven, he could’ve lived in oblivious peace with Cas, even if it was always just his own memories and not ~actually Cas~. I honestly think that would’ve been happier than the abject tragedy of what we did get, and what we would’ve gotten had the original script played out.

All of this kind of makes me wonder if they ever even actually defeated Chuck. Like... it feels more like Dean got pulled into the Empty at that moment with Cas and Billie, and everything else after that point was the Empty’s endless experience of sorrow and despair we knew it subject its charges to. So that’s one potential for what could’ve actually happened. I mean, everything about the finale was sorrow and despair, you know? Dean didn’t even get to enjoy his pie at a pie festival because Sam smashed in in his face. How is any of it happy, in any way?

Because if that was actually heaven, there wasn’t actually any free will (because why tf would Kansas the band have chosen to put on that concert? why tf would Jimmy have been there, just to torment Dean with the taunt of Cas returning to him only to have that hope snatched away again? It’s cruel. It’s, in fact, a source of intense despair).

The djinn theory could also work, and I’ve read some excellent fix-it fic using that as a premise. But that doesn’t really explain what happened to Jack (and Amara, since she was in there with them) after hoovering up Chuck’s power, you know? I think the simplest explanations in canon are that Chuck actually won via the unified power of Light and Dark being transferred into Jack and effectively using him as a vessel. With Sam and Dean convinced they’d won, they effectively stopped resisting Chuck’s story for them, and using Jack’s understanding of humanity and the Winchesters specifically, Chuck finally was able to implement a version of his story that the Winchesters would just waltz into without thinking it was supernaturally influenced at all. Going bigger and bigger with monsters and cosmic troubles hadn’t worked, but going so small Sam and Dean would barely even notice the influence-- even with the incongruous reappearance of a vampire that appeared in their lives once, for like two whole minutes 15 years ago, and an unsolved case from the journal from more than 30 years ago that John had never even linked to vampires at all.

At this point, I need to mention that I’m watching 10.23 as I type this up. An episode in which we confront the Mark, along with Death, and Dean’s despair, where he learns a version of the truth (but by no means the full truth, or even accurate truth in some respects) about Chuck’s Story, Amara/The Darkness, etc. That would unfold more fully over the next five seasons. And what was the case Dean took in this episode? Vampires. LOLOL omg this show is nothing if not horrifically consistent, yes?

So because of this, I went haring off through my own blog looking for a post I made a long time ago about the symbolism of how various monsters are used on this show (because again, consistency). I got sidetracked by other posts in my monsters tag, including this from after 15.09 aired, which feels particularly awfully relevant. This was my reaction to Chuck’s Story he showed Sam in that episode, about what the future would look like should he successfully trap Chuck with a Mark, and which... yeah is basically exactly thematically consistent with what we saw in the finale, right down to a cheesy twist on vampires. Read the whole post right here, but this is the part that reached up and punched me in the face:

this is how Dean personally reacts when he loses Cas. We know how he reacts when he loses anyone else– think about what he did when Charlie died. He went on a murder rampage against the Stynes for killing her. When Mary died he broke some furniture and went full bore toward both resurrecting her and stopping Jack. But without Cas, Dean loses the will to fight. Sam has… always been different. He referenced Jess in 15.04 to remind us of how he was after she died in the pilot episode. Just like John, he picked up the revenge mission and ran with it. But for Dean, Cas is different. Without Cas… Dean gives up.

Because... Dean gave up. Sure, he and Sam weren’t overrun by vampires in the end. Chuck knew they’d never stop fighting the monsters, one way or another. The only way to get Dean to give up is something Chuck hadn’t quite figured out yet... maybe not until after 15.17, after confronting Cas in the hallway of the bunker, after absorbing Amara’s power, knowledge, and perspective on Dean.

Chuck needed Dean to give up, and honestly? Pushing Billie to clear him off the table and send him (and Cas, that pesky angel who never did what he was told) to the Empty would’ve been a direct way to deal with that... pretty much akin to having one sibling locked in a cage forever, yes?

Also, still looking through my monsters tag, I’m reminded of 14.15, and still cannot differentiate the version of Heaven in 15.20 from what was done to the people of that town. This... is not... paradise. This is actively what Dean has been insisting is the OPPOSITE of paradise since like… 4.22… No ending where Dean was a “Stepford bitch in paradise” ever had the possibility of being “happy,” at the core of things, and this “fixed” version of Heaven just doesn’t hold up to any degree of inspection. Something is seriously wrong here. https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/183465650390/so-can-we-talk-about-this-monster-of-the-week-for

And since I was unable to find the post I wrote who knows how long ago about Monsters and how they’re symbolically used on Supernatural to represent larger themes in the episode, I’ll just attempt to sum up what Vampires have been used for. Revenge. Vampires are always, in some way connected to themes of revenge.

(and hooray, I found at least a post adjacent to the one I’ve spent the last four hours trying to find... https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/187207052080/i-obviously-did-not-think-this-through, where I mention that shapeshifters are about revealing hidden truths (mostly about Dean since most shapeshifters are connected to Dean), zombies are about grief and the inability to move past it.)

So why... why at the end of their road is the monster that comes after them-- literally FOR REVENGE for something that had never been blamed on Sam or Dean to begin with, from season 1, directly connected to John’s revenge mission and the first time they learned about the Colt AND the first time they learned in canon that Vampires were even real... like... this feels very specifically like some kind of layers-of-meta levels of shade on them, you know? Vampires are for revenge, so what vengeance exactly is being visited upon Sam and Dean in this episode? If not Chuck’s entire story for them itself?

So yeah, 100% agree, something is incredibly rotten in the finale. And I am sick to effing death of people trying to convince us that anything about this was “good” or “happy” or “satisfying” in any way. Or even “how it was always supposed to end” with Dean dead bloody, as if the entire back half of the series hadn’t been suggesting that a true win was the subversion of all of Chuck’s story for them, and Dean finally being able to have his chosen family all alive, happy, and chilling on a beach somewhere watching the sunset. Nothing will ever convince me that the ending portrayed in 15.20 wasn’t exactly how Chuck thought he “won,” rendering it entirely irrelevant to the rest of canon, unless all of canon was ultimately the tragedy we’d been encouraged to believe would be firmly defeated in the end.

Folks, you can’t have it both ways.

#spn 15.20 #chuck's process #if this was the 'happy' ending for dean they sure did fail big time to make it actually happy!#it makes me feel sick thinking that dean's happy heaven ending was more like an eternal pit of torment #like actively tormenting him and taunting him with the fact that cas was truly gone forever #like wow they went all the fuck out to make it clear that even in heaven #dean would never be allowed to respond to cas's declaration of love #like... it's the most hurtful and hateful thing the show could possibly have done to us #and it still fucks me up knowing there's people who think this heaven was a 'good' ending for dean #like... fuck that entirely and with extreme prejudice #i feel like i have not been emphatic enough about my absolute hatred for this episode in these tags #but sadly there are limitations to expressing the actual feelings i'm feeling in the english language #sometimes the only effective word for these feelings involves velociraptor screeching #Anonymous

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acklesterritory · 3 years

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That Kind of Love Never Dies_Chapter 1

Hey guys, Now that more voted to split my fictions in 2 parts, I'm back with the first part. I hope you like it. Don't forget to leave me feedbacks. I'll always appreciate them. Love you all.

This is for writing event @tvdspngirl314

My quote is "That kind of love never dies"

Dean x Reader series (just 2 parts)

This chapter words: ~5k

Series warning:

Angst, fluf, smut, angry Dean, hurt Reader, hurt Dean, there's some more but I hate spoilers so I insist on "Angst & Hurt"

It all started with a stupid argument at home. What was it? Three months ago? Sam couldn't remember the exact date but after years, it was the first time this awkward coldness between Dean and Y/n had started to build. He could remember the first time he and his brother came across Y/n like it was yesterday, they were hunting a very nasty creature who used to kidnap young and lonely women at night, then got them wrapped in ropes and ties on a bed in a warehouse to rape, torture and feed on their blood until the victim either died or accepted to turn into one of his kind.

Sam could remember the helplessness in people's eyes too. The pain of the victims' families, the frustration and anger on cops' faces when no one could find the criminal yet, even after the sixth missing girl.

"Sammy, he just kidnapped another girl. And I think I know where he's gonna take her. Let's hunt this son of a bitch."

When Dean was saying that, Sam never expected him to fall in love with the woman they would save that night. Well, unfortunately they weren't fast enough to prevent any harm to the girl. When they arrived and Dean killed the nasty creature, Y/n was almost dead. The monster had already raped her, tortured her … and when he felt the hunters enter the place, he drank almost all of her blood, to gain more energy to fight. So as always, Dean was up to blaming himself. Of course only in his own eyes, not anyone else's.

"Call Cas to come home. Tell him it's an emergency."

Dean told his brother when he finally could get Y/n out of those ropes. And Sam knew he was right. At that point, no one could save Y/n unless God or his angels. Maybe she was not so lucky coming across a nasty supernatural creature like that but she was lucky enough that Cas arrived just on time and healed her. However, angels can only heal physical wounds. But Y/n was hurt much more than that. She couldn't just move on from the things that the bastard had put her through. Even after Cas tricked her brain to forget some certain things, she still had bad nightmares and had this dark shade of hopelessness in her eyes. Soon, she started to eat and talk less and less. And Dean just couldn't let her go. He really wanted to fix all of that for her but she kept shutting him out… until the depression hit her. It was so bad that Cas felt the need to tell them to prepare themselves for her death. Because after all those days and unlike everything else in their lives, The Winchesters were already used to her presence around them; like the way a lonely person can get used to a wounded cat more and faster than anyone else.

"I'm not gonna hunt until I'm sure she can live her normal life." When Dean stated that, Sam really thought he was joking. But after a few days he started to believe it. Dean truly would do anything to keep her alive. From cooking vegetables to laughing at his own dad jokes in front of Y/n to make her smile. That was when Sam started to feel that they can be more than a random hunter/rescued victim relationship! It felt like his brother had finally found his motivation in life: "Saving Y/n."

Gradually Y/n started to respond to this special attention from Dean with trust and smiles. Soon they became a power couple that could motivate each other so easily that sometimes Charlie would call them out. And honestly Sam had no problem with it. In fact Y/n had become his other sister.

"My God, Dean! You're burning up!" It was two day after a werewolf hunt in which Dean had got hurt. At first it was just some scratches on his arms and chest. Yet as the time passed, more symptoms started to appear: headache, pain, fever, cold sweat, even nose bleeding and before they could figure it out, Dean fell unconscious. Apparently the claws of the werewolf were poisonous. However Sam wasn't sure. The only thing he got no doubts about was the fact that it was already too late. Dean couldn't make it to the hospital. So either Sam had to do anything possible to save him or Cas should've picked up his God damn phone.

"No. no, no, no, no. Dean … Dean!!!"

That was when Sam got to hear Y/n's helpless cry and see her true feelings. She was already in love with his brother.

Luckily, unlike typical love stories; no one died that night. Sam's antidote worked. And Dean opened his eyes an hour later.

"Sammy … Y/n?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Y/n grabbed his face and put her thirsty lips on her beloved hunter's, letting the tears stream down on her face… and then his.

"Never do that again." She begged, breaking the kiss, her trembling hands holding Dean's face so she could look into his eyes.

Sam couldn't stop his smile remembering how cute they were. Y/n literally had Dean wrapped around her little finger, to the point he accepted to teach her how to hunt and soon she was part of their team too. Until … a few months ago. After two years of them being constantly close to each other, Sam could tell something was off when Dean started to go out without eating breakfast with Y/n. Of course she got suspicious after the third time and that was when their endless arguments started.

"Why don't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"Because nothing is wrong, Y/n."

Actually there was. Something was VERY wrong. Anyone could tell that just by the change in Dean's eyes whenever he wanted to look at Y/n. Day by day he was getting more quiet and cold. Now they didn't even eat pie together or watch movies late at night. And Sam couldn't ignore his brother being grumpy or drunk on hunts, not anymore.

"Ok man, I've had enough. You either tell me what's wrong with you or next time I won't make any excuses so you can leave Y/n out of our hunt plans. I'm serious, Dean, I'll tell her the truth." He finally said, when they were alone in the impala, on their way to do their next hunt.

"She wants more."

"More?"

"Yeah. Sometimes it's like she sees more in me. She thinks we can have a different life. There's no need for any saying, I can see it in her eyes whenever we accidentally come across some family at a diner that try to feed their kids or people's wedding photos whenever we go to talk with some witnesses or whoever during the research! Sometimes she even looks up wedding dresses or kid stuff on the net!" Dean blew his anger out of his nostrils and sighed, shaking his head.

"Wow." Sam couldn't find the proper word to say but he couldn't hide his surprised face either.

"What?" Dean gave him an annoyed look.

"I mean …" Sam chuckled. "… are you telling me you're actually angry with her for imagining the things you always dream about?!"

"Sam …"

"No, really. I'm just curious. What's wrong with you, man?" Sam asked genuinely, waiting for an answer.

"What's wrong with me?! You think something is wrong with me just because I'm the rational one in this relationship; who's actually able to see the difference between a dream and the reality?"

Yeah, anyone could take that earnest speech, but not Sam. He'd seen and knew enough about his brother.

"What's the reality? Aren't you and Y/N living that dream life already?"

"What?! No. No … that's not the same." Dean shook his head.

"Really? How is it not? It's been two years, Dean. You two are constantly with and/or around each other. Always worried when the other one is in trouble and still looking at one another like there is nothing in the world that can make you happy as much as this relationship. So … excuse me if I won't buy your pretty speech; man ." Sam said, Rolling his eyes.

"Ok, let's say you're right but ... is it gonna be like that forever? With all the supernatural crap that we have to take care of … and the constant danger and chaos in this hunter life we have… I …"

"You what?" Sam asked when Dean didn't finish his sentence. He was lost in his thoughts, staring at this unknown point in the depth of the road. Finally he blew out his despair.

"I just can't let her fall for the things I know I can't provide for her. It's not fair, Sammy. It's not fair to lock her up in this dark life with me just because she loves me … especially while I know there is a whole bright future out there waiting for her."

"Here we go, the old Dean's self-doubt" Sam thought to himself as he took a deep breath before finding the best words to wake his brother up from this nightmare

"Yeah, I know but I don't think it's your call. If Y/n wants to go to hell with you instead of living in heaven with someone else, it's her choice. Not your responsibility. Right?"

Dean shook his head while his lips curved up a little to fake a smile but he never answered or said anything about that conversation ever again. He kept his silence for like three weeks … until someone new showed up: "Gary Smith". A tall man with the most stylish haircut and the most perfect teeth and smile.

They saw him for the first time at their hangout bar, as the new bartender who almost jumped in Y/n's way as soon as they entered the bar.

"Oh my God, bunny! Is this really you?" He said, pulling her in his embrace. Like she was the long time missing piece of his beloved puzzle!

"Bonny? You're wrong. Her name is Y/n." Dean said, pretty annoyed by the way Gary tightened his arms around Y/n's little shoulders, making him chuckle.

"No, uh … it's just a nickname." Y/n said as soon as the guy let her go.

"Yeah, actually the most fitting nickname that I could think of. I mean … you have to agree. She got the most cute little ears in the world." The guy explained, chuckling and pulling on her little star earring. Well, if Sam wanted to be honest, he had to agree with him. He never paid any attention to it before but now that Gary mentioned it, he could tell Y/n's ears were truly small.

"I see … So … I guess this means you were close friends?" Dean said, already hating the way Y/n e's blushed with hearing her old nickname.

"Uh … well, no. Actually more than that." The guy grinned, ruffling his own hair while he was awkwardly laughing and looking at Y/n. Just like a proud embarrassed teen!

"We used to date." Y/n said.

*oh* Sam tried his best not to let that stupid grin sit on his lips but Dean's frown and his sudden heavy silence didn't let him do so.

"Yeah. We are kinda each other's first. Like … you know? prom date." The man added, giving Y/n a wink while Dean's gaze was still locked on his large arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah. It's been years, Gary."

"I know. But believe me, bunny. you still look the same." He said, bending to put a kiss on her right cheek.

Dean would kill him. Sam just knew that. Because his brother's eyes were already burning with jealousy.

"By the way, don't you wanna tell me who these gentlemen are ?" The guy asked Y/n, giving her his softest smile.

"Of course. This is Sam and this is Dean. My colleagues who are my friends now. I live in their place."

After they met, everything got even more complicated. Y/n, the girl who was still trying to get old-happy-days Dean back suddenly stopped whatever she used to do. No more complains, no waiting at nights to see Dean before going to bed, no more effort to get involved in hunts, no nothing. And despite what Dean had claimed before, it was making Dean even more frustrated. Day to day he and Y/n were getting colder towards each other and there was nothing he could do to fix it. That was what made him even more furious. Sam already knew all of that and he still had to live with both of those grumpy faces. So last night when they began to fight, he could see this was coming: Y/n left the bunker after Dean let some hurtful things out of his mouth, just because he didn't know how to deal with all the heartache anymore. He now was convinced that Y/n didn't love him anymore. Yet the next day after drinking whatever strong drink they had, he begged Sam to come with him. Apparently Jodie texted Dean about Y/n being in her place for that night. Just to make sure that her crazy step son won't sell his soul over a tracking spell! So Dean almost begged his brother to be there with him, cause Dean believed that as much as Y/n didn't care about him, she still respected Sam and cared about him. Like a little sister and her elder brother.

So here they were, In Jodie's living room, in front of her and Y/n.

"Considering your sleepy eyes, I think we caught you at bed time, huh?" Sam asked, checking Y/n's obvious eye bags.

"Who says that? I'm totally good, Sam."

She said with a small smile, looking much more in control and stronger than before. So Sam knew it was a lie. Y/n Just had made her peace with what had happened last night. The realization۹ kicked Dean in the gut. Y/n always used to be stronger and bolder when she got hurt.

"I'm gonna make some coffee for us. Why don't you guys take a seat till I come back?"

Jodie interrupted, to ease the heavy and sharp silence that suddenly had fallen over all of them.

Y/n gave her a smile.

"Of course."

It was so fake. Her smile didn't even curl her lips completely. She was still badly hurting.

Sam swore in his head when he looked over his brother who sank silently into the nearest seat at the end of the table like a broken shell that he was too . One of Dean's hands was in the pocket of his jacket, the other formed a fist on the table. Sam was sure Dean knew it too. He knew everything was almost past saving. "Almost". Sam tried to stick to their small chance.

"So …" He cleared his voice before he put some (semi fake) hope into his words."You're … you're gonna come back home today or did Alex and Claire made you promise them otherwise?" He laughed and tried to make it funny but the truth was he asked this for Dean's sake, knowing he already was struggling to find the words … to let Y/n know how much he wanted her back … to ask her to come back.

"To be honest … I don't think I can live in the bunker anymore." Y/n said and as Dean's head snapped up to look at her in horror, she raised her hand to stop his (likely) protests.

"I applied for a job 3 weeks ago and to my surprise they called me this morning to tell me I'd actually got it."

*What?*

No one had to ask it. The question was already hung in the air. She snored mockingly in her nose. "Perfect timing, right?"

She moved her gaze from her interlocked fingers on the table to Dean's eyes.

He didn't answer, he didn't move but he got tense. Still staring back at Y/n.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked, once again saving Dean from asking the question he was itching to ask with some other words that for sure couldn't be nice.

"I wanted to but I didn't think I could actually get it and even if I did, I never figured out how to tell you. Besides, I never considered the "move out" option before..." She looked at Sam for a second before she turned her gaze on Dean. "... But I actually appreciate that you bring it up. I think now I can take the advice. I'm gonna move on."

Sam's heart dropped in his stomach when he heard those words. Because he knew what this meant. It felt something like having to watch Dean get stabbed in the heart.

"Is this … because of that Bartender?" Dean asked, staring deadly at Y/n with his bloodshot eyes. He was already chewing on his bottom lip. And Sam knew a heavy storm was on its way to hit them.

"I don't want to answer that question."

*shit*

"Why? Because you can't just simply say no?" Dean scolded and Sam could see how it pushed on Y/n boundaries.

"No. Because it's not your fucking business and it's not Gary's business either. But at least he knows his limits."

*well, fuck*

"By "limits" you mean when he drools on you just because for God knows whatever the reason, you started to wear leather jackets when we go there?"

"WHAT?!"

*Oh, fuck* Sam thought to himself, watching Y/n rise from her seat.

"You think … you really think that I …" she laughed nervously and Sam could tell she would punch Dean in the face if she wasn't a sweet, super nice person.

"How you can even …"

"I can even what, Y/n? Are we now going to pretend like I'm a blind man who can't see how you got attracted to your ex again? Did you really think I couldn't see how your hands were shaking when his filthy face lighted up by seeing you for the first time after all these years?"

Sam wanted to interrupt him or at least leave the room but everything was happening so fast.

"So what? Why and since when you care about my private life?"

"Since you stopped drinking bunker's beers just because you rather drink those crappy poisonous cocktails he makes at the bar!"

Dean was on his feet now as well. And despite his will, Sam couldn't stop his smile. He never saw his brother this jealous before. It was fun.

"Poisonous? … You … of all people, you are the one who says this? cause as much as I know, you're the one who puts dormitives in my guest's food so the poor guy gets tired and can't spend his time with me!"

"Yeah, because your poor guy is not welcomed in MY PLACE!" Dean yelled, punching the table with so much power that made everyone almost jump out of their skins.

"Dean!" Finally Sam interrupted but as soon as he stood up, someone rang the doorbell and Sam could hear Jodie welcoming someone inside.

"Guys … I know it's not my place to interfere but you two really need to sort things out somewhere private … of course that's when both of you can be much calmer than this."

"No, we have nothing to say or to talk about, anymore. Your brother was clear enough when he said he wants me to move out, so I'll move out. And that's it."

Y/n declared, looking at Sam to resist any eye contact with Dean, probably to make him even more crazy.

"And that's it? You wanna ignore that part where you were too eager and ready to accept that suggestion and leave the bunker instantly like your pants were on fire?!"

Dean retorted while Y/n was shaking her head like she couldn't believe him.

"Whose pants are on fire?" Jodie interrupted as soon as she re-entered the room with the coffees she'd made, this time a man was with her. Y/n's guy. The famous bartender.

*Oh, No!*

Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a second so the guy couldn't read his face.

"Obviously not mine." Dean hissed through his teeth, looking first at the guy and then at Y/n with such a disappointment and rage that no one could ignore.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The guy asked, choosing the worst spot to stand on: right next to Y/n.

"My typical life I guess. Nothing's new." She mumbled in reply to him but her eyes were still on Dean.

"No, nothing is wrong with your life, Y/n. It's about your choices. That's what's wrong with you. As always." Dean said bitterly. As sharp as a knife, as cold as ice. Sam could see how it drained color from Y/n's face.

"You better watch your mouth, buddy." The Gary guy warned Dean and Sam could tell that if it wasn't for the sudden thud sound that stole everyone's attention, Dean would throw a fight right there. But …

"Y/n!" Jodie almost screamed. Y/n was laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

"Oh, God." Sam said as Jodie rushed to her.

"Y/n? … Y/n can you hear me?"

As she sat next to her, Gary's fingers already were on Y/n's carotid pulse point. So Sam couldn't stop himself from looking up at his brother, who was still standing where he was. In shock.

"Oh, shit!" Gary's worried voice made Sam check Y/n's pale face again but Jodie was the one to dare ask the question which was on everyone's minds.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Her pulse ... too faint." He said before turning to Dean: "Is she bleeding?"

"Bleeding?" Dean blinked and mumbled in confusion.

If it was up to Sam, he'd ask *What bleeding?* & *Why are you asking this from my brother?*

"Oh my. You still don't know. Do you?" Gary sneered.

"Know what? What's happening?" Jodie was freaking out now and Sam actually felt the same. He didn't like the way this stranger pretended like he knew her better than them. However what happened next was much more unexpected. And … rude!

To everyone's surprise, the guy reached out to Y/n's jeans and drew his hand between her legs but before anyone could react, he spread her legs open so it could be possible for everyone to see that big red stain there. Then he raised his hand. It was all wet and red in blood!

"She's having a miscarriage." He revealed.

Sam's gaze instantly caught Dean's ... Burning. Dean was burning inside with his heavy silence.

"Don't you worry. It's not mine." Gary added more fuel to that hell with such a mocking tone, staring right back at Dean's eyes.

Now Sam could feel it. The storm was there: rising in his brother's roar!

Before Sam could've moved any muscles, Gary was already pinned to the wall, Dean's hands on his now-ripped-out collar.

"Dean, no!" Sam jumped in, trying to catch his brother's arm before his fist make any contact with the guy's nose but all he could do was changing the direction of the punch which landed on Gary's shoulder, making a painful cracking sound.

"I said no … Dean, stop it." Sam had to literally cage Dean in his arms so the furious man couldn't tear Gary apart.

"Get off me, Sam. This son of a bitch has to learn his place."

"Enough!" As Dean just broke himself free, Jodie's scream stopped everyone in their tracks.

"It's enough!" Jodie warned all three men, pointing at them one by one.

"You want to fight? Not here. Not in my house!"

"But ..."

As soon as Dean opened his mouth to protest, Jodie cut him:

"And you … you should know Y/n is pregnant with your twins. So … you'll be a responsible man who will try his best to save them or you can get the hell out of here and never come back!"

"What?" Sam was too shocked to suppress his reaction while Dean couldn't even find any words to say. His confused look darted between Jodie's face and Y/n's figure while his parted lips kept moving without making any noise, just like a dying fish on the shore!

"I promised her not to tell anyone but it was a promise under normal conditions, not this." Jodie sighed, struggling to keep her emotions under control. Sam saw the worry in her frown. Like a real mother, worried for her children. However it was nothing in comparison to his brother's blank eyes and pale face.

"Dean, It's ok. We just need to take her to hospital. … it's ok, man. I promise."

He had to grab Dean by his jacket, as his brother was struggling to process all of these in his head.

"Come on, man. We got no time. Do I need to do this alone or you'll …"

"Get the car, Sammy."

It was just a simple sentence. Yet it had enough power to make Sam's heart sank. Since Dean had put the car keys in his hand saying that, Sam couldn't stop thinking about that tone. Dean never had called Baby a "car" In years. And Sam had never heard that crack in his voice since their Dad's death.

"You ok?" He finally let himself ask, two hours after they arrived at the hospital.

"I want to be." Dean closed his eyes and put his head against the cold wall, letting the dim light to darken the shadows under his eyes.

"I'm sure she'll be good. She's strong, Dean. You know that."

He smiled and Sam looked away not to watch him. He knew that smile. Dean used to give him that, whenever everything was gone so wrong that Dean couldn't promise him anything good. Like when both of them were still kids. Hungry, cold and all alone in a rusty motel room where John had left them on their own for a one day long hunt but then a heavy snow had crashed the roads and kept them apart for half a week. So Dean had to wash the dishes and do the laundry in the motel to rent the room for another day and provide some snacks so they wouldn't starve to death. But after three days, the hotel managers didn't want them to be around. And Sam could vividly remember that smile on his brother's face when he asked: *Where should we go then?*

"You were always such a father material. You know?"

Sam admitted with a broken smile on his face.

"You were always responsible, kind and caring with me as a kid. And I can't imagine anyone who deserves to be a father more than you."

Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes without looking at him: "But I don't want ... I really can't, Sammy."

All, it certainly wasn't the response Sam had expected. He used to believe that Dean would never turn down any chance to start a family with Y/n. Especially after everything in the world was back to normal.

"Are you kidding me? You always wanted this."

"No …" Dean finally turned his gaze to meet his brother's confused eyes. "No, Sammy. Not like this. I don't want to raise another kid without his mom. I'm not that strong anymore."

Dang. Once again Sam's heart dropped in his stomach. Dean was really helpless.

"Mr. Winchester?"

Dean was on his feet as Sam just realized the doctor's presence.

"It's me."

Sam prayed for any good news as doctor took a glance of Dean and fixed his glasses on his face …

"To be continued …"

READ CHAPTER 2 HERE

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@jay-and-dean @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278

The next and also ultimate chapter will post on Sunday, April 25. Thanks for reading.

Feedback are always appreciated.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x ofc #dean x you #dean winchester #allyswritingevent #Acklesterritory #dean winchester x ofc #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you

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writingxfootballl · 3 years

Text

know that it’s you (g.w.)

(ginny weasley x reader)

it only took seven years for you to get your happy ending.

warnings: mentions of death, light cursing, men, sarcasm, and no capitalization

word count: ~2.5k

a/n: first hp fic! hope i did okay- i tried my best to capture ginny’s character but it’s not perfect <3

format inspired by @ravenclawwriting ‘s masterpiece- “turning time”

title- hold on, flor

——

first year

the aura of confidence she gives off smacks you straight in the face when she passes by you on the platform.

not that you needed any help noticing her.

her flowing red hair caught your eye almost immediately.

oh how you wished to be her friend.

“gryffindor!”

you let out a sigh of relief.

slowly you pick yourself up and walk to the table, where the pretty red headed girl is sitting.

she looks up and smiles at you, gesturing for you to take a seat next to her.

when you do, she sticks out her hand and introduces herself.

“ginny weasley.”

taking her hand, you do the same.

“y/n y/ln.”

when ginny goes missing later that year, you blame yourself.

you should’ve noticed that she was getting quieter and quieter.

you should’ve noticed that she would be gone for hours.

you should’ve noticed.

when she disappears for a few days, she takes your heart with her.

so when harry fucking potter swoops in and saves her, you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and it feels like your heart can finally beat normally again.

second year

now that you got her back, you were inseparable.

screw fred and george, you were the new duo at hogwarts.

just kidding, no one could beat the iconic mischief seeking twins, but you sure gave professors a run for their money.

the red headed girl always seemed to have something up her sleeve, and no matter good or bad, you followed her.

that summer, you’re invited to the burrow for the first time.

the two of you share a room, and what started out as separate beds and shy company slowly turned into fleeting glances and lingering touches.

hand holding, cheek kisses and cuddling, all the “platonic” displays of affection.

and then, ginny invites you to the quidditch world cup.

you’ve never been a quidditch fan, but you’d go a thousand times over if she asked you.

really, you’d do a lot of things if she asked you.

third year

you can see her concern for harry when he gets drawn for the triwizard tournament.

it makes you want to rip his head off.

and then, slowly, you begin to notice it all.

how when you were constantly staring at ginny, her eyes followed a certain boy’s every move.

how she’s a flushed, nervous, bumbling wreck around him, so different from the confident and assured girl you knew.

it makes you want to rip his head off even more.

but you don’t know why.

harry’s always been a nice guy.

arrogant, sure, but a nice guy, certainly someone you shouldn’t hate.

so you ask hermione.

the golden girl just laughs when you tell her.

“oh, my dear y/n, you’re just jealous.”

now you’re even more confused.

“jealous? why would i be jealous?”

hermione chuckles a little bit and looks up from her book.

“you fancy her y/n.”

you scoff a little at that.

“me? fancying ginny? no way!”

hermione rolls her eyes and motions for you to leave her to her studying, before mumbling quietly:

“no wonder you were sorted into gryffindor and not ravenclaw.”

you’re determined to somehow prove hermione wrong.

so when seamus asks you to the ball, you consider accepting.

but then you think about ginny.

your sweet, beautiful ginny.

you tell him you’ll get back to him, before running across the school to the courtyard, where you know she’s at.

your question somehow makes it through the panted breaths and heaves.

“would you like to go to the yule ball with me?”

ginny’s face splits into a grin.

“i would love to.”

when you see ginny at the ball, you have to remember how to breathe.

“you look stunning.”

ginny blushes a little at your compliment.

“so do you.”

your heart races in your chest at her words.

you clear your throat at the silence that follows and-

“so, shall we dance?”

you smile and nod graciously, taking her hand and following.

with one of her hands on your waist and the other tightly clasped in yours, hermione’s words flash in your mind.

“you fancy her y/n.”

your eyes meet and you can’t believe you’ve never taken the time to admire how much of a golden honey color they are.

but then.

of course.

“hey um- could i speak to you ginny?”

dean fucking thomas.

ginny lets go of you almost immediately.

she glances at you apologetically, and despite the nagging ache in your chest, you nod and let her go.

after she leaves with him, the rest of the ball passes in a blur, where you can’t focus on anything else except the tenuous strain of your heart.

maybe hermione was right after all.

fourth year

turns out hermione was right.

so very very right.

ginny had you wrapped around her finger.

and for the most part, this year wasn’t bad.

with the exception of dean of course.

when he comes into the picture, it shatters you.

but she couldn’t know that.

so you listened to her talk about him, biting back the i could treat you better from the tip of your tongue.

despite the fact that ginny has a boyfriend, the two of you grow closer.

you’re both members of the DA, helping each other with spells and practicing in your free time.

“ugh gin it’s not working-“

ginny rolls her eyes at you.

“it’s not that hard y/nn, do you want to watch me do it again?”

you nod enthusiastically and ginny giggles a little.

“alright move aside then.”

you move and watch from the side, somehow ending up eyeing along her side profile rather than watching her hex.

eyebrows furrowed, lip bitten in concentration-

dear godric she’s so pretty-

“y/n are you even watching?!”

you shake your head and blush before stuttering out:

“u-uh, s-sorry could you d-do it again?”

ginny watches you with an amused smirk and takes a step in, closer to you.

“you’re kind of cute you know that?”

her finger tracing your jaw, she emphasizes the end of her sentence with a pop and a nose tap.

your mouth drops open, and all the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks.

ginny steps away and seeing that you were still frozen there, turns back and teases:

“aw come on y/n, the bat bogey hex isn’t going to learn itself now is it?”

merlin, this girl was going to be the death of you.

when ginny tells you she broke up with dean, you want to go out and scream in happiness.

but instead, you stay put and say, “aw gin im so sorry, i’ll be here if you need me.”

you’re woken up later that night when ginny crawls into bed with you.

with her face buried in your neck and her hands wrapped loosely around your waist, you can’t help the smile teasing the corners of your lips.

it’s everything you’ve ever asked for.

fifth year

then, fifth year happens.

you could see harry and ginny growing closer and closer, and it felt like she was leaving you behind.

your weekly hogsmeade trips slowly became less and less intimate, as the golden trio began joining the two of you.

a butterbeer was poked at mindlessly with a straw by you at the three broomsticks, all while listening to ginny chat with harry, and ron chat with hermione.

it doesn’t surprise you when ginny and harry disappear together after a little while.

it doesn’t surprise you when ginny starts spending less time in your room, and more time in his.

it doesn’t surprise you when you spot ginny with her head on his shoulder one day.

it doesn’t surprise you, but it still stings.

it stings a lot.

sixth year

the golden trio is gone for almost the entirety of this year.

before they leave, harry breaks up with ginny, and she doesn’t react really.

she accepts it.

but you’re there for her even if she says she’s fine and she doesn’t need it.

then one day, she needs it.

you walk into your room to see her sitting on her bed.

it takes you a second to realize she’s crying.

you’re by her side immediately.

“oh gin- what’s wrong?”

she doesn’t say anything, just turning to you and without a word, you wrap your arms around her.

and you stay like that for a while.

when she goes quiet, you whisper out:

“gin?”

and then you realize she’s fallen asleep.

you try to bite back your poorly contained smile, gently guiding the girl off your shoulder and onto your lap.

you softly tuck a loose, fiery red strand behind her ear, a blush lightly tinting your cheeks when she exhales softly in her sleep.

merlin, i love you.

your cheeks flush even more when she grasps the front of your robes, pulling herself even closer to you.

with your heart hammering in your chest, it’s a wonder ginny hasn’t woken up yet.

you pull out your transfiguration textbook quietly, and try your best to focus on the page, rather than the girl laying there on your lap.

it doesn’t work.

but for once, all is well.

eventually, you get absorbed into your studies, distracted enough to miss the girl on your lap beginning to stir.

your brows are furrowed as you scribble down the last words of your essay, and you bring your quill up to your lips before ginny’s hand gently pushes them away, startling you.

“don’t do that, you’ll stain your teeth.”

you blush sheepishly and drop your hand.

“you’re awake.”

ginny smiles.

“well i’m talking to you aren’t i?”

you grin softly.

“i suppose you are.”

ginny rolls her eyes and sighs, her brown eyes locking with yours immediately after.

her hand comes up to tuck a loosed strand of hair behind your ear and suddenly, the air seems to thicken.

for a moment, neither of you move, too caught up in each other’s eyes.

when ginny’s eyes drop down to your lips you can hear your breath catch in your throat.

you feel yourself being pulled in by some invisible force, your eyes dropping down-

then neville knocks on the door, and just like that, the spell is broken.

“y/n- oh hey ginny.”

ginny sits up and darts away from you so quickly you would’ve missed it if you blinked.

“what’s up nev?”

neville shuffles nervously.

“sorry for catching you at a bad time- um it’s just that professor mcgonagall wanted to see-.”

“all right i’ll be there in a minute.”

neville nods and then, it’s back to the two of you.

it’s quiet for a moment before you both speak.

“you should-“

“i really-“

both of you stop and flush a little before you continue.

“i really should go see what that was about.”

ginny nods and gestures for you to leave.

and you do, not before taking her hand and pulling her up into a tight hug.

“i’ll see you later?”

ginny nods.

“yeah. later.”

when the golden trio returns to hogwarts and all hell breaks loose, the two of you are separated.

in fact, you haven’t seen most of the weasleys since the war began.

you’re left alone with neville for the majority of the fight, and you spend most of it worrying about ginny.

one day when you’re just walking along the edge of the forbidden forest, you catch a glimpse of red hair on the opposite side of the field.

your breath catches in your throat.

as you get closer, you can tell who it is.

and then you start running.

your body almost collides with hers as you wrap your arms around her.

at first, there’s relief.

“you’re here you’re here you’re-“

ginny shushes you and pulls you in tighter, drawing out the sob you tried to hard to keep down.

then the relief turns to anger.

and frustration.

you pull away from the hug abruptly and ginny sends a confused look your way.

“ginevra molly weasley! if you ever, ever do that again i’ll-“

“aw, seems like someone missed me.”

you scoff.

“don’t joke! i thought you were killed- gin you have no idea i was so worried- worried about where you were, what you did-“

the rest of your confession is cut off when ginny grabs your tattered tie, pulls you in, and kisses you.

it’s quick.

lips unmoving, it’s really more of a peck than a kiss.

but it still hit you the same way.

ginny pulls back abruptly when you don’t react, but taking the smile that graced your lips as a good sign, leans back in.

this time, you’re ready for her.

your arms wrap around her neck, her’s falling to your waist, and finally, you’re content.

it’s soft and sweet and then there’s tongue and lips and teeth and you really can’t believe this is happening-

“hey y/n! quit snogging my sister!”

ron’s exclamation startles you.

you flush red, and break the kiss, trying to pull away from ginny out of embarrassment, but she keeps an arm firmly attached to your waist.

hermione grins next to ron.

“about time you two. about time.”

harry defeats he who must not voldemort in probably what is the most anticlimactic final battle ever.

but just like that,

the war’s over.

seventh year

propped against a tree, ginny runs a hand through your hair, the other tangled with yours in front of your chest.

“hey.”

ginny smiles softly down at you.

“hey to you too.”

“i love you.”

the red headed girl smiles and leans down to give you a soft kiss before replying.

“i love you too y/n.”

your smile is almost blinding, and out of pure happiness, you confess:

“i’ve loved you since third year gin, did you know that?”

the red headed girl almost looks surprised.

“i was gross third year.”

you scoff and mutter:

“you could never be gross.”

ginny just laughs and leans down again.

“i love you y/n. i really do. i’m sorry it took so long for me to realize.”

you look up at your girlfriend with pure adoration in your eyes.

with her lips on yours and fingers tangled together, it felt like the world was finally at peace again.

ginevra weasley was your happily ever after.

cheesy ending, but i loved writing this one.. i hope you guys like it too <3

#ginny weasley #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley x female reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #hp imagine #harry potter #hp series #ginevra molly weasley #ginny weasley x fem reader

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ghost-go-roasty-mctoasty · 3 years

Text

I was supposed to write this yesterday but I got food poisoning 🥰🥰 so that was fun. Anyways here it is

/tw: non-con/

"It's all you"

Sam could feel deans heart beat through the blade. The blade that was currently pushing into deans neck, not a position you'd ever hope you'd ever have to be in, but yet, here they were. Dean staring Sam down with a terrifying smirk on his face, Sam's hand shaking as he struggles to keep a firm grip on the blade, his sweaty palm making it seem useless. It was pushed up against deans main artery, one good slice and he'd be done. He could hear deans blood pumping through his neck, pulsing against the cold metal. Sam's brain was screaming at him to do it already, make the cut, but could the demon blade even hurt dean? Was that just bravado in deans eyes or did he actually not care because he knew that this knife couldn't hurt him?

If he had more time he'd go over his options. It's not like there were many though. He doesn't want to hurt his brother, doesn't want to draw any blood. He could try to knock him out, but his left arm isn't that strong. If he had more time he would go over all his mistakes, put the blame on himself, try and figure out where he went wrong and fix it for next time, but staring into deans black eyes, he knew there wouldn't be a next time.

One of them would have to make a decision soon, and turns out, Dean did. He always did call the shots in this relationship, except Sam wasn't expecting this one. Dean threw his whole body against sam, both of them landing to the floor with a bang and a few grunts from Sam as the air was forced out of his lungs. Sam's head smacked against the hard ground, and Dean took that moment of weakness to pin Sam's hands above his head, but not before throwing the blade across the hallway, way too far for Sam to reach.

Dean was basically straddling him. He had a leg on either side of Sam's body and was making himself pretty comfortable in Sam's lap. His big brother was heavy on him, it was getting harder to breathe. He tried to yank his arms free but deans hold was just too strong, he tried to buck up but it was no use, Dean was holding him firmly down. Sam was on the verge of crying. This was how he was gonna die, by the hands of his own big brother. The same guy who raised him, fed him, hell, even sold his soul for him. Now he was gonna kill him. Sam tried to look away, he really did, but he wanted Deans eyes to be the last thing he would see. The pitch black covering the green was his fault. He failed his brother. He let him get stabbed. It was his fault, this death is what he deserves.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy" dean purred out. He used one hand to brush Sam's hair out of his face, making it fan out around his head like some sort of crown. He bent down and trailed his nose across Sam's exposed neck. It made Sam flinch but he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to, he was frozen in fear. "You smell so good." Dean whispered against Sam's skin before licking down his jaw. And that was, certainly, unexpected. Deans tounge was warm and wet on Sam's skin, but it sent shivers down his spine like he had just jumped into the Antarctic ocean. And honestly? Sam would be rather doing that right now, because the way Dean was looking down at him, well to say the least, it was absolutely terrifying.

He'd seen Dean hunt, he knows what he's like. Like predator on prey. It's scary to watch, but at least then he was the good guy going after bad. At least then Sam knew that kind of wrath would never be directed towards him. But that was then, and this is now. And right now Sam felt like a small kitten being pinned down by a wolf. Even though Deans eyes were as black as the sky, you could see the hunger and the want in them. And he knew that Dean could smell the fear coming off of him in waves, which was making this all worse.

"You remember that bitch, Ruby?" Deans hand trailed down Sam's injured arm, rubbing at his shoulder softly. "How you ran off with her, while I was in hell for you?" He gripped Sam's upper arm and yanked down, hard, kinda like how Cole did. Sam tried his best to keep his scream of pain in, but demon strength is much worse than what he experienced with Cole. But Dean continued to talk over his cries of pain. "I went to hell for you, Sammy." Pull, scream. "And that's how you repay me?" Another yank, another scream. Just as Sam thought he was about to pass out from the pain, Dean pulled his hand away.

"Dean, I'm sorry-" Sam tried, but after a swift and hard punch to the jaw from Dean, Sam decided it was best to just keep his mouth shut, even if his blood was pooling up in it now. "Oh shut the fuck up. I know you're not sorry, but that's okay." A smile from Dean, it seemed just like how Dean would smile after cracking a stupid joke and getting a bitch face from Sam for it, but it also seemed so off, so wrong. It was too cold, too out of place on Deans face. "I'll make you sorry." Sam was sure Dean could hear, and feel his heart rate speeding up.

"See Sammy, you whored yourself out to her, became her little bitch, did whatever she wanted just so you could get some of her blood." Sam tried to shake his head, to deny the accusation, but he knew they were true. And he couldn't move his head anyway, not with the way Deans hand was gripping his jaw so tightly. "Well that's just not fair to me, since I bought your soul, all those years ago." Dean tightened his grip, tears streamed down Sam's face. "So it's only fair if I make you my bitch." Now Sam was really close to hyperventilating. What was that supposed to mean? What did Dean want from him? Was there any human left in him, could Sam even try to talk to him, get through to him?

Deans eyes searched Sam's body, looking up and down, taking everything in. The amount of weight he had lost, how he wasn't as strong as he should be, the dark shadows under his eyes, his stringy dirty hair. Sam was in this state because of Dean, and Dean wouldn't deny that he felt a little bit of pride from that, he didn't even try to hide it. Sam was so messed up because of him. It was perfect.

Deans right hand was holding Sam's hands above his head, and he couldn't risk letting go. Sam might be weaker now, but that boy is fast. He needed to cut into his hand or arm or wrist, something. He needed to draw blood, but he couldn't do that one handed. Luckily, he came up with a great idea. Sam might hate it now, but he will be very appreciative later on. Probably.

Deans jaw clenched, hard. Sam tilted his head as best as his could to show his confusion. What was he doing? He only got it once he heard a wince of pain from Dean and got a look into his mouth. He had bit down on his tounge, his mouth pooling up with blood, fast. The metallic smell flooding the room so quickly, Sam felt dizzy. The scent of the blood was so damn strong, he couldn't help the way he stomach begged for it.

Truth be told, he had never gotten over his addiction. He just got better at hiding it. Every demon hunt was hard. Every time they cut into a black eyed bitch he had to restrain himself. Over the years it got easier and easier to hide, but god, the way the scent of Deans blood just filled his nostrils and made him drool for it so quickly, it was quite embarrassing. He could tell just how powerful Deans blood was. His body craved it, but his brain, his brain was warning him, flooding his mind with memories of pain and detox. It was enough to get Sam to slam his mouth shut, well, as best as he could with the way dean was holding it open. Dean frowned at him, blood staining his lips.

Dean lowered himself. Faces close, noses touching. The smell was even worse now, it was overcompensating. The want to taste it, to have the warm liquid drip down his throat was so painful, was so hard to push to the back of his mind, ignore it, don't give it. But damnit he couldn't even close his mouth, what hope was any of it?

Dean opened his mouth, and the first few drops dripped out, straight into Sam's mouth. And god, did it feel amazing. He'd never admit it, but the way he moaned didn't really hide it. It tasted amazing. Better than ruby's. He could feel the power as soon as it touched his tounge, it felt like fireworks were going off inside him. The way it travelled down his tounge into his throat was so heavenly. Sam forgot how breathtaking this whole experience was. But it was short lived. Once he came back to and left the high, he opened his eyes to find Dean grinning down at him, still so incredibly close. Sam wanted to cry. All those years of learning self control, of trying to contain himself, he did it all for Dean, and now it was Dean that grabbed him by the neck and threw him back into his addiction.

Before Sam could even say anything, Dean smashed their lips together. At first Sam didn't do anything, didn't gasp, didn't cry, didn't scream. He was frozen in pure shock. The dried up blood on Deans lips were now staining his lips. Dean was shoving his tounge, his bleeding tounge into Sam's mouth. Sam laid there in shock and horror as Deans tounge was filling up Sam's mouth with blood. He was dragging it around all in Sam's mouth, across his teeth, his tounge, Dean was basically marking his territory.

Dean had let go of Sam's jaw, but Sam didn't close his mouth, couldn't. Deans blood was dripping down his throat. He could feel it. He could feel it going all the way down, and he could feel his addiction rising to the surface again. His mind was screaming at him, trying to get him to fight, to pull away, anything. But Sam knew it was a losing battle. He was already hooked again, he could feel it. There was no point in fighting it.

Something inside of him snapped, he grabbed the sides of Deans head and started sucking on his tounge, biting down on it, trying to get as much blood from Dean as possible. He thought Dean would lash out, hit him, kill him. but he didn't. He just hummed his approval and allowed Sam to keep drinking from him. He wrapped his arms around Sam's torso and lifted him up, seating him in Deans lap now. It's not like Sam noticed, or even cared about what Dean was doing. There was only one thought in his head right now, and his whole body was overcome by want and need, greed and lust.

Dean tangled his fingers in Sam's hair as his little brother continued to drink from him, suck on his tounge. Dean was smiling. They were truly fucked up, but at least they were together. They've given so much to the world, sacrificed so much for undeserving people, why can't they have something for themselves for once? They deserve it. They deserve this.

#alright!#i dont know where this came from :)#i was too scared to post this but gemma told me to so<33 #next fic is either sb/sam or one sided wincest :D #lmao anyways #calliope hit me #spn fics #spn ficlet #spn fic #demon dean #demon blood #wincest #i mean its technically wincest but it can be gencest if you want <33 #im viewing it as gencest lmao whoops #supernatural ficlet #supernatural fic #spn fanfic

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jawritter · 3 years

Text

An Alpha And His Omega

Summary: Sometimes Alpha’s aren’t the assholes, sometimes words Omegas say things that can hurt too.

Written for: @flamencodiva and Diva’s Writing Challenge

Prompt: He was unconscious when I found him.

Warnings: Angst, virble arguments, the reader is a bitch of a bitch in this one, pining sickness, abo dynamics, sick!dean, language, smut, unprotected sex, knotting, claiming, scenting, protective Sam, (sam’s actually pretty scary in this one). I think that’s everything, sorry If I missed something.

Word count: 5860 (Whops)

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!reader

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks again love! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy this one!

***MASTERLIST*** ***BECOME A PATREON***

There wasn’t a word to describe how angry you were right now with Dean Winchester. If you were strong enough, you’d kick his ass, and even though you were in excellent shape for an omega, you still couldn’t hold a candle to the big, brooding Alpha.

Dean had been in a bad mood for weeks now. Well, months if you think about it. You’d known Dean for years, ever since you were kids growing up at Bobby’s while your father’s went on hunting trips together, and you always got along well enough, better than most unmated Alphas did with unmated Omegas.

You attributed that to the life the two of you lived. It wasn’t exactly ideal for having any sort of mate really, and you always took your suppressants when you were around Dean.

Then you met Jamie. He was a good guy, and an even better hunter. He had all the physical attributes you would look for in an Alpha, and he didn’t want to settle down and have a litter of pups. He literally just wanted someone he could trust to help him through his ruts, and you wanted someone to help you through your heats.

It was a win, win situation. You helped each other when you needed help, and went your separate ways without any attachments. You knew Jamie wouldn’t claim you, and you knew you could go through the physical work up without being attached to him. Without getting those dreaded feelings. When you started this little arrangement, you began to take a lower dosage of suppressants because it wasn’t good to take such a high dosage all the time, and with Jamie being on call you didn’t need to fight against your biology as much.

That’s when you started having trouble with Dean Winchester.

It began with the twenty questions every time you would leave and come back from being with Jamie for a few days. Then once, you caught him layering his scent on your clothes in your closet, like you wouldn’t notice. Then it was the constant pandering behind you. Wanting you to eat the food he’d bring you, or constantly checking in on you when you just wanted to be left alone.

Then it progressed to being a dick to Jamie when he’d come around on the rare off chance he wanted to hang out with you all at the bar. Tonight had been one of those nights, and it was an Alpha pissing contest between Dean, and an uninterested Jamie, who had just come there to drink.

Dean had stalked Jamie out to his car while you went to the bathroom before you were supposed to part ways with Jamie, but when you got out to the car you found Jamie on the ground, and a pretty amused Dean kneeling over him.

You were infuriated. Jamie had done nothing wrong, and as much as Dean denied it, you knew it was him that broke Jamie’s jaw tonight, not some random guy from the parking lot like Dean tried to say it was. If it wasn’t Dean, Jamie wouldn’t have broken off your arrangement when you dropped him off at home from the hospital, and had to call Dean to come and pick you up off the side of the road because it was too cold to walk across town.

“I swear Y/N, he was unconscious when I found him,” Dean said, trailing you as you walked into the library where Sam and Jack sat with a pile of books between them.

That was it, your last straw, between being an ass hole to your friend, and being as clingy as a newly mated Omega you had, had all of Dean’s shit you could take. Not even stopping to think about what was going to come out of your mouth, you rounded on the very surprised Alpha.

“Fuck off Dean!, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m SICK to fucking death of you being up my ass all the time. Now you've gone and messed up a good arrangement because you're nothing but a pompous, self absorbed Alpha, who thinks he has some sort of claim on me because I live under his roof. Well guess what buddy, you don’t own me, I’m not your Omega, and never will be, your good for nothing but a breeder, and I’m not interested in getting knocked up any time soon, so stay the fuck away from me!”

The words had tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and the high pitched whine that seem to fall from deep inside of Dean’s chest as he staggered backwards away from you like you had burned with a brander, was almost as impressive as the surprising growl that came from Sam at the table. Even Jack jumped back and moved away from the three of you.

“I KNOW you just did not call my brother nothing more than a breeder,” Sam said through gritted teeth, using his impressive height to tower over you, and make your inner omega cower as you backed away from him. “I suggest you take your little, too good for a Winchester, ass to your room and leave my brother alone before I rip your fucking throat out. You’d be lucky to have an Alpha like Dean, but bitches like you don’t deserve the man he is.”

You could do nothing but back down and submit to the fuming Alpha, forgetting about Dean momentarily as he continued to whine like a dog that had been kicked while he retreated to his room, leaving you to Sam’s own devices. Jack stayed rooted to the spot he’d moved to when Sam had erupted from the table, taking everything in with wide, doe-like eyes.

“You know, you're lucky I don’t throw you out on your ass right now,” Sam said, stalking in front of you like he wanted to rip your head clean off your shoulders.You had never seen the younger Winchester so angry in your life. “Dean let you move in here, gave you a roof over your head, runs behind you hand over fist, and this is how you thank him? By calling him a breeder?”

“I’m sorry Sam, it just slipped out. After what he pulled with Jamie…”

“What did you think was going to happen, Y/N? Dean’s had a crush on you since we were barely teenagers, and when you stopped taking the suppressants it only got worse for him when he could actually scent you. Dean wouldn’t have hurt Jamie, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, and if he says he didn’t hit him, then he didn’t do it.”

You stood there, wide eyes staring at Sam in complete disbelief. Dean had a crush on you? It couldn’t be true, and if it was Dean had hidden it well. You had known him pretty much all your life, and while you always found him mildly clingy and annoying, it never even crossed your mind that Dean was harboring feelings towards you.

He was always a ladies man, the guy that could bed any girl he ever wanted, and you just never even suspected it.

“Sam, I…”

“Just, save it Y/N. But if I hear you talking to my brother like that again you're out of here. Got it?”

You nod, and make your way to your bedroom with your mind completely clouded and shock set deep in your bones. You paused outside of Dean’s closed door and started to knock on it, to apologize to him, but you just couldn't do it.

What if Sam was wrong, and you made a complete idiot of yourself? What if Dean didn’t like you, or have feelings for you at all? Hell, you weren’t even sure how you felt about him!

So you swallow hard, and keep walking, making your way to your own room, and drinking yourself to sleep with thoughts of Dean that you never let yourself think about before, rolling around in your mind.

The next few weeks in the bunker were tense to say the least. Dean barley left his room at all, and when he did he’d hardly speak to anyone, but he didn’t speak to you especially. Sam couldn’t even get him to go on a simple salt and burn with him upstate, Dean insisted he call Eileen to go with him.

Of course, Sam blamed you, and you felt that you deserved it.

Dean had a lot of good qualities. Sure, he could be a totally self absorbed asshat, but what person living and breathing, didn’t have their moments when they weren’t so fun to be around. Dean was loyal to a fault. Self sacrificing on a level you had never seen in anyone else, supernatural being or human. When he loved someone, he loved them completely. He gave more of himself than he rightfully should have had to in life, and that had its effect on him. It made him clingy and overprotective at times, and it made him a little bit of a pest, but looking back, you regretted ever saying that he was good for nothing but a breeder.

Dean Winchester was so much more than that. Sam was right, and the more you thought about it, the more right you discovered he was.

There was one side of Dean, a dark one that he carried from years of being in hell, becoming a knight of hell, and just having to grow up in this life in general, had left a stain on him. It told you not to challenge him, and not to push him right now. It said it in the way his body tensed every time you walked into the room since your little fight.

You wanted to apologize to him desperately, but you also didn’t want to push your luck with him, and get your ass kicked out. You were lucky you hadn’t had it done to you already.

This morning had started out just like any other. Sam had come back from his run, and was preparing his rabbit food, you were sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, and your laptop open, searching for a case, and everything seemed to be going on as it always did, everything but the blatantly empty space across the table from you that Dean normally occupied.

You suddenly lost your appetite for your coffee, or anything really, and pushed it away from you as Sam came and sat down at the opposite end of the table, his eyes scanning yours for a moment before he let out a long sigh, sitting his fork down and rubbing his hands over his face. The tension building in the room was almost tangible.

“I’m sorry Sam, I really am,” you finally tell him in a small voice, unable to look up in his eyes that you could feel staring back at you. “I didn’t mean what I said to Dean, I really didn’t. I was just so angry with him...I would go apologize to him, but I’m afraid he’ll try and take my fucking head off.”

“It’s not all you, Y/N,” he finally told you, running his fingers through his hair with a huff of irritation. “I probably made things worse when I exploded the way I did, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t handle the situation properly. That’s on me.”

A long silence passed between the two of you, and it seemed almost deafening. Until, finally, Sam spoke again, his eyes lingering on the hallway leading towards Dean’s room as he did.

“It’s not like Dean to hide away like this. I’m worried about him. He’s close to his rut, and that’s why he was being clingy towards you. He was trying to get your attention. He hasn’t been himself ever since. I don’t think he’s really even eating.”

“Do you think it would help if I left, just packed my shit and got away from him?” you asked Sam, but he just shook his head before standing with his plate.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to solve anything. I do think that years of suppressants may have deadened your senses to what Dean’s sensing, and that you need to give Dean a chance. He very well could be your true mate, and you just don’t know it.”

You thought about that in silence for a moment before you were finally able to make your voice work again. Could Dean really have been your true mate all this time? It didn’t seem real to you. Dean had never shown that he was interested in you, until recently when Jamie came around, and you had stopped using such strong suppressants.

Then it hit you. The suppressants were as strong, and Dean was probably able to really scent you for the first time.

The lump that formed in your throat felt like it was going to choke you to death, but you swallowed it, and looked up at Sam, who was now leaning on the bar watching you.

“What do I do, Sam? Where do I go from here?” you asked him, tears burning just below the surface. You had never felt so much regret in your life. Your heart literally hurt.

“Trust your instincts Y/N.This may not be easy, but what in life worth having ever is?”

For most of the morning, you spent your time pacing your room and ringing your hands, trying to decide what to do. You knew you had to do something. Dean hadn’t even come out of his room this morning, and you were becoming more and more worried about him by the second.

Consulting a few lore books had told you that the theory you and Sam had come up with this morning was more than likely the case. It said that when you're on strong suppressants long enough it can mask your scent to your mate completely, or even hide you from your true mate. It said that once you got started with the matting process that instinct would take over, and the rise in your body temperature would burn off the suppressants totally, giving you the ability to scent him as strongly as he could scent you.

You had decided that since Dean’s weakness was food, you were going to fix him some of his favorite pie, and bring it to him as a peace offering and see where things go from there. You had no sooner got to the kitchen though, when Sam slid in and told you to come with him before scurrying off to Dean’s room with you hot on his trail.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” you asked as you skidded to a stop in the open door way of Dean’s room. Dean’s back was to the door, and the covers pulled high up almost over his head. Sam was kneeling down in front of his brother with his hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know, he’s burning up,” he told you, and you made your way cautiously around the bed to look at the Alpha that you had literally never seen ill a day in his life. Yet here he was, laying on his side, sweat forming just at his hairline, checks inflamed with fever, and shivering lightly.

“Dean,” you say softly, afraid to touch him, but something draws you closer to him all the same. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean’s darkened eyes looked up slowly to meet your gaze for a moment before he closed them again.

“What do you care,Y/N? All I’m good for is breeding right? So what’s one less Alpha in the world to you when you think I’m not worth your time anyway?”

If his words were intended to cut, then they did their job, because it took everything in you to hold back the whine that threatened to fall from your throat as his words seemed to slice into your very soul.

“Dean, come on, you know I didn’t mean it, I was just irritated with you and…”

“Save it, Y/N.” Dean said, not even bothering to open his eyes, and turning his back to you and Sam. Evidently, he was done talking.

“I’ll go call Jody, she may be able to tell us what’s going on with you,” Sam said, mouthing for you to stay here, and talk to his brother, earning him a death glare that you hoped showed him just how much you wanted to strangle him right now.

How the fuck where going to get Dean to talk to you if he didn’t want too? He was literally the most stubborn man you had ever met, and when he was done talking you couldn’t torture a word out of him.

‘Follow your instincts, Y/N,' you said to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you got up and went to sit on the edge of the bed close enough that you could feel the heat coming from his body.

“Dean, please, I’m sorry. I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be. Please know that I didn’t mean a word that I said to you. You're a lot more than a breeder, and I’m sorry I ever said it to you.”

You got no response, and for a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep, until he rolled over to face you again. He looked so tired, so pale. You had never seen Dean this down. Not even when Sam jumped in the pit, and he ran off to Lisa.

“You remember when we were kids? You presented as an Omega and you were so angry about it. You were sure you were going to present as an Alpha,” Dean said, a ghost of a smile on his lips as a shiver ripped through his body. “ You told Bobby that your genetics were wrong, and you weren’t going to accept that you were an Omega.”

Your mind brought you back to that. You were sitting outside with Dean on the hood of an old Ford truck in the wrecking yard when you presented. You were so fucking angry. Now you just saw it as another sign of what should have been so obvious, but wasn’t until now, and you had to fight against the sting of tears that burned in your eyes.

“I remember. I was angry that I was going to spend my life as a pup factory for some dick Alpha, and I wouldn’t be able to hunt anymore.”

“You know, all you would have had to do was say the word, and I would have claimed you right there,” Dean said, causing you to stare at him in complete shock. Dean was a few years older than you, and had presented as Alpha long before you had presented at all, but to hear him say that outloud you nearly swallowed your tongue.

“I didn’t do it because I knew you would have resented me forever. You had so much pent up anger that I knew you needed to work through it before you were ever able to even think about something that extreme. You needed to find yourself, to have a life outside of being tied to another person. So I let you go.”

“Dean,” you tried to stop him before the water works could start, but to no avail, he just kept talking, like a pot that was boiling over with pent up emotions and there was just no stopping it.

“Then you left for a little while, but when you came back, I couldn’t scent you anymore. I didn’t understand what happened, so I just let it go, thinking that it was just young hormones raging that almost made me claim you. Then, when I had all but shoved every bit of feeling down that I ever had for you, you walked by me in a bar and I could scent you again, just as strong as I had that day. I knew I had to get your attention, but I was too late and you had Jamie.”

You looked away from him as the tears you had been holding back began to fall, unable to look at him anymore.

“I knew you didn’t feel for me what I’ve always felt for you Y/N, but I never expected you to see me as nothing more than a breeder, a mutt, a worthless piece of Alpha trash, nothing more than a knot. I never expected you to reject me this way.”

“Dean, I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know,” you tell him through tears, but he just shivered again, letting his eyes close. The fever that was raging inside of him was making him exhausted, and even you could see it.

“Let me get you something to try and bring the fever down,” you tell him, but as you tried to stand his hand caught yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sam already did that, and it hasn’t worked. Just, stay with me, please,” he begged you.

Words failed you as your heart broke deep down inside of you, and you sat back down on the bed beside him, watching as his breathing evened out, and his shivering seemed to relax a little.

Of all the things that you thought would take Dean out, this was not the way you saw him going, and yet here you were, feeling so helpless and lost as you watched him sleep, praying Jody would have an answers to what was going on with him, because right now, it looked like Dean wasn’t going to be able to fight this fever off much longer, and you had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

You don't know how long you sat there next to Dean while he slept. It could have been fifteen minutes, it could have been three hours. You had no idea, because to you time seemed to have slowed to an unbelievable crawl.

You did notice that the more you played with his hair, and held his hand in yours, that his over stressed body seemed to relax more. If this was going to give them some measure of comfort, then so be it.

You never noticed until now that you had never really LOOKED at Dean. You never really paid that much attention to just how painfully handsome he was. Even for the line of work you guys did, he had surprisingly very few scars on his face, and the ones he did have only seemed to attribute to his already ruggedly handsome face. The sun kissed skin, and the light dusting of freckles everywhere contrasted one another, but in a good way, it gave him an almost boyish look while he was relaxed and asleep like this. His strong, sharp jaw still held enough of an edge of softness to it that you found yourself wanting more than ever to touch his face, to feel the stubble that was actually a light beard at this point, under your fingers.

His plump, pink lips were parted slightly, and even though his breathing was still coming in pants more than completely normal breaths, he looked peaceful.

You were so entrapped staring at him, that when Sam came skidding to a halt in the door way you nearly fell off of the bed when he spoke in a voice so loud it almost disturbed Dean, who shifted a little in the bed to subconsciously get closer to you, and away from the noise.

“Y/N! Jody says she thinks she knows what the problem is…”

“SHHH!!!” you tell him, adjusting the covers over Dean’s shoulders, and gave Sam a stern look. Sam mouthed “sorry,” before coming closer to you and clearing his throat as he came to the other side of the bed.

“Jody thinks she knows what’s wrong with him,” Sam said a little calmer, pulling a chair to sit down next to Dean’s bed.

“Okay...we’ve established that. Wanna tell me what it is, or you gonna make me try and guess it?” you tell him, quickly getting annoyed that he seemed to have forgotten you couldn’t read minds.

“Right, sorry. She thinks that when you two got in a fight a few weeks ago, that the rejection triggered pinning sickness. It’s rare for Alpha’s, but apparently can sometimes happen when you get rejected by your true mate. I looked it up, and he has every symptom. Fever, weight loss, loss of appetite, increased irritation and moodiness, vomiting…”

“Vomiting? When was he vomiting?” you cut in, and Sam gives you an apologetic look.

“Yesterday, he told me not to tell anyone, and that he’d just eaten something bad. Obviously he was covering up the fact that he was in this bad of a shape, which is normal for Dean. Downplay everything until you can’t do it anymore.”

Shaking your head in annoyance, you brush it off to bitch about it later. You hated it when Dean did shit like that. He was allowed to have bad days, just like everyone else was, and you absolutely hated it when he downplayed what he was really feeling.

“So what do we do?” you ask him, and Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat before meeting your gaze, taking a moment to put his hand over his brother’s forehead to gage his temperature before answering you.

“Well, everything I can find and know about pinning sickness is that close contact with your true mate helps. Like now just from you playing with his hair, and holding his hand like that his temperature seems to be down a good bit. In order for him to get fully past it, you're going to have to let him claim you.”

You tried to hide just how terrifying that thought was to you. To have a mate in this life, to have someone tided to you, to put each other in danger, much less it be a fucking Winchester. This was something you never wanted, but now that he brought it up, you couldn’t help but picture yourself with Dean, maybe even with a pup on your hip that would have brilliant green eyes, just like his father.

“You think he will go for it?” you asked Sam. No one knew Dean better than Sam, and you were not sure how to even begin to have this conversation with Dean after what you had told him. After how you had hurt him.

“I think you won't have to ask him twice,” Sam said, standing up and making his way to the door. “Just, don’t hurt him again, okay? Cause I don’t think he can live through another disappointment.”

You couldn’t make your voice work properly for the tears that were threatening to fall if you tried to speak, so you just nodded your head and continued running your fingers through Dean’s short hair as he slept next to you.

“Wait until he wakes up, let his body recover some, when he does he should be ready,” Sam said before closing the door, and leaving you alone with Dean.

Dean slept for probably another three hours before he even began to stir again, but you could tell by the way he moved and felt when you touched him that his fever was almost gone completely.

You watched as he stretched next to you, and cracked his eyes open to find you still there next to him, then you watched as the look of relief of finding you turned into fear and rejection in what seemed like seconds. It made your heart seize in your chest to think that you had hurt him that badly.

“Good morning handsome,” you try and tease him, but Dean just pulls his hand away from yours, and pulls the covers tighter around himself.

“Morning,” he said simply, avoiding your gaze.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, and he just shrugged, continuing to stare at the wall opposite him.

“Better.You can go now, you don’t have to sit with me, I”m sure you’d rather go and try to talk to Jamie anyway,” Dean said, and you swore you could hear a whine behind his words.

You weren’t going to let him push you away now, not when you had already made up your mind that this is what you wanted, and had always wanted. Even when you were running the bars with him, it had always been Dean that you really wanted, you were just too afraid to admit it.

“I’m not going anywhere Dean,” you tell him, pulling the covers up and sliding in next to the evidently shocked Alpha, who grunted, but didn’t fight you as you snuggled into his arms and close to his broad chest where his heart was hammering away at his rib cage at the close contact of you with him.

Once you saw that he wasn’t going to physically kick you out of his bed, you took the only moment of bravery you were sure you were going to find, and brushed your lips lightly over his mating gland in his thick neck, scenting him deeply, pulling a curse and a shiver from his broad body as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck baby, don’t do that,” he grunted as your teeth lightly grazed the skin of his pulse point, and his hands slid down to grip your hip tightly. “If you start this, I’m not gonna be able to stop, and I...I don’t want you to be tied to someone who is nothing but a breeder, when someone is out there a lot better than me, someone that can give you a stable home and a family.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh you kick yourself again for ever calling him that, reaching up to brush your hands through his hair as he tried to nuzzle himself into your hand. His words were telling you to walk away, but everything in his was screaming for you.

“Dean, you're not just a breeder, I told you, I was just angry, you're so much more than that. I wish you could see what I see in you.”

Dean swallowed thickly and looked away from you, but you weren’t going to let him drop it that easy.

“You’re so strong Dean. Most people that have gone through half the shit you’ve faced in life would have killed themselves by now, and look at you! You’re still here, as many things that have tried to kill you, you’re still here! You’re a fucking hero, you’ve saved countless people time and time again. You love with your whole heart, you’re loyal and protective, you’re everything any Omega would want in an Alpha and then some, so don’t ever think you’re just a knot, but you’re so much more than that, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t see it sooner.”

Dean didn’t say anything, and you could see that he was shutting down, so you did the only thing you knew to do. Taking a deep breath you steel your nerves, and placed a timid kiss to his still slightly parted lips. For a moment, he just froze, but it didn't take long for the tidal wave of emotions to come crashing down over the two of you.

You weren’t really sure of a lot of things . There was so much unknown in every aspect of your life, so you just never expected anything to be constant, not for you, you would die alone on the end of a gun, knife, or at the hands of some freak, and that was the only thing in life you would ever be able to count on. But right now, in this moment, you couldn’t see anything past the two of you, two halves that had fought against becoming whole for so long that the relief was almost insurmountable and indescribable.

As tender, scared kisses turned into more needy and demanding kisses filled with passion and fire that seemed to source down to your very soul. Clothing began to fall to the floor, and shy little touches became rough and more determined. You were sure that this was the piece of your life that had always been missing.

Dean was still fairly weak from days of being sick, but the more his bar skin touched yours, the more his lips and teeth trailed their way down your throat, and over your mating gland, the more his body seemed to come alive again. Yours wasn’t that far behind either, slick quickly coating your thighs as your body seemed to know what your mate needed before you ever could have guessed it, and that was to become connected to you as quickly as possible. Years of waiting made the heated kisses and touches seem that much more intense, and as Dean slid his length fully inside of you without hindrance, you could have sworn you felt the world stop turning.

Most of the time, from what you had been told, when soul mates actually mate and are claimed by their mates it’s a rough and primal act that’s over as fast as it begins. This was so much different than that. It was deeper, more sensual that you would have ever thought to be possible. Every deep thrust of his cock into your waiting heat that was already trembling around him as he stretched and filled you over and over again felt as if it were connecting you at a level deeper than the physical pleasure that was raging through your bodies like a brush fire in the burning summer heat.

He never tried to flip you over like you expected him to, and demand you present like most Alpha’s would have, but instead he held his body over yours with his powerful arms and shoulders balancing his weight so that he wouldn’t hurt you, but kept you facing each other so that he could watch you as you began to get closer and closer to your release, as your body shuttered underneath him as his knot began to swell and catch at your entrance, forcing thrust to turn into deep rutting push and pull that only served to push you both over the edge you had been teetering on.

Even as his teeth sank deep into your mating gland, connecting you to him at your very soul, you had no regrets except that you had waited this long to figure out what had always been there, and had always been missing.

Dean flipped the two of you carefully to your sides as you waited until his knot had gone down, playing with your hair, and licking lightly at your claiming mark, while you tried to catch your breath, letting the bond cement itself as it only could between an Alpha, and his Omega. Suddenly, all the things you had always feared, a life, a family, didn’t seem so scary. Not as long as Dean was there with you each step of the way.

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean x you #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x Omega!reader #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #abo #abo fanfic #omega!reader #x reader inserts #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fandom #jawritter #an alpha and his omega

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idreamofplaid · 3 years

Text

Rebirth

Square Filled: Anonymous Sex

Characters: Dean x Reader; Cara (OFC); Chase and Jake (OMCs) mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a nasty divorce and some soul searching, the reader knows just how to get her life back with a little help from a young handsome stranger.

Word Count: 3576

Tags: language; oral (female receiving); unprotected sex; age difference

A/N: This is for @idabbleincrazy ‘s 1k Follower Celebration. Congrats on your 1st thousand followers! I chose the song “1985″ by Bowling for Soup for inspiration and the prompt “Oh, fuck off.”

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Fuck him and his new girlfriend. He could have at least waited until the ink dried on your divorce papers before he decided to parade his “new” woman in front of the entire town. New. Right. He’d been fucking her while he was still married to you.

You needed to get the hell out of this place. Start over somewhere, somewhere that no one knew of your humiliation or how you’d thrown your life away. Only, you couldn’t because you had two children in high school that loved their lives here. At least they were happy; that’s what mattered, right?

The so-called “friends” you had in the subdivision couldn’t wait to tell you about your barely ex-husband and how he’d been seen out with her at the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in town. It was the same place he’d taken you for your last anniversary.

By the time your SUV pulled up in front of the bridal boutique, you were still seething. You slammed the door when you got out, not giving a damn who saw you. Let them go back and tell the entire fucking book club about your lack of decorum if that’s how they got their thrills.

When you walked into the store, a sea of white flooded your vision. Well, here was exactly what you wanted to see. Wedding dresses. Beyond them, further in the back, were the prom dresses. It was like the highlight reel of your life in dress form.

You’d gone to your senior prom with the cheating son of a bitch that was now providing juicy material for all the town gossips, and just like the biggest cliche ever; you’d given him your virginity that night. If only you could take that back, but you’d been young, wide eyed, and in love. Four years later, right after college graduation, you married him. As a result, Chase was the only man you’d ever had sex with. Right now, you were really kicking yourself for that one.

In fact, you couldn’t be more pissed at yourself for the decisions you’d made. If there was a way you could erase it all and somehow keep your two kids, you’d do it. You loved them, and it was that love that brought you here to this hell of taffeta, sequins, and silk. The alterations were finished on your daughter’s prom dress, and it was ready for pick up.

You tried to settle the storm of anger and frustration that was raging inside you before you walked up to the counter. It wasn’t the sales associate’s fault your life had turned out the way it had. You blamed yourself for that, and blaming yourself just made you madder.

Somehow, you managed to plaster on a smile while you gave your name and got the dress. Once it was in your hands, you stood frozen staring at it. It was a sapphire blue, body hugging, silk and Cara would be beautiful in it. It made your mind wander back to another blue prom dress, the dress you had worn thirty years ago. “I was the goddamned prom queen,” you muttered under your breath.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Joachin, the sales associate was staring at you with a confused expression on his face.

“Nothing,” you replied a little too sharply, abandoning all your earlier good intentions toward the innocent Joachin. You turned and swept out of the store in a huff of tarnished memories and present day frustration.

As you walked out into the sunshine of the early afternoon, you draped the dress over your arm. With your other hand, you started to dig around in your purse for your keys. Where the hell were they?

By the time only a few steps remained between you and your car, a feeling of furious panic started to bubble up inside you. You couldn’t have. When you reached the car and looked through the window, you saw that indeed you absolutely had. There were the keys, hanging in the ignition.

You placed your forehead against the cool glass of the window and closed your eyes. Of course this had happened. You would be stuck here dealing with this fuck up for hours. The auto club was never quick to respond to any call for help. At least you didn’t have to worry about the kids getting home from school. Cara had her own car, and Jake had an away baseball game this afternoon. You wouldn’t need to pick him up until later tonight.

A deep voice broke through your mental attempt to organize this mess. “It looks like you could use some help.”

You opened your eyes to see those bloody keys still hanging there, mocking you. Without nearly as much fire as you’d been feeling earlier, but still enough to get your sentiment across, you responded, “Oh, fuck off.”

“Well, I could. Or, I could help you break into your car.” Break in? Who the hell was this, and how dare he have so much cockiness in his voice?

You turned to confront the unknown son of a bitch who was so clearly finding your situation amusing. Upon seeing him, your attitude instantly changed. This man was gorgeous. He had full lips, a chiseled jawline, and eyes the green of an Irish meadow.

His face was so pretty it could easily grace a movie screen, and his body was equally heart stopping. He had the broadest shoulders you’d ever seen on a man, and you could see enough through the open front of the leather jacket he was wearing to know his chest and stomach were firm. He looked like walking sex, and it had been way too long since you’d had any.

The spark of inspiration struck, but in this case it was more like a lightning bolt. It was time to reclaim your own life. “Forget the keys. Where’s your car?”

Young and handsome smiled and gave a nod in the direction of the other side of the street. “It’s over there.”

Your eyes followed the direction of the tilt of his head. “That’s your car?” It figured. The car was a classic muscle car, strong and beautiful. It was just as much of a standout as the man it belonged to.

You dug back in your memory, seeking your long dormant flirting skills. They were rusty for sure, but still there. You smiled at this breathtaking man, just the right combination of coy and suggestive. “Could I trouble you to give me a ride home?”

He smiled back, and those green eyes got a certain gleam in them. God. He was clearly much better and more practiced at this flirting thing than you were. “Sure, sweetheart. It won’t be a problem at all.”

You followed him across the street, enjoying the view of his ass as you went. When you reached the car, he opened your door for you. THAT was something you hadn’t experienced in awhile. A welcome feeling began to flow through your veins, replacing the anger, frustration, humiliation, and regret you’d been feeling all day. This was a ripple of excitement and anticipation of entering unknown territory.

Handsome started the car, and the purr of the engine revved up that ripple of excitement inside you, turning it into a wave that washed over you and secured the idea that had been dancing through your mind. You silently committed yourself to it, and that decision filled you with something that felt remotely the way you remembered joy feeling.

He reached over and turned the knob to start the radio, then pushed a tape into the tape deck. Good lord. A cassette tape. It had been forever since you’d seen one of those. This guy had barely been born the last time they had been popular.

The songs that poured through the speakers were from your youth, before that even. They were the songs you’d heard when you were a kid. Songs from the time of your life when you didn’t think anything about mistakes, or getting things wrong. You were just filled with hope, possibility, and excitement for the future. That was the feeling you needed to recapture.

This was a good start. Many would say it was a reckless start, but this wasn’t their life. It was yours, and it was time you took it back. In some ways, you would be claiming it for the first time, and this incredibly handsome, exciting, and just a bit dangerous man beside you could help you do that.

He noticed the smile that had appeared on your face. “You like the music?” he asked.

“I do. I appreciate a man with a taste for the classics.” Those intoxicating green eyes were focused on you before he turned them back to the road and smiled.

Then a little bubble of excitement rose up in your chest, and you bit your lip. An idea had struck you. It was possible to redo your life; you were young enough. You weren’t just going to spend the rest of your days on the sidelines watching your kids live. On impulse, you turned and asked him, “Do you have anything from the eighties?” It was possible. This was a man with a collection of cassette tapes.

He didn’t take his eyes from the road, but his grin got bigger. “There’s a box under the seat. You might find some Bon Jovi in there, but I’m not making any promises.”

You reached under the seat, found the box, and started to shuffle through the bunch of tapes you found there. After sorting through the Zeppelin and the AC/DC, your eyes fell upon exacting what you’d been looking for. It was Bon Jovi’s greatest album in your opinion, Slippery When Wet, circa 1987.

You opened the plastic cassette cover and took the tape in your hands. It sent a rush through you, unlike anything you’d felt in years. This was the album you played in your own cassette deck every afternoon after school, all that time ago, with your best friend in the passenger seat beside you. Everything lay ahead of you, all the bad decisions still lay ahead. It was all nothing but good.

It felt like a magical talisman you held in your hands. You looked at your new companion hopefully. “Can I?”

“Sure,” he answered as he popped the current tape out of the deck and tossed it on the seat between you.

You put your find in the tape deck, and immediately the sounds of “Livin’ on a Prayer” filled your ears. Your eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy of turning back the clock and living a different life. It was a life with a different boyfriend and a different outcome, the one where you weren’t a washed up stay at home mom who had put so many of her dreams on hold to support her husband and his.

Dreams of travel filled your mind, dreams of travel and starting your own business. Once you had imagined being a fashion designer, a glamorous fashion designer, before you started wearing conservative suburban wife clothes and stopped dreaming. The rekindling of that spark of who you might have been brought a smile to your lips.

“What are you thinking?” Handsome with the green eyes and the incredible voice asked you. He reached across the seat and took your hand in his. Your smile got even bigger. It was time to push the reset button on your life.

You gave the gorgeous stranger directions to your house. Okay, that was a little risky, but of all the things that had gone off the rails in your life; your intuition wasn’t one of them. You had the very distinct feeling you could trust him.

Your garage door opener was trapped back in your SUV along with your keys. He’d just have to park his car in the driveway. Let the nosy neighbors wonder about that.

Fortunately, you had a spare key to the house hidden nearby. It took a minute to find the correct rock, but when you did; there was the key where you’d hidden it underneath. You returned to the front door triumphant, key in your hand. Once inside, you put your purse on the table in the foyer while mystery man turned in a slow circle, taking in the place.

He turned back to you. “Nice house.”

You took off your jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner. “Thanks. There’s a nice liquor cabinet too. How about a drink? A small thank you for rescuing me from the side of the road.”

He rubbed his thumb along the corner of his mouth. “It wasn’t exactly the side of the road, but I will take that drink.”

You walked on into the house, making your way to the living room; he followed. The bar was located near the massive floor to ceiling fireplace, and the ceilings were high. Chase had insisted on it. It always struck you as a little much, but he was ever aware of appearances. Until now, it would seem. Apparently, abandoning your wife and children for a gold digging bimbo was a good look.

The crystal decanters on the bar certainly had the right look. They also had the right aged whiskey inside them. You flipped over two tumblers and poured some in each.

He took the glass you offered him and raised it to those luscious lips. After a long sip, he asked you “What’s it like living in a place like this?”

You whirled the whiskey in your glass for a moment, starting at it, then glanced up at him. “Not as wonderful as you might imagine. What about you? Where do you live?”

It was his turn to find his glass fascinating for a few seconds. “Nowhere really. I travel around a lot.” You couldn’t quite pin down the tone of his voice. Did he like that fact about his life or not? Either way, it added to the air of mystery around him.

You took a swallow from your own glass. The little boost of alcohol induced bravery certainly wouldn’t hurt with what you had in mind. “Are you in town for long?”

He licked his lips before answering. “That depends. I’m here for a job. Not sure how long it’s going to take yet.” Enough with the small talk.

You took the glass from his hand and put it down on the bar. “What about this afternoon? Do you have a little time off?”

He settled his hand at your waist. “I could take a couple of hours for some relaxation.”

You downed the remaining contents of your glass and placed it on the bar next to his. “I have a couple of hours too.” You put your arm around him and let your palm rest over the center of his back.

That sinful mouth was on top of yours in an instant, and he absolutely knew what to do with it. His kiss was gentle but firm, tongue dragging along the seam of your lips until you opened them for him. The taste of the bourbon on his tongue as his tongue moved around yours was practically weaving a spell around you.

The kiss became deeper and more insistent. Your tongue swirled and tangled around his, and your breathing hitched in your chest. He started to bend you back over the bar, and, from deep inside your pocket, your phone started to ring. “Ignore it,” he said against your lips.

“I can’t.” That’s what it meant to be a mother. You fished the phone out of your pocket and checked the screen to see who was calling. Maybe it wasn’t one of the kids. Cara.

You touched the screen to answer and put the phone next to your ear. “Hello.”

Without any preamble, your daughter launched right into the purpose of her call. “Mom, is okay if I…. Why are you breathing so hard? Are you doing one of those old aerobics routines again? Mom, that is so lame.”

He was kissing down your neck, his mouth open just enough to require you to struggle to concentrate. “No, that’s not what I’m doing.”

You heard the sigh and could picture her rolling her eyes. “Whatever, Mom. Can I go over to Tabitha’s for dinner?”

He was sucking on your pulse point, and it was getting harder to keep your mind on the conversation. “Yes. That’s fine. Be careful driving home.” You ended the call, aware the kissing that had felt so incredibly good had stopped.

He’d taken a step back from you, and those captivating green eyes held a big question. “Look, this can’t happen if you’re….”

You quickly replayed your side of the conversation in your head. “Married? No. I am very much not married. That was my daughter, and she won’t be home for several hours.”

His smile was back, and his arm went back around your waist. “Well, in that case, where were we?”

You all but tore the leather jacket from his shoulders and let it fall in a heap on your expensive rug along with your phone. The rest of his clothes and yours disappeared on the trip down the hall to your bedroom where you’d been sleeping alone for so many months.

Surprisingly, you didn’t feel at all self conscious as you walked into your bedroom naked with this man you’d just met. He was a sight to behold. You wanted to taste and touch every tempting inch of him, and you started with his chest.

You ran your hand over the firm muscles in his pecs and let your fingers trace over the fascinating tattoo there. It was as much a mystery as the rest of him, and you didn’t ask him any questions about it. This wasn’t a “bare your heart and share your past” kind of afternoon.

He watched your hands on him, and when he raised his eyes to meet yours; they were dark, filled with lust. His hand closed over yours, large and strong, and he led you to the four poster bed. God, he was gorgeous.

Solid thighs, toned stomach, and thick cock that made your mouth water just looking at it. He lay back on the bed, his golden freckle dusted skin a beautiful contrast to the white of the comforter, and pulled you down with him. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

It made you wet for him, and for a brief second you wondered exactly what it was you were doing. That stray thought didn’t last long. It was replaced by a voice inside you that had been silenced by responsibilities and expectations of who you should be. He’s hot, and you’re single. Enjoy him.

He pulled you down into another kiss that made your head go dizzy with the sheer goodness of it. It felt wonderful, blissful, and consuming. Most of all, it made you feel sexy again. You started to move your hips, undulating them on the warmth of his firm body beneath you, losing yourself to the moment.

There were so many sensations competing for your attention. He was igniting the desire inside you that you had all but forgotten was there. His muscled arms circled around you, and he rolled you under him, caging you between his arms on either side of your head.

“Sure you want to do this?” he asked you huskily. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him.

“Absolutely. Don’t you dare stop now.” His lips crashed down on yours, and you returned every bit of the passion he put into that kiss. Then he moved his mouth down your body. The heat of his mouth closed over one of your nipples, and he began to suck on it, pulling the softest, neediest moans from you you’d ever heard escape your mouth.

This man shattered every inhibition you ever had with his talented tongue. The sounds you made when he closed his lips around your clit were absolutely wanton. He licked at you and ate you out like he enjoyed it. If his mouth was talented; his cock was even better.

It stretched you with a sweet burn that satisfied the ache and filled you. You dragged your nails down his back, wanting to leave your mark on him. He was certainly going to leave his with you. The memory of this day would be seared in your mind always.

He knew ways to make you feel good you had never even known about yourself. After your third orgasm of the afternoon, he finally came. You felt the pulsing of his cock inside you, and there was a certain satisfaction in that. You were smiling when he pulled out, rolled over, and lay down next to you.

His chest was rising and falling, his arm slung over his head. He was the picture of debauchery, and you loved how it felt to be debauched. You would need to take the comforter to the cleaners after this, because you weren’t done yet. Let those busybodies at the dry cleaners just try and figure out what happened to your bedding.

That wicked thought made you smile broadly. Oh, yes. The comforter would be ruined by the time you were done. This guy was for sure good for another round. Or two.

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