#as in: your options here are a) ignore the last seasons of dean. not treating cas very well to put it bluntly. you’d just have to ignore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Chick Flick Moments - Sam Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Chick Flick Moments

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested: by an anonymous reader

Word Count: 2,363 words

Warning(s): violence, cussing, Sam embarrassing himself, spoilers for any movie/show listed in the author's note

Summary: (Season 11) Gabriel takes a break from hiding to teach (Y/n) and Sam to forgive each other.

Author's Note: I had so much fun putting this request together! Also, if I remember correctly, this reader wanted to remain anonymous.

Here are links to all the scenes that inspired parts of this imagine:

1 (Princess Bride), 2 (8x12 Criminal Minds; can't find just the scene to link), 3 (Moulin Rouge), 4 (The Notebook), 5 (The 10 Things I Hate About You), 6 (Gilmore Girls), 7 (La La Land)

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

I rolled my eyes as I walked through the bunker.

Sam was still ranting about the most recent hunt. I was just tired of listening to it. Dean had long since given up trying to control his brother, who had shown no sign of listening to anyone.

"You can't just throw yourself into every single enemy," Sam yelled. "Fun fact, you're not Superman!"

"Oh my god," I finally, turning around. I had been halfway through the library at this point. Dean continued through the bunker, ignoring us. "I ran up to one extra vamp because you were about to get your throat ripped out! Yes, I put myself in danger but it was to save you!"

"Why are you so desperate to be a hero," he asked.

"Why are you so pissy that I saved you," I shouted back.

I let out a yell before turning and leaving.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed," I shouted from down the hall. "Maybe you'll be nicer in the morning! You're welcome for saving your ass!"

I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut. I changed quickly, throwing my old clothes into the corner before curling up on my bed. My emotions got the better of me. I started crying into my pillow.

Imagine saving the man you secretly loved... and then he got mad at you about it.

I fell asleep crying that night.

--time skip--

I shot awake, cringing at how bright it was.

I looked around, letting my eyes adjust to the light.

I was on a hill. I was on a hill, lying in the grass with the sun shining on my face. This is not good.

I stood up and did a circle to look around the long stretches of grass. Nothing looked even slightly familiar.

"For fuck's sake," I muttered.

I decided that the best option would be to try to climb down and find a person... somewhere.

I was just about to start making my way down the hill when I felt a hand grab me.

Out of pure fear, I grabbed the person and pulled them from behind me. The person went flying down the hill.

"(Y/n)," I heard Sam's voice yell as he rolled down the hill.

I put my hand over my mouth. He soon stopped rolling and then he stood up, scrambling to pull the black mask off of his face. I sighed, dropping my hand when I saw he was alright.

"Sam," I called.

"Your instinct is to throw some down a hill," Sam asked.

"When a masked man tries to grab me, definitely," I replied. "Fun fact, Sam, I can actually defend myself."

He gave me a sarcastic smile. I shot it right back to him.

Sam looked down at his outfit before sighing and shrugging at me. He had just started to move back up the hill when my visions went dark.

I opened my eyes a few moments later.

What had been an open field was now a dark warehouse or factory. I saw Sam across from me, but also a group of people behind him. I recognized them. They were characters from Criminal Minds, a guilty pleasure I watched when we weren't hunting.

I tried to figure out what was happening.

Then, I became all too aware of the barrel of a gun pressing into my neck.

"No," Sam yelled.

It clicked.

Sam was supposed to be Spencer. I was Maeve. This was Zugzwang.

My heart dropped.

"Wait, please, don't," Sam yelled as the gun pressed harder on my neck.

"Sam, shut up," I snapped.

"Me for (Y/n)," he shouted.

"You would do that," Diane- the unsub of that episode- asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

"No," I yelled. "Sam, shut up."

"You shut up," Diane growled at me.

"One difference between me and her...," I growled back.

I grabbed the gun, pushing it forward, away from my neck. The bullet she tried to fire hit the brick wall. I turned, bringing an elbow down on her arm. Her hand dropped the gun into my grasp. I pointed it toward her.

"...I'm not scared of a simple gun."

The others walked over and arrested her. I looked at Sam.

"If you continued, she would've killed herself, which would've killed me," I explained. He furrowed his eyebrows. "I watch this show when we aren't hunting."

He walks over, going to hug me before the scene changes again.

"Holy...," I trailed off as I looked around.

Around us, we could see the tops of roofs and a beautiful night sky. It was almost a dreamy setting.

"Where are we now," Sam asked.

"Only the great Moulin Rouge," Sam and I both twirled around to face... Gabriel. "I know, I know... I'm not dead, anyway!"

I rolled my eyes.

"You two need to learn a lesson," he pointed at us.

"It's like back in 2010," I mumbled. "Play our roles to get out. Probably why we were pulled out of the last two."

"You'll fall into them naturally, I promise," Gabriel smirked. "And yes. Stop ignoring the plotline."

"Alright... sure, I was gonna get shot for your crappy game," I snapped sarcastically.

Then, he was gone. I rolled my eyes.

"So, what are the roles," Sam asked as I walked around the top of the elephant.

"Well, Christian and Satine," I pointed between us. "Maeve and Spencer. The Princess Bride and Westley. It's all romance."

"Why," Sam scrunched his face up.

"Because Gabe wants to get his rocks off," I said sarcastically, "I don't know, Sam!"

I walked down the stairs of the elephant. It was gorgeous here. It was just as vibrant as the movie made it look.

"Wow," I look back at Sam. "This is awesome."

I chuckled and nodded.

"What seen is it?"

"The Elephant Love Medley," I said. "Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman sing this mash-up of famous love songs as his character tries to convince her that there is nothing more important than love."

"I'm not gonna sing," Sam shook his head.

"I was not gonna ask you too," I chuckled. "I've heard you sing."

"Rude."

I just shrugged.

I looked around at the room, trying to figure out how to play these roles without the singing.

"Wait," I said. "Come on."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the stairs.

"What is it," Sam asked as we made it to the top.

"At the end of the medley, Christian and Satine are dancing and they walk out onto this field of clouds and are held up in the sky."

"What-"

"This whole movie feels like a fever dream the first time you watch it."

"Come on," Sam held a hand out to me.

"Can you dance?"

"Not well," he chuckled. "The role didn't say I needed to be good."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him.

I tried to lead his steps and laughed as he stumbled into a pattern.

"Come on," I moved back so I could grab only one hand.

I led him a few steps forward and onto- what seemed to be- steps in the clouds. I let out an excited laugh when it worked. Sam looked at me and grinned at my excitement.

As soon as got to the top of the steps... it was gone.

We were in the middle of the street now.

"Aw, that was just mean," I mumbled. I glared at Sam when I heard him laughed.

He held his hands up jokingly before extending one toward me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"I know what movie this is," he shrugged. I motioned for him to continue explaining. He walked over, hand still held out to me, "The Notebook. Noah and Allie dance in the street. So... will you dance with me? Even without the sequence where we dance in the clouds."

I bit my lip as I smiled.

I took his hand and let him pull me into the street. I laughed as I stumbled into his chest.

We fell into the scene naturally.

Sam held one of my hands in his and held my waist with the other. I placed my free hand on his shoulder. I looked up at him. It felt strange that we so casually fell into the scene but I was happy.

Sam jokingly twirled me around before pulling me back to his chest. I closed my eyes and chuckled.

"What," he asked.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "I just never saw you as such a romantic."

"Well, don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my reputation," he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes.

Sam spun the two of us in a circle before going to dip me. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience something like this. It always just felt like something I should forget about as a hunter. I was starting to forget why I was so angry with Sam in the first place.

I barely noticed that Sam was leaning in before the scene around me changed.

I was on a football field.

I looked around.

There was no sign of Sam.

"Crap," I mumbled, trying to figure out where to look first.

Then, there was a voice going over the field's speakers.

"You're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you..."

I looked around toward the stands to see Sam walking with a mic. Can't sing, my ass.

"You'd be like heaven to touch... I wanna hold you so much"

"Oh my god," I muttered.

"At long last love has arrived... And I thank God I'm alive... You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you."

I tried to bite back my laugh. He shrugged at me with an embarrassed smile and stepped into the actual stands.

We both jumped when the marching band started playing. I looked to see Gabriel smirking and leading their march.

Sam and I shrugged at each other. He continued on with the act.

Now, Sam Winchester pretending to be Patrick in "10 Things I Hate About You" was a treat... and was exactly what you imagined it would be.

He was almost stumbling down the steps as he continued on with the act. I was laughing hysterically by the time I saw the security guards starting to run in.

"Sam," I yelled, pointing behind him.

"Crap," I heard through the mic (which made me almost double-over in laughter) as he tried to take off running.

As soon as he was grabbed, the scene changed.

We both took a deep breath when we realized we were sitting together in a car.

"Thank god," Sam mumbled.

"That was a great performance, by the way," I said, still chuckling.

"Shut up," he muttered, laughing along with me. We fell silent after a minute. "So... what scene is this?"

"I have no idea," I replied.

"It's Gilmore Girls, dumbasses," we heard Gabriel's voice but saw no sign of him. "Season 1, Episode 16... absolute idiots."

"Didn't peg him for a Gilmore Girls fan," I said. Sam laughed.

"Me neither."

We fell silent again.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, looking over at me. "You were right. You can defend yourself and you were just trying to help me. I'm sorry for being such a dick about it."

I grinned, "Thanks... I forgive you. I know you were just worried about me."

Sam smiled back.

"I... umm...," Sam looked down for a moment, clearing his throat and collecting his thoughts. "I just... I love you."

My heart leaped up into my throat. I blinked at him a few times and forced a chuckle out. Which was the wrong response but I panicked. Hunters... we could face the devil but emotions were a no-no.

"(Y/n)," Sam's smile dropped slowly when he realized I wasn't responding.

I was just about to respond when the scene changed again.

Sam was gone again and I was on a city street.

"Dammit," I muttered.

I ran down the street, turning the corner. I looked at the wall of the building I was by. Was this a jazz club?

I walked through the door and was guided to a table so I could sit down and watch the performance.

"La La Land," I said.

Sam and I watched this together. Dean had gone to bed. We weren't tired and just turned this movie on because it looked like it was mostly happy.

Big dance numbers, beautiful effects... and the epilogue that made me hide tears from Sam.

I looked at the stage. Sam was sitting there, wearing a suit, looking at the audience nervously. He hesitantly reached toward the piano. It was like it was a prerecorded track. It sounded just like the movie.

I smiled.

I just wanted to talk to him.

Soon the performance ended.

I stood up and started walking over, seeing Sam starting to walk out.

I grinned at him, "Sam-"

He cut me off by cupping the sides of my face and kissing me softly. I touched his sides lightly, smiling against his lips. It was... magic. Absolute magic.

Then, I shot awake, back in my bed in the bunker.

The game was over. Thank God.

"(Y/n)," I heard yell through the bunker hall.

I ran into the hall and ran toward his room.

We stopped as soon as we saw each other.

"Please tell me that wasn't a dream," I said. He shook his head, smiling widely at me.

I ran over, pulling him down to kiss him again. It was softer than our last kiss and I loved it. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer. I buried my hands through his hair.

"Woah, what did I miss," we pulled away when we heard Dean.

I could basically feel Sam chuckle against my lips before he moved to look at his brother. I turned around in Sam's arm.

"A chick flick moment," Sam answered.

"Alright," Dean gave us a weird look before leaving without another word.

I looked back at Sam with a smile, "I love you."

"I love you too," he grinned and leaned in to kiss me softly again.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

151 notes · View notes

butiaintgonnaloveem · 4 years

Text

Presents and Prizes and Sweets and Surprises

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader, Jack Kline, Mrs. Butters

Word Count: approx 1600

Warnings: Spoilers for episode “Last Holiday” and language

A/N: This is just my way of venting my frustration with the episode. I was going to do a kind of fix-it fic, but this turned more into a reader insert as concerned spectator kind of thing. No one edited this, so sorry for any errors. This is frustration and crack.

Poking holes, making fun, wishing they were doing better things with the last few episodes - you know, the fangirl business.

“There’s a what living here? And what does it have to do with your underwear?”

Dean rolls his eyes, “A wood nymph. She was folding them for me.”

“Since when do you fold your underwear?”

“Since Mrs. B. started doing it for me,” he shrugs.

Speak of the devil, or nymph - she scurries in from the hall.

Her eyes are wide as she looks you over, a disapproving scowl on her face.

“Dean, we do not bring lady guests into the Men of Letters bunker. Ms. Sands was an exception, but it should not be the rule.”

“Lady guests? I live here,” you glare as you over-enunciate each word.

Clearly caught off-guard, she splutters, unable to reply more than a few cut-off words as she looks helplessly at Dean. “A-a woman? IN the Men of Letters bunker?”

“Times have changed, lady. And I don’t know if you’re aware, but you are also a female.”

“I am a wood nymph,” she says haughtily, “Friend of the goddess Artemis, and not subject to the problems a woman may bring to this bunker.”

You start to move on her, but Dean steps in, gently keeping you back with a hand on your shoulder, “Okay, I think this could be going better. Mrs. B., she does live here. We don’t really subscribe to the whole ‘fairer sex’ thing. I was just getting ready to find you for introductions when you walked in. Now, I think we can all get along, right?”

He looks between you with a shit-eating grin as though he just solved the easiest riddle, even though he didn’t do shit. Mrs. B. stands there wringing her hands and staring at you with trepidation, while you eye her up, looking for any signs of malice.

“I know!” Dean says with all the excitement of a ten year-old, “Mrs. B. how about you bring out some of those butter cookies you whipped up earlier and we kick this off right?”

She turns to fulfill his request just as you answer, “No, thanks. I don’t mind fending for myself. In fact, I prefer it. Dean, can I speak with you? Alone?”

He shakes his head and looks at her apologetically. She just waves him off and leaves.

“What the hell?”

“Yeah!” you throw your hands up, “What the hell?! You need to tell me everything that happened since she showed up.”

Days pass. Once Dean had told you what happened to make Mrs. Doubtfire appear, you went to Sam, hoping for some reason unfortunately, it seemed to be a lost cause. Once she highlighted the monster radar, they were constantly on the run. A quick vampire nest here, a coven there. In between Dean nestled himself in his purple huggy nightgown and drowned himself not in alcohol, but in mashed potatoes and pie. She even had Jack drawn out of his new soul-based depression thanks to her smoothies.

_____

“Won’t you join us, dear?” her sickly sweet voice invites you as the guys line up pumpkins for carving. She wears a forced smile as she clasps her hands in front of her, still uncomfortable with your presence.

“Nope,” you pop with an obnoxious ‘p’ sound, “I’m super right here.” You wave your deli-bought sandwich in the air and look back to your laptop.

“C’mon!” Dean groans. He looks up from the face he’s drawing on the huge, out-of-season monstrosity. “Relax a little, Mrs. B is even gonna roast up some pumpkin seeds - salty and sweet!” He looks at her with an excited and expectant nod.

She looks back like a proud grandmother, “Of course, dear!” As though there were no other option, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Like I said, I’m good. You guys enjoy your...whatever over there.”

They shrug and ignore you, laughing like children and throwing pumpkin goop at each other until she scolds them. Until now, Halloween was despised by Sam, and only an excuse for slutty costumes for Dean. Not that it hadn’t been tried. There were attempts at parties, birthdays, Christmas; Jody invited you all over plenty, especially after the mess with Mary. But no. Suddenly Stepford Granny appears and it’s all hands on deck for celebrations. Something wasn’t right, and for some stupid reason, the guys didn’t notice or care.

_____

Your research on wood nymphs doesn’t offer a whole lot, they are pretty rare. More kindly disposed toward men according to a source, which explains her reaction to you, and summoned to attend the gods on Olympus, which also explains her service kink apparently. Other than that, it was a whole lot of crap.

On occasion you find her in the library, staring wistfully at the photo of the Men of Letters who previously occupied the bunker, but once she notices your presence, she shakes herself from her reverie and starts puttering about, lamenting the state of things around her.

Dean is blissful. Sam had been reluctant, but even he seems to be walking around without his usual dark cloud. You want them to be happy, to have the memories others take for granted, but the way she side-eyes Jack, the way she passive-aggressively speaks about you even when you are in the room, it won’t stop nagging at you.

“What do you miss most about them?” you ask her one day after she sends the boys off with their crustless sandwiches.

“Oh, well, it’s hard to miss them much when they’ve just left,” she laughs, stiff with discomfort.

“Not Sam and Dean, I mean them,” you tip your head in the direction of the photo on the wall.

“Oh.” She takes a half step toward it, but stops. “It’s - they gave me purpose, a home, and a family.”

“What about your real family? The other nymphs?”

She straightens out her stupid, festive apron then, looking at you dead on, “Mr. Sinclair and those gentlemen were no less a real family to me than my natural brethren,” she pauses for a deep breath, then for a moment longer until a tight smile pulls across her lips. “Now, have you eaten? Are you sure I can’t get you...”

“No,” you cut her off for the millionth time she’s asked.

“Well then, I best get back to work,” she mutters and wanders off.

_____

When you finally get the chance to corner Sam, he’s rushing while getting ready for his date and really only half-listening.

“And I just think that it’s really telling that Cuthbert Sinclair was the one to bring her on, I mean, he wasn’t always on the level with his magic and acquisitions and what the hell are you wearing?”

He turns around, smoothing down the brown sweater vest, “What? Mrs. Butters set it out for me. Said it makes me look dashing.” He smiles and shyly tips his head to the side, the way he does before giving his puppy eyes. All lost on you.

“You look like a sitcom dad. You’re just going out with Eileen, right?”

“Nothing wrong with looking your best.”

“Sure,” you agree with uncertainty, “But Sam, didn’t you look into this?”

“She was right about the first vamp case, she’s powered up the radar, and the bunker is on full blast, what’s wrong with that?”

“Because Sam! Magic also comes with a price, and when has a monster ever really been so thrilled to live in servitude? Or anyone for that matter? You think this is all out of the goodness of her heart?”

He looks at you, confused, “Yes?”

You throw your hands up, just as Sam checks his watch and curses under his breath before hastily leaving the room.

“What the fuck. Fine, you guys don’t care? I don’t care. I am fucking out of here.” No one stops you.

_____

Two days later, you’re called back to the bunker and very apologetic Winchesters, and cake.

“So she was a Nazi murder monster who also liked serving milk and cookies? Cool. Cool, cool. And Jack found this out? Jack?! I mean, no offense buddy, but Sam! You’re the lore genius! You’ve got this place set up with your own fucking Sammy decimal system, and you missed this!”

“I mean, if she was doping up all our food, like she was doing to Jack - “

“And you wondered why I didn’t want to eat her turkish delights! She had you guys running around with sack lunches like fricken four year-olds, all dopey smiles and rice krispy treats. I mean, I can’t believe you even knew how to spell ‘happy birthday’ all on your own and didn’t pull a Hagrid with how high you were flying on her nymph edibles!” You throw your hands up, nearly throwing your slice of birthday cake right off the plate, as Sam laughs.

“And you,” you point to him, “Mjolnir! Where did she pull that from? You weren’t thrown off with that? And don’t think I am letting you live down that sweater vest or birthday tiara. If all it took to make you guys so docile were a few parties and home-cooked meals and giving in to some praise kinks you seem to hae, then someone would have locked you both down already, it’s not like they haven’t tried. I cringed, you guys, cringed. My shoulders are still sore from it. In fact, I think you guys really owe me for having to put up with watching all that crap go down. For being so right, right from the start.”

They both roll their eyes, Jack for his part just sits and smiles while eating his own birthday cake. Dean flicks his fingers in a ‘bring it on’ motion while pursing his lips in displeasure.

“I want a party. With drinks and store-bought cake with that really good frosting, and a banner that says ‘you were so right and we were so stupid and we’re sorry and we will do better next tim-’”

“Alright, Veruca we get it,” Dean groans.

“Just do better, and don’t forget my golden goose,” you smirk.

#spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn s15 #spn crack #spn last holiday #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #my writing #in case you can't tell #i hated the episode

25 notes · View notes

katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part fifteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5200 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part fifteen: The sun rises and it’s time to bring the herd home, but not before Dean reconnects with an old friend. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Dean & Rocko scene: ‘Road To Perdition’ - The City Of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra. Final scene: ‘Ride’ - Hans Zimmer. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: It’s about damn time, ain’t it? Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Slow hoofbeats, little rocks and earth crunching underneath the thousand pound animal. Surprisingly light on its feet, never disturbing the quiet, as it scours the land for the last grass of the season. Calm breaths, taking in over a gallon of oxygen with each inhalation, followed by a soft purring sound when the air is pushed out through the nose. The cold of the night lingers and the air condensates. The first glint of the sun catches the moist clouds coming from its nostrils, turning the fierce creature into a dragon. Kind eyes, calm when it’s safe, but scanning the environment nevertheless, always on the lookout for predators. Pointy ears, flitting back and forth independently, picking up even the smallest whisper, like two little space antennas scanning the sky.

Dean watches the herd from a distance, with Y/N still sound asleep in his arms. He can tell she’s exhausted, because she didn’t stir once in the past three hours. The cowboy made sure she was fully covered with the unzipped sleeping bag, holding her close to keep her warm. She seems so comfortable, so trusting; it humbles him. Apparently she’s completely at ease being so close, her self-consciousness burned away by his never ending adoration. Of course he noticed the hesitation when they all went for a swim yesterday evening. She wanted to disappear, covering herself with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her expression shameful. And then there was the insecurity just hours ago, her mind clearly spiraling when he couldn’t give her the confirmation she so desperately seeks. Dean wonders what happened for her to lack confidence. If she has some douchebag ex-boyfriend maybe, who didn’t treat her right.

Staying awake wasn’t any trouble overnight, because he had plenty to think about. He’s not the guy to analyse his every thought, he'd rather stuff it all down and ignore them all together. But spending several hours under the Yucca tree, in an embrace with the one person that has his mind reeling, left him no option. So many questions, so much doubt. He wishes he had more answers, he wishes he could have a glance into the future in order to tell if he’s on the right path. If he can make it work with her, if he can step up to become the man she’s looking for. If she will stay with him, even after the internship, because the thought of her leaving brings back an anxiety that he used to experience when his family threatened to fall apart, which is exactly what happened, eventually. He came to one conclusion, though; he’s not going to let her go.

His gaze remains absently fixed on the horses, who have moved a few hundred yards closer. The oldest stallion of the herd had spotted the wranglers about an hour ago, but after careful observation decided that they weren’t a threat. It’s a beautiful sight, beams peeking over the mountain range, framing the horses’ silhouettes with gold. Small bugs twirl in the air like fireflies, surrounding the large animals. Dean squints and tips his head forward when the rising sun becomes brighter. The warmth is welcome; he hasn’t moved an inch over the past hours, not wanting to wake Y/N, causing the cold to settle in his bones.

A new dawn means they’ve got work to do and Dean is left no choice but to wake the heavy sleeper. The arrival of morning does the job for him, however; even with her eyes closed, the light seeps through. It triggers her to turn into him and hide her face in the crook between his shoulder and his chest. Y/N grunts, disagreeing with the time, and Dean sniggers. He’s not much of a morning person either, but his intern takes the cake. “Mornin’, Yankee.” She opens one eye and looks up, meeting an amused yet adoring smile. “Morning…” Groggy, she rubs her face with the back of her hand. “Five more minutes?” “You’ll miss the view,” Dean says, nodding at the horizon.

His eyes reflect the scenery he’s beholding, the colors vibrant as the sun hits them just right, adding amber to the jade in his irises. It peaks her interest, and Y/N turns her head to face the new day. Only leaving a crack for the light to pass her long lashes, she takes in the mesmerizing scenery. On the edges of her vision, a darker shade of blue transitions into a lighter one, the tones changing from cold to warm as they enclose the sun. Cirrus clouds catch the first rays, curling across the sky like wisps of silk hair. From cobalt to pale turquoise, from apricot to saffron. The painter of this picture used every color on the spectrum. And smack in the middle, the sun rises. So bright, she seems to be aware that planets orbit around her. The Superstition Mountains stand proud and tall in the south, the peaks catching the early light, making the volcanic formations seem blood orange, as if lava is erupting from the earth once again.

The herd is only a couple of hundred yards away now, grazing calmly. They don’t seem to be aware of the humans sitting on the top of the hill, almost as if Y/N is in a cinema, watching a gigantic movie screen. It would explain the idyllic Wild West decor, because such magic can only be created with CGI in a Hollywood studio. But they are here. Y/N can smell the air, sweet and earthy. She can hear the wind rustling small bushes and blowing gently through the canyons. She can feel Dean, the warmth radiating from his large form that has enveloped her. “It’s breathtaking,” she says softly, leaning into him. He places a soft kiss on her hair, and she smiles, content. “Thanks for letting me sleep.” He shrugs it off. “You needed it. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” Y/N sits up and rolls her neck to loosen her muscles. “It’s going to be intense, isn’t it?” she guesses, getting to her feet. “I’d call it adventurous and exciting,” Dean chuckles, stretching his back now that he can move freely again. “Just like the old spaghetti westerns, y’know? Well… without the gun slinging and bounty hunts. It’ll be awesome, trust me.”

Y/N sniggers, strolling around the Yucca tree to meet her horse. She finds it cute how the tough cowboy, who’s closing in on thirty, is beaming like a little kid. After ruffling Joplin’s mane, she takes a small case from one of the saddlebags, which holds her toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. She has found a new level of appreciation for these simple products of hygiene, given that she has been stripped from luxury and has to do with the absolute necessary. Especially since she’s not just kissing Dean in her dreams these days.

Looking forward to the day on his doorstep, Dean pulls his radio phone from the front saddlebag, turning it on and twisting the knob to find the channel. “Benny? Come in?” He lets go of the PTT button, the device beeping once when he does, then it’s quiet for a moment. Mirroring Y/N’s actions, he one handedly fishes out his toothbrush as well, but when his friend doesn’t respond, he pushes the talk button again. “You better get your lazy ass out of bed, Lafitte. Gotta bring the horses in.” Dean clips the radio to his belt. He has brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth and cleaned his face by the time the farrier replies. “Good mornin’ to you too, Chief.” Dean grins at the slightly cynical tone of the Southerner. He pushes the button again, moving the speaker closer to his mouth. “We’re with the herd, on Black Top Mesa, close to Dutchman’s Trailhead. Ya’ll ready to move?” “Sure am, just cooking up some breakfast to go. Do you want some or did you already eat out?”

Y/N has never timed taking a sip of water worse, because it comes out through both her mouth and nose. Dean stares at her mortified before he snaps the walkie talkie to his mouth. “She can hear ya, you jackass!” he returns, his voice higher than he anticipated. “Oh, I bet she can.” The head wrangler shuts his eyes and cringes, turning away from Y/N to hide his red face. His free hand goes for his belt loop first, then rubs the back of his neck, before wiping the sweat on the denim of his jeans. Shit, this is embarrassing. “I - I - We… You know what? I don’t owe you an explanation,” he hisses into the radio phone. “I’m just saying, brother, if you haven’t yet, it’s gonna take us at least forty five minutes to get to ya, so--” “- Over and out, Benny!”

Quickly, he turns the device off, breathes out, and scoffs. That son of a bitch. Dean isn’t sure how he’s going to make Benny pay just yet, but he will taste his wrath. He carefully glances over his shoulder to check on Y/N, who he finds with her hand clasped over her mouth, trying her very best to contain her giggles. “You think that’s funny, huh?” he mutters, flustered. She laughs warm and hearty, wiping tears from her eyes as she approaches the cowboy. “You don’t need enemies with friends like him, that’s a given,” she chuckles.

He glances at her, his mouth pulling into a smile. She can spot a hint of relief, now that he knows she’s taking it well, but blood still warms his cheeks, making his freckles invisible. It amazes her every single time how all that confidence washes away once he loses direction. Benny was just teasing him, Dean must be aware of that. Besides, it’s not like the green eyed wrangler to take things easy, as he said so himself, so it’s not strange his Southern friend figured he covered at least a couple of bases overnight. She can feel a blush add color to her face as well, when the thought crosses her mind. Honestly, she too silently hoped he would have gone ‘down that road’.

“Well, unfortunately he assumed wrong,” she addresses boldly, taking the collar of his stockman coat gently between her thumb and index finger, reeling him in. “But he was right about them taking at least forty five minutes to get here.” Stunned eyes flick over her features, wondering if he’s imagining things or if she really just gained the confidence he’s lacking at this very moment. Once again she blows him off his feet with her newfound assertiveness, like she does every so often. Shit, she’s sexy when she takes the lead like that. “He sure was,” he returns, his hands now moving to her waist. “I know we agreed to take it easy,” she tilts her head slightly, folding her arms around his neck now. “So what should we do with all that time?”

Dean smirks at her from under his hat, shaking his head amused without breaking eye contact. What a tease. He couldn’t resist her to save his own life. Her radiance is brighter than the rising sun behind her. The pull he’s experiencing, the level of attraction, it’s so strong; he knows he’s going to have a tough time sticking to his boundaries. He has to, though, he has to do right by her. But that doesn’t mean they can’t have a little fun along the way. “I got a few ideas,” he implies. Before Y/N knows it, the strong wrangler lifts her up, pulling a squeal from within her, followed by a fit of giggles. He adjusts his grip when she folds her legs around his middle, smothering her sly grin with a sweet kiss. The low chuckle that escapes his throat sounds both gentle and gruff, adding to the wholesome sensation that fills her chest. By the Yucca tree, he lowers himself to the ground, still holding the cowgirl in his arms until she has found her balance and straddles his lap, a knee buried in the gravelly sand on either side of him. The intimate connection strengthens as they get lost in the moment, the laughs dying down, eyes falling shut.

Dean lets his fingers wander over the fabric of her clothes, tracing the lines of her neck, her spine, the curves of her hips. Feeling no pressure that this needs to lead somewhere right now calms him, because even though it’s proven to be difficult to keep their hands off each other, he knows she will give him the space he needs and, despite this little tease, she respects him more than he respects himself. He makes a little mental note when she whimpers, as he continues to leave a trail of kisses from the corner of her mouth, down her throat and her collarbone. Dean might not go down on the beautiful cowgirl today, but he will remember the little touches that make her sigh and squirm.

Their agreement to take it slow, combined with Benny’s remark, sparked something new. Since their first kiss, she has been willing, eager for more, but now that what she wants is just out of reach, she finds it difficult to control herself. He can tell in the way she touches him, the audible breaths that reach his hearing when their mouths aren’t sealed together, the longing in her eyes when she opens them for a brief second. Dean never thought he would say it, but taking their time might have an advantage he hadn’t considered before. Teasing him, tempting her… it’s an interesting way to pass the time. Making each other wait might feel like a torturous game right now, but when the moment does arrive for them to take things to the next level, it’s going to be something else. And just like that, the bachelor who didn’t waste a second to get around with so many women, doesn’t mind waiting for the one.

The two lay together for at least half an hour, making out like teenagers. Sweet touches, cute giggles, all smiles. If they could freeze time, they would. But when Dean glances north and notices the dust clouds coming from La Barge Canyon, they have to interrupt the intimacy; Benny and the others are on their way.

Five minutes later, Dean shrugs off his long coat, now that the sun has cast out the crisp of the night. He folds it up tightly and stuffs it into one of his saddlebags. Y/N has already mounted Joplin, at home in the Tucker trail saddle. The mare didn’t entirely awaken from her slumber apparently, because for once in her life, she stands still and doesn’t bounce around impatiently like a bronc in the holding box at the rodeo. Her rider has her wrists crossed on the horn, the reins casually between her fingers, as she stares at the herd ahead. “That’s the leader, isn’t it?” she says.

Dean turns his head, looking at the dark bay horse, who stands between them and his congeners. The animal stares back, ears perked forward, one of them flicking back to the herd every now and them. The stallion observes him carefully, he doesn’t seem entirely sure how to deal with the presence of humans. He’s alert, ready to bolt and take his herd to safety, yet at the same time curious. Understandable, because these youngsters spent most of their life living as feral horses, only seeing men when they were moved from the reservation to the large winter pastures closer to the ranch, and back to the mountains when spring was around the corner. “Yeah, seems like it,” Dean confirms, watching the beautiful creature. He returns his gaze to the task at hand, tying the sleeping bag behind Ted’s saddle, but then realization hits him. Wait a minute, is that…? The wrangler turns to face the interested horse again, who is looking at him from about two hundred yards away, like he seems to recognize the cowboy as well. Y/N glances from the wrangler to the horse and back. “Dean?”

But he doesn’t respond, slowly stepping away from Ted, narrowing his eyes to see better. The horse’s mane grew long, his forelock covering his face, the black hair growing all the way down to his nose, but a hint of a blaze still visible through the curtain. Dark brown eyes take Dean in as the stallion waits, so still that one could mistake him for a statue, save the wind playing with his tail. The low vegetation hides the white markings on his legs, so the wrangler can’t tell for sure. It can’t be. He couldn’t have grown that big, he wouldn’t be the alpha, he reminds himself. But besides the horse’s size and rank within the herd, there’s nothing that indicates the animal, isn’t him.

Dean moves his hand to his mouth, pressing the tabs of his thumb and index finger together, creating a circle, before he places them on his lips. He inhales and whistles sharply. The sheer, high-pitched sound moves across the land, reaching ears miles away. The ears the whistle was meant for, pick up the unique sound too and instantly the caution and doubt in the horse’s stance is gone. He neighs back, loud and strong, confirming Dean’s suspicion. “Well, I’ll be damned…” he breathes. “You two know each other?” Y/N wonders. Dean beams. “Yeah, we go way back.”

He leaves Ted and Y/N on top of the hill, carefully making his way down the slope without spooking the feral horse. But the stallion doesn’t feel threatened anymore, now that he recognizes Dean. He jogs up to him, taking a few more steps before he halts. Friendly eyes take in the wrangler, his nostrils flaring when Dean tentivally reaches, picking up his scent. As a content smile spreads across Dean’s face, he lets his fingertips brush the horse’s nose, soft as velvet. He takes another step, gliding the palm of his hand up his jaw now, to his cheek and then down his neck, following the flow of the horse’s dark hair. The short summer coat has already partly been replaced, now that the cold of winter will arrive in a month or so. Last time Dean saw him, he was barely two years old. A youngster, a boney juvenile, who was a tad small. Obviously the fellow needed more time. That’s why the wrangler gave his horse another year to grow. It worked out well, because look at him now. “Hey, bud,” Dean says softly, ruffling the horse’s mane. “You got big.”

From a distance, Y/N watches the reunion. She doesn’t know the whole story, but the connection between man and animal is unmistakably strong. They have a place in each other’s hearts and even though they have been apart for a while, that didn’t change. The leader of the herd, who one would expect to be dominant, accepts a human touch without hesitation. It’s an unusual response for a horse who has lived off the grid for years.

Warmth fills her chest, a smile on her lips, similar to the one Dean carries. It’s incredible to witness him around the animals that captivate them both. She has enjoyed his interactions many times before, watching him handle them on the ground, seeing him ride. Always kind, always respectful. He has a way with horses that is special. Her grandfather would have said he’s gifted. He also would have given her a thumbs up. Grandpa always offered wise words, often followed by silence, the quiet giving them even more strength. One of his sayings comes to mind: You can judge a man’s character by the way he treats his horses. Well then, if that’s a given, then Dean is definitely one of the kindest and most loving souls she has come across.

The wrangler rubs the stallion’s shoulder, before he slowly turns around. He tries to beckon the beautiful dark horse with a simple shoulder movement, using only body language to invite the large animal to follow him. After a moment of hesitation, during which the stallion glances at his herd and back at his human, he follows. No rope, no pressure, no constraint, but free will. It’s hard to miss the pleased expression on Dean’s face when he looks up at the cowgirl, who still watches from Joplin’s back. “I know country boys aren’t known for manners, but aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” she jokes.

The stallion stops at the bottom of the small hill, aware that as the leader of his group, he still has a task to fulfill. He stands tall, checking on the herd, the autumn breeze catching his tangled mane, folding his tail around his hind legs. He looks almost mythical. “His name is Rock N’ Roll.” Dean takes him in, proudly. “But he goes by Rock’o.” “Is he yours?” she asks, curiously. The wrangler nods. “I was there when he was born. He had a rough start in life. I bottle fed him the first couple of months.” Amazed, she smiles at him. “No wonder you two are close.” He returns her expression, taking a moment to absorb the image of both the woman who is conquering his heart, and his horse who already claimed it years ago. “It’s gonna be much easier to bring in the herd with him on our side,” Dean says, moving to Ted’s left side, after which he puts his foot in the stirrup and swings the other over the saddle. “We have to handle it delicately, but he trusts me.” “You think he will follow you?” Y/N assumes, keeping Joplin on the spot, who seems to have woken up from her nap, now that Dean mounted his horse as well. “No, but he will keep the herd together. It's a misconception that the stallion leads the group. They are usually in the rear, driving up stragglers,” Dean explains.

The head wrangler glances over his shoulder at the growing dust cloud, an indication that Benny and the rest of the crew are closing in. Within a minute, he spots the four riders and their pack horses coming over the hill. The mischievous grin on the Southerner’s face can be spotted from far away. “Had a nice mornin’ ride, Chief?” he nags under his breath, once he has joined the two riders. Dean shoots him a glare, his fiery green eyes demanding him to shut up without using actual words. Y/N heard the farrier, however, and no one is prepared for the comeback. “Oh, we didn’t have time. Forty-five minutes isn’t nearly enough for what I had in mind,” she counters casually.

Dean snorts, caught by surprise, while Benny cocks his head at the intern, staring at her bug-eyed. Y/N doesn’t give the the blue-eyed cowboy another second of her attention and leads her horse to Ted, her fingertips briefly touching Dean’s thigh as she passes him, before she rides down the hill, her head held high. Amused, the head wrangler waits for his friend to catch the wide grin on his face, which he does once Benny snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head sniggering, his laugh rumbling deep and low in his chest. “Brother, you are in way over your head,” he states. “She’s a pistol.” Dean admittingly raises his brow, nodding in agreement while watching her ride off. “She sure is.”

“Yah!” In full gallop Y/N speeds up along the left flank of the herd, directing the horses back to a compact group every time they fan out. Benny and Macy are leading, Dean tailing, while Brad and Jon cover the right side. The head wrangler wasn’t lying when he said that it was going to be exciting, because she feels like she’s living a Wild West fantasy.

Joplin has her ears in her neck as she sprints away, cutting off two stallions who fan out. Her rider doesn’t even have to give a signal, the feisty dark mare knows exactly what to do. Even though she is smaller than the others, she stands her ground and didn’t think twice when one of the juvenile stallions took an interest in her. With a squeal and a firm kick she made clear not to mess with her, her zero-tolerance attitude keeping them at a safe distance. Y/N had a hunch Joplin was good at the job, otherwise Dean wouldn’t have chosen the strong minded horse for his intern, but she didn’t expect her partner to be this fierce. Unflagging, focussed, and fast as a bullet. It’s an absolute thrill to work with her.

They pursued the herd into O’Grady Canyon, the higher cliffs on both sides helping the wranglers keep them together. They passed the rock formations of Tim’s Saddle and Dean and Y/N briefly exchanged a look and a smile as they crossed the small creek. Revisiting the place where they shared their first kiss only two days ago feels special, that night’s energy still in the air. So much has happened since, and yet their journey has only just begun.

After a quick drinking pause, they continued, before the herd could fall apart. Some of the animals are restless, while others follow a lot more calmly. Using horses instead of dirt bikes or even a helicopter is a lot less stressful for the feral animals, but being chased makes them nervous nonetheless. Rocko’s laid back attitude towards the humans keeps the panic in the herd contained to a minimum, though.

Thankfully, the weather is working in their favor for a change. A cool breeze is sweeping across the terrain and swishing through the canyons, keeping the temperature from rising to the heights it reached in the past couple of days. It’s a good thing the conditions are a lot more tolerable, because the riding is intense. The wind, together with the stampede, does kick up a lot of sand, engulfing the wranglers in clouds of earthy particles. Dean, being at the back of the herd, has pulled his neckerchief over his nose, keeping the dust from entering his lungs.

Halfway through the afternoon, the wranglers have managed to guide the group of horses safely down the slopes on the east banks of the Superstitions. A time consuming detour, but crossing the mountains without a herd is challenging enough, not to mention with over a dozen wild animals added to the clan. After descending the much smoother slopes for hours on end, the canyon functioning as a tunnel and relieving the pressure from the riders, the walls on either side fan out. Before them lays the valley, the small town of Gold Canyon in the far distance to the west, the sun edging towards it as the day begins to close in on the night.

“Yankee!” It’s Dean who gets her attention, his voice rising above the sound of the stampede. Y/N turns in the saddle while she continues to follow the movement of her horse with her hips. Behind her, three young stallions have wandered away from the group in a matter of seconds. Joplin hasn’t noticed them yet, fixed on holding the flank ahead, but when her rider moves her hand to the left, she rolls away like a fighter jet. The little dark mare needs no encouragement and is at full speed within five strides, shooting across the terrain at a speed of forty miles an hour. Y/N has bent over Joplin’s neck, staying low in order to increase the aerodynamics. The fast rhythmic sound of hoofbeats tremor the ground, the wind rushes in her ears and drags tears from the corners of her eyes. The two cut off the youngsters, redirecting them back to the herd like they have been doing this together for years. Y/N’s partner in crime pushes her ears back and snaps her teeth, not so kindly advising the horses to hurry it up or else, triggering her rider to grin at her feisty character. Once the three join the others, the cowgirl lets out a cheer, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Dean was absolutely right, this is just like a spaghetti western.

They ride along the promontory of the mountains to their right, roughly following the Lost Goldmine trail. By the time the company passes a volcanic remnant called Turk’s Head, the sky begins to change, adding orange to the blues. A glance at her old watch tells her it’s 5.10 PM. Three days ago she kept feeling her back pocket for her phone whenever she needed to know the time, or felt the urge to check her messages, but not having her Iphone with her turns out to be a blessing in disguise. Who would want to stare at a screen and miss all the good stuff?

Ted’s strides are long and consistent, not a trace of fatigue noticeable with the bay gelding. From behind the group, Dean should have a good overview, if it wasn’t for the dust clouds obstructing his vision. The small particles cling to his skin, his lashes, the fabric of his clothes. He can still see the boys holding their ground well on the right, the steep slopes running up into the peaks of the Flatiron assisting them, working as a funnel. Benny and Macy are keeping a good pace; if they continue at this speed, they will be home before dinner. Y/N is doing outstanding on the other flank, forming a dream team with eager little Joplin. Thankfully, Dean has eyes up ahead, because the radio on his belt begins to crack. “Two miles to go, Chief!” Dean takes the radio phone and presses the PTT button before he answers. “Let’s bring them home, brother.”

With his thumb he twists the channel nob, switching to number four, before he calls in again. They should be within the perimeter now. “Bobby, do you read me?” It’s quiet for a moment, but then the static breaks. “Loud and clear, son.” The head wrangler smiles, glad to be delivering good news after three days and nights filled with nerve wrecking moments. Treacherous terrain, suffocating heat. Drought, snakes, minor injuries. “We’re comin’ in hot. Thirty minutes.” “The gates are open. I’ll tell Ellen to put the casserole in the oven.” Dean’s mouth begins to water when his aunt’s famous dish is mentioned. No disrespect to Benny, but after all that canned food, he can’t wait to sink his teeth into that delicious corn, beef, and onion stocked, stomach filling meal. “In that case, I’ll make it twenty. Over.” “We’re ready for ya. Over and out.”

The head wrangler hooks the radio back on his belt and glances aside. Rocko is galloping about thirty yards to his left, ahead by a few nose lengths. Sweat shimmers on his neck and shoulders, his dark bay coat almost black now. With big, powerful strides he pushes forward like a steam train, yet agile, maneuvering past rocks, cacti, and bushes. Even untrained, he has grown into a strong horse. Dean can’t wait to work with him. To strengthen that bond even more, to teach him. Watching the stallion by his side and under Dean’s wing as it were, fills him with pride already. It’s at this moment that Dean realizes; this horse is going to be something else.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part sixteen here

209 notes · View notes

danvssomethingorother · 6 years

Text

My Top Picks for VB fics

I didn’t want to put the fics in any order, they are all good and just as a warning, I mainly read Brusty fics but these are my personal favorites from the VB fandom. most VB fics are good though and I still have some not Brusty ones on my to read list later, so I will likely update again lol. Please feel free to reblog this and add more fics!

Hubris Makes the Heart Grow Strong -

Ship: Brusty eventually

Status: Ongoing.

Author: @the-monarch-is-a-venture here

Summary: An AU in which Rusty takes Brock's DNA while they're in college and ends up mixing it with his own later to create Hank and Dean.This will be Brock x Rusty further in to the story, but it's definitely gonna be a slow build, multi-chapter type thing.

My notes: I think this was one of the first VB fics I read way back in July after I finally got around to finishing up the series after years of never being able to keep up with it properly even though I have always liked the show and man this really helped me stick around and keep an eye on the fandom even when it was dead.

I just really like the premise of this fic, its a really creative and interesting origin story of where the twins came from and its just really soft. Its like a perfect fic to read when like you have had a long day and just need to relax with a cute fic.

---

What’s Past Is A Prologue

Ships: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: mirawonderfulstar

Summary: “How is the doc, anyway? Have you heard from him recently?”“Alas, no.” Orpheus said solemnly. “The last I saw of him was shortly after you and the boys left the compound. I went by to see if perhaps he needed some cheering up, poor fellow, all alone in that huge empty place, and he threw me out.” Orpheus’s tone grew colder. “I daresay that Killinger fellow brainwashed him, yes? Turned him away from the things and people he loved. I cannot think of any other reason he’d allow you and the children to be parted from him, he always seemed so devoted to you all.”Brock felt something cold slide down into his stomach, and he took a quick spoonful of his soup which did nothing to counter the effect. “You think?” He grunted after a moment.An AU following the divergence that Rusty took Killinger's offer at the end of The Doctor Is Sin.

My Notes: Rusty becomes a villain AUs are my jam. The Doctor Is Sin is definitely one of my favorite episodes!

I love how it keeps it a mystery what Rusty is up by keeping everything in Brock’s perspective and showing his slow transformation into a real villain and I don’t want to give it away but Rusty’s plan is freaking genius. Like that is super in character and its a really heart breaking ending. Just go read it, you won’t regret it.

---

How you Feeling?

Ships: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: NewAgeVintage

Summary: Taking place in a vague place in season 6/7.Rusty loses his secret stash of ‘emergency’ pills when he loses the compound. Thankfully money can buy dubiously prescribed medication. After a frustrating night in the lab he breaks into his stash and Brock needs to step in.

My Notes: I have been trying to just like keep it to like one story per author I like and since most of the fandom is like the same few people making tons of really good work, it sometimes got tricky.

Like I have really loved every single story this author has made but I settled on this one eventually because I just really love the idea that Brock is just used to Rusty’s bad habits and just knows how to handle the situation easily. Like he just knows him too well and I am just rambling without giving away the entire story but I just like the dynamic between Rusty and Brock and how its presented. Also read their other VB fics cause I love them lots too.

---

Red and Blue

Ship: None, gen.

Status: Complete

Author: @paigek9

Summary: From a young age, Rusty knew that Malcom was treated differently.When they were four, their dad started color-coding all of their toys, mostly to keep Uncle Rodney from losing his mind because of the daily screaming matches and fights between the brothers. All of Rusty’s toys were red; his favorite color. Malcom’s were blue, even though he liked yellow. Red was a dominant color, according to his father. The mark of a strong leader (Definitely not because fans had the habit of sending Rusty red gifts to match his hair). Blue marked the color of his company, or at least that’s what he would say around Malcom. To Rusty, it meant Player 2, Option B, a backup plan. Malcom was born to play second fiddle to Rusty, and that’s how it was supposed to be…According to Jonas.

My Notes: Yes, I know she just wrote this for me for my silly AU but I just really love this fic ok? My friend is so talented and I love her. Look what she made.

---

Private Growth in the Face of... Stuff

Ship: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: @deliriumbubbles

Summary: After the party at Hatred’s and debriefing the boys, Brock and Rusty fight over what went down at the party. Or at least, what Rusty knows about. They send the boys to bed, and Brock sets to work relieving some tension.

My Notes: When I make lists like this I usually try to not give like smut recs but like this is just a really freaking good smut fic. Its not just smut, its a complex feels piece that just happens to have smut. Its just a really good fic guys, just read it.

---

Into Safety? (Wear Some Kneepads)

Ship: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: newyorktopaloalto

Summary: Brock coming back— free of pay and of his own volition— meant nothing more than he still loved the boys he had helped Rusty raise for almost twenty years. This was not a romcom (no matter the clichéd archetypes that set the stage for his life) and if it were, it would not be one starring him— it would be starring Meg Ryan because he had already thought about it for way longer than he would admit out loud. So he was living here, taking care of the boys, giving Rusty a long-suffering and amusingly indulgent look, existing (drinking coffee, making dinner, cracking terrible jokes and skulls) as though he had never left...And so, yeah, whatever, Brock coming back might have something (infinitesimal, really, but bordering on nigh) to do with him. It still didn't make his life a romcom.

My Notes: Did you really expect me not to rec the one and only successful Rusty fic on A03? Cause I have so many feels for this fic. It just takes the basic concept of a successful Rusty and it builds its own little world off it all the while very much keeping it in the Venture Bros universe. Its so good, it makes me cry. Please read it.

---

Where are My Pills, Where is My Former Lover?

Ship: Brusty

Status: Ongoing

Author: hell0lust

Summary: He’d promised Brock, all those years ago, that he was through with the pills, for good. Who cares what Brock thinks? He’s not your... whatever he was, anymore. Brock doesn’t get to decide what you do or don’t do.Rusty Venture has never known a life outside of failure. With the sudden weight of keeping his late brother's company afloat on his shoulders, Rusty finds himself falling into old habits of prescription drug abuse, as a means to cope.

My Notes: Out of the genre of ‘Rusty picks up his old addictions again in New York’ fics (that are really all good) this one is my favorite. It sadly hasn’t been updated in awhile but I hold hope the author will come back eventually. I just love how everything is played off in this fic, the slow build to Rusty and Brock getting back together and Rusty’s addictions and his jealousy of Warriana, its all just good. Go read it, you won’t regret it.

---

let me in the wall you've built around

Ship: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: @ladyofdecember

Summary: Rusty has a hard time coming to grips with events after "The Unicorn In Captivity". His family is worried. Brock and Rusty struggle with communication.

My Notes: This was another case of damn, which fic of the authors should I choose for this? There are a ton of amazing stories she has written! I think I finally settled on this one because it gave a really beautiful conclusion to one of the darker episodes from this season and it brings me joy. The angst building up to a warm fluffy ending is really beautiful.

---

Surrogate Fatherhood

Ship: None, Gen.

Status: Complete

Author: @tsv

Summary: "He tries to ignore the shortcomings in Doc's parenting, at first. In the beginning, he'd taken it as the understandable failings of a first-time father — an emotionally callous comment here, a forgotten promise there. But soon enough, they begin to pile up, piecing together like a quilt of subtle emotional neglect.And it's not his job. At all. It's not even remotely his job. Still, when Dean comes out of his room crying about a nightmare and Doc tells him he's busy without even looking up, it itches at him. Despite the distance he'd tried to maintain, Brock genuinely feels bad."A piece reflecting on Brock and his relationship with the boys over the years.

My Notes: It was really hard for me to choose one from this author. I think I am in love with all of their work. Every piece is a freaking masterpiece and well done and everything I wanted from this fandom. But I chose this one cause fluffy Brock and the boys stuff is pretty rare and this one always, always manages to hit me in the feels.

----

That’s it for now, my favorite fics. If you want to add more, please do! Like everyone in this fandom is super talented!

#venture bros #the venture bros #brusty #rusty venture #brock samson #fanfic recs #fic recs

13 notes · View notes

sayleeofkanto · 6 years

Text

Pride Month Day 26

((Hey so while the rest of the oneshots for the month are about the Keyleeverse, this one’s different. For Questioning day, I wrote about me. This one’s behind a cut because it’s hella personal, hella long and has trigger warnings for internalized homophobia, external homophobia, a brief whizzby mention of suicidal ideation and some mental illness stuff))

You love hockey day, not so much for the sport itself but for being part of the team. None of your bullies are on the team, and girls who generally ignore you actually notice you, treat you like one of them. It’s almost like having friends.

The changing room is hell, though.

Focus on the wall and changing your own clothes, don’t look around, especially don’t look at her, even though your ears are attuned to every word she says and in class you can’t stop staring at her beautiful hair and her amazing skin that’s darker than all the other peely-wally Scots around here and never gets any spots and her super pretty smile--Don’t look!

What are you, some kinda creepy lesbo? Gross.

You’re not. You’re Team Jacob, right? Can’t be some gross lesbo if you like Taylor Lautner’s abs and arms (pecs are a bit weird though).

You can’t stop wanting to look at her.

Don’t look.

~~~

The Doctor going to World War II is so cool. You’re clutching a pillow to hide behind in case the creepy kid in the gas mask comes back, but you’re rapt as you watch the Doctor and Rose reunite and meet Jack and they have such easy camraderie and--

JACK: There it is. Hey, they've got Algy on duty. It must be important. DOCTOR: We've got to get past him. ROSE: Are the words “distract the guard” heading in my general direction? JACK: I don't think that'd be such a good idea. ROSE: Don't worry, I can handle it. JACK: I've got to know Algy quite well since I've been in town. Trust me, you're not his type. I'll distract him. Don't wait up. DOCTOR: Relax, he's a fifty first century guy. He's just a bit more flexible when it comes to dancing. ROSE: How flexible? DOCTOR: Well, by his time, you lot have spread out across half the galaxy. ROSE: Meaning? DOCTOR: So many species, so little time. ROSE: What, that's what we do when we get out there? That's our mission? We seek new life, and, and... DOCTOR: Dance.

Jack likes men too? Likes both?

That’s allowed?

The Doctor seems to think it’s fine. Says it’s normal in the future, even.

It’s okay to like both.

~~~

“John Barrowman’s gay, you know,” your mum says. “It was obvious he was a great actor as soon as he came out, because he’d been kissing women onstage and looking like he liked it!”

Have your parents ever talked about gay people before? It’s a surprise to hear. But they seem to be okay with it.

~~~

Wait, SesshoMaru’s a man?

He’s your first ever anime crush a short while after. You keep having to explain to people who see the printouts you stick to your jotters that he’s a man.

~~~

You find the Esmeralda figurine while cleaning out your cupboard. You’ve never seen The Hunchback of Notre Dame in full, because it always terrified you too much, but you’ve always loved Esmeralda. For a long time, you carried this figurine with you everywhere you went, this cheap little plastic thing of her in that red dress from the scene where she dances.

You put it on your desk. It’s still really pretty.

You see the movie in full for the first time when you’re nineteen and--was she POLEDANCING?!

~~~

Kurama’s a man too?!

All of your anime crushes are very beautiful, feminine-looking men. This probably doesn’t mean anything.

~~~

One of your online friends sends you a slashfic she really likes. You’re shocked to see that it’s rated K. But slash is all M-rated, stuff you have to lie to FFnet about your age to read with flaming cheeks and frantic looks over your shoulder in case your parents came home early, until you lose your nerve and skim past the dirtiest bits. How can this be slash?

It’s about Shinichi and Kaito, lots of little oneshots, some only a couple hundred words long. They hold hands and eat ice cream and watch movies and kiss, sometimes, and that’s it. They’re so cute and funny and sweet and…

Not dirty. Just like a normal relationship.

~~~

You’ve never imagined your wedding day. One of these days you’ll do everybody a favour and kill yourself, so it’s not like you’ll live long enough to see it.

~~~

You suck up sweet, fluffy M/M fics like oxygen. You’ve never seen an F/F fic.

~~~

No, Mum, I don’t have a boyfriend, I was walking with A. You know A. He’s… he’s gay.

Of course you already knew that.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

You don’t really want a boyfriend. Dating sounds stressful. You’re happy enough with your friends, now that you have some, you tight-knit band of Weird Kids who hide in the library all lunchtime and make plans to go see the next Harry Potter movie together or spend the weekend at somebody’s house watching movies and playing Mario Kart until 5am while eating too much pizza and drinking smuggled vodka in fizzy drinks. If you mix vodka and Irn Bru, you definitely won’t get a hangover, honest.

You’re too scared to ask a girl out. She’d think you’re gross.

~~~

Over the next decade, every single one of the weird kids will turn out to be gay, bi, or trans [i]and[/i] gay. Birds of a feather boa, K says with a laugh at age 24.

~~~

All the outfit options for female sims are just plain better. And the hair options. The faces are better, too. You have a whole neighbourhood that’s just ladies, who married ladies, because you can do that in the sims, and adopted girls, because then you don’t need any guys around.

You find this save data while transferring computers and, on a nostalgic whim, re-installing Sims 2 at age 21. You are stunned that you ever convinced yourself that this was a heterosexual way to play a video game.

~~~

P!nk’s been your favourite musician since you were 13. Amusingly, it was Conversations With My 13-Year-Old Self that made you realize how much she speaks to you. Now, after years of loving her music, her acrobatic performances, you’re going to see her live.

You keep staring at women in the crowd. Women wearing denim jackets, and button-up shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and short hair. “Look at all these dykes,” your cousin, who drove you here, scoffs.

You think they look great.

~~~

You want to travel before you go to university, so you cut your hair off and donate it to charity to raise money. You haven’t had it short since you were born, and you lose two and a half feet. You can’t stop running your hands over the back of it, spiking up the newly-short strands.

You love it.

~~~

While you’re in India, your parents phone and ask if A can stay in your room. His grandparents kept telling him to kill himself so he left home instead. You have them give the phone to him and ask him to take good care of your books and tell him that he’s okay, he’s a good person, he’s a good friend, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.

There’s nothing wrong with being gay.

Have you ever said that aloud before?

~~~

Monstrous Regiment is one of the books you brought with you. You lose count of how often you reread it. It isn’t explicitly stated, but Tonker and Lofty are definitely in love.

It makes you happy, to see women who love women on the Discworld. You start another reread.

~~~

There’s an anime society at your new university. The captain’s got a gross amount of lolicon anime on his hard drive and doesn’t like letting anybody else pick what to watch, so mostly you and a couple of other girls (women, you’re at university, you can legally drink now, you’re women now, right?) end up mocking whatever creepy shit he puts up together, complaining about the unrealistic proportions of the anime women.

“Any more than a handful’s a waste,” the nursing student scoffs. She’s a lesbian. She’s also Irish, and very much not out to her family.

You like her secretly, and keep it that way.

~~~

The Pride parade goes right past your new job, and on your lunch break, too. You watch them go by, all the flags, all the colours, everybody so happy and brave and defiant and proud.

There’s a wankstain with a megaphone in front of Parliament, yelling about how they’re all going to Hell for having sex outside of marriage.

“LET US GET MARRIED, THEN!” the crowd yells, and keeps dancing.

~~~

Your mother’s side of the family don’t like this uncle much. You join them wholeheartedly when he starts talking about conversion therapy, how kids who “think” they’re gay are “sick”, and need “help”--

He has to be hustled out to his car and told to go home early because you can’t stop shouting at him to shut the fuck up, there’s nothing wrong with those kids, how fucking dare he advocate their torture, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, being gay is beautiful--

You’ve never said that before, but you feel it wholeheartedly.

~~~

You work Saturdays and Sundays, so you can never go to Pride. You make yourself a bracelet in purple, pink and blue, the bi colours, and never take it off. It makes you feel a little braver, even if most people who see it won’t think the colours mean anything.

~~~

Your brother’s in America so the two of you set up a video call to watch the Legend of Korra finale together, and it’s amazing, mindblowing animation, incredible story, and you crack some jokes about how Asami and Korra have been for the past couple seasons. It’s a cartoon, so obviously they’d never actually be allowed to hook up, but it’s fun to imagine. The queerbaiting gets a little tiring, maybe. You’ve just learned what queerbaiting is. It’s why Dean and Cas will never kiss onscreen even though they SHOULD.

Then Asami and Korra talk and man, this keeps getting gayer. And gayer. And

They hold hands, and look into each other’s eyes, and it’s the final shot of the show, an undeniable mirror of the finale shot of The Last Airbender right before Aang and Katara kiss, and Asami and Korra don’t kiss, but Bryan Konietzko’s online right nowstressing that KORRASAMI IS REAL and they would’ve kissed if the network had let them

And then your phone’s ringing because you’re crying so hard that you dropped your laptop and didn’t notice and your brother’s worried, and you can’t stop crying, you’re so happy.

You’re so happy.

~~~

“They’re for real lesbians. They actually SAY they’re in love!”

You immediately put on the first episode of Steven Universe.

~~~

You run into your chiropractor at Pride with her wife. They’re wearing rainbow flags and wedding rings and big smiles. She’s been looking after your fucked-up feet since you were eight and you never knew. Of course, she’s under no obligation to tell her patients about her personal life, but.

You could’ve known all along that this was what a lesbian looked like, this kind, funny, successful, professional woman.

~~~

Holy shit, there are female romance options in this game that you can romance while female.

Why are they all so much more attractive than the male options?

~~~

Your group is doing Huis Clos for your end of year performance and you’re Ines. You don’t normally like makeup but you love doing up your hair and eyes and red lipstick and silk blouse and striding onstage in heels to mock Joseph and Estelle for refusing to admit that they’re in Hell and deserve to be, to talk proudly about how you murdered your cousin and seduced his wife, to try to seduce Estelle and laugh when she can’t kill you

By third year you’re joking that your acting resume is going to be all men and lesbians.

~~~

Yes, this is the third time I’ve watched The Devil Wears Prada this week. I have essays to work on, and it’s a comfort watch, y’know?

I dunno. Meryl Streep’s really good in it. I mean, Miranda’s an awful person, but she’s so powerful that you end up liking her anyway, y’know? She’s mesmerising.

~~~

Who the hell cancelled Agent Carter? Supernatural has a thousand seasons and not one single scene of Hayley Atwell in a gorgeous retro suit beating the teeth out of somebody with the nearest thing she can grab.

You most definitely have a type

~~~

No, being bisexual does not mean that you’re gay and scared to admit it.

You have this conversation a lot.

~~~

People keep telling you to get a Japanese boyfriend to teach you. There must be better reasons to have a boyfriend. Do you even want a boyfriend, really?

~~~

Why the fuck did nobody ever tip you off that Batman has an amazing lesbian cousin and where the fuck is her movie where she gets to make out with Anne Hathaway?!

~~~

Your friend is mocking her boyfriend having a gay panic over her asking him if he agrees that Idris Elba is attractive. Finding Idris Elba attractive doesn’t mean you’re gay, she scoffs, it just means you have eyes. You agree, laughing.

You don’t have to be attracted to men to see when they’re attractive.

~~~

Sure, Chris Pine is very pretty, especially when he’s naked. But Gal Gadot throwing an armoured car with her hands? That damn near physically knocks you out of your seat. You transcended your body around the time Wonder Woman went over the top but from the first moments in Themyscira your whole body’s been tingling and your higher brain functions have been DOWN. You’re shaking so hard when you come out of the cinema that you can barely use your railcard, and you can’t sleep until 5am, too busy crying from exhilaration and screaming about the movie to your brother.

Is that what attraction is always supposed to feel like? Something you’ve never felt for a woman in an impractical costume being cut up by the camera, or for any man, anywhere, ever, doing or wearing anything at all?

~~~

Tessa Thompson also tears apart armoured vehicles with her hands, and Cate Blanchett has this way of sweeping back her hair into a horned helmet, and who the fuck decided women over 30 aren’t sexy?!

You almost miss Chris Hemsworth’s shirtless scene entirely. It’s nice enough. You forget it entirely when Valkyrie gets behind that gun.

~~~

If you tell people you’re a lesbian now, they’re gonna think all bi women are just closeted lesbians.

~~~

But you remember how terrified you were that you were gay. And, a decade and a half later, you think: so what?

What if I was?

What if I am?

~~~

There is literally a neon rainbow sign over your boarding house, advertising the neon company next door. That is LITERALLY a sign, right there.

~~~

You think it, inside your head, trying the thought on for size.

I’m a lesbian.

You never knew you were suffocating until you took your first breath of air.

~~~

You have your first ever wedding fantasy at 25, and start crying in public over how beautiful your hypothetical bride looks in her dress.

~~~

Are you butch? Do you have to be butch to want to wear a waistcoat and kilt to your own wedding? This is a whole new avenue of exploration but also you so want your own kilt.

~~~

You tell your parents over video chat. They’re as supportive as you always knew they would be, but disappointed you don’t have a girlfriend.

You’ve gotta stay stealth if you want to keep your job. You’re in Japan, after all, and it’s been warned to new recruits to the company that the Japanese upper management are all very old-fashioned. If you lose your job, you could lose your visa. This is not presently actionable intel, just good to have.

But you don’t feel gross, or afraid. Just frustrated that you can’t scream it from the rooftops.

~~~

Your brother sends you some pictures of Gal Gadot in a suit for the two of you to thirst over together. He’s the best.

~~~

You actually sing Heaven Is A Place On Earth at karaoke and then your new coworker asks if you have a boyfriend.

Seriously.

~~~

Your manager is so damn pretty, but she’s Japanese. But she’s so damn pretty, and nice.

Don’t look.

Not because it’s gross. Because you want to keep your job.

~~~

Somebody describes Meryl Streep’s performance in The Devil Wears Prada as seductive and ah-ha. Of course. A powerful and influential businesswoman who has Anne Hathaway and Emily Blunt in nice outfits trailing her everywhere she goes. She goes to a ball halfway through the film with two beautiful young women on her arms. Lesbian power fantasy or WHAT?

You watch it again, and notice for the first time that after Andie’s makeover, when she turns to leave the office, Miranda checks out her ass.

~~~

You want to go back to your twelve-year-old self and give her Alex Danvers, and Kate Kane, and Tonker and Lofty, and Ruby and Sapphire, and Kate McKinnon, and J the chiropractor and her wife, and tell her: this is you.

You’re okay. You always were.

~~~

Oh, you are definitely buying one of those rainbow shirts at Disneyland.

~~~

There’s nothing wrong with you.

Your feet are still pretty fucked up, and so are your knees now, after all that sitting seiza, and your eyes have always been spitting distance from legally blind, and you still have that gut problem, and you’re 25 and still get acne, and your brain’s pretty messed up on anxiety and depression

But that’s all bits. There’s nothing wrong with you.

You are gay, in every sense of the word.

#pride create-a-thon 2018 #Day 26 #personal

4 notes · View notes