#i can only imagine Colt's reaction to you too?

[koifsssh]

a small gift for @thelone-copper​ ! i enjoy your cowboy man very much! he is very silly! 

(additionally, with dusty and rainy being very sleep oriented i feel it is very hard not to get drowsy when the both of them are together... you WILL sleep and you WILL be rested!!!)

( cw: obsessive behavior! )

i do feel that Rainy would misunderstand, which would then lead to Colt asking “are you okay or-” or something along those lines. 

Poor Colt... can’t seem to catch a break!

#welcome home oc #cold cattlemen #robbie robs #dusty bunny #rainy dewdrop #sally starlet #myart #i can only imagine Colt's reaction to you too? #concern??? much concern??? #WHAT DO YOU MEAN you too???? #it's okay... maybe Colt can watch the new Ariel with Rainy to feel better.... #under the seaaaa under the seaaa

[xsugarysweetsx]

Could you do some fuffy headcanons for Kinro with a reader from the village (maybe like what you did with colt?)

A/N: if you don’t know this will be a domestic kind of fluff

Warning; all characters are above 18+!

Please enjoy~🍰

*******************************************************

It was honestly a surprise to people who noticed he had feelings for you. Kinro was always known for following the rules and staying on task

But as soon as you came around his heart fluttered, his cheeks heat up and his knees are weak

Well, Senku was the first to notice, you worked with Kohaku and helped gather materials and Senku noticed how quick Kinro was to help you

The basket wasn’t really heavy but he insisted that he helped you and Senku just giggle and said

“And that’s what we called a crush”

It took a lot of bribing to get him to confess to you but when he did it seemed like such a long process 

Kinro was super formal about it and asked your family first before he started courting you. It came as a shock but your father has seen how serious he was about his position in the village which only meant he was serious about you.

After a few dates you agreed to be his girlfriend after Senku explained to you what it was 

“You can see each other romantically but you aren’t married yet and you can decide where it goes from there“

You had been with Kinro for about a year and a half when he brought up the idea of marriage. He had thought you both had enough time together and he had come to know you like the back of his hand. And of course you said yes

You village held a wedding, and everyone attended. Senku even taught him the traditions of throwing the bouquet. Instead they ended up fighting over it instead of first come first serve....anyway

Having Kinro as a husband  was a mix of a bodyguard, a very respectful, and very kind. It was easy to say many other women an younger girls were envious

As for men, he alway kept them at bay from you. In his eyes you were the most beautiful girl in the whole village. Not only were you beautiful but you were kind and hard working as well and he admired you and what you did in your role in the village

As serious as a man as he was, in the privacy of your eyes only he was very affectionate and gentle, especially on night where you got steamy and passionate~

And you could only imagine what his reaction was when you were told you were expecting your first child. He’s never had any news like this before and didn’t know how to react so he just stayed quiet. 

All through out the day he kept to himself not even Ginro could get him to crack. He had a lot on his mind and was thinking things over. He was a guard for his village, he was fighting for the future, he had a wife and now a baby on the way 

It may be a short list but they were all important and he had to give his best or nothing. Later that night when you got ready for bed he was still quiet, and decided to let him process things. You turn over the other way feeling a bit hurt 

Kinro turns your way and snakes his hand over your lower belly and pulls you close 

“Thank you Y/N, I will protect you both with my life.” you honestly thought you would have cried, but you knew what he said was true. That night he held you closer than he ever had and he felt closer to you than he ever had been 

When you started showing he would walk around with you almost like he was showing you off, proud that you were the one carrying his child.

As for the birth, the healer told him to wait outside. Just as elders before him, only women were aloud inside, which he disagreed with. In his words “The rules are the rules” Nothing hurt him more than hearing you scream and groan in pain like you were

he felt useless that he couldn’t at least comfort or support you. You had gone on from the afternoon until sundown and just as the sun kissed the horizon a cry was heard. You were finally done and he was finally allowed inside. He ran to your side where you had your baby laid on your chest 

“It’s a girl Kinro..“ you said tiredly, he could see the exhaustion, and pain that you had endured on your face yet you received your baby with a smile. You were stronger than he could have ever imagined to be 

“Thank you- thank you for giving me this gift Y/N“

I see him having only one child 

~~~

Kinro was the teaching type when it came to fatherhood. He didn’t care for gender but he wanted his child to be able to defend, provide and fend for herself. 

He believed no boy will ever be worthy enough for her and therefore she needs no man 

“Kinro, dear?“

“Yes?“

“You do realize she’s only a few months old“

“And? I saw a one year old boy looking at her too long. Because she has your looks she’s already capturing hearts“

You didn’t know if you should laugh or take him seriously. Speaking of being serious your daughter had his scowl for sure. She would do this thing where she would look at her father and copy his facial expression

She may look like you but she acts like her father

Senku has asked you guys if he could use her for experiments, of course kinro had threatened to cut his throat out. Talk about protection

But night time was his favorite thing. You would cuddle in close to him with your daughter between you both keeping her warm. And he’d just gaze down at the woman he loved and the outcome of your love.

*******************************************************

I hope this was okay!❤️

#dr stone kinro #kinro x reader #dr stone x reader #dr stone #dr stone fanfic #dr stone anime #dr stone fanfiction #anime #anime x reader #fanfiction

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXXXIX

It was a love story from the very beginning

"You, me... And Sam."

Hello my friends!!! How are you? I feel much better now thanks to all your asks and your memes and your cracks, I adore them all!

Okay, putting that to a side, and still dreaming about how Jensen will give us the ending we all deserve, let's continue with this analysis, because is time to talk about the mixtape.

From butterflies in the stomach and Foreshadows of the new God

When the episode starts, there's a hint of what Jack's mission is. But coming out from Dagon's mouth, it became like a real bad future.

Dagon: Yeah. And he's not gonna stop there. Every sad, weak human, every tight-ass angel, every sniveling demon they'll all be consumed. So go ahead. Play your games. But whether you're healthy or sick, filthy or clean, He will be born. Good times.

Is almost the contrary to what Jack will actually do for the world. He will consume but it will be Chuck's powers until the last drop of it. And against Dagon's speech, he will save each demon and angel and restore everything.

Now, let's talk about CAS coming back to the bunker...

Gif credit @godshipsit

I think his face is saying everything here. The one entering in the bunker after go MIA, was Cas', so, Dean's face is scandalous.

Imagine that suddenly your disappeared crush enters through the door without previous announcement. Of cour we can read the bumping heart allnover Dean's cheek, his eyes went wide, in surprise. 'Is CAS!'

He was so worried this whole time, thinking the worst could happen to him, and now CAS is there, alive.

But his reaction to it will be completely different to Sam's reaction. This was settled to make us see the difference between how a friend would react and how a lover would react. Blatant.

Sam: Hey. You're all right. Um – Where have you been?

Sam is asking as a friend, but Dean, Dean doesn't...

Dean: Let me rephrase that for Sam. Where the hell have you been? And why have you ignored our phone calls?

Okay, let's just stop here, this is the way a wife will ask her husband. But because we are talking about Dean, we can see his shield. His shield is US/WE, his shield is SAM, because he wants to drag his brother into the feeling of being desperately worried. Because recognize that DEAN WAS THE ONLY ONE ALMOAT LOOSING HIS HEAD TRYING TO KNOW IF CAS WAS ALIVE OR WHWRE HE WAS IA SHOWING WEAKNESS, IS SHOWING HIS TRUE FEELINGS FOR THE ANGEL. So, the theme of the I/ME vs the WE/US is perfectly written all over this episode.

Castiel: Where I was, the – the reception was, uh, poor.

Dean: No bars? No bars. That's his excuse. Wow.

Castiel: I was in Heaven. I was working with the angels. When I saw Dagon had captured Kelly, I-I thought they could help.

Okay Castiel is proving he is lying by himself here, because he said first he had not signal, and now, he heard one of the so many voice mails Dean had left in his phone.

Sam: And?

Castiel: Nothing.

Sam: Well, at least you're back. We're glad you're back

And be prepared again for the difference between the friend and the JILTED lover.

Dean: Really? No, I'm sorry. Okay, 'cause while you were striking out in Heaven, we had a shot at Dagon, and we lost.

Maybe Dean was waiting Sam to second him in his anger. But it was only in Dean's heart, the deception, and the recalling of so many days be worried about CAS. Because that's what romantic love makes you be.

Castiel: I know. I received your messages.

This was like a bomb for Dean...

Dean: Oh, you did – you did receive the messages? Okay, that's good.

Sarcasm...

Castiel: Dean.

Gif credit @starlightcastiel

Dean can't handle the pain in his heart of being rejected and ignored by Castiel, so he searches for his shield again: We/Us/Sam and me.

Dean: So not only were you ditching us, but you were also ignoring us? That's great. 'Cause we really could've used the backup. But, uh, you were too busy with, um (Clicks tongue) What was it? Nothing?

Castiel: Dean, I –

Dean: What the hell is wrong with you, man? You know, whatever. That's (Chuckles) Yeah. Welcome back. (walks away)

Dean is so mad with CAS. And is blatant that his reaction is totally different to Sam's.

The Mixtape as a way to reciprocate Castiel's confession, and the desperate attempt to make CAS to stay by his side.

Okay, we are now in the scene. I'm sure this scene had been dissected by many meta writers. I won't say new things, but i will point a little to their body languages.

Okay, the scene starts with Castiel knocking at Dean's door to give him back the mixtape, so jus aknowledged there that Dean gave CAS a freaking mixtape, which doesn't have another meaning that ROMANTIC. But we can assume Castiel doesn't get this human's customaries, also, we can assume he does, because boop culture that Metatron out at once in his head... So...

After Dean, without looking at him, because he is mad and now he has to handle this angel lack of knowledge about WHAT GIFTING A MIXTAPE MEANS, he said "It's a gift, you keep those."

And Castiel gets nervous.

Gif credit @stardustcas

The swallow and the way he opens his mouth again to breathe and maybe to say something else, but he stopped himself. Castiel is nervous. I thought at first because he has to find the Colt, and he knew Dean kept it in his room. But we know now that it wasn't just that. He was flustered because the intimacy of the situation with the man he loves.

Castiel looks around before attempting to leave, maybe searching for the Colt, but then Dean starts talking:

Dean: Cas, you can't – With everything that's going on, you can't just go dark like that. We didn't know what happened to you. We were worried. That's not okay.

And in the middle of the intimate scene, awkward moment, Dean needs his shield more than never.

Castiel: Well, I didn't mean to add to your distress. I – Dean, I just keep failing. Again and again. When you were taken, I searched for months and I couldn't find you. And then Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. And I just wanted I needed to come back here with a win for you. For myself.

This speech is so important, because it shows how depressed Castiel felt, how uneasy. How unworthy. He needed to be useful. So he decided to start alone this dangerous journey that will end in his death. He also mentions the win. Because he didn't know he will be always Dean's win, as we will see in episode 13x06 when CAS comes back to Dean alive.

After they talk about Dragon, and Cas' asks if Sam and Dean are willing to kill an innocent, because that's dirty work, that's the mission CAS had taken in his own shoulders, Dean says this...

Dean: We will find a better way.

Castiel: You mean, we?

Gif set credit @deanwinchestrs

Cas points at Dean with the mixtape, because he wants to clarify if Dean is referring to them, to JUST CAS AND DEAN. YOU AND ME. THE TWO OF US. And Dean is now the flustered one. Look at Dean's face, being in just one spot, recognizing that the shield can be broken, that he is talking about CAS and him. Is too intimate. Too different. So his face is burning. And even so, the words are out. 'Yes, dumbass, we.'

What was this? This was an attempt coming from Castiel to get to know Dean's feelings. Pointing with the mixtape to just Dean and him. Not Sam here. Not shield. And Dean goes for it. Goes for that WE: YOU AND ME.

But then, Dean backtraks

Gif set credit @stardustcas

He starts explaining the WE, avoiding Castiel's gaze, he goes... 'You, me...' and then he tilts his head, and adds the shield back again: 'and Sam.'

The second gif is showing Dean backtracking, Because is too intimate, is too risky, he is standing on the edge between friendship and something else. He can't cross that line. Mostly because he is not sure about Castiel's feelings for him, and more now, after seeing how CAS ignored him for so long. Dean is like:

"What am I doing? Let's mention Sam here, and turn this into no homo conversation."

But the nervousness is all over the scene, i got nervous watching it because the awkward moment!

Gif set credit @stardustcas

More nervousness. Dean's flustered eyes. The swallowing. The attempt of staring into those blue eyes of the man he loves. (The butterflies in the stomach, the heart beating fast, the dry mouth) trying to make the conversation more normal, but their faces are loud.

Vas says he likes that and then Dean is more frustrated than never and his dry mouth is asking for a beer, or maybe he find a way out from the awkward moment, the gay moment. He needs to breathe. He almost let his guard down with this angel. And the desperate way to say STAY WITH ME. DON'T GO AWAY AGAIN. To his angel.

Castiel engages with a seductive look in the middle of the sexual tension

Sam: I mean, how did Cass even get the Colt out of the safe in the first place?

Dean drops his head. Sam raises an eyebrow

Sam Dean, you – you put the Colt back in the safe, right? Dean?

Dean: It was under my pillow. It – I like to keep it close. (Sighs) He came into my room and he played me.

Okay i can even explain the intimacy of this. Even if CAS didn't know about this and he just went searching all over Dean's room. Mention this after the huge scene full of romantic tension, has a meaning. Again: INTIMACY. And adding the "He played me" to all of this is another symbol way to show theme audience this was like that scene between the guy and his crush, in wich his crush takes advantage of it and plays him by stealing something from him. Yes.

Finally, when they find CAS... This scene...

Gif credit @stardustcas

Dean is mad, very mad at him. Because Castiel really played him. But... Look at the scene. Look at Castiel's gaze: PURE SEDUCTION. He maybe is aware of the effect he causes on Dean. And after the mixtape scene, he goes for it. Seduction as if they were in their first seasons together. And Dean is muted, and stares at him, then checks him out, and they're in their own sexual tension world, until Sam calls him. But he has to calls him twice because his brother is too embedded into Castiel's hot behavior.

But don't forget Dean is mad at him. So now, is Dean the one playing around with CAS. Throwing the keys at him and making him almost loose his stability to reach them.

Closing the circle

When Dean and Sam reach Castiel again in the middle of a battle with Dragon, Dean's desperation when Dagon is about to smite Castiel is high level.

But then Jack saves the day, not just showing CAS the future (the ending of season 15) but also, Jack gave him powers to finish Dagon.

Then, the scene in wich Castiel heals Dean is full of intimacy again. The lingerie touch, rubbing fingers. Because Dean is moving his hand slowly away from CAS touch but he ended by letting his hand to feel Castiel's rubbing his fingers. To let Castiel to heal him.

And then, CAS is gone again.

To Conclude:

12x19: The Future has Destiel all over it. Dean mad at him, reaching the level of a JILTED lover. Dean way to protect himself from another rejection using the WE/US/SAM shield. Just because he can't handle it. The doubts about Cas' feelings, and the way the angel always find to go MIA, makes his heart stutter.

The mixtape scene is one of the most emblematic. The nervousness is all over their faces, and Misha and Jensen transmite perfectly the romantic tension between the two characters and goes straight to our hearts, making us feel awkward and flustered too.

Hope you like this meta. See you in the next one!

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

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

@destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996

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

If you wanna read the previous metas from season 12, here you have the links:

Vol. LXXV, LXXVI, LXXVII, LXXVIII, LXXIX, LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXI, LXXXII, LXXXIII, LXXXIV, LXXXV, LXXXVI, LXXXVII, LXXXVIII.

Buenos Aires, November 24th 2020, 9:36 PM

#destiel #destiel chronicles #destiel meta #supernatural meta #season 12 meta #destiel mixtape #destiel is canon

[rizlowwritessortof]

Riz’s Master List

Just updated my master list (finally) - haven’t added anything new for a few months, unfortunately, but I’m working on it! Links below the cut. HUGE THANKS to @firefly-graphics for the dividers, you are a GIFT, my friend! 

Never Look Back

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 21 chapters

Bethany Rae Cooper didn’t realize when she met the Winchesters in her family’s bar and grill that her life would never be the same. But she’s always believed that everything happens for a reason, even if it’s not exactly what you were expecting…

The Shadow’s Edge

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 17 chapters

Sequel to Never Look Back. When the demon Dameon was killed, Dean and Beth thought their son was safe from the prophecy. But when Cas brings them news of the new battle for Hell, they realize that their war has just begun.

The Fine Line

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 34 chapters

An unexpected tragedy sends Devon down the dark path of hate and vengeance, but she will learn that things are not always what they seem…

Scars

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Sequel to The Fine Line. Dean and Devon’s relationship has always been stormy - but can they work through the scars of their past to find each other again?

Stars In the Darkness

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A crushing loss brings Dean and Sam to Sioux Falls, and ghosts from the past and present bring them across the path of Tiara, a girl they haven’t seen since childhood.

Dreaming

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 5 chapters

Dean Winchester has always been a bit of a thorn in Kelsey’s side - a very attractive thorn, but still… A visit at her uncle Bobby’s reunites her with the boys, and she begins having vivid dreams - about Dean. Is it just her subconscious trying to tell her something? Or is there more to it than that?

My Unimportant Little Life

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 11 chapters

Season 5 timeline. Dean gets yanked from 2009 to 2014, so he can see the ‘consequences’ of saying no to Michael. At Camp Chitaqua he meets Reggie, and is surprised to find that she comes from 2009 as well…

Back In the Saddle

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Dean and Sam are back in the old west again - in answer to a cry for help from Samuel Colt. And if Dean just happens to get tangled up with the spirited redhead that owns the saloon… what’s the harm, right?

Sweet Escape

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life? This one’s dedicated to my friend, Liz, who gave me the idea. If only…

Sweet Escape Part 1

Sweet Escape Part 2

Shut Up and Drive

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

Reader teases Dean while he’s driving, so - he gets even

Part 1 - Keep Your Eyes on the Road

Part 2 - Or We Could Park - Parking Is Good Too

Take the Long Way Home

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A look at Dean and Rusty’s relationship, in the present and through their memories. Flashbacks/memories are in italics.

Black Velvet

Demon!Dean/Female Reader, Dean/Female Reader, 9 chapters

You and Sam are broken after Dean’s death. Nobody expected him to come back with black eyes…

Fade to Black

Dean/Female Reader, 11 chapters

Sequel to Black Velvet. Dean is no longer a demon, but he’s still cursed with the Mark of Cain, and the lure of that darkness grows stronger as time goes on.

Dean and Toby Series

Part 1 - The Meet-Cute (Actually Rescue but Whatever)

Part 2 - The Emergency Bed-Share/Move In With Us Combo

Part 3 - The Hit and Then Run Like Your Ass Is On Fire

Part 4 - The FINALLY Admit Your True Feelings and Get Busy

GENERIC

I’m Good

This is the story that was published in the Seasons - Supernatural Short Story Anthology in 2017. Bobby sharing some memories.

Combo Shot

Dean/Female Reader

June 2015 GIEPP (Girl In Every Port Project) entry. Prompt: Pool/Poker hustler competitive chick. Pretty much pure smut.

A Hunter Walks Into a Bar

Dean/Female OC

Prowling hunter, sassy bartender

Shelter

Dean/Female Reader

Dean providing comfort

That’s How It Should Be

Sheriff!Dean/Female Reader

They have to make a fast escape, but Dean won’t let being on horseback stand in the way of showing a lady a good time

The Storm

Dean/Female Reader

You’re terrified of storms, and Dean is concerned, feelings get shared

Pest Control

Dean/Female Reader

You think you’ve got mice. The exterminator that shows up is Dean Winchester. He’ll just let you believe that, and take care of the problem. And you.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Dean/Female OC (KK)

Fluffy, smutty birthday fic written for a friend

Gunpowder and Dean

Dean/Female Reader

You’re pissed off at Dean, taking it out on the firing range, but he just won’t leave you alone…

Juicy and Delicious

Dean/Female Reader

My entry for Dean’s Flavor of the Month fic challenge - Peach Pie. You bake some peach pies for Dean, and he’s very grateful…

Lost In You

Dean/Female Reader

A casual flirtation leads to a violent encounter, and Dean’s reaction is a little more than you expected. Warning for brief description of attempted (unsuccessful) assault. Protective Dean.

What You Need

Dean/Female Reader

You’re watching as Sam and Dean prepare to interrogate a demon. Dean knows you’re watching him, and he knows exactly the kind of effect it’s having on you…

Santa Claus Is Coming Tonight

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s really getting into the Christmas spirit…

I Need You

Dean/Female Reader

You screwed up, Sam got hurt, Dean’s pissed and you aren’t handling it very well.

Snow Day

Dean/Female Reader

You and Dean, stuck in a motel room in a blizzard

Frisk Me

Dean/Female Cop Reader

You’re a cop, in hot pursuit of a murderer, and guess who crosses your path?

Comfort

Dean/Female Reader

Dean had a rough hunt, and he’s beating himself up as usual. You take his mind off things for a little while…

When I Think About You

Dean/Female Reader

It was a wild hunt, and you’re both a little high-strung. Surely there’s some way to blow off some steam…

One Finger

Dean/Female Reader

Dean Winchester has never been one to back down from a challenge

What Makes You Feel Alive

Endverse!Dean/Female Reader

The world is bleak, the struggle endless after Croatoan. You and Dean do what you have to do to keep going.

Sweet Misery

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

My entry for Bev’s Song Challenge - song prompt was Cryin’ by Aerosmith, lyrics at the beginning

Winchesters Don’t Giggle

Dean/Female Reader

A friend and I were having this discussion about giving Dean a back rub, and whether he might be ticklish…

Confession

Dean (Priest!Dean)/Female Reader

When Dean returns from some undercover work, you discover a fantasy you never realized you had

The Bait

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s (now on her 100th url as @cavillanche - Love you, Jess!) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘dressing up as an anime character for his birthday.’ And I have to admit, I really enjoyed this one… Reader dresses as Sailor Mars (from Sailor Moon) for Dean’s birthday.

Hey, Man - Nice Shot

Dean/Female Reader

This is for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘competitiveness in the shooting range (loser cleans the kitchen for a week) No smut.

Take the Pain Away

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. Prompt was ‘him taking care of you when you’re sick.’ Reader falls victim to a migraine, and Dean helps her through it. No smut.

Lose Yourself

Dean/Female Reader

Smut, pure and simple… Just imagine having Dean tied up, at your mercy while you worship those perky nipples…

The Contest

Dean/Female Reader

Dean loves to give you a hard time, and one night he pushes things a little too far… Flashback in italics. All’s well that ends well.

Slow Ride

Dean (Bullriding!Dean) /Reader

Yeah, after 12x11, y'all should have known this was coming - they don’t call me Cowgirl for nothing… Written (coincidentally - timing is everything!) for the Smut Apocalypse (Smut Appreciation Day) on Tumblr.

The Photo Booth

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

This was written for @winchestersandwordprocessors SPN Valentine’s Fic Challenge. Prompt was Semi-public/Risk of getting caught.

Make You Mine

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s jealousy gets the best of him, which is not a bad thing…

Take a Chance

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

In 7x04, Dean gives himself a little pep talk before his planned hook-up with the bartender. That scene is what inspired me. This one is more important than the usual one-nighters, and it’s making him a little nervous…

If We Don’t Make It

Dean/Female OC

This fic was written for @whispersandwhiskerburn Angel’s 2K Follower Celebration. My song prompt was “Broken” by Lifehouse, and the dialogue prompt was “If we don’t make it out of this, I need you to know…” No smut.

My Deliverer

Dean/Female Spirit - Her POV

Dean is hunting a vengeful spirit. But another spirit is in this place, and she is drawn to him…

Friendly Advice

Dean/Female Reader - Dean POV, Reader POV

This was written for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Mimi’s RomCom Fluff Challenge. The fluff got a little smudged into smutty fun… oops! Two POV’s, Dean’s thoughts are in italics and Reader’s are in regular font.

Old Times

Dean/Female OC

Sequel a few years down the road from A Hunter Walks Into a Bar. Tiara goes back to the bar for a visit, and who should show up the next night but Dean Winchester… Flashback in italics.

You Can Leave Your Hat On

Dean/Female Reader (nicknamed Taz)

Inspired by the sexy AF Cowboy!Dean we were treated to in 13x06 Tombstone. Helped along by Joe Cocker’s rendition of “You Can Leave Your Hat On.“

Wish Her the Best

Dean/Female OC - Dean’s POV

This is an angsty li'l fic inspired by Thomas Rhett’s ‘Marry Me,’ tore at my heart until I finally wrote it. No smut.

A Matter of… Time?

Dean/Female Reader

This is the crackiest piece of work I’ve ever written - for @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO Quotes Challenge. Prompt was “Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?” - “Umm - no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.”

Demon Seed

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

Demon!Dean stops in for a drink and decides he wants you. He’s very persuasive. Written for @evansrogerskitten’s Hottest Dean Challenge.

Not Wasted Now

Dean/Female Reader

When you all decide to get drunk in the aftermath of a bad hunt, lines get a little blurred. Or crossed. Or fucking erased. Fluffy, smutty, comforting, sweet and sexy Dean.

Bad Guy

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @eyes-of-a-disney-princess Rapunzel’s Tangled Up With Supernatural Challenge. My Tangled quote was “You want me to be the bad guy? Fine, now I’m the bad guy.”

Shiny

Trucker!Dean/Female OC

Trucker!Dean AU. Breaker, breaker, got your ears on? 67 Midnight Rider, put that hammer down…

Some Kind of Hero

Dean/Female OC

Written for Tiff’s WTF Challenge. Dean’s just filling up Baby, minding his own business, when he hears an argument and gets involved. Protective Dean, no smut, left that to your imagination.

Crave

Dean/Female Reader

So, have some ‘Riz is craving some sexy Dean action with a big ol’ side of schmoopy fluff’ stuff. Because I was, and I’m sharing with you - the smut and all the sickenly sweet cuddly that I just need sometimes. If y'all are in the mood for that kind of thing.

Perchance to Dream

Dean/Female OC

Using African dream root on a case leads to an awkward situation, and Karlie can’t handle the tension between her and Dean any longer

Ruined

Dean/Female Reader

Dean comes home from a hunt, and he’s had something on his mind…

Going Home

Dean/Female Reader

Written for @crispychrissy’s Gif It To Me Challenge. Overhearing only part of a conversation sends her running, but jumping to conclusions without the whole story isn’t the best decision. No smut.

Not the Smartest Thing

Dean/Female Reader - Reader POV

Only Dean Fucking Winchester could turn taking a swig of beer into pornography. Cocky bastard. But two can play at that game.

Suzy Q

Dean/Female OC - OC POV

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan’s Multi-fandom Follower Celebration Challenge. Prompt - “I think I’m having a feeling. How do I make it stop?”

Invisible Touch

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Rowena teaches Dean something new, and he gets inspired. I have no idea where this came from, but here it is…

Maybe I’m Amazed

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

An accident leaves her unconscious and fighting for her life in the hospital, drifting in and out of awareness and memories as Dean refuses to leave her side. Written for @rockhoochie’s 1K Love Supernatural Style Writing Challenge.

Reunion

Dean/Female OC

Passing through town, Dean runs into an old high school classmate. Fluffy and smutty, no angst here!

Playing With Fire

MOC!Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Late Season 10 MOC!Dean smut fic that just wouldn’t leave me alone…

Uninvited

Michael!Dean/Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Michael gives Dean a choice, because sometimes Michael likes to watch…This one is darker than my normal, PLEASE heed the warnings.

What Happens At the Roadhouse…

Early-Season Dean/Female OC

Bailey’s just looking for a couple days post-hunt R&R at Harvelle’s - and then he shows up. Cocky bastard.

Unleashed

Post-Purgatory Dean/Female OC

She’s still struggling to cope a year after Dean disappeared in the explosion that killed Dick Roman.

The Pool House

Dean/Unnamed female OC

Inspired by a dream - one I will never forget!

The Break-In

Dean/Tara (female OC)

One night I started thinking about what it would be like using mics and earbuds and having Dean’s voice RIGHT IN YOUR EAR. And then this fic happened. Hope you enjoy!

Tired of Missing You

Dean/Journey (female OC)

This is one of those times when my story yanked the wheel out of my hands and I just went along for the ride. So if you’re in the mood for a fluffy, angsty cookie with a smutty, creamy middle - here ya go!

Compelled

Dean/Brandi (female OC)

Have you ever had a really bad day at work? I’ve never had a day quite as bad as Brandi’s - but damn, I’d love to use this method to relieve the stress…

The Devil Made Me Do It

Demon!Dean/Shea (Female OC)

Shea is in a reckless mood. Demon!Dean is happy to help her indulge that mood.

Driving Miss Baby

Dean/Reader

Dean decides you need a driving lesson in Baby.

Just a Little Story About Lou and Sam

Sam/Female OC

Lou and Sam walk into a bar… written for a friend who’s a Sammy girl

Doctor-Patient Relations

Sam/Female OC

One-shot inspired by The Born-Again Identity - sick Sammy and Dr. Nicole. Written for another Sammy-girl friend

Head vs. Heart

No title

Fourth of July

Working Saturday Isn’t So Bad

11x17 Drabble

Some Nights He Dreams

Most of the Time

The Name Game

God Bless America

Stress Relief

Dean Hurt/Comfort Drabble

@mrs-squirrel-chester ‘s Album Fanfic Writing Challenge Drabbles

    Dangerous

    For My Brother

    In Chains

    Kiss and Tell

    The End of Me

    Choices

    Hero

    Pure

    In the End

#riz's master list #updated 6/12/21 #dividers by firefly-graphics

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 9) Majesty

Chisei simps come and get your FOOD Come and get your FOOD.

The female Deadpool is panting. Her tongue flops over her extended mandible like a dead thing. She lies on the floor unable to lift her head. Her hair lies around her face like a dark shaggy curtain. But still she reaches out and swats a red dot. She’d pursued this red thing through the hall, jealousy preventing her from letting any other curious ones from claiming her prize. And yet she still didn’t have it.

Her claw lands on the red dot and it appears on top of her hand. She tries again, still failing to capture the red dot.

But before she could let out a hiss of frustration, a gentle touch fell on her head. She didn’t notice the human walking up to her as she was focused on the red dot. Her muscles twitch but before she can turn around and strike at the attacker, the touch turns into a massage on her scalp.

MC, you remember how it felt to be gently and lovingly caressed like this. The Female Deadpool made a significant dent in the numbers of beasts in the room and you felt she deserved a small reward. Like you, she was born to be a killer and had no affection shown to her in life. So you figured affection would be a nice thing to feel in her last moments. She makes a little noise, almost like a whimper and her jaw drops as she stares, vision focusing beyond the red dot now.

You press the muzzle of the mercury core pistol against the back of her head and pull the trigger. For the deadpool, it was a flash of light and oblivion. The beast falls flat, the pattern of her black blood making a fountain shape that extends out from her head.

Your laughter fades back into a cold sort of boredom. “That was fun, while it lasted.” 

You step over her body and shoot down at her hand, neatly severing the nearly foot long serrated sickle shaped claw. You pick it up.

Caesar strafed as he advanced, closing in on the  shaded wall in the center of the hall, with Deadpool gathering on all sides. In their eyes, he and Zihang were like two dishes that were ascending to the table on their own. .A Deadpool approached Caesar from the side while Caesar's fire was focusing on the front. Caesar did not even turn his gaze. Chu Zihang dashed up with a bayonet and stabbed it. The Deadpool closed its hands to block. The gun went through its palm bone. Not only did not have a painful reaction but fiercely closed his hands to hold the gun’s muzzle. Chu Zihang leaned down and charged, forcing Deadpool back with his gun, when Caesar pulled out the Colt pistol that was etched with the words "Western Watch" from his waist. 

Western Watch fired like a thunderstorm, large-caliber bullets landing accurately into the abdomen of the deadpool, and then they exploded. The splash of mercury inside the bullets was heated by gunpowder, and the air filled with mercury vapor. The scales of the monsters who were splashed by the mercury became pale and then fell off, and a greenish-white mercury scar appeared on their skin. 

"Wow! The Japanese weaponry looks more useful than the Academy's mercury core bomb!" Caesar was quite surprised. 

Chu Zihang nailed the Deadpool to a column with the enhanced crossbow through the hole Caesar punched through its abdomen. The mercury was eroding its body at high speed. The bayonet penetrated its chest, but it still hissed and lunged at Chu Zihang, letting the whole gun barrel pass through its chest until the barrel was covered with thick black blood. Chu Zihang pulled the bag on his shoulder, and a bundle of swords fell at his feet. He grabbed a hilt in his hand and stabbed straight through the chest to cut off the spine of the monster. The nervous system is the weak point. After the destruction of the spine, it was finally powerless and could only hang there. Chu Zihang sheathed the blade waist, then drew a shotgun and returned to stand back to back with Caesar.

He turns to you. “MC! Come closer!”

Although you felt fine on your own, military discipline was too ingrained for you not to immediately obey your Senior Brother.

As soon as you turn to hurry, you’re cut off by a tall man-shaped serpent. His coil surrounds you, a foot and a half high of pure muscle, intending to keep you from running away and corral you into his strike zone. But this stupid creature didn’t understand that you weren’t a rabbit to run away from a serpent.

In the story of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, Rudyard Kipling explains, “If you read the old books of natural history you will find that they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. That is not true. The victory is only a matter of the quickness of eye and quickness of foot, - the snake's blow against the mongoose's jump, - and, as no eye can follow the motion of a snake's head when it strikes, that makes things more amazing than any magic herb.”

The golden snake-like beast lunges at you and you jump to the side, landing on its massive coil while raising your gun. The strike brought the snake man’s head in line with the barrel just as you fired. But this all seemed to happen in an instant of time. 

To observers, the snake lunged and you jumped at the same time as you shot. And then you kept shooting in quick succession. You couldn’t kill the beast with your puny pistol, but the power was enough to act like a punch or a kick and you used it that way, using bullets as a fist slamming into its jaw. It recovered, shaking the ringing from its head, but you weren’t in front of it.

Snk-snk-snk.

The claw of the dead female deadpool was sharp enough and hard enough not to need the assistance of mercury. With it, you severed the beast's cervical, thoracic and lumbar spine. The creature sat back on its coil but it could no longer move at all.

You hurry to Ceasar and Chu Zihang and they stand in front of you.

Caesar emptied the six mercury bursts in the Western Watch. The smoke of refined mercury filled the hall. The fire driven wind intensified the speed of the spread of smoke. The Deadpool instinctively feared this smoke, and, for a time, did not dare to approach you. Caesar took the opportunity to do suppression fire with submachine guns.

You approached the center of the hall step by step, hundreds of deadpool around you. Their baby-like cries echoed in all directions. Countless pale human faces emerged in the firelight. Some are old and some are young. Some faces have been distorted and deformed. Some faces can still remind people you may have met in the street passing by. There are shy teenagers and mature women, but when their skulls open to reveal thorny sharp teeth, they all turn into evil spirits. 

"We're like rats breaking into a snake breeding ball with leather slingshots in our hands." Caesar discarded the Sten submachine gun in his hand and also drew his Winchester shotgun. 

You glance up at him and smile. You hadn’t smiled this much since you met. You want to tell him to speak for himself. Caesar was trying to use strength and force to kill these beasts, but his strength and his force were barely enough. The best way to fight these creatures was with speed and with wits.

But military discipline in battle requires absolute reverence for authority. “Yes but you are the pretty blond rat, and Chu Zihang is the scary black rat and I’m the cute one.” You feel a slight pain in your chest. “I miss Lu Mingfei… He would have been a funny rat.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” Caesar shakes his head in amazement at your response.  Chu Zihang shoves one of the submachine guns in your hand and you scarcely resist pouting. You didn’t want it.

In the center of the hall, the strongest Deadpool is devouring the dead. It is more than twice the size of the other Deadpool. Since the beginning, It has not joined the attack on you. It is single-mindedly dealing with the meal in front of it, first vomiting out slime to lubricate the corpse, and then slowly devouring it with large audible gulps like a snake. It seems that the group has a hierarchy like a herd of animals. The strongest deadpool are like the head wolf dominating the freshest bloody food. Others dare not share food with it. Otherwise they might end up swallowed with their companions. It was closest to Caesar and looked like a middle-aged balding man. He may have been a middle-aged balding man in life, but no one could have imagined that he could have such a large body after dragonization. His bloated belly wriggled against the ground. His swollen head and neck jiggled as it moved.

It turned its head to the three of you with what appeared to be a smiling expression, saliva dripping down. This was not the first time  a Deadpool had shown an expression that approximated a smile, and it looked like it was expressing joy at the sight of food. The group of Deadpool had driven you to the center of the hall to let the strongest Deadpool feed first. 

This is why Chu Zihang had given you the machine gun. There was no way the claw you were using as a dagger could penetrate this boss-monster’s fatty layer. You tuck it into your belt.

Caesar’s Winchester shotgun spewed out a dense stream of sparks, and the middle-aged balding man version of Deadpool was blasted in the face. Its upper body tilted back as if broken. Its bloated belly is still sitting on the floor. 

"Baldness and bloating like this is also something I do not like!" Caesar yelled. 

“I was thinking more of the disgusting vomit and macrophagy but… sure yeah… Ew, a fatty.” You mutter.

The vast majority of people would have fainted in fear in the face of the Deadpool's slight smile, but it was facing the thugs out of Cassell College. Chu Zihang drew his Sten submachine gun and expressionlessly sent  the dense bullets to punch a bloody hole in that Deadpool's snake belly. You frown at yourself. There was no point in mindlessly firing at such a bullet sponge.

The bloated death servitor slowly sat up, like a sleeping human bending down to get up. Its bloated belly squirmed and boiled inside, and its body grew taller. It was only a man tall when it moved with its belly against the ground, but now it had reared up and transformed into a three-meter-tall giant, not counting the tail coiled on the ground. The tiny human body on the magnificent snake looked so incongruous, like a pregnant mother mantis. 

Chu Zihang takes two swords and slowly stretches his arms forward. There is no road ahead. This is your last battlefield. All the deadpool follow their chief and also "stand". Strong tails support the sturdy upper bodies as they rear up like cobras, their height ranging from two to three meters. All around you, these trembling snake bodies are like a fleshy forest.

“Whale.” You say to yourself. Only a long harpoon could penetrate all that flesh to get to the tender parts inside but you didn’t have anything like that and the way back to the weaponry room was completely cut off.

A black shadow descended like a diving eagle and landed along the back of the chief of the deadpool with the light of a clear blue blade! Chisei Gen brought his full force down onto his twinblades, Onimaru and Dojigiri, sank them in completely, almost to the hilt, and cut the chief of the beasts from the back of the neck along its spine in a long bloody line. He violently twisted his hands and a piece of vertebrae cracked. The monster deadpool’s entire spine collapsed section by section to the floor. Chisei landed in a crouch, then he spun, Onimaru in his right hand, slicing in a flat rotating swing parallel to the ground that cut off the deadpool’s tail. The huge body completely lost support, tilted and fell forward toward Chisei. Chisei dodged sideways, still cutting at the massive beast with twin swords.

Chisei Gen had your speed and wit, but he also had strength that you didn’t have. You stared, face blank. Your eyes following this gorgeous and effortless blade dance. You sigh, eyes wide. “Woah.”

The leader of the deadpool was dead before he hit the ground. It was breathtakingly beautiful to you and you shoved your machine gun back into Caesar’s carry bag without saying a word or even looking at him. You drew your knife and ran forward leaving the two men who had been your companions for weeks. It was as if you had suddenly switched sides in the middle of the fight!

Chisei was still wearing the clothes from the document room, though his trench coat was gone. His upright and muscular body is wrapped in a bloody torn dress shirt, black slacks and leather shoes. He turns that body as you approach and you see his face in profile. It was delicate and feminine, with skin that was not quite pale, just like Z’s. A dark drop of black blood makes a tear like trail down his face. His mouth is moving, teeth flashing slightly behind pale lips, speaking a chilling series of forbidden words. The winds change and stir his dark hair as his eyes slowly blaze gold. You stop and freeze in place. Chu Zihang and Caesar are still firing their guns but Chisei is no longer moving.

The field of the wind expanded slowly, seemingly gently, with a faint violet fluorescence at the borders. The Deadpool in the field prostrated themselves on the ground with fear and trembling. Their hands pressed spasmodically to the ground, black tears of blood flowing from their eyes. 

Chu Zihang and Caesar were shocked. They couldn't feel any difference, but the group of deadpool seemed to be sensitized.  They knelt down to Chisei, like a defeated general facing a victorious king. The field eventually covered the whole mural hall. Chisei walked into the group of monsters with the Dojigiri and Onimaru, waving his sword along the way to cut off the head of one deadpool after another, advancing like a lawn mower. Black fountains of blood burst from their necks. The effect of Gen Chisei’s Yanling is surprisingly to make the enemy willingly accept the killing. 

He glanced back at you briefly and you find your wits again. It was if he were leading you. You bounced after him like a young wolf, joining in the bloodshed with your knife, stacking up bodies in his wake, like a young chick following the example of a mighty eagle parent.

"Shit! Is this mind control?" Caesar muttered. 

"No, it's not mind control, look underneath the bodies of those monsters!" Chu Zihang said. 

The marble floor is slowly cracking, which means there is an amazing weight pressing on the ground. What kind of weight can crack the marble floor? A few tons or a dozen tons? What does it feel like for bones to bear this super-gravity? 

You understood that these beasts were not willingly allowing you to slit their throats, but they could not resist. Their weight increased dozens of times in an instant, so heavy that it was difficult to even lift their arms. If they didn’t lie down, their vertebrae would be crushed. 

Speech Spirit - Majesty, serial number 91, belongs to that category of speech spirits that have surpassed the scope of human understanding.

It was a Speech Spirit much like your own. 

#Dragon Raja #Gen Chisei #Chisei Gen #Yuan Zhisheng

[thebluenoteblog]

Give me That Title

Summary: You have been hooking up with Colton for months and though you have feeling for him you’ve known since the beginning what your relationship with him is. You’re okay with it. You’re also okay with being perpetually single. That is until you meet someone that makes you want to date for the first time in a while. Though Colton’s reaction to hearing about your date... well that’s more surprising than the fact that you decided to go on a date in the first place.

Player: Colton Parayko

Word Count: 5.1k

*Inspired by Meghan Trainor’s Title*

I know girls ain’t hard to find

If you think you want to try

Than consider this an invitation

To kiss my ass goodbye

You were on the floor in front of your floor length mirror, with makeup spread out on the floor all around you when your phone buzzed. You paused with the mascara wand next to your eye, finished what you were doing, reinserted the wand into the tube, screwed on the cap and then picked up your phone already having a pretty good idea of who it was.

Colton had just gotten back in town from his road trip earlier that day and odds were he wasn’t in the mood to go out partying tonight. He wanted someone to come to him. The most recent notification on your phone, right above a few from the NHL app was indeed a text message from Colton. You had been his most regular hook up for the past seven months and at some point, in that time he had given you his phone number when he got tired of dealing with snapchat.

If you were being fair, the two of you did a lot of talking to. If someone were to scroll through your text messages they would never know that you were just some twenty-one-year-old girl who had gotten caught up in a lifestyle that you had no business in. They would probably think that you and Colton were friends. Friends who just hung out a lot late at night.

You unlocked your phone, opened the text and scanned the message. You busy?

You glanced up into the mirror, at your half-done makeup. Yes.

His response was fast, like he’d been waiting for it. No, really. Do you want to come over?

Okay, if you were being fair, it was a very rare occasion that you passed him up on an offer to come over. You always responded to his messages and you were basically at his beck and call. Your only serious obligation was your college courses. Your work hours were pretty much ‘come and go as you please’ and so you did. Whenever Colton asked. He knew when you were in class and he knew it wasn’t now.

Being tied to a man who had no intention of ever committing to you wasn’t a huge issue for you. Committing your time to him wasn’t either because he was gone so much and spent so many nights out with the team that you could still have friends and a life of your own. Besides, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t hooked up with a few other people in the beginning just as he had. You assumed he still did, but you didn’t bother anymore, the sex didn’t compare.

Then two weeks ago, you met Chase. You were sitting at a coffee shop on Main Street, enjoying your tea when he had walked in. He’d sat down on the couch beside you as he drank his coffee. He turned to you, stared at your Blues t-shit for a moment and then said, “Can you believe how badly the Blues got it handed to them last night?”

You’d spent two hours talking after that, about anything and everything. He’d asked you out. You’d given him your number. Now you sat in front of your mirror getting ready for the first real date you’d been on in over a year since you had broken off your engagement and sitting there, on that couch next to Chase, in his faded St. Charles County Firefighter t-shirt, you’d realized something.

This thing with Colton wasn’t enough anymore. You wanted a real relationship. Someone you could imagine a future with and not roll your eyes at yourself for being ridiculous. Someone who would really love you and not just love getting you naked. Someone who saw in you whatever it was that Chase saw that made his eyes light up when he talked to you that day.

You wanted someone who would someday ask you to marry them. You would buy a house together. Make one of those salt plaster ornaments with your first house key to put on the tree that you would decorate together every year. Build a fence in the backyard for your dog and your kids to run around.

Maybe that would be Chase, maybe it would be the next guy you went out with, or the next. Maybe you would find him a year from now. But you knew one thing for sure. No matter how much you wanted him to be, no matter how much you loved Colt, he was never going to be that guy.

He would never commit to a girl who looked like you.

Hell, you didn’t think he was ready to commit at all, despite how nice of a guy he was and his picture-perfect image. He enjoyed living it up, he enjoyed his parties, he enjoyed his bunnies. A girlfriend would cramp his style.

You glanced down at your phone and saw that ten minutes had passed, you needed to hurry up and get your makeup done and you still had Colton to deal with. I can’t. I’m going out tonight.

Again, he responded before you could pick up your mascara to finish your other eye, so he must not have been doing anything. He was probably laying on the couch watching TV. Oh. Are you going out with (Y/F/N)?

You didn’t really think about what you were typing before you just hit send, you just did it and then dropped your phone before going back to your makeup. This time you finished all of your eye makeup and were on to your lips when your phone eventually buzzed.

It wasn’t until you picked it up that you read what you had sent him and actually felt a little bad. You knew you both saw other people. You knew you weren’t a couple and you were both free to do whatever you wanted, but neither of you ever made a point of talking about it. You only knew about it his exploits from the girls who bragged about it online and occasionally posted pictures of them together to corroborate their stories. No, (Y/F/N) is out of town. I have a date tonight.

He’d responded five minutes later with. You have a date?

You glanced at the message, not sure how to respond at first then decided on simply, Yeah, he’s really nice.

The dots appeared and then disappeared about five times before they stayed long enough for him to type out his response. You never go on dates.

You rolled your eyes. Leave it to a guy in the NHL to think he had a girl locked down because she didn’t go on other dates for a little while even though he was still fucking other people. I decided that I want something real. Is that so bad?

You finished your makeup and made it out to your car before he responded. I guess not.

If it ain’t no thing

Then I won’t be hangin around

But don’t be blowin up my shit at three am

Sayin how you need me now

You had now been out on two dates with Chase and Colton had coincidently texted asking you to come over as you were walking out the door to get into Chase’s truck the night you went out with him for the second time. He’d taken your rejection slightly less… diplomatically this time which was uncharacteristic for him. You’d only turned him down a handful of times, but you could never remember him being upset. He’d always continued to talk to you until one of you got too busy to hold up the conversation. This time though, he was clearly upset.

Can you come over? I have food that I shouldn’t be eating that you would love.

You smiled when you read the message, because it almost sounded like he was inviting you over for a date even though you knew that wasn’t what it was. You could still dream. Then you remembered that outside your apartment complex, Chase was waiting for you.

I’m sorry, I’d love to but I’m busy tonight. Raincheck?

He’d responded quickly like he didn’t even think about what he was saying before he said it, Big date tonight?

You narrowed your eyes at the phone. What’s that supposed to mean?

You waited for his response before you walked outside into the bitter February air. Nothing. I just wanted you to come over.

Now it was three in the morning and you were lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. Still thinking about how uncharacteristically spiteful Colton had been that night. Then your phone went off for the first time. You ignored it, because, well, it was three in the morning. But then ten minutes later it went off again. And five minutes after that it went off again. Not five minutes passed before there was another. Then soon after another alert. Finally, you sat up in a huff, grabbing the phone off your bedside table and unlocking it to see the notifications.

All messages from Colton and he appeared to be drunk. Very drunk.

(Y/N) r u home

i miss u

u should com over

r u still with him

u should be here instead

You squeezed your eyes shut then opened them to make sure you were reading the messages correctly. Is that why he had been so spiteful that night? Was Colt… jealous? You couldn’t go over to his house now, because regardless of what you suspected, nothing had changed. He wasn’t going to commit to you. He wasn’t going to give you that house together or the Christmas tree with the first key ornaments or the kids running around in the backyard. It just wasn’t in the cards for them. Besides, he was drunk off his ass right now. He would never, in a million years send u or r in place or you or are if he wasn’t well past the legal limit.

Colton, go to sleep. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.

The dots appeared right away but it took him awhile to type the message.

i no wht im saying i miss u com over ur with him arnt u

It took you a moment to decipher the message but when you did, you sighed and responded carefully. Colt, I’ve been home since 10:00. I can’t come over, its already three in the morning and you’re so drunk you’ll be passed out by the time I get there. You won’t even be able to let me in.

He didn’t like that answer. ill take a shower to sober up before u get here

Colton.

fine goodnight

You sighed again, Goodnight Colt.

Don’t call me boo

Like your some kind of ghost

If you don’t want me seeing other guys,

Then here’s what you need to know

Come stay tonight.

It was just those three words. The team was leaving for a road trip and they had the next day off. You had always in the past cleared your schedule on those days for him if he asked you to. The two of you would stay in bed all day, you would cook for him when you got hungry and he would leave for the roadie the next day relaxed and happy. This had started off as an occasional arrangement but had become a routine and now almost every time he had a day off in town, this was the plan.

You cleared your schedule.

When you got to his house with your overnight bag, you had just knocked on the door when it opened. He was standing there looking perfect as ever in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, but his hair wasn’t styled like usual. It was tousled and limp like he’d been running his fingers through it enough to destroy whatever effect the gel had previously had on it.

He stepped to the side to let you in and closed the door behind you as soon as you were out of the way. He turned to face you, “I’m sorry… about the other night.”

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes, continuing to face the living room. You didn’t want to talk about this. You knew your time together was limited. This may very well be the last time they spent a night together before you had a boyfriend and you had to end… whatever this was. you didn’t want to spend it talking about what he’d said two nights ago and how he hadn’t meant it. How he was just drunk. “It isn’t a big deal.”

You slipped off your shoes, leaving them by the door. You always felt weird wearing shoes in his house, everything was so much more expensive than what you were used to. You walked away from him before he could say anything else, placing your bag on the couch and then leaning against the back of it and turning to watch him. He was frozen in place, staring at the spot you had previously been standing. After a minute he shifted his eyes to you and made his way into the living area.

He stood directly in front of you, with his hands in his pockets. He looked unsure for the first time since you’d met him, and you couldn’t quite figure out why. “I made dinner.” He said. “It’s almost ready.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “You made us dinner?” You asked. “I always make dinner.”

“I know…” He said, he shifted, looking over her head at something in the distance, “I just thought… I don’t know. It was an early game and I got home at seven… I don’t mind cooking, so why not?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, I guess I just figured I would be cooking for you tonight.”

He looked down at you, meeting your eyes and smiling softly, “You don’t always have to do stuff like that. You can just come over and relax with me.”

Something was off. Colton was a nice guy. He was an amazing guy. But this was so far out of left field for your relationship that you didn’t know what you were dealing with. Then again, that’s how everything with him had been since the day you told him you were going on a date. He’d make sure to mark you up with hickeys everywhere when you hooked up the couple of times it had happened since. He was usually rough, but he never was one to leave dozens of hickeys all over you. Maybe one or two, nothing like that. His sideways remarks. Drunk texts. Now this?

You were in love with him. You had been for a long time and you knew it. Hell, you’d known when you let this start that you would fall in love with him. He was just the kind of guy you couldn’t help falling in love with. That’s why he had girls falling at his feet. He was a twenty-six-year-old professional hockey player, rich, attractive, with a great personality and he could have any girl he wanted. You never had any illusions that you would be the one to lock him down. Hell, at the time you weren’t even looking for a relationship. You were running from one.

But when he looked at you and said things like that, things like you can just come here to relax with me, it made you angry. Because you were in love with him. And when he said things like that and sent you a string of drunk texts at three in the morning, it gave you this irrational hope that he cared about more than just your pussy.

There was no way though.

And even if he did, did you want that life?

Constantly worrying about whether or not your boyfriend was with some other girl because he could have whoever he wanted? Always feeling like you weren’t good enough for him? Never being able to contribute equally to the household? Would he ever actually marry you even if he did date you? No. Probably not. You weren’t NHL wife material. Not pretty enough or classy enough.

But you smiled at him and pretended this battle wasn’t going on in your head and said, “Why don’t I help you finish cooking? I’m starving.”

After you ate, an amazing meal as it turned out Colton was actually quite the cook, when you made to help him with the dishes he turned around and set you on the island behind him, effectively banishing you from the soap. “I always help.” You protested.

“I’ve got it, (Y/N).” He said, his back muscles working as he washed a pot. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, “As if that’s possible.” He turned to look at you over his shoulder, narrowed eyes and you bit your lip before responding, “Sorry, did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah. Don’t say it in your head either.” Then he went back to the dishes.

After the dishes were clean you expected to end up in the bedroom, but instead he guided you to the couch and handed you the remote, “What do you want to watch?”

You stared at the remote for a moment, then looked back at him. “I don’t know. I only watch movies in the theaters and I don’t think you’d like any of the shows that I watch.”

He frowned, “You only watch movies in theaters?”

“I don’t have the attention span to watch them unless I’m forced.” You said, “I’ll do anything to get out of it. Write, sleep, read, sex. Anything except watch the movie unless it’s a favorite and I’m in the mood to watch it. Which I’m not.”

“Okay, you like the Flames, right?” He asked. You nodded, “They’re playing now. Want to watch that?”

You smiled up at him, “That sounds awesome.”

By the time the game ended, you were curled into his side with his arm wrapped around you and you were ranting about every missed call while going on about Tkachuk’s game winning overtime goal. “Are you like this when you watch us play?” Colton asked, with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t identify and a smile on his face.

“Oh, I’m worse.” You said laughing and shaking your head, “When I lived with my sister she used to get so mad at me on nights you played late games because I would wake her up yelling at the TV.”

Colton placed a hand on your cheek and moved in. He pressed his lips to yours the same why he had so many times before, but this time if felt different. The kiss was long and slow and there were no hands pulling at clothes. One of his remained spanning your cheek and neck and the other rested on your waist, holding you in place.  Your hands, after the initial shock of the randomness of the kiss wore off, went up to his shoulders. He pulled you closer like he was afraid you were about to push him away, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You didn’t know if you knew how.

Especially not after the way this kiss made you feel.

You were the one to separate your lips, resting your foreheads together. Neither of you spoke for a stretch of time and the only sound filling the room was the Flames postgame in the background. Eventually he broke the silence. “I don’t like you dating other people.”

“Colton…” You said, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want him to tell you how he didn’t like seeing you with other people, but you could never be his. It wasn’t something you wanted to hear and if he said it… well if he said it you were going to have to get up and leave. You were going to have to end this.

“Please listen to me,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper but their faces were so close that you had no trouble picking up his words. “It hurts thinking about you dating someone else. It hurts thinking that I’m so close to losing you and if you don’t want me to stop you then there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

You pulled your forehead away from his and leaned back a little, looking at his hardwood floors, “Colton I can’t just be some girl that you call when you want to screw for the rest of my life.” You said it softly, but the words were harsh and he cast his eyes at the floor along with you, “I want something real. I want someone who is going to take me out on dates. We buy each other birthday presents. Set up a Christmas tree together every year. Have dreams of a future with each other in it. Someday I want a house with a backyard full of kids and a husband playing with them. I can’t have that if all I am is another girl who you mess around with but never want anything more from.”

When you were done he looked up at you and your eyes met. Before you could look away, he said, “But what if I want all of those things with you? What if I want something real too?”

Tears sprung to your eyes. Why was he doing this? Why couldn’t he just let you walk away when it was easier because you thought he would never love you. “Colt I don’t know if I’m cut out for that life. I’m just some girl who got caught up in a lifestyle she had no business being part of.”

“What’s so bad about it?” He asked, looking a little panicked. Like he hadn’t actually accepted the possibility of you walking away tonight for good. “Why couldn’t you date me?”

You shook your head, “I’ve been around your friends. They party. They drink. And athletes… they cheat. I know it’s a stereotype, but I would always be worried about it. Especially since the entire time we’ve known each other you’ve had the ability to just… do whatever you want. Besides the fact that I’m not pretty enough to ever be seen in public with you.”

Colton looked genuinely offended, “I don’t cheat. I never have, and I never will. I was raised better than that.” He placed a hand on your chin and forced you to look into his eyes, “And you are beautiful. I would take you everywhere. You would be all over my Instagram even.”

You blushed, “Colt…”

“(Y/N), give me a chance.” He said. “I messed up. I didn’t realize I was in love with you until someone else was already doing a better job at what should have been my job than I was. Please, let me fix it.”

You studied his face, trying to decide if he was serious. Trying to decide if you should give up what you saw in Chase for what you knew was there in Colton. There were obstacles, many of them, but if he was that determined to make it work then you would give it a try too.

“Okay, we can give it a real shot.”

I’m lovin’ what you got

But I’m hating what you doing

You gotta show me off, off

If you embarrassed,

Then thats the case I’m long gone

You’d been officially dating for four months now and things were going great. He knew how you felt about him going out drinking with the guys, so when he went, he invited you along. There were no more bunnies bragging about their conquest with him online, in fact they were beginning to suspect that he had settled down with someone. You were at every home game wearing his jersey with the other wives and girlfriend and even flown out to one of the away games. Pictures of the two of you together started appearing online, especially on websites that people used to track the habits of players and the speculation started.

Did Colton Parayko have a girlfriend?

The thing was, he wouldn’t confirm anything. People would tweet him, asking him about it. Nothing. People would message him on Instagram asking him about it? He ignored them. He posted a picture of himself with your dog on his Instagram and the comments were filled with the same question.

Do you have a girlfriend?

Is that your girlfriends’ dog?

Did your girlfriend take that picture?

Still he didn’t respond to any of them. You were beginning to wonder if it was because he was regretting his decision to enter a relationship with you. Was that what the issue was? Was he embarrassed of you? He’d promised that you would be all over his Instagram, but he hadn’t even let you tag them in a picture together. Did he wish he’d found someone more conventionally beautiful?

You were scrolling through a speculation post when he sat down beside you on the couch. “What are you reading?” He asked, looking over your shoulder.

You quickly locked your phone and dropped it into your lap, “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully, “I know your password and my arms are longer than yours.”

You sighed, “Why haven’t you gone public with our relationship?” You asked.

He looked caught off guard, “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t posted any pictures of us. You haven’t answered when anyone asks about us.” You looked away from him and down at the phone you were twisting in your hands. “If you’re embarrassed of me just tell me. We can end this.”

“No!” He said it before the words had even died on your tongue, “Of course I’m not embarrassed of you.”

You still didn’t meet his eyes, because honestly, you didn’t believe him. “Colton…”

“(Y/N),” He said, “I’ll post pictures of you right now. I’ll tweet out a response to the next person who asks me. I’m not embarrassed, why would I be? I didn’t know it was that big of a deal to you or I never would have kept it a secret. I just don’t like my private life to be all over the internet.” He grabbed your hand and pulled your phone away, setting it aside before taking your hand in his. “Please believe me.”

You looked up into his eyes and all you saw was love. He looked so genuine. How could you not believe him? “Okay,” you said. “I believe you.”

“We don’t have to keep it a secret,” He said, “I love you. I don’t care if people know.”

You smiled up at him, “I would like that.”

Give me that title, title

Come on give me that title, title

Better give me that title, title

Better give me that title, title, yeah

They’d been together for two years now and they had come a long way from the day that Colton had sworn she was going to walk out his front door and end up in the arms of another man. As she sat on her towel with her toes dug into the sand next to him, glass of wine in her hand, staring at the sun setting over the ocean, he couldn’t believe that he’d ever come close to letting that happen.

The words she spoke that day stuck in his mind every single day since she said them. Someday I want a house with a backyard full of kids and a husband playing with them. They already bought each other birthday presents and set up a Christmas tree together every year. They talked about their future together every day. But that was something that he hadn’t given her yet.

She was so distracted by the sunset that she didn’t notice him set his wine glass on the small table between them, low to the sand, before reaching into the beach bag, into the zippered back pocket that she never would have had a reason to open and pulling out the small velvet box. He settled back onto his towel with the box in his hand, but kept his eyes focused on her.

He’d had the whole moment planned out, but now that they were here, and he was holding the ring and she was sitting next to him, it was like he had never planned a thing.

He shifted to his knees so that he was facing her, and that action was enough to pull her away from the sunset. She turned to him with a smile on her face so genuine that it made his heart swell. “What’s that look for?” She asked, “You should be watching the sky, it’s beautiful.”

“I’d rather watch you.” He said, and her cheeks flushed. Whether it was from the tropical heat or his words he didn’t know. He kept the box hidden under his hand as he said, “(Y/N), the day we decided to be together, you said something. You said that someday you wanted a husband and kids and an entire life with someone.” He looked down at his hand which still hid the ring, then back up at the most important person in his life who was looking at him with wide eyes, like she wanted to believe what was happening but didn’t quite want to get her hopes up. He lifted the hand that wasn’t concealing the ring and used it to guide her into standing up. She rose to her feet, burying them in the sand.

He rose to one knee and finally reveled the box, snapping it open, “I want that to be me. I want that life with you. I’m ready for it. If you say yes, I promise that we’ll have a house with a huge backyard and a fence and a swing set for our kids to play on. We’ll be the family that you always wanted to have. So, (Y/N), will you marry me?”

She was completely in shock, staring at him like she couldn’t believe a single word he had just said had actually come out of his mouth. But it had, and as soon as she realized that, she answered him. “Of course, I will!”

He slid the ring on her finger, tossed the box on the towel beside them and then was up and twirling her in the air in a second. Yes, they had come a long way in the past two years. And god was he glad they had.

#colton parayko #colton parayko imagine #colton parayko imagines #nhl imagines #hockey imagines

[wincestismyguiltypleasure]

Amber, I'm kind of obsessed with casino owner!Jensen and his pet. And how angry Jensen's gonna be when the new security guard Chad tries to 'rescue' Jared. And how Jared plays along with Chad, because he kinda wants to see what Jensen does and the guy's hot so it's fun. And how Jared's punished when Jensen finds out just how far he let things get with Chad, especially when Jared says "Well, if you'd fuck me more often maybe I wouldn't look for toys to play with while you're busy." (bad puppy!)

KELLY!! THIS IS WHAT I'M HERE FOR!!

If there's one thing Jared knows with complete certainty, it's that Jensen Ross Ackles is a possessive, vendictive son of a bitch. He does not share, and he does not take kindly to anyone putting their hands on what he considered his. Which is precisely why Jared was willing to bet his teeth that Jensen would go absolutely ballistic once he knew about Chad and the dark purple hickeys that he'd left all over Jared's, temporarily uncollared, neck.

But his dirty little secret was out in the open now, and Jensen hadn't so much as batted an eyelash. The casino owner's inate ability to foil him at every turn serving as painful reminder why Jared had quit gambling in the first place.

"You're right, Jared," Jensen says, taking a small step forward. Then another. Jared's blood pressure raising higher and higher the closer he got.

Of course, his first instinct was to reach out for Jensen, beg him for forgiveness, and keep his fingers crossed that he'd be able to sit down tomorrow morning. But that wasn't an option because Jared's pride had been hurt this time, and not in the break you down and make you beg for filthy things kind of way either. No, his Dom's reaction, or lack thereof, had made him feel unwanted. Like Jensen could care less who used his body just as long as Jared came crawling back to him after they were done.

So when Jensen reaches out, warm palm cupping his cheek tenderly, Jared resists the overwhelming urge he has to lean in and nuzzle against it. He'd be damned if he was going to let Jensen win that easily.

"You're absolutely right."

The rough pad of Jensen's thumb brushes over Jared's parted lips in a soothing manner. And even when Jared nips at him playfully, because he's desperate to get a rise out of his Dom, Jensen doesn't flinch. No signs of frustration darken his handsome features, or anger giving his hands a slight tremor. He just stands there in front of Jared, staring thoughtfully into those wide, innocent eyes.

It's intense, to say the least. But then again, intense was practically Jensen's middle name.

"I am?"

Jared blinks nervously a few times, clearly confused but Jensen doesn't give anything away. He just pats Jared's cheek softly and continues. "Mmhm. I really have been working too much lately."

Panic swells in Jared's chest, thick and suffocating, when he sees Jensen's lips twist upward into cruel smile. Realization hitting him full force in the gut like a freight train, and just like that, Jared finds himself whimpering in Jensen's embrace. The hot tears welling up in the corners of his eyes reminiscent of the first time that Jensen had caught Jared breaking the rules.

"Hey." Jared's chin is pinched between Jensen thumb and index finger before he can even blink. Grip tight enough to bruise as he forces the younger man to look him in the eyes. And right then Jared thinks damn, this is it. The moment that his Dom cuts the lovey dovey bullshit and puts him on his knees.

That's why when Jensen presses a soft kiss to his cheek instead of landing a cruel backhand, Jared is at a total loss. His bulletproof way of getting what he wanted from Jensen shattering all around him like jagged shards of broken glass.

"Don't pout, Jare. Tonight, I'm all yours."

"O-okay," Jared concedes, trying desperately to swallow down some of the acidic bile rising up in his throat. Barely managing a slight nod of agreement before Jensen turned on his heels and dissapeared, leaving Jared in his bedroom half-hard and shaking. The younger man not quite sure if Mr. Ackles had just made a threat or a promise.

---------

When Jensen calls him to the living room later that night, Jared gets his answer. It had been both a threat, and a promise.

"Ah, there's my boy," Jensen purrs, tracking every one of Jared's cautious movements with a predatory gaze. And suddenly, standing there in just a thin pair of light grey boxers, at his Dom's request of course, Jared feels more vulnerable and exposed than he has in over two years.

"Wh-what's going on?"

Jared takes a hesitant step forward, tearing his eyes away from Jensen with more difficulty than he'd like to admit to focus them on the blonde motionless heap just visible past Jensen's broad frame. A surprised gasp ripped from his lungs when Jared studies it a little closer and suddenly recognizes that longing gaze.

"I know I said we were going to have some alone time tonight, sweetheart," Jensen says, soft and apologetic. Yet still managing to look every bit like the pissed off alpha male that he was standing there in his navy blue Armani suit, clearly ready to do some serious damage. To Chad's vital organs or his ass, Jared wasn't quite sure. "But Mr. Murray just seemed so lonely out there on the casino floor. Hope you don't mind that I invited him over."

Behind Jensen, Chad's bright blue eyes were boring into the back of his boss' head with murderous intent. And Jared could tell by the state of his disheveled clothes and the fresh cut oozing blood above Chad's right eye, that he'd been thrown onto Jensen's couch rather than seated there. Hands bound behind him tightly with what Jared could only imagine was rope or a zip-tie. The single strip of silver duct tape secured across his mouth clearly the only thing keeping Chad's temper at bay.

"Jen-" Jared began, making a move toward Chad only to he stopped dead in his track when Jensen raised his finger. Those gorgeous green eyes buring bright with rage as he pointed to the ground, slow and deliberate.

"Sit."

Jared hears Chad make a wounded sound when he falls to his knees without question. His palms automatically resting flat on top of his bare thighs as he leaned back on his heels, head bowed in submission.

"Good boy."

Jensen's voice is smooth as honey. His words of praise drizzling down Jared's spine, warm and sticky-sweet, soothing him. And by the time Jensen had closed the gap between them, Jared's shoulders were relaxed. The last bit of tension draining from his body completely when Jensen reached out to scratch behind his ear.

"Very good, pet."

Jared hums his acknowledgement but he doesn't dare move. Because despite Jensen's words of affection and his gentle touch, Jared knows his Dom is one wrong move away from completely snapping.

Bending the rules now would only make things worse. And Jared is absolutely positive that neither he or Chad could handle that.

"Baby," Jensen coos, running his fingers gently through his pet's sweaty hair when he notices the pained expression on Jared's face. "I need you to talk to me."

Communication, this was good. This was something they'd learned together over the course of the death-defying rollercoaster ride that was their relationship. And it was definitely a relief to know that Jensen's finger was on the guard of the gun and not the tigger, so to speak.

"C'mon, Jare."

Jared takes a ragged breath and nods, daring to steal another glance at Chad before he looked up at Jensen, body trembling.

Outside he could hear the rain staring to pick up, thunder rumbling low and eerie in the distance but still, it was nothing compared to the storm raging in his Dom's eyes. So much for thinking Jensen didn't care.

"I'm worried about...him," Jared says, voice cracking. He makes sure to put an emphasis on the word "him" because Lord knows if Jensen had heard the guard's name come out of Jared's mouth, that there'd be six, not seven, bullets in the magazine of the Colt .45 Jensen kept tucked in his waistband and blood splatter all over his pristine white walls.

"Aw," Jensen mocks, eyes pitch black and full of venom. Clearly not giving a shit that he sounded petty. "Is my sweet puppy worried about his dumb little toy?"

A hard yank on his hair makes Jared lean up on his knees, whining. Chad's eyes growing wide with concern when Jensen's free hand found Jared's throat and squeezed. "Well, rest easy baby. I'm not going to kill this useless waste of space...Unless," Jensen pauses, tilting his head to the side like he's weighing his options. "Unless you want me to?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jared can see Chad squirming a little, sad and helpless, and he hates himself for even considering Jensen's proposal. God, he wasn't this person. Or at least he'd convinced himself that he wasn't.

Before Jensen it was so much easier to ignore the darkness that had been gnawing at his insides for what felt like eons. But then this gorgeous, sadistic bastard came into his life, an unstoppable force, pushing Jared's boundries and offering him things that Jared would've NEVER asked for on his own. It was too much, and he wanted it all.

And yeah, the idea of Jensen bathed in the blood of a man who dared to put his hands on Jared was a (huge) turn on, but he can't do this, not to someone with a good heart like Chad.

"Jensen, please."

Jared's throat is dry, his voice raspy and broken as he reaches up to grab his Dom's wrist. "I'm so sorry. Just- punish me and let him go. This is all my fault." And it really is. Jared was never interested in Chad, at least not in the way he'd let the guard believe. Sure, they'd some fun, but it had all been a desperate attempt by Jared to get Jensen's attention. Everything Jared did, every time he acted out or pouted, it was all because he craved seeing that look in his Dom's eyes. This had always been about Jensen, and if he hadn't pretended that it wasn't, Jared knows now that he would've gotten everything that he wanted.

"That's very noble of you, baby." The older man digs his nails into Jared's sore skin as he hauls him up from the floor. There's a hint of amusement on Jensen's face now, standing there nose to nose with Jared. And somehow, this wild eyed, unstable version of his Dom terrifies Jared more than the cold, calculated one. "But I assure, I don't plan to hurt Mr. Murray. Well," Jensen stops short with a sly smirk before correcting himself, "you know what I mean."

"But I thought-" Jared's eyes dart from Jensen to Chad and back again, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"I know what you thought, Jare. I know everything that goes on in this pretty head." Jensen interjects, tapping his index finger lightly against Jared's temple. He smiles, bright and toothy, and Jared can feel the color drain from his face. "But believe it or not, Mr. Murray is here on his own volition."

Jared's jaw nearly hits the ground when he registers his Dom's words, teary gaze now focused on Chad who looks extremely apologetic and twice as embarrassed.

"The restraints?" Jensen is standing behind Jared now. He can feel the buttons on Jensen's dress shirt digging into his back, strong hands settling possessively on his hips, pulling him closer. "Just a precaution," Jensen explains, pressing a hot kiss to Jared's neck that makes him shiver. "In case he decided that he wanted to play the hero again."

Jared feels white-hot pain, sharp and intoxicating, twisting up his spine when Jensen bites down on one of the raw hickeys that Chad had left on his throat. Toes curling against the carpet as his dick throbs, dribbling pre-cum all over his boxers, head starting to spin. God, Jared doesn't think he's ever been this hard before in his life and it hurts so fucking good.

"Wh-what are you gonna do now?" Jared dares to ask while Jensen nibbles at his throat. Clearly trying to cover up Chad's handy work with a possessive mark of his own. And Jared's hand is trembling when he reaches up blindly, cupping the back of Jensen's head in his palm to bring him closer. Because fuck it. He'd already broken every rule in the book and he was still breathing, so why stop now?

"First," Jensen growls, delivering a sharp smack to Jared's outer thigh that immediately makes the younger man drop his arm. A half choked groan spilling from Jared's lips when his Dom suddenly flips him around so that they are face to face again. "I'm gonna spank your ass purple."

Jensen hands are warm and rough as they slid down Jared's sides, claiming every inch of smooth, tanned skin along the way. "And when you're so sore that you can barely think, begging for me to stop," he adds darkly, hands settle on Jared's ass. Fingers groping and kneading at the meaty flesh before Jensen pulls his ass cheeks apart, hold tight enough to make Jared whine and buck his hips. "I'm going to bend you over the coffee table and fuck you within an inch of your life. And I'm not going to stop until the only word that you can remember is my name and you're drooling all over Mr. Murray's cheap shoes."

Behind them, Chad is fighting against his restraints, mumbling something Jared can't quite make out but he's sure it's along the lines of "fuck you."

"And when you think you can't take any more," Jensen continues, completely ignoring Chad's temper tantrum, "I'm going to throw you over my shoulder, take you to the bedroom, and do it all again."

Jared's knees almost buckle when Jensen leans in to rub their noses together playfully. His lips ghosting over Jared's, so close and warm, daring his sub to close the gap between them and take what he wants without permission. But Jared's learned his lesson. Stays put even though he's dying to taste the jealousy on Jensen's lips.

"Can I wear my collar then?" He asks, soft and hopeful, pretty eyes locked with Jensen's.

"Of course you can, baby. I'm never going to let you leave the house without it on again."

Jared almost cries tears of joy when he hears the wicked tone in his Dom's voice. A sick part of him wishing that Jensen wouldn't even let him leave the house until he made sure Jared knew just who he belonged to.

"Thank you, Mr. Ackles."

"You're welcome, pet."

Jared feels a bit unsteady when Jensen steps back to take him in. His dark, hungry eyes giving Jared such a thorough once over that it makes the younger man's cheeks heat up with blush. He wants Jensen so bad right now that he can barely breathe. His need to be touched, to be controlled by the only man who knew how to handle him, hitting Jared like a sucker punch. He was so turned on now that it was causing him physical pain, and to make matters worse, Jared knew he had a long, torturous night of begging ahead of him before his Dom would even consider do anything about it.

"Oh, and don't worry Mr. Murray," Jensen says suddenly, looking over Jared's shoulder to address Chad directly for the first time that night, "If you sit still and behave, I'll make sure to leave the bedroom door open so you can hear my puppy scream."

Fuck, maybe Jared's plan had worked after all.

#Kelly I love this au with my whole heart 💕💕 #J2 #casino owner!jensen #card counter!jared #dom!Jensen #sub!Jared #guard!Chad #this got out of hand lmfao #long post

[sidecarghost]

Destiel Old West Ranch Fluff

Notes: AU where Winchester family business is a ranch they run, and Castiel is human.

Dean is thinking about how he doesn't like the new ranch hand his father has hired. 

First, his name is Castiel, and that is just the most pretentious thing he has ever heard. And the name seems to fit the guy’s snobby, impersonal attitude.

Second, the guy called his serape a blanket.

Third, well he doesn't have a third reason yet, but maybe he can find one while watching him work with a unbroke colt.

Dean walks to the round pen to watch the new ranch hand working. A broke horse is trained to be safe to handle and ride. The young, unbroke colt in the round pen with Castiel has spent his life living practically wild on the range in the Winchester herd until he grew old enough to ride.

The nervous colt is cantering along the fence of the round pen, and Castiel just stands grounded in the center lazily holding onto a length of rope. Every time the young colt stops to paw at the ground or nicker to his friends Castiel will flick out the rope to drive the horse to move again and change direction. Castiel gestures with one arm in the direction for the colt to move, and he windmills the rope in his other arm. The rope rarely touches the horse, and when it does the rope just acts like an extension of Castiel's arm nudging the horse to move off in the direction requested. Once the horse responds to Castiel's guidance, Castiel drops his arm and lets the rope fall to his side.

Dean could imagine them having a conversation through Castiel's body language.

Castiel: "Horse, go left, left, left," walking closer, left arm out, right arm steady windmilling rope Horse: "what?" neigh. "what?" run backwards. "what?" buck, pin my ears back, go left. Castiel: "good, ok," stands still arms at rest and rope at rest Horse: "wanted me, go left? ok,” keeps circling to left “miss herd. scared. man, new, scary. run. find herd."

Dean isn't sure if Castiel has noticed him watching from the side of the corral since he has been focused on the colt.

"Hey, do you want me to get some extra ranch hands so we can rope the horse down and get him saddled for you?", Dean asks.

"No, I want the horse to trust and respect me first. This is a new thing for him. He is fearful. Every time he stops and acts afraid, I'll just guide him to move off to the left and move off to the right until he figures out being with me is no big deal. He has lived his entire life so far being guided by his herd-mates to go one way or another, so I can use those lessons he has already mastered in a herd to make trusting me easier. He'll make the connection, and he'll trust me to be a firm but fair boss. Eventually, he will have learned that if he trusts people and does what they ask, then they will do good things like brush him and rub on him and treat him well."

"Oh wow, that is the craziest thing I have ever heard in my life," Dean says. He doesn't mean his outburst to sound as mean as it may have, but he has just never heard anyone talk about working with horses like that. Dean is fascinated with Castiel’s approach of working with the colt. His father and the other ranch hands had always done most of the colt breaking. Dean never liked seeing the horses reacting with wild fear and bucking like mad, even though most people treated it like a sport.

"It will work Dean," Castiel responds dryly.

"Hmm... care to make it interesting?", Dean asks.

"Not really, I am just trying to do the job your family hired me to do. Working with animals is interesting enough for me. Sometimes, I think I work better with them than I do with people," Castiel says.

"No, you are misunderstanding me, Cas. I just-," Dean hurries to explain himself.

"Cas?", Castiel interrupts.

"Yeah, is it okay if I call you Cas? Castiel just sounds so religious and dignified. Like I'm saying a prayer in church instead of just talking to a friend," Dean says.

Castiel has still been focusing on the young colt throughout his conversation with Dean. The colt's demeanor does seem to be settling. Although he still bucks and kicks dust up on occasion while cantering the pen's fence line.

"Cas is okay," Castiel responds. "And I didn't know you thought of me as a friend."

"Oh", Dean blushes. "Well you seem like a nice enough guy. I haven't known you long, but I can't think of a single reason not to like you and I want to be friends with you."

"Thank you, Dean. I'd like to be friends too," Castiel says.

"When I said interesting before, I just meant do you want to bet on your crazy horse training method working for getting the colt to accept a saddle on his back?"

Castiel smirks, and Dean thinks this is the first time he has seen even the hint of a smile on Castiel’s face since meeting him.

"What terms do you have in mind?" Castiel asks.

"If you can get the horse saddled without needing to load him in a chute and strap him down. Then you will have won, and I will bake you a pie and I bake really good pies."

"I don't know Dean. I don't really care much for pies."

"Well, you've never had one of my pies, and I am not bragging when I say they are like Heaven."

"It sounds a lot like you are bragging." Castiel deadpans.

"Once you've had a bite, you will know I wasn't, and I will be right there to tell you I told you so," Dean says confidently.

"Oh, I see, we are eating this pie you baked for me together.", Castiel says.

"What do you mean 'Oh, I see?'" Dean asks.

"This sounds like, if I win you are baking a pie to share on a date with me." Castiel reasons.

"Well, only if you are interested..." Dean states biting his lower lip.

"I am interested," Castiel smiles. "Do I have to bake a pie for us if you win?"

"No, you can cook us something else. I don't want to be disappointed with a second-rate pie on our first date." Dean grins.

"Well, I look forward to our date, and you baking us a pie." Castiel says.

"Haha, you seem pretty sure of yourself with training this colt." 

Dean notices the young horse has slowed to a walk, and in response to the horse’s slower gait Castiel purposefully turns his back on the horse. Dean is puzzled, and it looks like the colt is trying to figure Castiel out too. The horse is still nervous, but now it seems like curiosity is winning out over fear.

Horse: "curious. closer look, man." slows down to walk looking toward Cas Castiel: "nothing interesting here" turns away from horse Horse: "hey, man. go left? go right?" watches Cas Castiel: "horse, follow" while back is turned away from horse he walks further away from horse Horse: "follow, ok" walk a few steps forward in same direction watching Cas Castiel: "horse, stop" stands still Horse: "stop, ok" stands still

Castiel pivots to the side, so he can see the horse. But he doesn't turn completely around to face the horse directly. Horses are prey animals and having a predator animal facing them directly can be overwhelming. So, he just lets the horse watch him curiously. And Castiel just stands looking anywhere else, but at the horse directly, like this is all no big deal. The horse snorts at Castiel, and then picks up a trot and heads to the fence.

"Wow, Cas, I've never seen an unbroke horse just follow someone like that without a lasso on them."

"Horses are pretty curious animals, and they are used to having a pecking order. His first reaction is that I am a threat. Once he is reasonably sure I'm not a threat, he will want to know if I get to boss him around or if he gets to boss me around. So, I'll keep my reactions to him consistent. If he goes where I ask, I'll be quiet, otherwise I'll put pressure on him by coaxing and nudging until I get the reaction I'd like. In the end, I want to make doing the right thing easy for the horse and doing the wrong thing hard."

"That seems really wise," Dean says. "Usually it’s just a sport to break our colts, we wear them out until the fight has left them. Then we get them trained."

"Sometimes the old ways aren't the right ways Dean."

Dean wonders if there is a story behind those words, but realizes he needs to get back to his own ranch duties, and that he has already spent more time then he meant to watching Castiel work.

"I need to get on with my work Cas, but I really enjoyed watching you work with our colt."

"Bye Dean," Castiel responds. "I also enjoyed having you here and talking with you."

“Bye Cas, and let me know, when you are ready to try saddling that colt. But no hurry, I like the way you are training him. I don’t want it to be rushed.”

While Dean walks away from the round pen, he thinks about how he really likes the new guy his father has hired.

First, his blue eyes positively glow in the bright morning sunlight, and he looks like he is in great shape. Dean licks his lips thinking how Cas would look with just the hat and boots on.

Second, he is a hell of a cool guy. He is so patient and understanding working with the young horse, and he is snarky but kind and sincere too.

Third, they are going on a date! Whatever happens Dean is determined to get Cas to try some pie he has baked. Because if his phenomenal pie baking cannot win Cas’s heart, he isn’t sure anything can.

#destiel #destiel fic #spn ficlet #cowboy destiel #castiel #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #non-canon au #i wrote this #gum writes

[klove0511]

The Only Way Out

Author: @klove0511​ Artist: @dwimpala-67​

Genre: Angst Pairing: Gen Rating: G Wordcount: 8108 Warnings: Major Character Death,  hurt!Sam, hurt!Dean, ghost!Sam, canon divergent after season 1 Summary: What if Sam had been the one left in a coma after the car accident?

Fic link: AO3

Art link: Tumblr

The world felt heavy, wrapped in wool and weighted to hold him down. Dean came to slowly, aware first of the sluggish response of his limbs, then more distantly aware of pain when he moved them. A steady, irritating beep told him he was in a hospital just as surely as the sterile smell of cleaning products or too white light over his bed. He struggled through the fog of opioids to remember what he'd done to land him here. What had they been hunting? Why was he alone? 

A glance at the window told him it was early morning, with the sky beginning to lighten and clear enough to promise warmth later. Still, the room was medical-building-chilly, and Dean was grateful for the blankets keeping him warm.

He felt his thoughts drifting, trying to piece together what had happened. Dean always hated when they put him on the really heavy pain meds because it became a struggle just to think. He didn't know where Sam was, but the fact that he was absent was concerning enough to cut through some of the haze. Dean remembered the last time he'd woken up in a hospital, after the rawhead incident, and Sam had been there nonstop, except when he couldn't be. The cops had pulled him out of the room for questions, the doctors had shooed him away to let them poke and prod Dean in peace, and one nurse in particular had enforced the hospital's visiting hours to make sure Sam went back to the motel long enough to get some sleep. But all of that had been after Dean woke up. Sam should be here, now. So where was he?

Unfortunately, the fog of the drugs was already pulling him back down into sleep, no matter how he fought to stay awake. A burst of cold from the air conditioning made him shiver, and as he drifted off he swore he could hear Sam saying he’d stay until Dean woke up, though he couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

 When Dean woke again, the sun shone brightly through his window, warming the room almost to an uncomfortable level. A nurse was taking his vitals, and he was pretty sure she said something about going to get a doctor. Maybe. Waking up in a hospital was worse than a killer hangover.

He grayed out for a minute, but when he was able to refocus, he was already feeling clearer than the last time he’d been conscious. The nurse was back with a dude in a lab coat, who Dean assumed was a doctor.

Dean didn’t bother waiting for the doctor to ask him anything. “Where’s Sam?”

The doctor didn’t answer the question right away, which annoyed Dean. Instead, he replied with a question of his own. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He’d meant it to be sarcastic, but judging by the reactions he got from both the doctor and the nurse, that was pretty close to what had landed him in the hospital. That knowledge did nothing to lessen the anxiety he was feeling over Sam’s continued absence. Already feeling sleep pulling him down again, he tried once more, wishing he didn’t sound so much like he was begging. “Please, where’s my brother?”

This time, the doctor took pity on him. “Your father is visiting him now.”

 John listened to Sam’s doctor explaining the extent of his injuries with only half his mind. Sam was lying in the hospital bed, broken beyond repair, and that was all he needed to know. He was going to lose his son, but the demon's plans for Sam were over. He was ashamed to admit there was a sliver of relief in the chaotic emotions running through him. At least now Sam would be safe, and John’s worst fears could be laid to rest.

But beyond the fleeting relief and acceptance, there were the beginnings of grief. More than anything, he wanted a drink or four, but he couldn't do that yet. Later, he would drink himself into oblivion, but first he had to tell Dean. He grimaced. Dean was going to be devastated and telling him was going to be painful. At least John was being granted a reprieve from that duty for now, as Dean still hadn’t woken.

In the meantime, he had business to attend to, and while he hated himself for feeling this way, he was grateful for the distraction. He took one more look at Sam’s still form and murmured, “I’m sorry, son.” Then he pulled out his phone and pulled up Bobby’s number as he exited the hospital.

 At the junkyard an hour later, John sifted through the wreckage, looking for the Colt. He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him, but he was doing his best to ignore his friend.

“What are you doing out here, John?” Bobby asked, his voice less accusing than it could have been.

John didn’t answer immediately, but he stopped what he was doing, too. “I’m looking for the gun that’ll kill the thing that killed Mary and put my boys in the hospital.” He wondered, briefly, if his voice sounded as dead as he felt inside.

Bobby scoffed at his answer. “Hell, I could have done emptied the car. Those boys need you to be there for them right now.”

John swallowed down irritation at Bobby presuming to know what his sons needed. He was a good friend, but this was an old argument between them. Bobby had always tried to step in and be the father he thought John failed to be. “Didn’t want to put you out like that. Besides, they aren’t awake yet. No reason I couldn’t do this myself.”

Bobby paused before answering, and John wondered if there was going to be more commentary on his parenting forthcoming. Luckily it seemed there wasn’t going to be when Bobby said, “What do you want to do with the car, then? Don’t seem worth a tow.”

John extricated himself from the wreckage, having found the gun he was looking for. Taking a step back, he surveyed the twisted remains of the Impala. “It’s Dean’s now. I say tow it to your place until he’s ready to work on it. And if he doesn’t want to fix her up, then scrap her.”

Ignoring Bobby’s silent sympathy, John walked away from one of the last remnants of his life with Mary and toward the rental car that would take him back to the hospital and Dean.

 By the time John arrived, Dean had declined most of his dinner—opioids made him nauseous—and talked himself down from two panic attacks about Sam. He'd gotten the nurse to confirm that they had, in fact, been hit by a truck, and now that Dean thought about it, he was pretty sure he remembered the sound of breaking glass. Once he started to access the memory, he could remember bits and pieces from before the accident—his dad possessed by the demon, Sam shooting their dad in the leg, feeling woozy from blood loss. Piecing together his memory was the only thing that kept him distracted from thinking about Sam, until his dad appeared in the doorway.

His dad looked haggard, weary in a way Dean hadn't seen before. He was on crutches and sported some impressive bruising, but seemed uninjured otherwise. 

"Good to see you awake, son," he said.

"You too, sir." Dean swallowed nervously. "How's Sam?"

His dad's face morphed through half a dozen emotions before settling into careful neutrality, and the bottom dropped out of Dean’s stomach. "Sam is in a coma. It’s bad.” 

Dean breathed slowly, deeply, fighting the panic that had been hounding him all day. "He's dying." When John didn't answer immediately, Dean spat, "Isn't he?"

John’s face was a damn mask, revealing nothing, and his even tone was no better. "We don't know. The doctors say they've done all they can, and it's up to Sam now."

Dean nodded, then rasped, "So what are we going to do?"

John was silent for a long time. Too long, in Dean's opinion. "We aren't going to do anything, Dean."

“What?”

John’s face darkened. His dad didn’t like being questioned, but Dean didn’t understand. He knew that finding a legitimate healer was a long shot, but Sam had done it. He’d even done it alone; Dean hadn’t been in any position to help, and John sure as hell hadn’t been around. The two of them together, maybe with Bobby’s network to help, had much better odds of finding a hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on his brother.

 John had left angry, but Dean was furious. His dad wanted to “let nature take its course,” which was a load of bullshit. They had access to resources the doctors didn’t, things that could save his brother. They might normally hunt most of those resources in the name of the greater good, but this was different. This was Sam.

Dean sat in a wheelchair by Sam’s bed, trying not to stare at the bandages around his brother’s head. He shivered, remembering the doctor listing off Sam’s injuries.

"Sam suffered a severe blow to the head during the accident. He also sustained several broken ribs and crush injuries from the steering column. We repaired the broken ribs with pins, and we placed a chest tube to reinflate his right lung, which had been punctured by one of his ribs. We were also very concerned about the degree of brain swelling, and during surgery we removed a portion of Sam's skull to help alleviate the pressure."

Dean stared at the tubes practically covering every inch of his brother and tried to imagine part of his skull missing underneath the white bandages swaddling his head. Sam was going to be pissed when he woke up. They'd shaved his head to do the surgery. "How's he doing now?"

The doctor shook his head. "He has remained unresponsive, which is not an encouraging sign, but he's stable at the moment. That said, he is a fighter. Most patients would not have survived even this long with his degree of injury. "

Of course he was a fighter. He was a Winchester.

The doc had been sympathetic, but all Dean could focus on was the idea that Sam was a real life Humpty Dumpty, and try as they might, the doctors couldn’t put him back together again. He needed more than they could offer, and that wasn’t considering the possibility of long-term complications from his injuries. He needed a miracle. But it was perfectly, explicitly clear that John wasn’t going to help and didn’t condone Dean wanting to intervene. He didn't know how he was going to do this behind his dad's back, but he would. He'd find something.

Maybe, if he managed to find something innocuous enough, his dad would come around and help. His gut clenched, and he knew he didn't really believe it, but he could hope. He wasn't going to lose his brother again. 

He believed that about as much as he believed the flickering lights in Sam’s room were due to bad wiring.

 As soon as Dean was released from the hospital, he went to Bobby's place. The Impala was there with all of their stuff.

All of Sam's stuff.

Dean sighed, surveying the car. It was a mess, the frame twisted beyond recognition.  The driver’s side was crushed, and the door had been cut away to give the rescue team better access to Sam. There was dark staining on the seat that he knew had to be Sam’s blood. He looked away, throat tight.

He’d fix the car eventually, but the reason he’d come had been to grab his stuff and pull out anything he thought might be helpful in getting Sam back on his feet. His laptop was toast, and the Colt was gone. According to Bobby, John had come by yesterday and retrieved some gear, then taken off again. They both assumed he was back to chasing the Yellow Eyed Demon. Nothing like revenge for a son he hadn't even officially lost yet.

Heading inside, he grabbed a couple beers from Bobby's fridge. He found the hunter in his study, flipping through one of his dozens of books on the supernatural. "Thanks for bringing Baby here," he said, dropping into a chair. Dust motes swirled in the late afternoon sunbeams coming through the dirty windows, drawing Dean’s attention back out to the yard where his mangled childhood home sat.

Bobby looked up, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "What are you planning, idjit?"

Dean grimaced, wishing the older hunter couldn’t read him so well. "I can't leave Sam like this, you know that." He took a long pull from his beer and swallowed nervously. "I was hoping one of your contacts might know something."

" 'Bout the demon?" Bobby said cautiously.

Dean shook his head. "About a healer. Or a white witch or hoodoo priest or something. Anything that might help."

Bobby ran his hand down his face, stubble rasping as he rubbed his chin. "You know that's a long shot at best."

Dean studied the condensation gathering on the bottle as he picked at the label. "I know. But I gotta do something. He's my brother." He looked away, unwilling to watch Bobby pity him as he said, “Dad won’t help.”

Bobby watched him for a moment, then apparently saw whatever it was he was looking for because he replied, "We'll figure it out. How long you staying before you head back?"

Dean shrugged noncommittally. "Not long. He's stable, for now, but the doctors—" 

When he didn't finish his sentence, Bobby grumbled and said, "Yeah, I know. Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. And before you say it, I know. You're not leaving him in that hospital by himself. I'm just saying my house is open, all right?"

Dean slumped back in the chair, some of the tension gone from his shoulders. "I talked to the doctor today about getting him transferred to Sioux Falls. They didn't love the idea, but they agreed to it when I said he'd be closer to family. Might be able to happen in a couple days, if—"

Bobby cut him off. "Then give me a call when you're on your way back, and I'll clear out the guest room. Don't think it's been used since the last time you boys stayed with me. And, in the meantime, I'll ask around about healers. Let you know if I hear something."

Dean's nod was small and tight; relief wasn't going to come until he had a lead to follow, but it was still nice to know that Bobby was in their corner. 

 Dean stood in the doorway to Sam's new room. He was still on a ventilator, though most of the bandages had been removed that morning. Sam was pale, gray tinged, and a far cry from the California-tan he'd been just a few months ago. In the week he'd been hospitalized, Dean could tell he was already losing muscle mass. If Dean managed to pull this off, then Sam was still going to have a long road ahead of him before he was back to normal. But at least he'd be alive, Dean reasoned. 

He was greeted by a cool breeze when he crossed the threshold and finally entered the room, like every other time he'd come to visit. It didn't matter how many times he asked the staff at the old hospital, the temperature in his room was perpetually freezing. The idea of the problem following Sam across state lines made his stomach turn. 

The plastic chair creaked when he settled in, and he tried to ignore how Sam's shaved head made him look like an alien. The problem was that, like a train wreck, he couldn't look away. Finally, he sighed and said aloud, "Damn, Sammy. I cannot believe you were right about that hair all this time." He shivered, and he would have sworn the temperature dropped another couple degrees, but he kept talking. "I know I gave you a lot of crap about it over the years. But you were absolutely right. You look better with long hair. And I don't mean that just because you're a giant girl." He paused, waiting. When nothing happened, he mentally kicked himself. Of course nothing happened. Sam wasn't dead. He wasn't a ghost; he was a dude in a coma. 

"Anyway," he continued, "I found a spell that’ll work, but, uh, I don't think you're gonna like it." The lights and monitors picked that moment to flicker, and an alarm sounded that brought the nursing staff running. 

Dean stood out of the way, watching tensely as they did their job checking Sam, his equipment, and the monitors. It wasn't the first time it had happened during a visit, but it never stopped being nerve wracking. What if something important shorted out this time? It was one of the reasons he had worked so hard on getting Sam transferred up to Sioux Falls General. Now it was happening here too. The twist in his gut kept telling him it wasn't faulty equipment that produced the shorts, but he refused to believe it. Sam wasn't dead, damn it. 

It's better this way.

When the room had cleared out again, Dean resumed his position in the chair by the bed. "Like hell this is better," he muttered to himself. He sighed and scrubbed his face. "Like I was saying, I found something in one of the books I grabbed from Bobby’s before you got transferred. It's a spell, for binding a reaper." 

The temperature in the room plummeted until Dean’s breath was ghosting in front of his face. No.

"I know," he said, his voice gruff and quiet. "I don't like it either. But I have to do something. We know this works. And, yeah, we know the cost, so I'll figure it out. I— Whatever I might be willing to do, I know you would never forgive me if I saved you at someone else's expense. I'll figure it out, ok? Maybe it can target a monster, or something, yeah? Something we'd be killing anyway?" 

Nothing from the peanut gallery. 

"Fine, be a bitch about it. I won't do the spell." He ground his teeth together, hating that he was giving in to, what? A broken air conditioner? "Not unless I'm out of options. Ok, Sam?"

The lights flickered, but none of the other equipment was affected this time, thankfully. Dean took it as agreement, and he left to hit the books again.

 The next day, he got a call from one of Bobby's contacts about a faith healer that was supposed to be the real deal.

He looked into the healer John Rogers, checked for suspicious deaths, unusual money transfers, anything that might indicate he was a fraud or of the same ilk as the pastor's wife Sue Ann from that case in Nebraska. The financials came back squeaky clean, but Dean's gut told him there was something he was missing. He was only an hour away, though, so against his better judgment he stopped in for one of the guy's services. 

The tent was crowded, like he remembered from the last time. It was a different preacher, but the same crowd, the same stale air with just a hint of desperation. It was too hot with the press of bodies and lack of air conditioning, and Dean wished he'd skipped the flannel overshirt. The murmur of the crowd made it near impossible to listen in on any conversations, but they seemed excited, optimistic. Well, he supposed any hope was better than none. Not like he could relate. 

However, where the pastor in Nebraska had been earnest, this guy felt like a used car salesman. From his first words, Dean felt slimy just being in the same room as the guy, even though he hadn't said anything more troubling than 'welcome, new and old patrons alike.'

Dean leaned forward in his seat, trying to relax but appear attentive. His attention wasn't entirely focused on the sermon, though.  He watched the guy, sure, but he also watched the crowd. Dozens of people were in the tent, some with obvious ailments and some without. He focused on maladies easy to fake—people in wheelchairs or wearing sunglasses and hugging a stick—and then watched to see if any of them triggered his Spidey senses. Years of practice conning people had made both him and Sam experts on spotting it in others. He couldn't be sure, of course, but he spied three or four people in the crowd that seemed likely to be plants. 

Sure enough, after the dude got done wailing and mumbling as he "spoke in tongues" as the "Spirit moved through him" he called for people that needed healing. Half the crowd erupted into noise, but the first person he selected was one of the ones Dean had spotted—the blind woman. The whole scene played out exactly like he expected, and he made to leave.

"Why are you leaving?" he heard the pastor call out over the din.

Dean paused, unsure if he even wanted to bother engaging the guy. 

The pastor made the decision for him by continuing to talk. "I'm sorry for your loss. But I can't help your brother."

Dean whirled, eyes flashing and hand automatically moving to his gun.

The preacher smirked, and for a second, Dean wondered if the guy was just that good at reading body language. He'd seen Sam pull a similar trick two or three times. 

"If you can't help him, then why does it matter if I leave?" he finally said, slowly easing his defensive stance.

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Rogers said nothing more as Dean made his exit.

 Armed with new knowledge, Dean would have to resume his research. First thing was to learn more about the woman who had been "healed." His instincts screamed bullshit, but he couldn't afford to be wrong. He found a good spot to wait, and when the service was over he followed the woman. He had to give her credit, she kept up the charade even after she exited the tent. Every few moments she'd stop and look around, an expression of awe on her face. He almost believed it. 

He slipped back into the crowd, keeping a casual distance from the woman as she moved through the parking lot. They wove through the cars, and he realized that she was alone. No one was walking with her, chatting about her newfound sight. Leading her to their car. Damn, he'd been right. It was confirmed when she dug through her purse and pulled out keys that she used to unlock a shitty looking Volvo. Dean just managed to catch the license plate number before she drove out of sight.

Back at his motel, Dean ran the plates, found the woman, and dug deep into her financials. The trail was hard to find, but, now that he knew it was there, he did manage to find it: small, irregular cash payments deposited into her bank account starting six months ago. Never more than $100 at a time, and never more than twice a month. He didn’t think it was enough money to justify lying to so many people, but it wasn't really up to him to judge in this case. For good measure, he also uncovered as much medical history as he could on the lady and was utterly unsurprised to find zero references to blindness in her files. However, he didn't uncover an explicit link between her and the preacher. He was sure he would if he kept looking, but that wasn't important anymore. The guy was a fraud healer, but he still knew something. Dean needed to find out if that something was information that could help Sam.

 The heat of the day was just starting to fade when Dean knocked on the preacher's door. He lived in a nice neighborhood by most people's standards. Dean thought it was mind-numbingly dull, but hey, maybe it was better than it looked. The man didn't even look at Dean when he opened the door, just gestured him into the house. 

"You're psychic," Dean said as he settled himself into an overstuffed chair that was more comfortable than it looked. 

"I am." He sat down on the couch across from Dean.

"And a fraud. Is your name even John Rogers?"

Rogers smirked. "You know the answer to that." He leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "I wasn't lying before. I can't help your brother."

"But you do know something," Dean accused.

The preacher sighed. "I know what's in your head right now—he's  in a coma, dying a slow death. You came here on the slim chance that I was the real deal. Sorry that didn't work out for you."

Strangely enough, Dean believed the guy actually was sorry, but he didn't buy that Rogers didn't know anything else. Sam was the one who could sweet talk witnesses into giving up info, though, so Dean went with his tried and true method when working alone: stony silence with a hint of aggression.

Rogers rolled his eyes. "Fine. I may have heard of something. I didn't look into it—no need for myself—so it may be another wild goose chase." He stood, moving to pour himself a drink from the sidebar. He didn't offer Dean one.

Dean waited as patiently as he could. This guy could be jerking him around for all he knew, but he didn’t think so, and his instincts hadn't been wrong yet. 

With an excessive number of dramatic pauses, he finally told Dean about a spell. It was supposed to be ancient and powerful. Could practically bring people back from the dead. He didn't have much more than that, but he told Dean to look in an old grimoire called The Magus. Dean hadn't heard of it before, but he was sure it would be a bitch to find.

 John considered letting his phone go to voicemail until he saw that it was Bobby calling. There were a very limited number of reasons why that self-righteous dick might be calling him, and he knew better than to think Bobby would leave that sort of news in a voicemail. He took a deep breath, burying his grief as far as he could before he flipped open the phone. “Winchester.”

Bobby’s gruff voice didn’t sound devastated, just annoyed, and John breathed a little easier. It wasn’t Sam then. “You need to get your ass back here, John. Dean needs you.”

“Dean doesn’t want me there.” It hurt to admit that, but he couldn’t blame his son. When the demon had possessed him, he’d seen its plans for Sam, and it had been a confirmation of everything he’d learned over the last twenty years. He hadn’t told Dean what he knew, and if John had his way then Dean would never know.

Bobby grumbled, “His brother’s dying. Of course he wants you here. Now, I don’t know what damn fool thing you said, and I don’t care. He’s going after The Magus, John. Says there’s some spell in it should be able to heal Sam.”

John felt his jaw clench so hard he thought he might have cracked a tooth. “He’s going to get himself killed trying to do a spell like that.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m calling you? Boy’s aiming to commit suicide by magic, if he can find the book. If we find it first, then maybe I can convince him to let me do the spell, but we both know that’s a long shot too.” Bobby sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where we might find a medieval grimoire, do you?”

John closed his eyes. “No, but I’ll work it out. I’ll call when I’ve got something. Watch out for Dean.” He didn’t wait to hear Bobby’s reply before he hung up. The man was probably just going to chew him out for not agreeing to head to Sioux Falls immediately.

He looked out the window and saw storm clouds blowing in off Lake Michigan. Dean hadn’t backed off like he should’ve, and now John was going to have to act. He couldn’t let the demon’s plans come to fruition, and he wasn’t going to let Sam suffer because of their selfishness. It was the least he could do. The room blurred as the first drops of rain fell, and John started to work out what could be done to stop Dean.

 It had been two weeks of spinning their wheels looking for the grimoire, and they were no closer to the book than they had been originally. Dean flipped through one of Bobby’s books, frowning at the page. This one seemed familiar. A glance at the spine revealed why. He’d read it already. Twice. Sighing in frustration he tossed the book onto the “dud” stack and slumped in his seat, hands tugging at his hair.

They couldn’t afford to take much longer. Sam was deteriorating. The doctor had told him that just this morning; she’d said that the machines could probably keep him going indefinitely, but everything that made him Sam would be gone. It wasn’t a reality Dean was ready to face, and he’d stalked out of the hospital, not even staying for his usual bitchfest at the broken AC in Sam’s room. Just remembering it made anger—fear—coil tightly in the pit of his stomach, and he stood, sweeping the desk clear of the stacks of useless backs, a wordless scream escaping his throat.

Bobby walked in, holding two beers, and he surveyed the mess. Quirking an eyebrow at Dean, he said, “Take a break.”

Dean just stared back incredulously. “I don’t have time to take a break. Sam—”

“Is dying.” Bobby’s tone wasn’t harsh, but Dean flinched anyway. “I know. But you’re no good to him like this. We been through these books twice each, and we’ve got squat. So, go outside, take a break. Work on that car of yours for a bit and burn off some of that anger. Maybe something’ll come to you. I seem to remember cracking a case or two that way. Keep my hands busy enough to turn off my brain, but the problem still gets worked in the background.” He handed over one of the beers as Dean sulked past him to go outside.

He didn’t go to the Impala. Though he’d worked on her off and on for weeks now, it was always a painful reminder of what was happening to Sam. Today he wasn’t sure he could stand to see the wreck without falling apart, and he wasn’t allowed to fall apart until Sam was better. That had always been his rule when Sam was hurt or sick, and he clung to it now like a lifeline. Turning toward the back of the property instead, he started walking, already feeling better despite himself.

He had just reached the edge of the junkyard when his phone rang.

Dean stared at the caller ID in disbelief for a moment before answering. His dad was calling him, after weeks of radio silence. After abandoning Sam to die. He felt his rage reignite, but he kept his tone neutral as he answered. "Dad."

"Dean. I told you to leave it alone."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it, Bobby. "This is Sam, Dad. Not some random civilian. How can you just let him die like he means nothing? Where the hell are you?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Dean listened to his dad's sigh and rolled his eyes. The man could be a worse drama queen than Sam sometimes.

"Really? That's the answer you're going with?" Dean shook his head in disgust. "Guess Sam was right after all. You really don't give two shits about this family. It's all about your damn revenge."

"That's not fair, Dean." His tone was biting, cold. "Sam chose not to end this fight when he had the chance, and now I have to before the demon hurts anyone else."

Dean scoffed. He could hardly believe they were related. “Is that what this is about? Punishing me for telling Sam not to kill you? Or punishing him for listening?”

There was silence over the line for a long minute before John said, “That’s not why I left, Dean.” More silence. "I might have a lead on the grimoire you need. See you at Bobby's in two days." The phone beeped as John hung up without saying goodbye.

When he collapsed, sobbing, against a rusted-out Honda a minute later, he wasn’t even sure if they were tears of joy or grief.

 The lights flickered.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean said, settling into the seat by his brother. "Think I might have something promising, and Dad's helping."

Nothing. He glanced around the room. 

"Come on, man, don't be a bitch about it. I know you can hear me."

A cool breeze ruffled his hair.

"Because your lights flicker a thousand times whenever I talk to you. Which, by the way, cut it out. One of these days you're going to short out something important and croak. Also, because it's July and ten degrees colder in your room than the morgue. I feel bad for your nurses."

A gentle thump on his shoulder. Son of a bitch. Sam wasn't supposed to be able to touch him. Dean watched his brother's body on the bed and thought about just how much stronger he'd become over the last few weeks. It was a bad sign. He hadn't told Bobby or his dad about the fact that Sam was apparently haunting his hospital room. He already knew what they would say.

What's dead should stay dead.

"You aren't dead yet. And I'm not giving up on you." He stood and stormed out of the room before Sam could get another word in.

 John got out of his truck, but didn’t approach the house. Dean and Bobby were waiting for him on the porch, and Bobby had brought his shotgun out. It was easy to read the tension in Dean's shoulders, the anger simmering just under the surface. Christ, Dean had no idea how bad it was going to get, and he was already this mad. John was going to lose both of his sons today. 

The spell he’d faked was in his pocket, and he hated himself for what he was doing. But he was careful not to let his face betray him. Years of hustling poker successfully had taught him that his poker face was the best, and he relied on that skill now. Dean wasn't going to stop, that was clear now, so John had to be the one to make the hard choice.

For one dizzy, terrifying moment, he considered backing out and trying to help them find the grimoire. Then he thought of the demon, still out there and still planning. A demon that wanted to start the Apocalypse and use his son to lead an army of darkness. He didn't know how the demon intended to make Sam cooperate, but it didn't matter. He trusted that the demon would succeed eventually, probably by threatening Dean. There was only one sure way to save Sam from that fate, and this was it. His resolve hardened, and he resigned himself to Dean hating him forever. Knowing Sam was safe would be worth it. Maybe someday Dean would understand, even if John knew Dean would never be able to forgive him for this. 

"Dean," he said, voice gruff. He nodded at Bobby, but kept his eyes on his son. 

"Where have you been?" Dean demanded, his voice hard. He sounded grown up. Good. 

John put an easy smile on his face, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the air, but it didn't reach his eyes. He knew Dean saw that, too, so he let it drop after a moment. "I was following some leads."

"You were hunting the demon. While Sam is laying in a hospital, dying."

"We've had this argument already."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "So? He's still dying, you're still hunting, and I'm still here, trying to put my family back together! At least tell me what this mysterious lead is."

John steeled himself, and reached into his back pocket. "It's not the whole grimoire, but I was told this came from The Magus. Sounds like something you might be interested in."

Dean eyed him warily, and John couldn't blame him. He'd flipped on this issue fast, and that had to have raised some alarm bells for Dean. It was no surprise Dean didn't trust him. Still, the boy was desperate. He accepted the fragile parchment, unfolding it and scanning the text. Dean couldn't read it, unless he had been studying archaic Greek lately, but John knew Dean would be able to piece together a basic idea of the spell just from the components. It was something he'd drilled them on, to help protect them from witches. 

Dean nodded to Bobby, and down went the shotgun barrel. John breathed a little easier at that. He never doubted that Bobby was willing to shoot him, especially after how they’d parted a few years back. With what he was about to pull, he probably deserved it, too.

"Come in, then, if you're staying," Bobby said, turning and walking back inside.

Dean raised his eyebrows in question, then joined Bobby. 

John lingered by his truck a moment more before following, grief already pooling in his chest.

 Bobby translated the spell while Dean sorted through their inventory of ingredients. More than once the old hunter added a location to the ingredient he read aloud, and Dean would make a run to the kitchen or the basement or the second guest bedroom, in the bottom box next to the dresser, wherever the item happened to be stashed in this old, cluttered house. John had grabbed a beer and puttered around for a few minutes, obviously uncomfortable, before saying he was going to the hospital and would meet them there. 

It felt like a miracle that they already had all the ingredients, and Dean said so after he retrieved the salamander tail and Bobby declared it the last ingredient. It was a surprisingly benign looking assortment of items, and it didn't seem possible to Dean that they could heal his brother. He believed in magic, obviously, but he always associated it with blood and entrails. It seemed, well, magical that a few bits and pieces in the right ratios could do something so powerful. It was weirder that his dad had brought him the spell. He'd been so adamant about letting nature take its course, and Dean wondered what had brought him around. A thought crossed his mind, and his skin crawled. He idly touched the top of one of the jars and said tentatively, "Does this seem too easy to you?"

Bobby looked up from the spell in front of him, eyes narrowed at Dean. "What are you thinking?"

Dean gave one quick shake of his head as he frowned, saying, "Nothing. Just." He shrugged a shoulder and looked out the window. "It's just like Dad to swoop in at the last minute and save the day. But. It's a weird way for him to do it, you know?"

Bobby nodded. "I never expected your daddy to be the one bringing spells here for us to cast, if that's what you mean."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Does it check out?"

Hesitating before he spoke, Bobby hemmed and hawed before saying, "I don't know. I've never seen a spell like this, and I've sure as hell never cast one. I can tell you that it looks like it ought to work, if I understand it right, but there's no way to know for sure without trying it."

"That just fills me with confidence, Bobby."

"Hey, you asked. You have a better option?"

Dean grunted. "You know I don't."

"I know you've got something in reserve, just in case." Bobby leveled him a look that told Dean he wasn't going to be able to hide behind denials.

Dean swallowed hard. "I do, but it's not a better option."

Bobby nodded, slowly, but didn't say anything.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I can make it work without killing someone."

The tension in the air was palpable, and Bobby's eyes were hard. "I know he's your brother, Dean, but—"

"I know. God, Bobby, I know." He scrubbed a hand down his face and closed his eyes. "I would though. If it came to it, then I would." 

"But?"

Dean shook his head, not willing to say that he promised his brother's ghost that he wouldn't. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to let Sam go if this spell didn't work, and he wasn't sure he had the time it would take to pull the other spell together. 

 When Dean and Bobby arrived at the hospital, John was sitting in the chair by Sam's bed. Dean frowned, noting the overgrown stubble on Sam's chin. They hadn't been by to shave him yet, which meant it was more likely they were going to get interrupted. At best, that would lead to a number of awkward questions, and at worst it could disrupt the spell. He mentioned it, but John scoffed.

"It'll be fine, Dean. The nurse was just in to check on him, and she said she would be back in an hour. No interruptions until then."

Dean frowned but didn't argue. If John thought they were safe to do the spell then they probably were. 

Bobby was the most experienced of them with spell work, so he did the spell. Dean watched him like a hawk, stomach flipping nervously the whole time. John's face was grim, but he stayed silent, letting Bobby work. The foreign words droned on, and Bobby added a pinch of this, a jar of that, then more chanting. Dean could feel the energy in the room building, and his eyes darted to Sam. The monitors showed no change, of course, but the lights flickered aggressively as the chanting picked up speed. Dean silently begged Sam to cool it, to keep calm until the spell did its thing. 

It's not going to work, Dean.

Dean set his jaw. It had to work. Not working wasn't an option.

Please, let me go.

He glared at his brother. That wasn't an option either, not while Dean was still breathing. He wasn't going to fail Sam. Not when Sam had come through for him last year.

His brother sighed, and he could imagine the epic eye roll that accompanied it. You're going to be so pissed at Dad when this doesn't work.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at his brother again. The air was cooling rapidly, not a great sign for Sam's mental health at the moment. But his dad and Bobby seemed oblivious, and with the way the energy swirled through the air, he knew the spell was almost done.

Bobby threw in the last ingredient, and there was a flash, a bang, and the building energy funneled into the center of the room before quietly dissipating. It was...underwhelming. 

Dean looked at Sam, at the monitors and held his breath, waiting for any sign at all that he was waking up. There was nothing. If anything, Dean thought the vitals readout was worse than before. Sam was breathing too fast, heartbeat too rapid for someone peacefully asleep. 

He turned on the other two in the room. "Why didn't it work? We had all the ingredients, right, Bobby?" 

Bobby looked stricken, but he nodded. "I read it exactly as it was written. You know I wouldn't half-ass this."

Dean clamped down on his anger as best he could. He did know. Sometimes spells just didn't work. Maybe Bobby wasn't powerful enough. Maybe they needed a real witch to cast the spell. 

Then John said, "You knew this was a long shot at best," and Dean gaped at him.

He understood, on some level, that this was John trying to be supportive. His dad had never been an emotional guy, never one to soothe with words. But this felt like he was writing Sam off all over again. Sam was dying, actively now, and John just...didn't care. Dean didn't understand and didn't want to understand. He wanted his dad to be devastated by this.

Where did you get that spell anyway? It sounded like someone cobbled a bunch of random garbage together and called it finished. The tenses didn't even match through most of it.

That's when Dean put it together. 

"You did this, didn't you?" he said, voice frigid and too calm. "You did something to the spell. That's why you didn't bring the book. Not some bullshit about it being too closely guarded in a library or not wanting to set off some crap alarms. You've never had a problem breaking and entering before." Dean shook his head furiously. "I didn't see it before. I didn't want to. But Sam was always right, wasn't he? He never mattered as much to you as the hunt. As getting revenge for Mom. And now you killed him." Dean closed his eyes, unable to even look at John anymore. "Why? Because he didn't take the shot in that cabin?"

When John finally spoke, his voice was brittle. "I know you won't be able to hear this now, Dean, but it was never like that. Someday, I hope you'll understand. This was for the best."

"Get out," Dean said, watching Sam's chest shallowly rise with each breath. He hoped John could hear the threat under the words. 

An hour later, Dean watched as Sam struggled to breathe. There was no more time to pull together that spell. John had been thorough. Bobby had gone home, looking for the binding spell at Dean's desperate request, but it was gone from Dean's research pile. Worse, he'd signed the papers to remove Sam from life support before they'd even done the stupid spell. According to the hospital, that meant Dean could do exactly nothing, despite the fact that John hadn't shown his face in the hospital for weeks and Dean had been visiting Sam daily.  He felt hollow, wondering what life would be like without his brother at his side. He thought it might be like when Sam was at Stanford: hunting alone or with the occasional hunter acquaintance. He resolutely ignored the burning in his eyes, even as Sam's body blurred in front of him. It wasn't going to be like that. Maybe once in a while he would be able to forget, to fool himself into believing Sam was alive and safe and just away, but most of the time he would know. He imagined the passenger seat of the Impala, empty again. His heart clenched. 

Sam was already gone, and he knew that. The body on the bed had been empty since the first time he'd seen the lights in this room flicker. Sam had been haunting him for weeks. They were just waiting for it to be official. 

The monitor screeched, jerking Dean's attention up and away from Sam. His breath caught in his throat; Sam was flat-lining. A doctor that had been lurking outside the door quietly came in and turned off the alarm. She checked Sam's vitals manually, checked the time, and announced that Sam had died at 2:48 pm. It was quiet, efficient. Dean didn't understand how she could do that, just say a person—Sam—was dead, and then continue on with her day like the world hadn't ended. 

 Dean refused Bobby's offer to help build the pyre. This was his job. And if it took a little longer because he was working alone, so much the better. He lifted the body wrapped in white linen. His brother. He lifted his brother, and placed him on the pyre. 

Hours later, Dean stared at the burning pyre, numb to all feeling. He'd failed. The hollow pit in his stomach threatened to turn to nausea as he watched Sam burn. The gentle thump against his arm that alerted him to Sam's continued ghostly presence just made the sick feeling grow. John was going to pay for this.

#spn fic #spncanonbigbang #gen #canon divergent #cw character death #hurt!sam #ghost!sam #fic i wrote

[migila]

Fic time!

Note: Some people might consider this too idealistic, and I’d say they’re right, but I wanted to write something beautiful. Or actually, I would’ve liked to draw this as a comic without any speech since I feel like everything would’ve been easier to get across in pictures, but since I can’t draw at all, this’ll have to do.

WARNING: Spoilers up to chapter 129.

Together We Stand, Together We Fall

White.

That was the first thing Keith Shadis saw as he opened his eyes; white as far as eye can see. Just white.

“Ah…”

Well, almost. Turning his head, he saw his companion who’d joined him for his last journey. Their last journey.

“This is… death?” Theo Magath asked “Not quite what I was expecting.”

“I expected nothing” Shadis says “You wouldn’t happen to know what we’re supposed to do now, would you?”

“…Head towards the light?” Magath just shrugs at the look Shadis gives him “It’s just something that people often think about when it comes to death. I just always thought that when you die, you die.”

“Likewise,” Shadis admitted “But apparently, that’s not the case.”

“Should we just head in some direction?” Magath asked, but Shadis didn’t answer, too focused on a figure he saw forming in the distance. It came closer, and he realized it was a person “Shadis?”

“Over there” he said without taking his eyes off of whoever was approaching them “Someone’s coming.”

“Instructor Shadis, sir!” that salute, that voice, that face… “We didn’t expect you to arrive this soon!”

“…Blouse?”

“Yes, sir” she said “And I assure you, I don’t have a steamed potato with me this time!”

“…What the hell?” Shadis could hear Magath from beside him, but he ignored the man. He had more important matters at hand.

“Blouse!” he yelled, and the girl, no, a young woman already, jumped like it was a drilled in reaction to his voice “Ye-yes, sir?”

In all honesty, Shadis regretted that he hadn’t ever done this while he was alive, not to any of his cadets. But now, having this second chance, he decided to take it.

“You became a fine soldier” he told her as he pulled her in to his arms “I’m proud of you.”

Magath watched the scene unfold, already understanding the situation. The woman was one of Shadis’ old students, someone who’d died before him. He had a chance to tell what he had left untold while still alive.

The general couldn’t help but wonder if he’d get such a chance too.

“Captain Magath, sir”

He froze; he knew that voice.

“It’s general Magath now”

He knew that one as well.

Turning around, he saw the saluting Galliard brothers.

“Porco… Marcell…”

And behind them, the promising, deceased warrior cadets who never fulfilled their fates: Zofia, Udo and Colt. Not only that, but little ways away was another fallen warrior, Bertolt.

“All of you…” he said, and did something none of them probably expected “I’m sorry.”

He was bowing, so he couldn’t see their expressions. Not that he even knew if they were really real in the first place or just something his mind had created, if he was simply seeing what he wanted to see.

As he looked up, he could see their baffled expressions, clearly not having expected it. That was a way Magath would expect them to react, so he was no closer to finding out if they were real or not.

“…About what, sir?” Marcell was the one to ask.

“About everything” he answered “About what I put you through, both as your commanding officer and as a Marleyan.”

Silence. And more silence.

“…Well, shit happens” and Zofia, who was quickly silenced by Udo elbowing her in the ribs.

“You were simply doing your job, cap- general” Marcell hastily corrected “All of us were.”

“That’s no excuse to- “

“There are no excuses to a lot of things” Bertolt cut him off, and at that moment Magath realized that this was, in some bizarre way, real. He would’ve never imagined the timid young man to interrupt him “But what’s done is done.”

“I- “

“Sir” Marcell interrupted his superior officer, which was another thing Magath hadn’t been expecting. He watched as the boy saluted, the other warriors and cadets following his example “It was an honor to fight by your side.”

After recovering from his shock, Magath saluted back.

“The honor was all mine” too bad he realized it so late. He’d fought alongside so many remarkable comrades without really understanding their worth. Not ‘till his final moments. Speaking of those…

He turned his head to look at Shadis, only to see him with a much bigger group of young soldiers now. His former students, the man betted. And he could see a face that he recognized as well.

Ymir, Marcell’s killer.

As upset as he was of the boy’s way too sudden death, he now realized that the girl was just a victim of the circumstances. Circumstances that Marleyans like him had created. But what did Marcell himself think?

He turned to see the boy’s face, but instead of looking at the other group, he was watching Bertolt. They all were.

The tall young man was looking at the other group, and Magath would have to be a fool to not notice the longing in his eyes. Not too long ago he would’ve had the boy’s head for it, but now he understood, at least partly. They were his comrades, too.

“Go” he said to the young warrior “You have something you want to say to them, don’t you?”

Bertolt didn’t even hesitate. Magath saw how the boy got the other group’s attention, all of them looking at Bertolt. The first one to step up was Ymir, followed by the girl they’d first seen. And then, a freckle faced young man pushed right past them, standing directly in front of Bertolt. From the look on the warrior’s face, Magath could tell he was someone important.

The two boys stared at each other until finally, the freckled one extended his hand with a smile. Then, Bertolt broke down. Magath did not know why, but he accepted that some things he could never understand. That included whatever bonds Bertolt had with these people, these people who came to him one by one, talking to him. He’d never know for sure, but to him it looked like Bertolt was being forgiven. Lastly, he saw Shadis step up, making what he had learned to be the Paradis military salute. His cadets followed his example.

A motionless moment followed before Bertolt snapped himself in to the very same salute. Again, not long ago Magath would’ve had his head for it, but that was in the past. Now he was just happy that the young man could get a closure of his own.

As Bertolt returned to them, Magath held Shadis’ gaze. There was no signal of any kind but, at the exact same time, both soldiers gave each other the salutes of their own countries, their subordinates following after them.

As much as he regretted not having understood things while still alive, Magath sided with the thought of better late than never.

He’d achieved his peace, even if it was after death.

#snk 129 #snk fic #theo magath #keith shadis #warrior unit #104th trainee corps

[leahxx129]

The Last Descendant (Sam Winchester x Reader) pt.3

Summary for pt.3.: Michael left Dean’s body but it’s not quite the time to celebrate just yet. The archangel has already destroyed the planet in one reality and he intends to do the same in yours. To the younger Winchester’s astonishment, you may be a key person in preventing another apocalypse... the question is, are you willing to help?

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 2.555-ish

PART 1.  PART 2.

Turns out that Mary and Bobby did have a lead, although Dean didn’t quite need saving. It seems as if Michael just left his body. Naturally, nobody dares to believe this will have no consequences in the future, but currently they are too relieved to think about anything like that. And too focused on the unfolding situation. They’ve discovered a mark on Dean’s arm and Cas has gone through his memories to find the thing that left it. According to a small shred of a memory, the spear of Kaia Nieves’ doppelganger from the bad place is the weapon which was able to harm the infamous archangel. This is why he wants it. Which means the Winchesters need to get it first. But their encounter with Dark Kaia doesn’t go as planned – she refuses to give them the spear and disappears.

Sam opens up a beer for Dean, Cas and himself in the war room, while Jack is doing some research besides them.

„I’m telling you, man, that chick is a savage! Next time you’ll join us, okay? There’s no way she’ll be able to take on two grown-ass men and an angel at once.” Dean grumbled to Cas after taking a sip from the bottle.

„Well, she’s successfully managed to take on two grown-ass men already, I’m not so sure the difference would be huge with a third party.” Sam comments, earning a glare from Dean.

„Don’t be a buzz kill, Sam, okay? We’ll find her and that time, we’ll take that damn spear at all costs.”

„What if…” suddenly Jack speaks up „ …what if I say I might know a better solution? One that only requires taking it temporarily?”

„That’s the plan, Jack. We take it, kill Michael, then return it.” Cas responds before anyone could react.

„No, I mean take it for an even shorter period of time than that?”

The three men stare at him with the same completely puzzled expressions on their faces.

„Whatcha got in mind, kid?” Dean asks curiously.

Jack’s eyes light up and his signature childlike smile appears.

„I’ve been reading a lot about this man called Samuel Colt lately. I know he made that gun of yours which can kill almost anything and-”

„Yeah, but if you really read a lot on him, you know it can’t kill an archangel.” Sam cuts in. Jack patiently listens to his argument then goes on.

„I know, that’s why I said almost. But here is this book I’m reading now... It mentions that Colt secretly had a son that kept his bloodline alive. Maybe we can find his offspring and have them replicate the weapon.”

The Winchesters’ eyes widen in surprise, leaving Castiel to be the only reasonable person in the room.

„This is great, Jack, it really is, but I’m not sure if the offspring even knows who their ancestor was or what he did. To be honest, I highly doubt they would be able to perform what you described.” he says.

„Well, if there is anyone who can help us with some information, it’s Ketch.” Sam responds excitedly, immediately reaching for his laptop.

The next fifteen minutes pass without a single word being uttered by any of them - the only sound is made by the rubber band Dean attempts to entertain himself with. Finally, the laptop signals the arrival of a new e-mail. Everybody gathers around Sam, eager to see what Ketch has come up with. It’s a link to a Men of Letters shared drive. Sam’s hand is almost trembling as he clicks to open it. The screen floods with different articles, pictures and journal entries about people who are somehow connected to Samuel Colt.

„OH MY GOD!” the younger Winchester yells out in shock as they reach the part about the offspring currently alive. He is hypnotized by your picture taken at just fourteen years old, only days before your family was slaughtered and you disappeared.

Dean and Cas look at each other, then Sam.

„Sam? Do you know this girl?” Dean asks calmly as he can see how deeply his brother is affected by the sight appearing on the screen. Before he could reply, Jack jumps in.

„Hey…isn’t this the girl that spent a few nights here? I was in my room a lot, because I didn’t want to bother you, but I really do think she looked like this little girl in the picture, you know, only older.” he asks innocently. This seems to snap Sam back to reality. And Dean’s expression of utter disbelief helps too, of course.

„I was possessed by an archangel and you took some chick here to hook up with?! Man, this feels like Elwood, Indiana all over again, when I was abducted by fairies and you had a one-night stand with a hippie chick! The only difference is that now you supposedly have a soul!” he shouted.

„Relax, dude! Nothing like that happened, okay? Due to an unfortunate series of events, she had to crash here for a few days. And just so you know, she helped with research on Michael.” Sam seems genuinly offended even by the mere thought of him hooking up with a woman instead of looking for his brother. In spite of the woman being as fierce, beautiful and smart as you…

„Research, huh? Is that what you call it nowadays?”

„Dean.”

„Okay, okay. Say, I believe you. But how did you two meet anyways? Did you hit another dog?”

„DEAN!”

„Okay, I’m done.”

„So, what are we gonna do now? We have no clue where this girl or Dark Kaia are.” Cas interrupts the bickering between the two brothers.

„We call Jody, have her put out an APB on them, simple as pie.” Dean says matter-of-factly.

„Why put out an APB on Y/N if I can just call her?” Sam asks smugly.

You close the diner’s door and instantly spot Sam. Not because of his height, but rather because he has a certain presence you’ve grown to know and would be able to recognize anywhere. He smiles at you as you approach him.

„Sam Winchester, in flesh and… clothes? Odd.” you greet him.

„Ha ha, very funny. How long am I gonna listen to this? It happened only once and I was drunk.” he waits for you to put down your helmet and leather jacket, then hugs you tight. The whole interaction lasts longer than it usually does between friends, but shorter than between people more than that.

„Well, just as long as my memory serves me well.” you answer when he lets go and you are able to breathe fresh air into your lungs. You have always found his scent and proximity intoxicating in a way.

You sit down across him in the booth and decide to get straight to the point.

„You know, I gotta be honest with you. I got a little worried when you called last night. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you know I enjoy our phone calls, but we never speak twice the same day… and then the request for this little meet up didn’t help either. So… what’s up?”

Before he has the chance to say anything, the waitress appears to take your orders.

„I’d like an espresso and there will be a vanilla latte for the lady with almond milk and sweetener, thanks.” Sam delivers your favorite type of coffee without batting an eye.

„Nice, Winchester! I didn’t know you memorized it.”

„Yeah, I did. But you know, there’s one thing I can’t quite recall that you told me…” he puts down a folder infront of you. You look at him confused but flip over the cover regardlessly. Your heart sinks as you take in the picture you thought you’d never see again and read the title ’Last living descendant: COLT, Y/N’. Your heartbeat and mind start to race frantically, not a single sensible sentence comes to you for long seconds that seem like an eternity to both of you.

„Where’d you get this?” you ask, your voice sounding strange even to you.

„Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” either you’re imagining it, or he looks a little bit hurt.

„What was I supposed to say, Sam? Huh? Thanks for saving me man, oh, and by the way, my real name’s Colt, but pinky swear you’ll never tell anyone?!” your voice comes back and maybe even rises a little.

„I don’t know, okay?! But you had plenty of chances!” his tone matches yours. A couple of people turn around, hoping to see a good little public confrontation unfold, but your cold stare makes them uncomfortable and they quickly look away.

„Oh yeah? Like when?”

„Like when I asked you about the vampire blade! Or when I-„ he hesitates for a moment then says it out loud anyways „ Or when I held you at nights.” he looks directly into your eyes and you can’t bring yourself to break the connection.

„Well I’m sorry, Sam, I really am. But you know something? Ever since I can remember, my family and I were moving to another part of this continent every six months for safety reasons. All the things that haunted my father in hopes of revenge or just to exploit our legacy never rested and consequently we didn’t either. After my family… died, I decided I didn’t wanna live that way. I was sick and tired of running. So, I pulled a Houdini, dropped the name and settled down. Made a living by carrying on the family tradition. I just wanna live in peace and quiet, keeping up my disguise. And telling people my secret isn’t exactly the high defintion of that.”

„I thought I wasn’t just ’people’.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the diner’s door opens once again and Sam stands up, his expression changes in a matter of seconds. You take this as an alarming sign, and you stand right nex to him.

„Dean! I thought we had an agreement.” Sam says exaspiratedly.

„Dean? As in, your brother Dean?”

„Yeah.” he responds instead of Sam „Pleasure.” he says curtly.

„Same here. And who would this gentleman be?” you turn to the man in the trenchcoat.

„I am Castiel, Sam and Dean’s… heavenly associate, if you know what I mean.”

Oh, you know very well what he means. And he must pay for that dearly.

You run a quick estimation in your head and decide to take out Dean first as he seems the most dangerous. Nobody expects your reaction, so using the element of surprise, you kick Dean in the abdomen and in the process, you take out your knife from your boot. If Sam isn’t fast enough, you stab the angel right in the heart, but he grabs you from behind and turns you around so that he could stand as a human shield between you and your victim. This way you are only able to leave a scratch. A lady’s scream cuts through the air.

„FBI! We’ll handle the matter, just evacuate the place!” Dean regains his presence surprisingly fast and starts shouting. „Everybody - GO! Guests and staff alike! NOW! Move!” he doesn’t have to tell the people twice; they flee in a blink of an eye.

„Sam, let go of me!” you order „You don’t understand-”

„Oh, but I do, Y/N! Angels massacred your family! It’s all in that paper.”

„Then that’s exactly why you should let go!” you practically scream at him. He finally abides by you, but when you turn around, he envelopes you in a strong embrace.

„Sam?! Please…If I don’t kill as many angels as I can, I’m gonna go crazy…” the desperation in your voice in undeniable.

„No, you won’t!” he whispers into your hair while stroking the back of your neck with his thumb. You can’t stop the flood of hot tears washing over your face, which are eventually soaked in by his plaid shirt. „I won’t let you. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

You have no idea how long you stand there like that, clinging onto each other. But when you part, you realize that Dean and the angel have already sat down to the table and are checking out the wound.

„Relax, he’s not gonna die.” you comment, sitting down in the booth across them, wiping away a few leftover tears.

„But I’m not healing.” Castiel manages to say through gritted teeth.

„You are. Only a lot slower than usual and with a lot more… pain.”

„What did you do to him?!” Dean demands in a stern tone.

„Nothing. It’s just the blade.”

„You made it with magic, didn’t you?” realization hits Sam all of a sudden. Oh, well. It’s not like they are the first ones to discover.

„Yeah. Combined with weaponry, I can create marvellous things.” you admit „Besides, what do you think, where did that little boyband of yours get the idea to do so? Or even some prototypes?”

Their eyebrows fly up.

„You mean the Men of Letters?”

„Uh-huh. But let’s spare the chit-chat, shall we? What do you guys want from me? ’Cause I doubt you just wanted to let me know you caught me in my lie.” you say bitterly while looking at Sam.

„Okay, sure.” Dean agrees „Let’s get right to it. We need your help.”

„Can’t say I’m surprised….”

„As Sam may have mentioned, when the son of Lucifer was born, he opened up this other dimension and-„

„EXCUSE ME?! Sam never told me that!” you stare daggers at the person in question „The son of Lucifer?! Oh my God!.....I-I’m so out of here!” you jump to your feet and grab your helmet, but Sam’s voice stops you.

„Y/N! Please, wait! It’s not about him, or even Dean anyomre. It’s about the world. It will come to a terrible end.”

„That is of course if you refuse to help us.” Dean adds.

Even though every fiber in your body screams for you to leave, you slowly sit down.

„Go on.”

„So…this other dimension, this other world – Sam and I were never born there. This means that the apocalypse went down and Micheal defeated Lucifer. But he scorched the planet in the process. He got over to this world and plans to do the same thing. We only know of one weapon to stop him, but the owner is from another dimension, too, and she’s not very cooperative. The plan is to get her land the damn spear to us so you could replicate it and we’ll kill that son of a bitch with it.”

You think everything you’ve just heard carefully through and weigh things in your mind.

„You sure it’s replicable?” you ask.

„It runs on some sort of magic so yeah, we believe it is. But you’re the expert, you’ll see for yourself.” Sam replies.

„You have any idea where it is now?”

„According to a dear friend of ours, Sherriff Jody Mills, it’s with its owner in the nearby woods, about twenty miles from here.”

„I’m not gonna leave my bike in the woods.” you say incredulously.

„You don’t even have to. You’ll come with us in the Impala and Jody will arrange an officer to take it to the station. It’ll be in good hands, don’t worry.”

„I hope your right. ’Cause if I find a scratch on it, I can assure you that shit will go down.”

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam #sam x reader #SPN #supernatural #fanfic #spnfic #series

[lovingkaneko]

Ch.2: Here For Business (Colt x Mc)

Summary: He simply cannot get this girl out of his mind, good thing he sees her once again. 

Author Note: I hope people find these stories someday <3 Part two of She’s Perfect. Next part here, Part one here 

Book: Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance | Choices: Stories You Play (AU)

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC | Ellie Wheeler

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: VERY N*FW (Sex, Swearing)

I have never been so distracted by the thoughts of a girl before. Not even in my adolescence, the idea of being tied down to one person always disturbed me. I’d never overthink a one night stand, I would leave first thing in the morning and never turn around. But she was messing with my head, she was ruining me. I was not weak, I was not vulnerable to anyone. Especially not her.

Everyone had noticed I was on edge lately, always bouncing my leg up and down anxiously. Toby wouldn’t leave me alone, no matter how many times I’d begged him to stop asking me questions. In fact, the whole crew took turns interrogating me ever since I came back from the meeting.

“Colt,” I heard a voice call for me when I got inside, I nearly jumped a bit in shock. I was home so late that I thought everyone would’ve been asleep already. Toby was holding a magazine with a cool looking car on the front. I didn’t bother to ask about it. I wanted to go into my room and yell into a pillow.

“Hey Toby,” I answered as I placed the case filled with cash on the table where he sat. I took a seat beside him, knowing that he would want to talk about the cars in the magazine. Honestly, a distraction was exactly what I needed. 

“Check this out,” He began to flip the pages, he stopped at one and when he turned to look at me, his jaw dropped.

“Wait a minute, what is THAT?” He reached his hand to move the collar of my jacket, examining my neck. I grasped his thin wrist and pulled his hand away.

“Don’t even--”

“I thought you were in a meeting?” He asked, curiosity obvious in his voice. I nodded slowly, biting the inside of my cheek nervously, hoping he’d stop asking questions.

“Unless... OH MY GOD?!” Toby connected the dots and placed his hand over his mouth to contain himself from screaming.

“You hooked up with Wheeler’s daughter?!” He asked way too loudly, I was about to tell him to shut up before Mona came into the room.

“Wait a second, who did what now?” Her eyebrows were raised and her jaw was dropped, clearly in shock.

“Colt had sex with--”

“Jesus Christ, Toby! Shut up,” I groaned into my hands as I realized they would never let this go. 

“If her dad finds out, you’re dead meat,” Mona explained as she shook her head sarcastically. I was silent, I had no idea she was his daughter.

“Fuck,” I breathed.

“I heard that her dad found out she was dating a member of another crew and scared the guy so bad that he moved across the country,” Toby explained to me enthusiastically, as if this was funny.

The one girl I ever showed interest in, the ONE person that I allow to roam through my mind... She just had to be the completely unattainable. 

“Good luck with that,” Mona patted my shoulder as I groaned. She subtly moved my jacket over to examine my neck as Toby had.

“Hey!” I called out and pushed her hand away.

“Oh my. I never thought Colt, motherfucking, Kaneko would let a chick mark him up. Today is one wild day,” Mona teased as she laughed and left me alone with Toby.

“I’m outta here,” I stood up, waving at Toby and ignoring his pleads for details.

Since then, they haven’t let me live it down. Even Ximena knew what happened at this point, her reaction was even worse than Toby and Mona combined.

“You’re so grown up now,” She wiped a fake tear as she watched me walk into the room the next day. 

“God dammit,” I muttered and attempted to ignore her cooing at me like a baby.

But even through all of this, I couldn’t help but wish to see her again. I was at the front desk again, doodling in my journal. It’s not a fucking diary, Toby. 

I only found myself drawing her body over and over, although I had never seen her undressed... My imagination could do incredible things. Most of the sketches were of her leaning on her bike, arms crossed. Sometimes, I’d catch myself drawing her eyes on the paper, her long eyelashes curling up. 

“Son,” Came a voice, making me jump awake, as if I was in a daze thinking about Ellie Wheeler. What the fuck was wrong with me lately?

“Are you drawing?” My dad asked and I roughly shut the notebook closed. I cleared my throat.

“No.”

“Alright then... The Wheelers have made a special request for our next deal,” He explained seriously, and I found myself lighten up at the news.

“What would that be?” I asked nonchalantly.

“You’re the only one who can do the deals. For some reason, the girl has a preference as to who she meets with. She chose you, son.”

She remembered to tell her dad. She remembered me and wants to see me again. My heart leaped at the idea of being with her. Gross.

“When will I be seeing her again?” I asked, trying my best to not sound excited.

“You sound eager to meet with her again,” He stated blankly.

“What? Of course not, I’m simply asking because--”

“I don’t need an explanation.”

I felt a bit saddened, but not surprised. My pops never wanted to hear me out.

“She’ll be here tonight, her dad wants her to check out some of the cars we have. They’ll be buying from us again for her birthday,” He grinned, enthused to receive another great amount of money. I could truly care less about the payment. I just wanted to see her.

“Alright,” I said, understanding. He patted my shoulder.

“Seems you were a good representative, good enough that she wanted to see you specifically. I’m proud of you, boy.”

Those were words I’ve never heard from him, even he was shocked by what he said. I gave him a nod and he walked out without another word. I was beyond happy at this moment, nothing could possibly kill my mood.

Until...

“Psst, Colt!” whispered a voice behind me that I recognized to be Toby. 

“What?” I asked as I felt irritation enter my body.

“Ellie’s coming tonight, the crew is gonna head out to do... Stuff. This means you’ll be alone with her, you’re welcome,” He teased.

“Get out of my face right now,” I closed my eyes with anger as I realized the crew was trying to set me up with her.

“Logan will be here too, though. But I bet you can sneak away for a few moments without him noticing.”

“Out.”

At exactly eight, I heard a motorcycle outside the shop. My heart raced and I took a few breaths to calm myself down, why was I reacting like this? She’s just another girl I’ve been with. I got a grip and fixed my jacket. I heard footsteps approaching. Then... I saw her. All reasoning in my head had died off and I couldn’t help but smile. She was just as gorgeous as I remembered her. Except, I could see her features clearer with the lights of the shop.

“Excited to see me, Kaneko?” 

“You’re punctual,” I managed to say after collecting myself, I sounded confident.

“What can I say? I would hate to waste time,” She smirked and looked around at the cars surrounding us.

“I was surprised to hear you wanted a car, I thought you loved your bike,” I asked as I walked closer to her.

“Well... I’ve decided to try new things,” She answered and went silent for a few moments, “Show me what you’ve got.” 

“Alright,” I guided her over to the cars and she listened to me explain them.

“This is the fastest car we’ve got, a 2019--” I was saying but she groaned.

“You don’t care about the cars, do you?” I asked and brought myself to finally look into her eyes.

“God, of course not. There’s something I want more than a stupid car.”

My breath got caught in my throat, she surprised me constantly. Just as we were approaching each other, I heard footsteps. 

“Is that the one and only Ellie Wheeler?” asked a voice that I immediately recognized. My fists clenched as I stared at the person I hated most in this world. Logan.

“Depends who’s asking,” She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she looked at the intruder. Logan gave her a flirty smile and I wanted to knock him out cold, but I knew better than to do that.

“I’m Logan,” He took a few seconds before continuing, “I never thought I’d be so fortunate to see a girl like you in person.”

“Lucky you,” She flirted back and I felt myself fuming.

“Sorry to cut in, but I was just showing her the selection of cars. She’s here for business, not to hear you try and get in her pants,” I blurted out without meaning to. Logan’s eyebrows raised and I swear I heard Ellie chuckle.

“I could take it from here. I definitely know more about these cars than you do,” He suggested and Ellie responded quickly.

“No need, Colt is doing just fine.” With that said, Logan’s eyebrows lifted in shock once again. 

“If you say so, gorgeous. I hope to have the luck to see you again soon,” He licked his lips and waved before leaving the room. 

“Gosh, what a whore,” She sighed as he left. I couldn’t hold back a laugh at her words. She said exactly what I was thinking, “You’re wrong, though,” She continued.

“What?”

“I’m not here for car business,” She smirked smugly and wrapped her arms around my neck, slowly bringing my down to her level.

“The deal is still on, you owe me,” She breathed into my ear. Her lips trailed down to my neck and she pressed a soft kiss to it.

“You up for round two?” She asked and my breath hitched. I didn’t answer her, instead, I brought her lips to mine and kissed her roughly. She moaned into my mouth and I guided her onto the nearest desk, thankfully an empty one. I couldn’t wait any longer, I wanted to make this girl feel things that she had never felt. I wanted to hear my name rolling off her tongue as I pleased her in sinful ways.

At this point, I could care less about my own pleasure. I owed her and I was going to make her trip here worth it. I sucked on her neck, finding the spot that made her gasp and squirm on the desk under her. She was breathing heavily as I continued to trail my teeth.

“Colt,” She managed to say, her voice shaking. 

“Yes?” I asked as I unbuttoned her blouse. 

“Please,” a whisper so desperate, I wondered what she would do right now if I didn’t comply to her orders.

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” I pressed my lips onto her breasts kissing slowly, as I moved her bra aside to take a nipple into my mouth.

“Fuck,” She whimpered as I swirled my tongue around, “Please.”

“Say it, baby, and I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

“I want you to-- Oh my god,” Her eyes rolled back as I pressed a hand onto her pussy. Her chest heaved and she had tears forming.

“Fuck me, please, Colt.”

Those were all the words I needed to hear, I unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down along with her underwear. I continued to lick my way down her body, pressing kisses every now and then. I finally reached eye level with her sweet opening. 

Her hands made their way into my hair, tugging with need. I gave her one long lick and she hissed with pleasure, her legs shaking.

I continued to do my work, now focusing on her clit, my fingers positioning around her entrance. Once they were inside, she moaned loudly. Normally, I would’ve freaked out by her volume, but it was only Logan. I wanted him to hear her, I wanted him to witness the noises that I managed to get out of her.

I pumped my fingers in and out of her at a speed that made her pull my hair as she breathed heavily. I felt her walls tighten and I knew she was close. I continued to move my hand inside of her, but brought my lips up to kiss her. She kissed me like I was oxygen and she was suffocating. Her teeth sunk into my bottom lip and I knew she was done for. With one last push inside, she let out the hottest sigh I’ve ever heard. Her head fell onto my neck and she whispered my name over and over. 

“You’re so good, baby,” I whispered into her ear as I felt all the power in her body give out, she was doing her best to ride down her orgasm. After a few minutes of silence as she caught her breath, she chuckled. 

“I guess we’re even now.”

#colt kaneko #colt x mc #ride or die choices #n*fw #playchoices fanfic #choices #choices fanfiction

[domesticatedantelope]

an exercise in patience

Pairing: Colt x MC

Rating: Explicit | NSFW 18+

Word Count: 6,400

Summary: The one about patience; or, Colt and Mercy are familiar with ropes.

@brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @client-327 @octobereighth @liamzigmichael4ever @mskaneko @navigatorholmes @lovehugsandcandy @anxious-arliah @zaffrenotes

Mercy seals her own fate with one short and hurried text:

Be home late tonight. Group project is taking forever.

Halfway through the next dense data set, her phone jolts with his even shorter answer: I’ll be waiting.

Something like anticipation simmers in her stomach. She reads the text, rereads it twice, three simple words that feel somehow so filthy, full of promise. Waiting could mean anything; her traitorous imagination wrestles loose from her control and scatters off into a hundred different tempting possibilities. The warm pink of a blush unfolds across her cheeks, and lingers long after she tries to sink herself back into Russian phonemes and the presentation looming ominously at the end of her week.

Colt is rarely the more patient between the two of them, but now that Mercy has his vague, distracting promise bouncing wildly around her thoughts -

She’s feeling a little impatient herself.

Try as she might to silence it, Mercy retains that eager tension, driving too restlessly into the remnants of her work. She likes to hold herself and all things penned under her name to higher standards, but her concentration ambles and starts to lag behind; her mind is lost among the hills and hatch mark scars that shape Colt’s knuckles and how good they feel when they are bent around her wrists, her thighs, the hymnal sighs rising her throat. She spends the next few hours fidgeting, on tenterhooks, three little words and suddenly her evening stretches out into eternity.

Impatience carries her through all the clockwork motions of her travel home: gathering her books with clumsy hands and brief goodbyes thrown carelessly over her shoulder, the hastened pass from library to parking lot to highway with her boot against the gas pedal, the hand of her speedometer that inches ever higher, swinging quickly toward the legal limit. 

She watches as the needle soars past 85, and tries not to imagine what her dad would have to say about the recent detours in her good behavior.

You drive like you’ve got something to outrun.

It’s an old and tired wound, her mind biting down on itself, but she knows better now. She rolls the window down and lets the howling wind grip fiercely at her hair, drowning the echoes of her father’s voice into white noise and city whispers. There is solace in the reckless and the tangible: the steering wheel beneath her fingers, the blur of streetlights flashing by as she flies down the freeway, her heartbeat kicking wildly within the cavern of her ribs. 

She knows better now. 

It’s not about outrunning when there’s someone to come home to.

The house is dark and quiet when she parks, the dim flicker of candlelight glowing between the curtains. Mercy slips through the front door and into distant trills of jazz, drifting an invitation from the living room, and her face smolders with sudden understanding  - a learned reaction, practically Pavlovian at this point, borderline embarrassing if not for the excitement rising with it. A long day’s worth of worries falls away, quickly caged and quarantined into the corners of her mind as she hangs her coat and wanders with the steps of the possessed into the next room.

A record spins a slow rotation in her player, needle skating lazily along the grooves, filling the open room with the slick wail of sax riffs, tickles of piano keys and climbing basslines that are sure to stick in Mercy’s head for hours after. She knows every second of this album, every drumbeat and swing of bow on strings imprinted in her memory like marks against the skin. Eyes falling shut, she slows her breathing to the drawn-out, sleepy tempo, hummingbird wing flutters of percussion in her ears. 

She knows he’s there before he even speaks. No one has ever had presence to her like Colt Kaneko, some brutal force of magnetism, gravity within his hands. She bites her smile back before turning to face him, the blush still hot across her face. 

Colt leans an easy slant against the doorframe, forearms loosely crossed over his chest and two red loops of rope that dangle from his neck. Dark eyes work slowly down her body, like he might derive her very thoughts from the stiffness she holds in her shoulders, and after all the time they’ve spent together - this same room, this album, that rope - she has no doubt that he sees everything. 

“You look like you sped home,” he says at last, and there it is, lips tilting up into the same smirk that has drifted through her thoughts all evening long. “You miss me, brat?”

The words lift from her mouth as if compelled, her smile breaking loose. “I always do.” 

Her swift response earns a satisfied gleam from the black of his eyes. “Come show me how much.”

Grinning, Mercy hurls her bag aside and beelines for his open arms. He catches her against his chest, where she curls her fists around the ropes and drags herself as close to him as physics will allow. He breathes the lowest ring of laughter before capturing her mouth beneath his own, gentle first, then deeper, blunt with teeth and resolute, lips moving so pointedly slowly. The lazy pace of it suggests a lengthy night, but now that she is here, against the familiar warmth of his body, she might as well have all the time in the world.

When she is blushing red and sufficiently breathless from his attention, Colt leads a string of teasing kisses down her jaw, testing his teeth against the sensitive rim of her ear. Long fingers fold a solid grip among her hair and hold there, firm and undeniably secure, not quite enough to hurt. He tips her head back and regards the arch of hunger in her features with a knowing smile. “You should stretch,” he advises her calmly, conversational, with an undertone that broaches no amount of protest.

Sometimes she is tempted to resist; Colt has only ever been obliging, and she knows he will indulge her if she wants to play at biting back.

Tonight is not that night. With his grasp held fast around her hair, she might as well be liquid in his hands, fluid in form and moving to his influence. He watches acquiescence soften out across her face and sinks one final kiss against her mouth before releasing her. 

Somewhat lightheaded, Mercy turns away, escaping the intensity that heats his gaze, making a show of gathering her hair between her fingers. In a few practiced twists, she slings the long sweep of her tresses up into a messy coil, baring the nape of her neck, and she’s put only half a step between them when he yanks her back into his hands and sets his mouth against her shoulder, branding a searing kiss there, edging in with teeth and sucking hard until she gasps and arches and her knees feel weak under her weight.

Budding bruises throb beneath the skin as she steadies herself, blushing to the sound of his laughter. He has a habit of surprising her - something about the smile she gets on her face, he told her once, though she suspects the upper hand it earns him might have more to do with it. Her heart tattoos a rapid double-beat inside her ribs, tolling her anticipation as she rolls her arms above her head, stretching out the stiffness from the hours she’s spent hunched over her textbooks in the library. Her body bends into familiar steps, arching up until the softest flares of strain spark in her nerves and muscles, yawning back to life. 

She can feel him watching her, the pressure of his stare like a physical touch, a hum of strings and zigzagging piano chords that usher in “Stella by Starlight” as she settles on the floor. “Have I ever told you jazz is a weird soundtrack for this?”

There’s a muted brush of footsteps behind her, rounding her in slow consideration. “The jazz is for you,” Colt informs her curtly, two degrees defensive. “Music snob.”

“I think it’s pretty clear who’s driving here,” she jokes, and he gives the briefest snort of laughter. “You can pick something you like instead.”

His pacing lapses, landing him between the open stretch of her legs, where he kneels to meet her gaze. “It’s not about me,” he says simply. Catching her wrists in one broad hand, he draws her toward him until her thighs ache with the strain and she is nearly close enough to kiss, denying her the last few centimeters it would take to bridge the distance.

Mercy pouts, but swallows down a tempting flicker of complaint. He coasts his thumb along the soft curve of her mouth, humming low under his breath, warm and amused. He pushes in to part her lips and stroke the rough pad of his thumb over her tongue, and she blushes crimson, sucks him deeper like a reflex, giddy trickles of delight skipping in her pulse. 

“Now,” he says, and fucks his thumb in lazy thrusts across her tongue, his smile sharp with all the edges of a smirk. “Knees.”

She holds his gaze, folding her knees obediently beneath her.

Satisfied, Colt drags his palm once down the smooth line of her thigh, rough fingers catching at the softness of her stockings before rising to his feet. He resumes his languid study, eyes flitting thoughtfully along her limbs and joints and muscles, planning and blueprinting all the angles of her body.

Meanwhile, Mercy waits.

Her mind begins to wander, and she wonders how she looks to him, when he observes her with that all-consuming focus - she feels at once no more than bones and skin and heartbeat, instinctual, utterly human and yet wholly exalted in the same breath, beyond any perception she could ever carry of herself. She feels beautiful; her anxious thoughts all ease apart and disentangle, shaping into words like worshipped and immortal.

Because Colt looks at her as if he can see masterpieces etched in every curve and bend and feature of her body, and he intends to map each one of them by hand. 

He starts with the haphazard jumble of her hair, freeing the elastic from her bun with two gentle, decisive tugs, letting the tresses tumble loosely down her back. Knowing fingers glide the drop of her spine, parting dark waves of hair and winding them more fully at the crown of her head, tying errant waves back into place with a skillful twist of hands. His fingertips descend her neck, tracing the bruises from his teeth, the heartbeat crashing in her throat. And then, abrupt, possessively, he grabs her by the hips and slides her back into his lap, biting a laugh against the softness of her throat.

Mercy squeaks in surprise, clutching at his hands as her stockings slip against the hardwood floor. Her cheeks suffuse with heat at his proximity, his breath against her skin and no amount of space between them. She longs for even closer, but if Colt has proven anything to her over the years, over the slow rotations of that record in the player, she has faith he will provide. His palms and fingers grip securely at her hips, shifting to drag slow paths along the gentle curve of her stomach, the warmth from his hands sinking through her blouse. 

“Comfortable?” The word rumbles a pleasant sound against her skin, followed by an indulgent draw of teeth along her shoulder. He may bite and grab and fuck his thumb into her mouth, but he always, always asks, keeps constant measure of her limits and reactions. Colt will only ever hurt her just enough to make her come, and the comfort of that understanding floats with all the buoyancy of lifeboats in her heart. 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

His touch follows the soft slopes of her forearms, curling in with tempered strength around her wrists, and she lets her hands fall trustingly into his lead, lets him guide each arm behind her back and cross them one over the other. She lets him hold her captive, helpless to his grasp, relinquishing against all instinct, and her voice catches somewhere beneath her throat, a rush of anxious pleasure twisting through her, pulsing hot between her thighs. 

The first coarse length of rope slinks rough over her forearms. She fidgets at the familiar itch, sensory memory arising in its wake: the thrill of rushing blood, suspension, spinning and Stella by Starlight. Resounding calm sinks through her thoughts, slicing a path of soothing nothing as he loops the rope around her wrists and forearms, locking them together, cinching tight against the muscle. Pleats of jute dig lines into her arms, biting in just deep enough to feel the pressure of their hold. She knows they will leave trails behind, trench warfare forged across her skin in brutal red and blue.

He will be touching her for days until they fade.

He finishes the first knot with a final tug, and no amount of shimmying wrests any give from its control. His grip is certain while he tests and crosses and adjusts, slipping his fingers underneath the tension there until the rope fits snug against her skin. When he’s ensured the measure of his work, she feels his touch tracing across her open palms, and her fingers wiggle silent reassurance back at him.

A sense of stillness settles in as he continues, leading crimson cords of rope around her arms, her chest, weaving them back into the web of knots he’s formed between her shoulders just to double back and steadily retrace his steps with more. 

Already she can feel the pressure when she breathes, a thousand forceful fingers pushing, pulling into place, the shape of the divine in crimson red against her skin. He teases teeth at the base of her throat, taking taut-wound rope into his fist, moving her body to his whim with sinful ease. She lolls between his hands, like every limb is molten liquid. The pull of his ropes have eroded at her worries, doubts, decisions, locking them firmly beyond her reach.

Colt spins her by the knees to face him with a suddenness that leaves her dizzy, and her eyelids flutter open to the utter focus etched across his features. “How are you feeling?” he asks, far too casual. “Big words,” he’s sure to add, his fingertips against the inside of her thigh and climbing higher, vanishing beneath her skirt. “Something pretty.”

She can’t think when she’s tied up, when he’s touching her like that, and fuck him, he knows this. But she meets the challenge in his eyes with vain determination, trying to compile all the fraying remnants of her senses. Her thoughts bound off and stumble over words that won’t compare until at last the proper syllables click blindly into place.

A well of triumph sings in her like music. “Resplendent.” 

He smiles then, his fingers pressing deeper, sliding past her stockings, finding flesh and hems of lace. “Not bad, brat,” he allows her, but his voice is pleased as he shapes languid pressure in against her through the soft lace of her thong, and she sighs a sound that borders the obscene at the sharp tides of pleasure rising to his touch. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” 

She breathes another desperate noise when he releases her, left wanting and unable to reach out for more. Tension pulls taut among the ropes behind her, and his hand exerts only a fraction of his strength at the base of her spine, pushing her down against her knees.

Mercy complies, bending smoothly to his guidance. She wades into the dark behind her eyelids, and she is adrift, existing solely through the filter of sensation, wracked with pain. Pressure flays along her arms, her thighs, nails biting lines across her palms, her heart a wild thing beating for freedom in her chest. Everything aches, and deep beneath her gut, the hurt, the heat, the helplessness compound into the sweetest pull of need.

She has, maybe, a strange relationship with pain.

And there is no pain quite like this, the slow, molasses agony where rope sinks into skin. She steadies her resolve with another easy breath drawn in between her teeth, releasing on the falling end of a moan. She counts to ten in French, then backwards. Miles Davis plays the trumpet. Inhale, hold, and exhale. Familiar. Secure. Calm. 

By the time Colt hauls her back against his chest, Mercy has found her footing in the struggle, and she has the sense of mind to answer when he murmurs something heavy with concern.

“It’s good,” she slurs, and nuzzles lovingly against his neck. 

“Good.” He laughs, fastens a hand among the soft roots of her hair and tilts her head back, baring her throat to his mouth. He kneads with teeth and gentle, teasing kisses until she whines and wiggles uselessly against him.

He keeps her pinned against his shoulder as he works with quiet diligence, winding his ropes into sharp angles like a cage across her sternum. Beneath his touch, her consciousness is whittled down to ever-present tension, leashed to stillness, blissful limitation. The world around her slows and cycles at a different pace, as if he is unwinding all the tangled threads of time itself, suspending them somewhere among the knots that bind her. He focuses intently on each inch of rope and all the places where they twist and loop together and she doesn’t think at all.

There is no resisting him when Colt angles her head back. She peers up at the silver ring that hangs and glints with candlelight above them as he teases roughened cords of rope over her neck and shoulders and the soft slope of her cheek. When he wedges them between her teeth, she opens to him, biting down with an airy moan.

He tips her face one way, and then the other, tilting her head to catch the light and properly appreciate the bound and blushing mess he’s left of her. She can’t imagine her expression when she’s tied and trying not to lose all sense of clarity, but it must be what he’s looking for, because it wins a hungry sound from somewhere in his chest. 

When he stands, the cavern of his absence yawns behind her. She whines for him, blindly, hears the dark curl of his laughter somewhere above her before he lifts her to her feet with one firm and certain push. Her head spins as she sways against his chest, dizzied and helpless to catch herself, his hands the only steady harbor in the rush of blood that throbs up to her brain. He pulls the rope free from her teeth and gently cups her jaw against his palm, rolling his thumb over the muscles there.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he teases, nudging his lips against the warm flush in her cheeks.

Mercy can only summon the parched whisper of a laugh. “You’re so funny.”

“I’m hilarious.”

Head falling back against his shoulder, she stares up and up to watch that slowly spinning ring, the comforting familiarity of Colt’s hands as he shackles loops of cording into place, metal clicking against metal. Tension trembles in the bonds around her with the last few knots that spiderweb across her back, straining beneath his strength when he tugs each one to completion, and it never matters how much she may brace herself - the first lift upwards always takes her breath. 

The ropes manipulate her body like a lover, crawling taut against her skin, siphoning the air from her lungs as he hauls her skyward, and suddenly she’s soaring, floorboards disappearing underneath her toes. 

Colt steadies her between his hands, and she begins to understand how planets are compelled around the sun; her center of gravity shifts in his grasp, drawn to the tips of his fingers as they follow a trajectory that he has penned like verse across her body. He knows every inch of her by touch, by lips, by heart, but he luxuriates in learning her again, wandering the canvas of her body with wide palms and knowing fingers, tracing the snaking lines where his ropes restrain her. 

With her arms locked and criss-crossed in crimson knots behind her back, Mercy can only watch the slow progression of his hands as he tugs her legs apart and makes himself at home between them. It’s presumptuous and arrogant and so unbearably smug, the way he handles her, the tilt of his smirk as he works another love bite into the sensitive flesh of her thigh; Colt is most in his element when he is in control, and she has put herself entirely at his mercy. 

His fingers edge the hem of her skirt higher, past her hips, leaving her squirming and exposed to the cool air between her legs. 

“Did you think about me?” he asks, rough of hunger fraying at the edges of his voice. His eyes glint with amusement, like a joke when he already knows the punchline. 

But he’ll want to hear her say it. 

“Yes.” She whines into her teeth, thoroughly distracted by his touch. “I could barely concentrate, thanks to you.”

A wicked smile curves across his face. “That’s too bad,” he laments, but no amount of penance shakes the humor in his voice. His fingertips continue undeterred, inching higher between her thighs, finding the flimsy lace of her thong and nudging the material dismissively aside. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been thinking about touching you since you left in that fucking skirt this morning.”

The first brush of his fingertips against her skin tears a gasp from the depths of her lungs, and she writhes under the spiral of sensation flaring hot across her nerves. She’s spent the whole of a distracted evening thinking of those very hands, and god, they are precisely as relentless as she remembers. 

“I wear this to class ah-all the time,” she protests, whispered between soft shivers that descend her spine, chasing the bliss of his touch.

“And I’m the criminal.” He casts one last teasing glance at her before he grips her by the hips and swings her closer, dragging her against his mouth. All at once his lips and tongue are wet and hot against the slick between her thighs, and Mercy arches, biting out his name in shattered gasps. He groans and guides her legs over his shoulders, pinning her open with a touch so firm she might as well be tied there too, his fingers pressing into flesh, desperate and demanding. Sharp, knife-edge pleasure gnaws between her legs, and everything strings tight with pooling tension, pressure, need where his devilish mouth meets her body.

“Colt…!” Searing embers heat beneath her skin, stoked to flames by the tip of his tongue. “Oh, god-!” Her hands curl into fists behind her back, and every labored breath swells in her chest, pushing in protest at the brutal lines of her restraints. Candles flicker soft halos of light in her peripheral, Colt’s gaze rising slowly up to meet her own as his lips part between her thighs, and there’s a flash of tongue before she feels him lashing long, determined strokes over the slick folds of her sex, and her eyes sink shut instinctively against the devastating pleasure that wracks through her.

Her fingers flex, impatient, aching for more contact; she wants to grip his hair and tug until he moans, wants something solid in her hands, fuck, anything to anchor her among the rush, but she can only hang, trust, wait, and the sense of incapacity is freeing and infuriating all at once. Her voice trembles out fractured sounds, pleading and praising, echoes of his name that make him hum approvingly between her legs. 

Mercy writhes within her bonds, her eyes caught longingly on the shape of his hands, the almost bruises where his fingers leave impressions in her skin. Her legs stiffen and twitch to clench together, but he hinges them apart with knowing ease, his laughter low and muffled and unquestionably pleased. 

For all the time he’s savored her impatience, Colt doesn’t hold back now. His mouth rounds heavy shapes against her skin, pulling white-hot wrings of pressure that draw sunburn shudders down her vertebrae, the flat of his tongue rolling in around her clit.

“Please,” she pants, the phonemes ragged in her voice. Her hips tremble against his palms as he propels her closer to that line, the gut-wrenching sensation of impending climax starting to ignite. One coarse hand climbs her thighs, easily finding where she throbs for him, thick fingers edging in to fill her with too-languid increments. When he crooks them, seismic shivers ripple through her, summoned to his touch, dull pleasure punctuating sharp tugs of his mouth until everything pulls together in the sweetest fullness, cords of rope locked tight around her body as she sobs and comes undone. 

Strung-up and suspended from the ceiling, coming always feels like falling, plunging endlessly into an open void, weightless in her restraints as Colt devours her through all the lightning flickers of her high. Her broken voice lifts in a whimper, baby, baby fading like a mantra on her tongue, her lungs aching for breath while blinding pleasure overtakes her.

For a few crashing heartbeats, there is only the true freedom of release.

And then Mercy is slumping limp against the harness of her bindings, nudging him away with shaking knees and panting in the feathery descent that follows after climax. Little curls of bliss still pulse between her thighs as Colt eases her legs down from his shoulders, christening the muscles there with gentle kisses. His mouth is warm and wet and slick with her, and when his teeth graze softly at the nylon of her stockings, indignation prompts a whine through her exhausted stupor.

Dark, wanting eyes roam her expression, and he teases with a playful tug along the silky hemlines of her hosiery. “I hope you’re not attached to these.”

She shouldn’t laugh - he doesn’t need encouragement - but tipsy giggles rise her throat before she can resist them. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

He smiles, unrepentant, as she feels him wind another coarse tendon of rope around her hips. For now he leaves her stockings thankfully intact, his focus honed once more on her containment. She watches him from under heavy eyelids as he strings her up like so much precious artwork, and by the time her racing heart has settled back to resting rate, her knees hang snug and cradled in red jute, anchored in winding rings that lock her thighs apart, each hard line fastened and redoubled with the utmost certainty. 

She’s never felt so small as when she’s tied here, tethered into stillness and suspension. Her thoughts have all been thoroughly dissolved under the agonizing feeling of the binds against her skin, and there is only void, a tranquil darkness where her worries once held fast. 

Like an earth in slow rotation, Mercy spins. Colt runs his palms along her open thighs, his gaze spanning her body as she turns, and there is an immensity of satisfaction in his eyes - like he has shaped her into his entire world, and he could spend a century surveying his domain. 

Then his fist curls tight around the ropes above her knee, and his free hand sinks into her hair, angling her head back for a kiss that feels like being claimed. Gingerly he loosens the elastic from her hair again, and a whisper of relief sighs on her tongue at the brief sense of liberation. His fingers are demanding as he conquers the slope of her waist, rolling his thumb over the ropes that hold her captive with devotion in his touch. 

“Jesus, Mercy.” A strangled laugh, his hands mapping a tantalizing trail across her skin. “If you knew how fucking good you look…” He swings her close against his chest, forcing her knees open around him. The rough of denim scrapes her thighs, and in the space between them she can feel how hard he is, twitching beneath his pants. He grits a curse out when she squirms against him, hips pitching a frantic thrust in response. 

The click of his belt resonates behind her ribs, flickers of anticipation squeezing at her heart. She whimpers her impatience, and he soothes her with a clumsied hand between her legs, two fingers sliding over slickened skin and pushing in, working against that perfect point inside of her until her hips are trembling around him. 

Broken pleas bounce on her tongue, and he bites a groan against her shoulder, catching his lip between his teeth as finally he frees himself. His knuckles brush her first, the heavy head of his cock prodding in against her, and her mouth spills open in a tortured noise as he angles his hips and nudges in, guiding her down around him.

Colt moves slowly, knuckles white against red ropes and the bronze of her skin. Her nerves exult with yes, finally, yes, the sweetest ache of taking as he pushes deeper. She would be embarrassed by the sounds that bubble up her throat if she weren’t consumed with brute force pleasure when he comes to rest against her, and she feels him everywhere: the darkness between heartbeats, at the height and fall of every breath that filters through her lungs; her senses are all filled with Colt, his grip, his ropes, his cock, pleasure and pain in blissful counterpoints across her body.

“Oh, fuck.” He shivers out a laugh, hips trembling a lazy thrust that draws another groan up through his teeth. “Mercy. You feel so good, sweetheart.” 

Affection warms the center of her heart, but her words seem to be strung up with the rest of her. Half-bitten syllables ring in her throat, short nonsense sounds all shaped around a breathy moan as rapture tightens like a fist inside of her. She cries out when his hips lock hard against her own, the warmth of tears brimming along her lashes. Her body sings with overstimulation, agony and ecstasy, throbbing under future bruises and the ruthless slice of pleasure rocking through her.

He fucks another urgent thrust, dropping his fingers to the slick point where they fit together. Raw and tender in the fading embers of her climax, she recoils, anguish chasing every vibrant lick of pleasure as his thumb spirals relentless pressure at her clit. Blissful tears track silver down her cheeks, plumes of searing pleasure lashing out like lightning from his touch. 

“I can’t, I can’t-!” She sobs a string of frantic noises, trembling in her restraints, but Colt persists until the thinnest lance of panic claws up through her. Writhing only reinforces the extent of her confinement, and there is no retreating from the overwhelming flood of rapture, pinned between his clever fingers and the rigid weight of him inside of her. It’s all too much, too soon, more than her fraying nerves can take; some primal part of her fears she might shatter into pieces if she didn’t have his ropes and hands to hold her all together. 

His fingers curl around the column of her throat, holding with the faintest pressure as her eyes open to meet his own. “One more time,” he groans, and for a moment, he sounds almost pleading. “Come for me again.” 

The need in his voice wracks a shiver down her spine. Against her seething instincts, Mercy grits her teeth and eases all the tension from her muscles, letting herself fall into his touch. Her body reels under the onslaught of sensation, jerking with each scorching stroke his thumb slides in against her clit, and she is on the brink of crying out for mercy when a cinder of anticipation catches somewhere in the pit of her gut. 

Colt watches recognition cross her features, triumph lighting in his eyes as the muscles in her hips begin to tense. Adrenaline drives wild through her veins, the familiar leap in her pulse when she’s done something far too reckless and the threat of losing all control looms overhead. Her heels dig in against his thighs, coaxing him closer with the last dregs of her strength until his hips shudder against her, fingers gripping tight around her thigh. The sharp tearing of nylon sounds as the first stocking gives way to his urgency, and the sudden roughness of his fingertips against her bare skin has her pleading restlessly for more, desperate for closeness when his ropes have kept her so unbearably contained. 

Clutching his fist among the bonds that cross her shoulders, he obliges with a hard swing of his hips, driving in to the hilt and groaning at the feel of her around him. “Mercy,” he breathes, her name surrender on his tongue, and with that ragged whisper, climax crashes over her. 

Riving pleasure crests and pulls her under, swaths of heat expanding out to scour every atom of her body. The tender branches of her nerves all spark with bliss, her eyelids screwing shut until the dark of rorschach flashes dance behind them. She feels herself clench tight around him as her lungs expel a strangled sigh and she is plummeting, untethered - whole. 

Colt twitches inside of her. His hips shove swift, erratic thrusts, fucking her with rough abandon as he tenses, curls against her, teeth nicking a fervent sound into her throat when he tips over after her. Shivers clamber up his shoulders, and his hands cling desperately along her hips, pressing almost to the point of pain as he comes apart with a shuddering moan. 

The waves of rapture gradually recede and leave her gasping to regain her breath, itching with the cooling sting of sweat as Colt leans heavily against her body. Her senses register in slow succession, trumpets fading in as if over a vast and winding distance. Residual endorphins bathe her through with numbing warmth, and in the mindless bliss that follows, Mercy feels like she is truly home.

Colt’s fingers travel softly down her cheek, grazing the heartbeat at the hollow of her throat as he looks her over. “You’re all right?” 

She’s fallen somewhere far beyond the capability of speech. She bobs a dreamy nod instead, his breathless laughter more than compensation for the effort. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Beneath the satisfaction in his roughened voice, there is a tenderness that sinks like easy tides around her heart. “Sit tight, brat.” His lips brush her forehead, her cheekbones, the dimple that corners her mouth when she giggles under his attention. “Let me take care of you.”

A deep exhaustion washes over as he begins to free the knots that tether her in place. Her feet have barely touched the floor before he lifts her into his arms with deliberate ease, red ropes hooked loose around his knuckles as he carries her to bed. 

The bedsheets harbor an exquisite coolness when he sinks her down against them, though she’s rapidly descending from the high of her euphoria. Her shoulders ache behind the joints, the muscles in her legs giving a spasm of protest when she attempts to move them. 

“Easy.” Colt soothes his palms over her quaking thighs. “I’ll get it.” His touch borders on reverent as he sweeps her hair aside with careful fingers, baring the bouquet of knots he’s fashioned down the center of her back. He pauses, drinking in the sight of her, and she blushes to imagine what she looks like: corded crimson with his claim, skirt rucked above her hips, the insides of her thighs slicked with the both of them.

He frees her hands first, and she can’t help sobbing in relief, tears rolling down her face as he nestles a kiss into each palm. 

The tying is an anchor, sanctity of structure, safe and sanctuary.

The untying is ritual release.

The longest sort of worship, bleary-eyed and blissed to stupor, limp against the sheets as he unwinds her knot by knot. 

Mercy sprawls an aching arch across the bed when she is finally unbound, but Colt is far from finished. Gentle fingers peel her clothes away, exposing angry tracks of red that he attends to with the barest touch of lips, soothing where his love has left its mark. The tatters of her stockings he discards with only a smug look before proceeding, pressing his affection into every trench his ropes have carved across her body.

He’s taken a detour along her collarbone when finally she finds the strength to move, lifting her palm to cup his jaw and drag him down into a very tired kiss.

“Thank you,” she breathes, tracing her fingertips along the confident shape of his smirk. “I needed that.”

“I know.” 

And Mercy laughs, rolls lazily onto her side to smile up at him. “Because you know everything.”

“You’re not wrong.” He grins and nips with gentle pressure at the bare skin of her shoulder. “But I know you best. When you didn’t text me fifty kiss and heart emojis, I figured you were in your head and overstressing again.”

“I stress the appropriate amount,” she protests, and then he’s laughing with her. “And be nice. It’s midterms. I’m Type A.”

“I’m being extremely nice.” His fingertips pause in their idle tracing to stray pointedly over the ridges left imprinted on her skin. “Hence, rope.” 

“Mmn, and candlelight, and jazz. I must be spoiled.”

He shrugs, his smirk returning with a sinful edge. “If I’m gonna tie you up and fuck you, I might as well do it right.”

The blush resurges in her cheeks, as he intended, and he chuckles as she hides her face in the crook of his neck. Pressed against his body, she can hear the rhythm of his heart behind his ribs, steady and slow, a perfect constant when the world is moving far too fast around her. There will be more midterms and more deadlines and more late nights speeding home, but right now she has everything she needs between her aching arms.

As far as Mercy is concerned, the rest can wait.

#ride or die #choices ride or die #colt kaneko #colt x mc #rod #ns*fw #ship: power couple #mc: mercy castellano #sometimes date night is candles and jazz and a few sets of rope #stress relief takes many forms in the castaneko household #as always please do let me know if you'd like a tag removed or added! #thank you so much for reading! #dom writes

[lovehugsandcandy]

Eight Days a Week, Eight Seconds a Kiss (Part 4)  (Colt x MC)

A/N: I KNOW I AM AWFUL WITH UPDATES and I APOLOGIZE! Part 4 of rom-com RoD featuring awkward Ellie who just wants someone to kiss her already and totally idiotic wingman Colt. You fools.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~2500 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, probably, because I swear a lot.)

Summary: Ellie wants to live her life to the fullest, starting with her first kiss. She just needs a little encouragement.

Tuesday: Time to Show Your Worth, Child

Ellie had barely stopped the car when Colt was there, right in her space, long fingers clasping the door frame, blocking her from getting out of the car.

“Let’s go.”

“What?” She wasn’t even fully out yet, legs hanging awkwardly in the air between them.

“Come on, we gotta go.”

“What.” She swung her legs back into the car as Colt bolted around the front and threw himself into the passenger seat. 

“Come on, throw it in reverse, let’s go.”

“What is wrong with you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she complied, backing out through the bay doors onto the street.

“Take this right.”

“Were you waiting for me to show up so you could ambush me?”

“We have things to do, don’t we? Amorous adventures to obtain?” His voice was dull, annoyed, the snark of the question falling flat. He looked out the window, sunlight shining off his hair. Bathed in the afternoon light, she could be forgiven for mistaking him for an angel at first glance; however, upon closer inspection, the dangerous glint in his eye and furrow of his brow marked him as more fallen than heavenly. 

She narrowed her eyes. “This seems more like you escaping than us going on an adventure.”

“Maybe we can do both.” He shrugged, finally relenting under her glare. “I just didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“Ok…”

“It’s like the orphanage of misfit toys in there. I needed to get away.”

Ellie waited.

“Get on 110. North.” He leaned his head on the glass, distraught, hand in front of his mouth, eyes hazy and unfocused out the window.

She merged onto the highway and waited some more.

Finally, after Ellie had to bite the inside of her cheek three times in an effort to keep from filling the silence, he spoke. “I fucking hate that guy.”

She gave a noncommittal hum as her eyes cut to him. She had a feeling she knew who this was about. “Whatever happened to not letting others control how you feel, Colt?”

“Whatever happened to minding your own business, Ellie?”

She smirked. It couldn’t be that bad if they were continuing their normal pattern of mildly harassing sarcasm. “…Did something happen at the shop?”

“They’re planning something, Logan and Pop.” Colt let out a sigh. “All buddy-buddy in the office. Pathetic.” He looked at his hands. “I can’t believe Pop trusts some dropout loser over me.”

“Don’t call him that.” The words were out before she could reconsider and they hung in the silence of the car. She grimaced as Colt turned to her, eyes narrowed.

“Of course you’re defending your lover boy. Fucking Logan.”

“You know, Colt? You know what I think?” Ellie huffed. “I think you’re jealous of him.”

He stopped short to stare. “Jealous? Of Logan? That’s a good one…”

“Yeah, I think you are.” She didn’t mean to sound so snide but couldn’t really regret the words once they were out.

“Why the hell would I be jealous of him? He’s a fucking idiot dropout who has no idea what he’s doing in this crew. He’s like a sentient piece of bread that wanders around taking up everyone’s space and energy and time like he’s some prince instead of a black hole of suck.”

“Colt…” Apparently, she hit a nerve.

“He’s like if you took me, made him less attractive obviously, and then surgically removed both this brain and his spine and somehow people around here treat him like he’s God’s gift to….”

“COLT!” Finally, her yell got his attention. “Stop.”

“Yeah, just jump to his defense…”

“Well, you’re being ridiculous!” She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Am I?”

“It’s not a competition for your dad’s affection, Jesus.”

Colt slouched petulantly against the seat, arms crossed. “Says the person who’s desperate for that asshole.”

“Ok, none of this has to do with me so stop it.”

He turned to her, face paling. The silence stretched on as he just sat there, looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“What?” She wished, not for the first time, that she could read his mind as he looked to the floor.

A deep breath. “Yeah. Nothing to do with you.” He caught her eyes, a weak smile on his face. 

She had to look back at the road. At least in her case, the person her dad loved more than her didn’t exist, the Ellie in his mind just a figment of his imagination.

“Whatever, forget about it.” Colt shook his head. “Take the next exit.”

“Where are we going?” She navigated seamlessly through the traffic to get to the right lane. 

“You’ll see.”

“Is it somewhere we can lose your attitude problem?” Ellie grinned sweetly.

“I think it’s somewhere I can lose my annoying smart-ass driver.” Colt returned her smile with a smirk of his own. “Park here.”

“Okay…” Ellie dutifully parallel-parked into the space with a beaming grin that only dimmed slightly when she thought about how impressed her dad would be. He might be proud if he saw how well she could drive but definitely wouldn’t be pleased if he saw the company she was keeping.

She followed Colt out of the car, looking around at the swanky storefronts around her, old money and new money combining in a gilded array that made her uneasy. “Why are we here?”

“Because this is supposedly the highest rated spot in LA. After you dissed the dive bar, I thought you might want a change of pace.”

She looked down at her school clothes, at Colt’s leather jacket. “Isn’t there a dress code?”

“Come on.” He loped his arm around her, pushing her along with easy confidence. “Aren’t you sick of missing out on things?”

She had to smile.

“And are you going to let the opinion of these strangers rule your life?”

She smiled wider. “No.”

“Then let’s go.”

~~~~~

“I’m not even going to point anyone out to you.” They were settled at the bar, waiting for menus, and Ellie couldn’t help but stare. The bar, the room, the people, this whole place? It felt like she was transported into a magical fantasy world; everything was gleaming, gilded bar shining in the chandeliers, beautiful people carrying fancy martinis without spilling a drop.

“Why, no octogenarians here for you to mock me with?”

“No, I looked.” He ducked his head to hide the smile. He looked perfectly at ease, sprawled over a bar stool, roguishly handsome with the jacket and the hair and the self-assured smirk. Ellie felt like a fish out of water.

“I don’t fit in here, Colt.”

He swiveled his stool to look at her. “Of course we do.”

“How are you so sure about that?”

“Well, I know that, regardless, we could steal any of their cars. It helps.”

Ellie cracked up, throwing her hands over her mouth to tamp down the noise that escaped her mouth. This was not the kind of place where the noise that escaped her mouth was allowed; this was a place of restrained luxury, where quiet conversations and the delicate tinkle of silverware on plates were the only noises welcome. 

“Excuse me, but you have the most beautiful laugh.”

Ellie turned in shock to the man sitting next to her, She hadn’t even noticed him when she slid into the stool but now she couldn’t look away. She knew LA was full of attractive people but this guy was handsome. Dark eyes, dark hair, lips curving over blindingly white teeth. She definitely did not expect this when she got here.

“What a line,” Colt grumbled under his breath.

Ellie ignored him in favor of her sweetest smile. “Thank you.”

“I’m Jack,” He held out a hand, which she shook, eyes wide. Strong handshake, confident. Damn. Mercy Park Crew, who?

“I’m Ellie.” 

“Oh boy.” 

Ellie quickly swiveled to glare at Colt before turning back to her other side.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Jack didn’t seem to notice Colt’s dour face on her other side; Ellie silently thanked any and all deities she could think of.

“Sure!”

Jack leaned over to speak softly to the bartender while Ellie wondered if she agreed too enthusiastically. Was she supposed to play hard to get? What did one do in these situations?

Then, she grimaced when she realized the bartender was sliding her a glass of wine. She could feel Colt shaking his head next to her.

Oh well. In for a penny, out for a pound. She took a sip and had to bite her tongue to force it down. Dear God, this was awful. It tasted like someone poured perfume into gasoline. What the hell was this stuff?

Jack didn’t seem to notice the expression on her face but Colt definitely did, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. With a huff, she rotated in her seat so she was facing Jack, trying to ignore the distraction behind her.

“So do you come here often?”

Colt groaned and Ellie sighed. She was going to kill him. “First time actually, yourself?”

“I come here a bit; I live just up the block.” Jack leaned closer, conspiratorially. “I actually knew you’ve never been here before; I definitely would have noticed you if you were a regular.”

Ellie flushed. Colt snorted. Ellie’s hand clenched into a fist, almost an automatic reaction to an annoying stimulus, and she tried to calculate how long it would take him to walk back to the shop. Not long enough.

“So what do you do, Ellie?”

“I’m in school.” She realized what she admitted when Jack’s face fell. “College. I’m in college. Senior year. Uhh…..UCLA.”

“What are you studying?”

“Uhhh….business?” She could hear a thud behind her. It sounded like Colt hitting his head on the bar.

“That’s awesome.” Jack leaned in closer and rested his chin on his hand.

“So what do you do?”

“Other than be the luckiest guy in the world to meet you tonight?” Ellie flushed as he took a sip of his wine before resting a strong forearm on the bar. Ellie was sure her face was bright red; no one ever hit on her. “I’m a lawyer for a television station. Contracts, intellectual property, all that boring stuff.”

“That sounds really interesting actually.”

“Boring.” Colt had obviously picked his head off the bar to resume his snide commentary. She was about to reply to Jack when she heard a muttered “Whoa” behind her. Colt tried to grab her arm, a quick touch to her elbow, but she shook him off.

He then coughed behind her. She ignored him.

He coughed louder, again. Ellie sucked in a breath through her teeth and continued to look away. At this point, she was winning the ‘Ignore Colt Olympics’ and she sure wasn’t going to give up her medal.

Apparently, he didn’t like that. He kicked her stool, hard; Ellie pitched forward and was barely able to catch herself by slamming her palm onto the bar. 

She whirled to see him frantically slashing a hand across his neck. “Colt, what the hell?”

“Abort, abort, this is bad, let’s go.”

She leaned in closer to his face. “Are you kidding me? I am actually not shooting myself in the foot for-”

“No, you don’t understand, he’s-”

Jack stood next to her, sliding off the bar stool from an imposing height. “Uhh, do you know him?”

She rubbed her forehead. “Unfortunately. Sorry, my friends are kinda embarrassing.”

“Hah.” Colt scoffed. “At least your friends aren’t married.”

“What? What are you talking-” She trailed off as she watched Jack’s face fall. Her eyes darted to his left hand; there was no ring but a very obvious tan line marked where one apparently was a fixture on his finger. “What the hell?”

Jack sighed. “I can explain…”

Ellie jumped up, mouth open in shock.

She was about to lay into him, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, when the woman on the other side of him leaned over, long blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “He can explain.” The look on her face was severe, voice serious. “I’m his wife. We are looking for a third to join us. Interested?”

Ellie just stared, blinking, gaping; was she drunk? Off one sip of wine? She was drunk, wasn’t she? Did they just ask her-?

Colt found his voice first. “Holy shit. Plot twist.”

~~~~~

“I cannot believe…” Ellie huffed the words out around a hot dog. After their rapid escape from the bar, Colt complained so vigorously that he would die without sustenance that they stopped into the 7-11 for food.

Colt shrugged. “You could have knocked out a lot of firsts tonight. First kiss, first threesome…”

“Shut up.” She knocked her shoulder into his before taking another sip of her Slurpee to try to mask the bitter taste of wine and defeat on her tongue. Whatever the magical combination of chemicals and sugar that were contained in the 7-11 elixir, it was working, tasting far better than the stupid wine.

“What?” He edged his shoulder right back into hers, a warm shove. “You didn’t want to go home with the plastic couple in there?”

“Urgh. No, thank you. I came with you, I’m leaving with you.”

His walking slowed as he looked at her, face softening into something that almost would have been affection, if it were on anyone else. She stopped, turning to him with a question in her eyes, as his eyes traced her face.

“You have some…” His thumb reached up to brush against her face, lingering over her lip. His eyes were focused on where his finger was on her face but, even worse, it was all she was focused on, every cell leaping at the gentle pressure, strangely intimate, the busy sidewalk and ritzy crowd fading to nothing. Her stomach fell to her toes, like she was on a roller coaster, the weightless swoop from flying over the precipice into an unseen fall.

“Colt?”

He dropped his arm as if he were shocked. “You…umm….you had some ketchup. On your face.”

“Thanks?” It was more squeak than speech.

He turned to the car, ears red, opening the door and practically throwing himself into the seat. “Don’t mention it.”

Ellie didn’t bring it up, not at all through the ride back to the shop, but she thought about it the entire way, the sudden warmth in her stomach unfamiliar and weird and not entirely unpleasant. By the time she pulled into the bay, she could almost pass it off as a momentary weakness, a never-to-be-repeated softness from the abrasive force climbing out of her passenger seat.

She clambered out after him, clutching her Slurpee, the sugar still sharp on her tongue after the wine, sweetness always stronger after a bitter bite. She tossed the cup into the trash, watching him wander over to his bike, shoulders tense. 

“Hey.” Her voice carried through the empty shop. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No problem. Sorry about the guy.”

Ellie shrugged. “Probably better we didn’t get involved.”

“Yeah.” He grinned at her but his eyes were far away. She was going to ask, to probe, but he continued, talking fast. “Well, have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too.” She nodded and turned to go to her car.

Two steps and she looked over her shoulder, smiling to see he was still watching her. She grinned wider and was gratified when she saw his eyes start to shine and crinkle at the corners, an actual smile from him.

Five more steps and she turned again, giving him a wave when she caught his eye. 

And one more look as she got in the car door, laughing at his exasperated “Good night, Ellie.”

She had a smile on her face the whole way home. It actually was a good night.

Tags:  @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard@thefarrari@client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt@brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira@desiree-0816 @leelee10898@maxwellsquidsuit@liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth@omgjasminesimone @waytooattuned @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

#playchoices fanfic #choices rod #colt kaneko #colt x mc #amy writes

[rizlowwritessortof]

Riz’s Master List

Master List under the cut, updated 3/14/2020 - in case y’all are bored or anything... :)

CHAPTER FICS

Never Look Back

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 21 chapters

Bethany Rae Cooper didn’t realize when she met the Winchesters in her family’s bar and grill that her life would never be the same. But she’s always believed that everything happens for a reason, even if it’s not exactly what you were expecting…

The Shadow’s Edge

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 17 chapters

Sequel to Never Look Back. When the demon Dameon was killed, Dean and Beth thought their son was safe from the prophecy. But when Cas brings them news of the new battle for Hell, they realize that their war has just begun.

The Fine Line

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 34 chapters

An unexpected tragedy sends Devon down the dark path of hate and vengeance, but she will learn that things are not always what they seem…

Scars

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Sequel to The Fine Line. Dean and Devon’s relationship has always been stormy - but can they work through the scars of their past to find each other again?

Stars In the Darkness

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A crushing loss brings Dean and Sam to Sioux Falls, and ghosts from the past and present bring them across the path of Tiara, a girl they haven’t seen since childhood.

Dreaming

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 5 chapters

Dean Winchester has always been a bit of a thorn in Kelsey’s side - a very attractive thorn, but still… A visit at her uncle Bobby’s reunites her with the boys, and she begins having vivid dreams - about Dean. Is it just her subconscious trying to tell her something? Or is there more to it than that?

My Unimportant Little Life

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 11 chapters

Season 5 timeline. Dean gets yanked from 2009 to 2014, so he can see the ‘consequences’ of saying no to Michael. At Camp Chitaqua he meets Reggie, and is surprised to find that she comes from 2009 as well…

Back In the Saddle

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Dean and Sam are back in the old west again - in answer to a cry for help from Samuel Colt. And if Dean just happens to get tangled up with the spirited redhead that owns the saloon… what’s the harm, right?

Sweet Escape

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life? This one’s dedicated to my friend, Liz, who gave me the idea. If only…

Sweet Escape Part 1

Sweet Escape Part 2

Shut Up and Drive

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

Reader teases Dean while he’s driving, so - he gets even

Part 1 - Keep Your Eyes on the Road

Part 2 - Or We Could Park - Parking Is Good Too

Take the Long Way Home

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A look at Dean and Rusty’s relationship, in the present and through their memories. Flashbacks/memories are in italics.

Black Velvet

Demon!Dean/Female Reader, Dean/Female Reader, 9 chapters

You and Sam are broken after Dean’s death. Nobody expected him to come back with black eyes…

Fade to Black

Dean/Female Reader, 11 chapters

Sequel to Black Velvet. Dean is no longer a demon, but he’s still cursed with the Mark of Cain, and the lure of that darkness grows stronger as time goes on.

Dean and Toby Series

Part 1 - The Meet-Cute (Actually Rescue but Whatever)

Part 2 - The Emergency Bed-Share/Move In With Us Combo

Part 3 - The Hit and Then Run Like Your Ass Is On Fire

Part 4 - The FINALLY Admit Your True Feelings and Get Busy

GENERIC FICS

I’m Good

This is the story that was published in the Seasons - Supernatural Short Story Anthology in 2017. Bobby sharing some memories.

ONE-SHOTS - DEAN

Combo Shot

Dean/Female Reader

June 2015 GIEPP (Girl In Every Port Project) entry. Prompt: Pool/Poker hustler competitive chick. Pretty much pure smut.

A Hunter Walks Into a Bar

Dean/Female OC

Prowling hunter, sassy bartender

Shelter

Dean/Female Reader

Dean providing comfort

That’s How It Should Be

Sheriff!Dean/Female Reader

They have to make a fast escape, but Dean won’t let being on horseback stand in the way of showing a lady a good time

The Storm

Dean/Female Reader

You’re terrified of storms, and Dean is concerned, feelings get shared

Pest Control

Dean/Female Reader

You think you’ve got mice. The exterminator that shows up is Dean Winchester. He’ll just let you believe that, and take care of the problem. And you.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Dean/Female OC (KK)

Fluffy, smutty birthday fic written for a friend

Gunpowder and Dean

Dean/Female Reader

You’re pissed off at Dean, taking it out on the firing range, but he just won’t leave you alone…

Juicy and Delicious

Dean/Female Reader

My entry for Dean’s Flavor of the Month fic challenge - Peach Pie. You bake some peach pies for Dean, and he’s very grateful…

Lost In You

Dean/Female Reader

A casual flirtation leads to a violent encounter, and Dean’s reaction is a little more than you expected. Warning for brief description of attempted (unsuccessful) assault. Protective Dean.

What You Need

Dean/Female Reader

You’re watching as Sam and Dean prepare to interrogate a demon. Dean knows you’re watching him, and he knows exactly the kind of effect it’s having on you…

Santa Claus Is Coming Tonight

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s really getting into the Christmas spirit…

I Need You

Dean/Female Reader

You screwed up, Sam got hurt, Dean’s pissed and you aren’t handling it very well.

Snow Day

Dean/Female Reader

You and Dean, stuck in a motel room in a blizzard

Frisk Me

Dean/Female Cop Reader

You’re a cop, in hot pursuit of a murderer, and guess who crosses your path?

Comfort

Dean/Female Reader

Dean had a rough hunt, and he’s beating himself up as usual. You take his mind off things for a little while…

When I Think About You

Dean/Female Reader

It was a wild hunt, and you’re both a little high-strung. Surely there’s some way to blow off some steam…

One Finger

Dean/Female Reader

Dean Winchester has never been one to back down from a challenge

What Makes You Feel Alive

Endverse!Dean/Female Reader

The world is bleak, the struggle endless after Croatoan. You and Dean do what you have to do to keep going.

Sweet Misery

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

My entry for Bev’s Song Challenge - song prompt was Cryin’ by Aerosmith, lyrics at the beginning

Winchesters Don’t Giggle

Dean/Female Reader

A friend and I were having this discussion about giving Dean a back rub, and whether he might be ticklish…

Confession

Dean (Priest!Dean)/Female Reader

When Dean returns from some undercover work, you discover a fantasy you never realized you had

The Bait

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s (now on her 100th url as @cavillanche - Love you, Jess!) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘dressing up as an anime character for his birthday.’ And I have to admit, I really enjoyed this one… Reader dresses as Sailor Mars (from Sailor Moon) for Dean’s birthday.

Hey, Man - Nice Shot

Dean/Female Reader

This is for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘competitiveness in the shooting range (loser cleans the kitchen for a week) No smut.

Take the Pain Away

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. Prompt was ‘him taking care of you when you’re sick.’ Reader falls victim to a migraine, and Dean helps her through it. No smut.

Lose Yourself

Dean/Female Reader

Smut, pure and simple… Just imagine having Dean tied up, at your mercy while you worship those perky nipples…

The Contest

Dean/Female Reader

Dean loves to give you a hard time, and one night he pushes things a little too far… Flashback in italics. All’s well that ends well.

Slow Ride

Dean (Bullriding!Dean) /Reader

Yeah, after 12x11, y'all should have known this was coming - they don’t call me Cowgirl for nothing… Written (coincidentally - timing is everything!) for the Smut Apocalypse (Smut Appreciation Day) on Tumblr.

The Photo Booth

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

This was written for @winchestersandwordprocessors SPN Valentine’s Fic Challenge. Prompt was Semi-public/Risk of getting caught.

Make You Mine

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s jealousy gets the best of him, which is not a bad thing…

Take a Chance

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

In 7x04, Dean gives himself a little pep talk before his planned hook-up with the bartender. That scene is what inspired me. This one is more important than the usual one-nighters, and it’s making him a little nervous…

If We Don’t Make It

Dean/Female OC

This fic was written for @whispersandwhiskerburn Angel’s 2K Follower Celebration. My song prompt was “Broken” by Lifehouse, and the dialogue prompt was “If we don’t make it out of this, I need you to know…” No smut.

My Deliverer

Dean/Female Spirit - Her POV

Dean is hunting a vengeful spirit. But another spirit is in this place, and she is drawn to him…

Friendly Advice

Dean/Female Reader - Dean POV, Reader POV

This was written for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Mimi’s RomCom Fluff Challenge. The fluff got a little smudged into smutty fun… oops! Two POV’s, Dean’s thoughts are in italics and Reader’s are in regular font.

Old Times

Dean/Female OC

Sequel a few years down the road from A Hunter Walks Into a Bar. Tiara goes back to the bar for a visit, and who should show up the next night but Dean Winchester… Flashback in italics.

You Can Leave Your Hat On

Dean/Female Reader (nicknamed Taz)

Inspired by the sexy AF Cowboy!Dean we were treated to in 13x06 Tombstone. Helped along by Joe Cocker’s rendition of “You Can Leave Your Hat On.“

Wish Her the Best

Dean/Female OC - Dean’s POV

This is an angsty li'l fic inspired by Thomas Rhett’s ‘Marry Me,’ tore at my heart until I finally wrote it. No smut.

A Matter of… Time?

Dean/Female Reader

This is the crackiest piece of work I’ve ever written - for @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO Quotes Challenge. Prompt was “Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?” - “Umm - no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.”

Demon Seed

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

Demon!Dean stops in for a drink and decides he wants you. He’s very persuasive. Written for @evansrogerskitten’s Hottest Dean Challenge.

Not Wasted Now

Dean/Female Reader

When you all decide to get drunk in the aftermath of a bad hunt, lines get a little blurred. Or crossed. Or fucking erased. Fluffy, smutty, comforting, sweet and sexy Dean.

Bad Guy

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @eyes-of-a-disney-princess Rapunzel’s Tangled Up With Supernatural Challenge. My Tangled quote was “You want me to be the bad guy? Fine, now I’m the bad guy.”

Shiny

Trucker!Dean/Female OC

Trucker!Dean AU. Breaker, breaker, got your ears on? 67 Midnight Rider, put that hammer down…

Some Kind of Hero

Dean/Female OC

Written for Tiff’s WTF Challenge. Dean’s just filling up Baby, minding his own business, when he hears an argument and gets involved. Protective Dean, no smut, left that to your imagination.

Crave

Dean/Female Reader

So, have some ‘Riz is craving some sexy Dean action with a big ol’ side of schmoopy fluff’ stuff. Because I was, and I’m sharing with you - the smut and all the sickenly sweet cuddly that I just need sometimes. If y'all are in the mood for that kind of thing.

Perchance to Dream

Dean/Female OC

Using African dream root on a case leads to an awkward situation, and Karlie can’t handle the tension between her and Dean any longer

Ruined

Dean/Female Reader

Dean comes home from a hunt, and he’s had something on his mind…

Going Home

Dean/Female Reader

Written for @crispychrissy’s Gif It To Me Challenge. Overhearing only part of a conversation sends her running, but jumping to conclusions without the whole story isn’t the best decision. No smut.

Not the Smartest Thing

Dean/Female Reader - Reader POV

Only Dean Fucking Winchester could turn taking a swig of beer into pornography. Cocky bastard. But two can play at that game.

Suzy Q

Dean/Female OC - OC POV

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan’s Multi-fandom Follower Celebration Challenge. Prompt - “I think I’m having a feeling. How do I make it stop?”

Invisible Touch

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Rowena teaches Dean something new, and he gets inspired. I have no idea where this came from, but here it is…

Maybe I’m Amazed

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

An accident leaves her unconscious and fighting for her life in the hospital, drifting in and out of awareness and memories as Dean refuses to leave her side. Written for @rockhoochie’s 1K Love Supernatural Style Writing Challenge.

Reunion

Dean/Female OC

Passing through town, Dean runs into an old high school classmate. Fluffy and smutty, no angst here!

Playing With Fire

MOC!Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Late Season 10 MOC!Dean smut fic that just wouldn’t leave me alone…

Uninvited

Michael!Dean/Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Michael gives Dean a choice, because sometimes Michael likes to watch…This one is darker than my normal, PLEASE heed the warnings.

What Happens At the Roadhouse…

Early-Season Dean/Female OC

Bailey’s just looking for a couple days post-hunt R&R at Harvelle’s - and then he shows up. Cocky bastard.

ONE-SHOTS - SAM

Just a Little Story About Lou and Sam

Sam/Female OC

Lou and Sam walk into a bar… written for a friend who’s a Sammy girl

Doctor-Patient Relations

Sam/Female OC

One-shot inspired by The Born-Again Identity - sick Sammy and Dr. Nicole. Written for another Sammy-girl friend

DRABBLES

Head vs. Heart

No title

Fourth of July

Working Saturday Isn’t So Bad

11x17 Drabble

Some Nights He Dreams

Most of the Time

The Name Game

God Bless America

Stress Relief

@mrs-squirrel-chester ‘s Album Fanfic Writing Challenge Drabbles

    Dangerous

    For My Brother

    In Chains

    Kiss and Tell

    The End of Me

    Choices

    Hero

    Pure

    In the End

#riz's master list

[snkpolls]

SnK Chapter 119 Poll Results

The chapter 119 poll closed with 2,021 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated! 

RATE THE CHAPTER 1,942 Responses

This chapter was a roller coaster of action and emotional turmoil, clearly affecting the majority of the fandom, with 92.7% of respondents giving it either a 4 or a 5 rating. 

Well, Isayama. Mission accomplished. This chapter did phenomenally hurt me.

Colt became one of my new favorite characters. This is the only series where I can say I'm happy one of my favorites is dead, because that means they don't have to suffer anymore... 

don't lose your head now, we are almost in the end

Entertaining chapter, but with some glaring inconsistencies

To me, it was one of the most nerve wracking, emotional, and plot twist chapters that I've ever read in this series.

Isayama one of the madman. That's it. That's the whole thoughts.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT? 1,949 Responses

Our top three fave moments were Colt hugging Falco as he transformed (28.7%), Gabi shooting Eren (21.3%) and Porco sacrificing himself to save Falco and Reiner (17.1%).

Eren getting his head blown off is my favorite manga moment since the Armored/Colossal Titan reveal... hands down. Might be even better, depends on what happens next

The Zeke scream was my favorite moment. It was so epic, I just can't wait for the anime to use YouSeeBigGirl or 2volt in this scene. It's my favorite moment as a manga reader after Willy Tybur's speech

Colt died a selfless, loyal big brother, and that's all there is to say about that.

Eren getting his head blown off is the best thing to ever happen. We know it means jack shit for him, but we got soooo many great memes. It's a good time to be alive.

I never really had strong opinions on Colt before, but he is 100% best Oniisan, being with his frightened younger brother til the end

Porco went too soon 😢

This poll was also inconsistent this month, I couldn’t vote for Pyxis drinking as my favourite moment.

WHO WAS THIS CHAPTER’S MVP? 1,941 Responses

With so many characters to choose from, it’s surprising but exciting that Porco won this chapter MVP by a landslide. Perhaps even more surprising, however, is Gabi coming in at #2. 

I'm so proud Porco. 

#GabiGang rise up!

I’m glad that everyone’s eyes have been opened to the fact that Porco is - was - a great character 

Colt was too good for this world. 

 Gabi shoot Eren’s head off was strangely cathartic

Porco the real mvp and you all know it

Even though I don't like Porco, and never have, I will admit he was kind of the MVP this round. Reiner kicked more ass than he did at every given opportunity, dude was kinda useless tbh, so it's cool that he finally served some kind of purpose.

Badass Gabi is best Gabi

The Grice brothers were the only Marleyans I liked from the get-go, so this chapter was yet another wrench in the heart (thanks again, Yams!) Colt was totally the MVP in this entire arc, as far as I'm concerned. His last words to Falco were absolutely heartbreaking. My poor boys. :( Falco's guilt will be devastating to see.

Never cared about Porco before. But this time...

*crying like an idiot*

WHICH MEMBER OF THE 104TH HAD THE BEST SHOWING THIS CHAPTER? 1,919 Responses

The members of the 104th are finally out of jail and back in action!  47.5% think Armin’s epic use of a thunder spear shot him into first place, while 33% think Mikasa, who went to fight the Cart along with him was the standout.

Armin was so cool this chapter <3

Connie & Jean was unexpected

Floch just die already...

So one of Armin's major characteristics throughout the manga up until this point has been him whining about how weak he is and how he never gets better at the gear and how he's such a burden, and now, suddenly, miraculously, he's keeping up with an Ackerman.  Amazing plot armor there, Isayama, truly amazing.  It certainly would be nice if the other side got even half the advantages that the Paradise crew does.  Imagine what a fair and balanced battle would look like!

Mah boi Floch seems to be the only survivor of the attack on the carttitan... he definetly knows how to survive

I love the Armin and Mikasa duo action. I also hope Armin will transform soon

Armin now is so close to Magath. I want to see him try to negotiate with him, but I also want to see him go colossal already ahhhh.

floch suffers again

ARUMIKA GANG, RISE UP. JEANCON GANG, RISE UP.

I miss Sasha :(

WHICH WARRIOR HAD THE BEST SHOWING THIS MONTH? 1,941 Responses

The warriors got a lot of action as well as emotional play this month, and though polls in the past have shown Porco as unpopular, 59.4% of you chose him as the MVP among his comrades.  11.4% think Colt finally stood out from the crowd, 9.7% selected Gabi, and 8.6% chose the sufferboi Reiner.

Best bois: Porco and Colt Best girl: Gab Gab

M V PIECK!!

All of them? Seriously they all did great this chapter despite literally half of these kids dying or being in danger.

I was truly surprised by gabi shooting eren, but god that was awesome i loved it

I hadn’t even liked Porco or Colt before but damn did they earn my respect.

mad props to Gabi for being such a badass that she was able to dig Colt’s rifle out from under his burnt body in order to fire on Eren. Being able to think so clearly and take action even under the weight of her horror and grief was incredible. 

Originally Falco was the only non-Paradis character I liked. Now we can all Colt to that list. Shame he had to die in order for me to feel this way.

Falco was the only one who didn't do a whole lot this chapter but a large majority of them got a moment to be recognized as the type of person they are.

WHICH BROTHERLY PAIRING SPOKE TO YOU THE MOST THIS CHAPTER? 1,945 Responses

Colt trying to do everything in his power to protect Falco is what touched the majority of the fandom’s hearts, earning them a solid 80% of the vote. At a very distant second, 10.2% of the fandom were most emotionally touched by Eren and Zeke’s desperation to make contact with each other, only to be ruthlessly denied in the end. 

I think Colt and Falco scene was one of the best scenes in all manga, so emotional

WILL REINER EVER SUCCEED IN KILLING HIMSELF? 1,941 Responses

Sorry, Reiner, but most (90.8%) of us don’t think you’re going to have any success in ending your own life.  ….But look on the bright side: 11.9% think that maybe you’ll get lucky and somebody else will kill you! 

Let Reiner die in peace already, Isayama!

I love that my baby boy Reiner is still alive. 😭

No wonder Reiner wanted to be like Marcel, at least that kid didn't fail at suicide.

ON A SCALE OF "DEAR GOD!" TO "I'VE SEEN WORSE" HOW HORRIFYING WAS FALCO’S TITAN? 1,944 Responses

64% of the fandom veered towards “Dear god!” in response to Falco’s horrific titan form. Only 7.6% replied with confidence that they’d seen worse.

Falco’s titan looks like a hybrid of Cheese from Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and Dead Hand from Legend of Zelda: OOT. So horrifying that I can’t not look at it.

 Falco gets a medal for having the creepiest mindless titan. 

MAN F****** that jaw titan is a problem!

Two things I did not need to see this chapter were Falco's mindless titan form and a decapitated Eren. So much horror, so little beauty…

Why are Falco’s Titan’s teeth in hIS NOSE WTF

WHO WOULD YOU HAVE PREFERRED FALCO TO EAT OF THE TWO? 1,929 Responses

Porco oh so barely edged out Reiner as the person we’d most prefer Falco to have eaten. Looking at the comments, popularity had nothing to do with this. Rather many people seemed to think that dying for Falco was a more fitting gesture for Reiner’s arc.

Disappointing because the Jaws died. Reiner easily could’ve got out his nape and let Falco eat him, we didn’t need to lose Porco. 

I feel bad for reiner, becouse he could get his redemtion and complete his perfect development and he lost this oportunity,

I WANT PORCO BACK

i'm pretty frustrated that falco didn't get the armored titan, half because i want reiner to finally have some peace and also because i really wanted to see an armored titan falco.

WHICH CHARACTER HAD THE MOST MOVING SWAN SONG? 1,933 Responses

38.8% of respondents were moved the most this chapter by Colt and Falco’s brotherly love for one another. 26.2% most enjoyed Porco’s sacrifice that couldn’t have happened without a little classic Porco sass. 18.5% are really feeling it for Nile and how he tried to save one child while knowing he’ll never see his own again. Pixis, at least you were still able to enjoy one last swig. 

I liked Pixis accepting his fate while Zeke screamed

WHILE COLT'S DECISION TO STAY WITH FALCO WAS TRAGICALLY BEAUTIFUL, IT DIDN'T SERVE A LOT OF PURPOSE. IN YOUR OPINION, IT WAS... 1,942 Responses

In a chapter filled with so much death, does Colt’s stand out? Was it even necessary? 47.2% feel that his decision to stay by his brother’s side was understandable but unreasonable given the circumstances. 36.1% went with the simple explanation of “Tragic”, where only 8.8% thought his choice was 100% heroic.

I cried when Colt hugged Falco

Colt....I understand you're distraught about your precious lil bro being titanized, but there's a snackalicious founding titan running towards a fuzzy ass monkey, you could've helped in SOME way! 

Anyways Colt’s death although it wasn’t necessary was very moving for me, which is the first time anyone from Marley except Falco has provoked any feelings in me to be honest.

Colt is getting unreasonable amount of crap for choosing to stay by Falco's side.  I don't blame Colt at all, for seeing no immediate master plan to keep going. His instincts went right to big brother mode, to a self-sacrificing degree. And god help you if you can't appreciate that kind of beauty without feeling the need to say how much better you would have done yourself.

I was shocked to see Colt die so soon, but at the same time, I can understand why he made the sacrifice here, and it was an emotional highpoint for me in this chapter. It's going to be sad seeing Falco's reaction when he learns what has become of his brother, but I think he will understand just how much Colt cared about him

Colt's decision to stay with Falco as the later was turning into a Pure Titan was unreasonable considering the heat of the transformation nearby would kill him, but he must've thought this was the only option left because he thought no one else would save Falco (he especially would never expect Porco to sacrifice himself for Falco) and thus couldn't bear to see his beloved brother be cursed into a Pure Titan, so he just wanted to be with Falco in what he thought would be the latter's true final moments as a human.

PORCO'S DECISION TO SACRIFICE HIMSELF WAS COMPOSED OF MANY FACTORS, BUT WHICH ONE DO YOU THINK STOOD OUT THE MOST? 1,915 Responses

Hearing Colt and Zeke’s back and forth about the lengths they’re willing to go to in order to ensure their little brother’s safety is what 44.6% of the fandom believes most motivated Porco to sacrifice himself to Falco. 25.7% felt that he was pushed the most by his unwillingness to meaninglessly die and have his titan power go to waste. For the remainder of the fandom, just a few more believe that his intent was to protect Reiner rather than saving Falco.

Porco only wanted to feel validated. He died because he was in a situation where he knew he wouldn’t survive, and once he knew the truth and felt validated, he was ready to let go and die. This is why in his final line he says that in the end, he was better than Reiner. Knowing the truth was enough for him to finally stop trying to be the best, to stop trying to show his worth, and to finally accept the fact that he couldn’t keep fighting in this battle.

If we're being honest, I was surprised to see Porco die. I wasn't expecting any of that. At least he can finally be at peace with his brother tho.

Porco’s sacrifice was one of the most noble we’ve seen so far in the series and showed a lot of character development. He’ll be sorely missed!

PORCO'S FIRST AND LAST LINES IN THE STORY WERE AIMED AT REINER. DO YOU THINK THEIR RELATIONSHIP CHANGED OVER THE TIME WE'VE WITNESSED IT? 1,918 Responses

The results were nearly split, with 34.8% of respondents feeling that Reiner and Porco’s relationship was starting to improve after Liberio, with the potential to become even better, while 34.1% felt that Porco let go of every negative feeling he had for Reiner when he realized the truth of Marcel’s sacrifice. 16.6% feel there wasn’t enough screen time to form an opinion, and 14.5% believe there was no change in dynamic by the end. 

DO YOU AGREE WITH THE THEORIES THAT EREN HAS ALREADY ACTIVATED THE COORDINATE POWER? 1,922 Responses

While close to half the fandom believe that Coordinate power is still dormant in Eren, more than a third believe that there was enough strangeness this month to indicate that Eren has either touched Zeke already or had some other means of accessing the Coordinate power. 

The entire chapter felt... off. Pixis teleporting from outside to inside drinking, Eren’s brotherhood of traveling pants, the whole Magath and Pieck thing, it just... seems weird.

Eren couldn't be using the coordinate rn simple because he needs royal blood... 

I can go either way on the inconstancies, all of them seem like reasonable mistakes for a rushed chapter. But that also makes them just subtle enough to actually be clues that paths shit is happening

I think that the battle shown is a false battle created by the founding titans power and the real battle will be shown to an earlier Eren through a memory

I highly, HIGHLY doubt Eren pulled off some War Hammer Titan shenanigans or activated the Founding Titan's power beforehand to make it out of Gabi's shot. The stuff doesn't add up for these two.

WHAT WAS THE MOST GLARING SEEMING INCONSISTENCY? 1,912 Responses

“All of the above” was the favorite response to the question of inconsistencies in this chapter. Of those who made a choice, “Eren’s clothes magically reappearing” was the top pick (27.2%) followed by Pieck’s quick transformation after creating a skeletonized titan form last chapter  (13.9%). While we listed several of the inconsistencies we’d noticed, the write-ins contained even more

All the above plus Porco changing out of a garrison uniform to a SC uniform

Bert's crater, and the waterway. But I want to say Eren's clothes because that has been inconsistent for 2 or 3 chapters now iirc, memory manipulation incoming.

Commander Pixis was out and suddenly was inside with other people who drank the spinal fluid

Eren getting hit by the Titan rifle by Magath and then suddenly being okay just after that.

Eren magically getting his shoes back after they got bit off by the jaws

Gabi being in the exact right place at the exact right time. If Eren had to "die" that couldn't have been set up better?

It might be me, but Gabi with the titan rifle.  More so "how" she got it, as we can infer it was Colt's.  The problem being that Colt had it on his back even after Falco's transformation.  Being underneath a burning body (RIP Colt) and being in operable condition, it just seems off to me.

Mikasa magically changed positions at one point way too fast to be possible 

No one seems to have mentioned that Gabi's hair is down when she shot Eren

Pixis teleporting from riding a horse to chilling with a drink

Reiner's sudden in-Titan beard is what got me

The three false connections between Eren's clothes (we see once he has a white shirt in his titan, once he is naked and once he had in fact his usual "sweatshirt") I mean, come on, decide on what the boy's wearing Yams.

The Gabi riding a horse wasn't really a "inconsistency" because she spent a month in those Braus stables so of course she'll learn how to ride one in a month.

FALCO FINALLY BECAME A TITAN, SURPRISING NO ONE. OF THE FOLLOWING NAMED MINDLESS “PURE” TITANS, WHICH WILL BE THE ONE FUELING YOUR NIGHTMARES? 1,922 Responses

Perhaps it could be recency bias, but Falco takes the top spot with 31.2% of the fandom deeming him as the most “nightmare fuel” of the pure titans we listed above. 25.4% still abhor the “flaming turkey” or “meatloaf” titan that is Rod Reiss. 20.3% are forever haunted by the Gluttonous Titan.

Armin titan will forever fuel my nightmares, he ate best boi Bertl

Manga Rod Reiss's Titan didn't do much for me. Anime version was the stuff of fucking nightmares.

BEST NAME FOR FALCO'S TITAN FORM? 1,900 Responses

With an… interesting new titan design, it’s time to name it! Just edging out Big Bird, Pac-Man titan is the winner! Third place goes to Muppet Waka Waka, followed by Bob’s Burger Titan.

Absolute Chad

Austrailian Shitposter

Beavis Titan

Canadian Titan

Cheese from Fosters

Giraffe Man Titan

Incel Titan

Leafy Titan

My ex wife

Pelican Titan

Rubber Chicken Titan

YOU GUYS ARE MEAN

DID ZEKE CARE ABOUT COLT OR FALCO? 1,940 Responses

Zeke, who’s not known for his empathy as a defining trait, heard out Colt when he pleaded for Zeke to spare his little brother. 54.8% of you think Zeke cared a little bit, 30.8% thinks he cared a lot, and 14.4% thinks he didn’t care one bit.

When I say Zeke cared a little about Falco and Colt, I do mean *a little*. Like, the littlest little you can care about someone before you care not at all. If Zeke caring  was a scale of 0 to 100, he cared about at about a 4. 

I really thought Zeke wasnt going to scream

Zeke was self-righteous as usual, nothing new here.

Zeke just shattered his belief that anyone cared enough to possibly aid him in his personal goal to help his little brother.

I think HE thinks he cares, but he’s more attached to the idea of himself as a person who cares and is acting out of compassion for the greater good of eldians and the world, and the truth is he doesn’t have any actual attachment and fondness for them as individuals. The trauma of betraying his parents and eating Xaver rendered him basically incapable of forming true bonds of affection.

Colt developed a considerable bond with the person who was supposed to give him his Titan power in the near future, he had the impression Zeke was not the kind of person to put a child in dire situations, so he tried to remind him of that. He never thought Zeke would do the impossible and turn his brother into a Pure Titan despite telling him the situation. The shock on Colt's face when Zeke apologizes for what he is about to do really shows that.

Fuck Zeke

Maybe Zeke will have a change of heart, maybe he will sulk into a state of depression and failure. I really hope someone convinces Zeke that suffering will always permeate in this world and the only thing he can do is hope for a better ending than how this chapter ended. 

zeke is the real life definition of a nutsack

IS THE JAW TITAN’S OWNER ALWAYS DESTINED TO SACRIFICE HIM-/HERSELF? 1,909 Responses

Crazily enough, this was nearly a three-way tie! 33.4% feel that the Jaw titan wasn’t a factor at all in Marcel, Ymir and Porco’s decision to sacrifice themselves for someone else, but rather that’s just the type of people they are. 32.6% feel that the Jaw titan is absolutely a factor, and that it is a trait or the will of this titan to sacrifice itself for others. 31.4% believe that the Jaw Titan’s will drives its holders to protect the Armored Titan only. 

It better not be, because that means Falco's next. And we all know who he's constantly protecting with his life…

It‘s coincidence but it‘s ironic how everyone of them sacrificed themselves for Reiner.

I don't know but they need to stop.

It’s the shifter’s choice to sacrifice themselves. It’s not some destiny tf you smoking.

P A T H S

Zeke was given the wrong titan. That's all I have to say.

DO YOU THINK EREN HAD HOPED TO TOUCH ZEKE BEFORE HE COULD SCREAM AND TITANIZE THE MPS AND FALCO? 1,937 Responses

The majority (71.4%) of the fandom are confident that Eren’s expressions and actions are proof that he was hoping to avoid Zeke screaming and titanizing everyone who’s had a swig of the spine wine. 22.5% aren’t sure, or don’t want to say either way, while a smaller percentage feel that Eren probably didn’t care if Zeke screamed, or maybe even planned for it. 

For the first time in a while, Eren's face shows that he is not in control of the situation

I think he looked horrified when Zeke screamed, and I want to think that he hoped to use the Founding Titan's power before then. :( I'm also holding out for a reversal of this titanisation IF Eren does survive and manages to touch Zeke.

HOW DO YOU VIEW GABI'S ACTIONS? 1,941 Responses

Gabi has made some questionable decisions in the past, and has been the source of a great deal of controversy. That does not seem to be the case this time around, with ~51% of respondents acknowledging that her actions this chapter seemed to make sense, and an additional ~9% being proudly in her corner waving #GABIGANG flags. Only 8.4% thought that her character development was undone by her latest act of violence… Whether her actions were justified or not, the remaining 31.8% just hope that Gabi is kept away from guns for the foreseeable future.

Gabi's actions are perfectly understandable. She knows sees the Paradis differently but that doesn't mean she sees or understand the person who destroyed her home and killed her friend. 

Congratulations Gabi, you have a knack for finding new and inventive ways to utterly RUIN this series for me. You were a mistake that never should have been made.

Eren getting his head blown off is *chef kiss*  (Also lol karma)

Eren is my favorite character and even I was like "Gabi did nothing wrong."

LAST MONTH WHEN WE ASKED WHO WAS MOST LIKELY TO DIE, THE WINNERS (LOSERS?) WERE FLOCH (741 VOTES), THE SENIOR MILITARY (650), REINER (598), CONNIE (594), PORCO (588), AND YELENA (583). LET’S TRY AGAIN. WHO’S NEXT TO GO IN THIS BATTLE? 1,918 Responses

Magath and Peick are this month winners for most likely to die next with 20% of the vote each. Floch and Zeke follow with 17.8% and 14% of the vote respectively.

I hope mikasa and armin spare pieck.

I hope that Mikasa and Armin totally destroys Pieck in the next chapter~!

#Zeke_LIVE! #Keep_your_little_brother_safe_you_promised! 

I seriously think both Floch and Reiner are going to live to the end. These two especially seem to be really good at surviving, it's been a pattern now

I've recently noticed death flags on Louise since she was introduced, we didn't saw her in this chapter but there are chances that the poor girl will not survive until the end. 

Also I'm so glad the fandom was wrong and Falco DIDN'T eat Reiner. However, this chapter is raising massive death flags for Gabi. I hope she won't die next chapter.

Eren is too determined to die. He'll just keep going like a head-less chicken. Like those Cuccos from The Legend of Zelda that refuse to die!

I feel guilty now that in last chapter's poll when it's asked who will die i picked Eren, and now it's a possibility that he's actually dead. But I still want to hug and protect him, my son, even if he's in pieces haha

WHICH EXPECTED UNEXPECTED TWIST ISAYAMA IS GOING TO USE TO KEEP EREN ALIVE? 1,926 Responses

OMG ERENS DEAD NOOOOOOO- well, probably not. Only 5.2% think this is the end of the line for our protagonist. The two most popular options were that he transferred his consciousness, and that Bucket Girl will intervene; with 24.6% and 24.1% respectively.

A mix between being saved by the bucket girl and him transferring his consciousness throughout his body.

Eren is dead, timeloop shenanigans begin.

He uses the last of his power to shift. That, or Zeke catches his head and he uses the founder to grow a new body.

Regeneration: Deadpool style

He will have a long chat with Ymir in the PATHS dimension and rewrite history

Head lands in Zeke’s hand before his brain dies and it’s good enough to count

His consciousness is safe and sound in his left butt cheek. 

his consciousness is now in his left testicle

We need explanation about the P A T H S already! Isayama will take advantage of "Eren's death" to let him met the little girl (who everyone here suspects that is indeed Ymir Fritz) and reveal the Great Titan War, The Devil of the Earth, etc etc (and ofc the possibility of seeing him naked again lmao)

Isayama likes Game of Thrones. Therefore, like with Jon Snow, Eren will be kept dead for few chapters (preferably 3 till end of this volume). Then he rises - probably with bucket girl help.

HOW HAS YOUR OPINION ON THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERS CHANGED?

The winners for “more favorable” were Porco and Colt with each getting a huge surge in popularity. On the other side of the spectrum were Gabi and Zeke. While most selected “unchanged”, they still had the largest numbers of people indicating they viewed them less favorably after this chapter.

105: "Imma make Gabi the most hated character in the series" 119: "Hold my beer"

Every time when I'm thinking Zeke can't turn any more awful Isayama proves me wrong. That chapter is a really low blow. Just catapult him on lone island far far away from people he can hurt.

I never thought I could hate Zeke more than I already had. But after Colt absolutely humiliated himself to save Falco and Zeke just screamed...As long as Zeke’s alive horrible things will keep happening.

WHAT WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO SEE NEXT CHAPTER? 1,923 Responses

27.2% of respondents are determined to keep the focus in Shiganshina, and don’t care what happens next so long as we aren’t taken off the battlefield just yet. 25% are anxious to hear news on Levi and Hange’s whereabouts and condition. 20.4% are hopeful that Eren will recover and finally be able to touch Zeke. 10.2% are still hanging on for Annie…. Someday she’ll come out….. someday….

I want to see Yelena next. We get this chapter one panel to her and this panel was strange as fuck. Something is up with her and I have the feeling that her existence will playing a huge role in the plot. I don't know, but I hope to get a flashback to her. 

ah, yes, this was such a horrifically tragic chapter *sheds tear* .....anyway, now that eren’s injured CAN WE SEE LEVI AND HANJI ??

Chapter 120: "Oh boy, I can't wait to see what happened to Ere-" *MEANWHILE, WITH HANGE AND LEVI...*

Pls dont switch to Levi and hange next chapter

Annie's never going to show up, huh?

I'm itching to see Historia, Levi, and Hange, as always, but what I really want to see in the next chapter is Mikasa's reaction to Eren's decapitation.

Let Eren and Zeke touch already >:v

AT THIS POINT, AROUND WHICH CHAPTER DO EXPECT THE MANGA WILL CONCLUDE? 1,856 Responses

With lots of news on the ending coming out recently, from the final manga exhibition, to Season 4 being announced as the final season, discussion on where the series will end has been very common lately.  44.1% think it will end with 130, next June.  30.3% think it will end a volume later at 134 in October, the same month the final season premiers.  14.1% think it’ll still be going while the final season is airing, going to 138 or beyond.  9.3% think it will end a tad sooner, at 126 in February.

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 1,841 Responses

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER?

I think there's a possibility that Eren might be dead dead, but his legacy will live through his last wish, supposing Zeke catches his head.

At this point of the story I'm happy Annie is still chilling in her crystal, away from the bloodbath

I never would have thought we would see Falco eating Porco and obtaining the Jaw titan or seeing Eren's head just fuckin fly through the air this chapter was insane.

As much as I dislike Floch, I def do want to see what his reaction will be to Eren’s “death,” even more than I want to see Jean’s and Connie’s tbh.

What I want to know is why do all the people with more use to the story survive when guys like Niccolo who's usefulness to the story ended when the heat from Sasha's death get to stick around?

I don't think Gabi is a bad character, but to me it almost feels like she is just getting in the way of the story progressing. I do however think her actions are understandable for her character, but from a reader's perspective it annoys me.

*Whispers* Ok, but is it possible Porco's alive? and maybe Colt can pull an Armin or survive via P A T H S Magic?

Flying head memes are the best

I was astonished at what a weight it lifted off my chest and how much more forgiving I could be after seeing Eren “I’m too good to tell anyone my plan, I work alone and I’ve always hated you” Jaeger fail so hard that Zeke screamed, Connie, Jean, Armin, and Mikasa all had to save Eren, and he was “killed” by a twelve-year-old.

I actually didn't hate Gabi at first despite killing Sasha. But now whatever development she had is gone and since she is now established as a murderer, I am now aboard the "I Hate Gabi" train.

God, I really hope the next chapter is good because it's at a really pivotal point that could make or break this last arc.

I am very willing to make allowances for the inconsistencies so the chapter itself was very good in my opinion. The story progressed well, awesome action sequences, expectations subverted, suffering continued; therefore, good chapter.

I don't think Eren will return physically, but his presence will remain somehow through PATHS. The title of this manga is Shingeki no Kyojin, not Eren, so the story can resolve itself with the Attack Titan being inherited and Eren's memories explored.

It's a little rushed, but I like the idea and hope Isayama can pull these loose strands together to create an impactful finale.

I don't understand all this Gabi hate. Eren has always been a threat to her eyes : in Liberio's Festival when he brought by his actions death to her home and friends, in the room where he was odious to Armin and Mikasa and threatening them with a wound on his hand, when Pieck -who explained to her the world isn't black and white- designed him as the enemy and here, and here right before her child eyes, because of his and Zeke's plan, Gabi is there when Falco transforms into a titan, killing Colt in the process. It's understandable she was angry and reacted like that.

I know eren isnt dead, but idk how isayama is gonna pull it off without it feeling cheap

I liked it and it was very surprising! Tho it’s time Historia is shown again and Levi and Hange need to come back very soon as well.

I feel like a worrying number of readers seem to have somehow missed the fact Eren is meant to be a major antagonist of this arc lol

I'm torn over that ending. It had the potential to be such a powerful moment, but it just didn't do it for me.

I've never been so upset at a characters death before, not even Armins... Like Jean said to Eren about Marco: "Not everyone gets to go out in a blaze of glory." What a horrible way to go

Isayama delivers every single month.

Isayama. . . Eren internal monologue. . . . . . . when?

 I'm excited to see what comes next, but I'd like to jump back to characters like Levi, Hange, Annie, and Historia first so that everyone can come together for a big finale.  You can feel that the manga is reaching its conclusion.

Commander Pixis turning into a titan sigh so long dog. All the commanders except Hanje kicked the bucket

Oh boy. This chapter had me bawling. Colt and Porco' s deaths hit me hard. "Your big brother will be with you, always"....damn that hurt.

Shits going down and I'm here hoping to see Armin transforms just to piss Reiner off

Such a mindblowing chapter, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was utterly speechless when Eren's head flew off. Isayama the madlad

Interesting seeing Porco receive path memories From Eren via Porco. The coordinate is the key to getting vivid memories from past shifters which almost certainly means Eren has access to Kruger’s memories with a little help from Historia.

Wouldn't it be funny if they suddenly cut to Levi and Hange for the next few months

WOW, this chapter was absolutely nerve-wracking! This one may just be the biggest emotional roller coaster ride yet with all those major character deaths and that jaw-dropping cliffhanger!

The start of every month sees a spike in my blood pressure as well as how much I pray while opening my browser to check if the latest chapter is up. Thanks, Isayama. Not only have you made me more religious, you've also made me more stressed out about a manga than exams and applications.

#snk spoilers #snk poll #snk polls #poll results #snk 119