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Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)

Word Count: 6125

Series Rewrite Masterlist

After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.

Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“What?” you whispered.

“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.

Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.

“Start what up?” you asked.

“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.

Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.

“Alright, just remember you started it.”

“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”

“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.

“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Dean—!”

“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.

“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.

“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” you asked.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.

“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.

“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.

“Where’d you find those?” you asked.

The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”

“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.

“HellHoundsLair.com.”

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.

“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”

“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.

“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”

You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.

***

The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to.

“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.

“That’s the one,” answered Dean.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.

“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.

Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” you questioned.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

‘Oh, that’s just great.’

“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.

“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

***

You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.

“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”

Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”

“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door.

“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”

“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”

“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”

You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.

Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”

Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.

“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.

You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him.

He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”

Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.

Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”

A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.

“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said.

The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.

“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Professional what?”

The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.

The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.

“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.

You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”

“Amateurs.”

You and Dean immediately lost interest.

Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.

“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.

“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.

“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.

“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.

Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”

“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—”

“By itself,” Harry finished.

“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.

“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.

“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”

A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”

***

You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town.

“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.

“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”

“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?”

His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Hell House.”

***

Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head.

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.

You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”

You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.”

You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”

You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference.

“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.

You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”

“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.

“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.

“...I double dare you.”

Sam just shook his head and continued walking.

You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight.

“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”

Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”

Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother.

You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.

“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust.

“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.

You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“But Dean.”

“Hm.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.

Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”

You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He just grunted in response.

***

The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”

“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.

“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”

“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”

***

Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.

“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.

“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.

“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”

You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter.

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea,” you responded.

***

The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.

His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”

“So?” Dean said.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.

“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”

Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.

“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.

“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”

“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke.

“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.

“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”

Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.

“Where we going?” Dean questioned.

“To find a copy store.”

Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughed and walked after you.

“You did this?!” Sam called.

The only response he got was a laugh from his brother.

“You're a friggin jerk!”

“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.

***

After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.

“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”

You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said.

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”

Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”

Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.

“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.

“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”

Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”

“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.

You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”

“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.

“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”

“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.

“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.

You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally,” Ed nodded.

Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”

“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.

Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly.

Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”

***

You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord.

You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”

Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”

“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.

“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.

You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”

Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”

Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”

“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.

“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.

Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”

Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”

You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”

“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”

“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”

Dean grunted, “Fine.”

***

Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.

You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.

“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.

“I don't know,” Sam answered.

“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.

You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.

“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.

“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up.

“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders.

He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door.

“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.

“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.

Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.

“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.

“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.

Sam and Dean appeared behind you.

“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.

“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.

The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.

“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”

Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.

“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.

“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.

You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway,

“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.

“Guys! Help!” you screamed.

Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.

“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”

Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.

“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.

“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said.

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.

“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged.

You turned back to the house and watched it burn.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.

***

You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.

“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”

You cringed.

“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.

“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car.

“And create the RPG,” Harry added.

“The what?” Dean asked.

“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”

You forced a smile at him.

“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.

“What's that,” prompted Dean.

“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.

“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”

Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.

“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.

“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth

a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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ourtearsofrain · 2 months

Text

Paper Rings (D.R.W/S.F.K)

Summary: When Danny wants to propose to Sam, he turns to his brothers for help, wanting the evening to be perfect.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: fluff, almost hurt/comfort, other than that no clue, way too long to be drabble but there’s no smut or angst or anything

Word Count: 6.5 k

Warnings: language? But what’s new with them, anxiety from worrying about how the proposal will go.

A/N: I would highly recommend reading Save a Horse and Ride a Cowboy as well as their previous fics, as this is a continuation of their stories within this Universe.

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4:38 pm

Those fucking bastards. Never on time a goddamn day in their lives. Danny sits in the living room of his and Sam’s apartment, his heart hammering, fingers twisting together in his lap and leg bouncing as the anxious knot in his stomach tightens as the minutes tick by. They were supposed to get here 38 fucking minutes ago. Where the fuck are they?

He checks his phone. Nothing. A minute later he checks again. Nothing. Fuck. After what feels like an eternity, a loud knock at his door yanks him from his frustrations, and he all but runs across the room to answer it. Jake and Josh stand at the center of the group, caught up in a heated, but hopefully lighthearted argument, with their partners sharing knowing exasperated looks over the twins’ heads.

Danny’s too frustrated to even care about possibly interrupting whatever argument they were having, cutting them off with a sharp, “You’re late.” He steps to the side as the group walks in, the twins talking over each other with various excuses as their boyfriends simply apologize and express that they tried to get them out of the house on time. “It’s whatever, I guess. At least you’re here now.” Danny sighs as he turns, walking away from them towards the living room and hoping they will follow. They do, and each pair takes a seat on the various chairs and couches occupying the space as Danny paces nervously across the room.

Austin is the first one to point out the nervous energy radiating from his friend, speaking over the noise of Jake and Josh trying to finish their argument from before. “Daniel, you alright? What’s goin’ on? And where’s Sam?” The twins promptly end their side argument as they also take in the state of their friend as well as the lack of their brother, causing their eyebrows to crease in unison.

“Yeah, why’d you ask us to come over? And why isn’t Sam here.” Josh questions.

Danny pauses his movements, coming to a stop in front of the other boys. His hands twist and stretch the hair tie around his wrist, needing to find some outlet for his anxiety. “He’s with Ronnie, she wouldn’t tell me what excuse she used to get him there, but I won’t question it since its working.”

It’s now Jake’s turn to question Danny. “Ok, cut to the chase. What did you need to talk to us about without Sam being present? You’re starting to make me worry.”

“I-” Danny starts, his nerves cutting him off and causing him to take a deep breath before continuing. “I need your guys’ help.”

Josh gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his heart in surprise. “I knew it!”

Danny feels like he’s been punched in the gut, his anxieties growing louder and louder in his head. If Josh figured it out so fast, Sammy could have too. Shit what if he knows and this was all for nothing.

Luckily for him, Josh continues, never missing the opportunity to make a shitty joke that often left the rest of them rolling their eyes. “You got him pregnant, didn’t you? What did I tell you two crazy kids about wrapping it before tapping it.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment before continuing, “Are you guys keeping it?” Josh is too focused on Danny (and too proud of his joke) to see Jake launching a pillow at him from the opposite end of the couch until it hits him hard on the side of his head.

“What the fuck man??” He yells as Austin wordlessly takes the pillow from him to prevent any retaliation.

“Could you be serious for one fucking second, Joshua? I don’t know about you, but I would love to hear what Danny has to say.”

Josh’s head drops slightly, now recognizing this may not be the time or place for his jokes depending on the conversation at hand. “You’re right, Jake. I’m sorry Danny.”

Danny removes his hand from where it had been placed on his temple in an attempt to slowly massage the stress and tension from his head. “It’s fine. Anyways, I need your help.” All four boys sit in tense silence as they wait for the other shoe to drop, each of them curious and worried about what had Danny so worked up like this.

“I’m going to propose to Sam.” The room is silent for a few seconds as they process what Danny had just said. Eventually, Josh shoots out of his seat, jumping up and down as he whoops in celebration.

“THAT’S FUCKING FANTASTIC OH MY GOD FINALLY!” He tackles the taller man in a massive hug, almost tipping the pair over as Danny stumbles to regain his balance before looking over to Jake to see him slowly standing from the couch with a wide grin on his face. When Josh finally let’s go of Danny, it’s Jake’s turn to embrace the other man, still enthusiastic but not enough to almost send them to the floor as Josh had.

“I’m so fucking happy for you, Danny. Couldn’t ask for a better man to take our annoying kid brother off our hands. I thought we were gonna be stuck with him forever.”

Danny lets out a deep breath as he laughs, beyond relieved at the reactions he recieved from the twins. After them, Austin and Sebastian take their turns congratulating him, each word of affirmation lifting a small weight off Danny’s shoulders until the anxiety he had previously felt is almost fully gone.

“So, what do you need our help with, hun?” Sebastian questions, voicing what the others had been thinking.

“Ok so, I want to propose to him at Bradley’s, in the spot we had our first kiss. But I want to be alone with him when I do it, but I don’t want him to suspect anything leading up to that.” Danny sighs, the frustrations formerly plaguing his mind resurfacing as he attempts to explain what little semblance of a “plan” he had. “I don’t know, that’s all I got. Do you guys have any ideas of how I could pull that off?”

A broad grin breaks out on Sebastian’s face, having already put together an entire evening for him and Sam in mere seconds in his head. “Oh, I got the perfect idea, kid.”

One week later

“Alright people, settle the fuck down y’all!” Sebastian shouts over the many loud side conversations occurring between all the drag performers as they wait for their monthly meeting to begin. They do as he asks, wrapping up their various conversations and turning their attention to Sebastian.

“Thank you. Imma keep this short and sweet and to the point, now. As y’all know, our usual club we perform at is undergoing renovations, so next month’s show is gonna be at Bradley’s Honkey Tonk.” A few excited whispers pass through the crowd, the performers knowing that they always got the most tips when they had shows there. “Our next, and last, order of business is the theme. Now the votes are in from y’all, and the theme with the most votes was Money, Money, Money. Now, I’ve already called that ABBA song but when y’all are ready to claim yours, put your name and song down in the group chat so I can start organizin’ the set.”

He looks at the small crowd, eyeing them to see if he could sense any unspoken queries. “If y’all aint got any questions, y’all’re free to leave.” Many chairs skid across the floor as they pull their phones out, already typing out the songs they wanted in the group chat and excitedly discussing group numbers and outfits with each other as each small group slowly made their way towards the exit.

Josh elbows Sam in the side in his haste to claim his song, frantically typing his message into the chat and hitting send with a satisfied grin, seeing that no one else had taken his song choice yet. He slips his phone back into his pocket before turning towards Sam. “Ready to go?”

His question snaps Sam out of his thoughts. “Oh- uh actually I wanted to talk to Sebastian about my song really quick. Don’t wait up, I’m meeting Danny down the street for lunch so I can just walk there.”

“Alright, have fun.” Josh says with a smile, turning and making his way towards the door with the rest of the crowd.

Sam approaches Sebastian, quietly waiting as he begins scribbling down who had taken what song so far in his notebook. He finishes, letting out a deep sigh before finally looking up. “Oh- hey, kid! Didn’t see ya there. What’s up?”

“I uh-” He starts, nerves getting the best of him as he looks down, his fingers picking at his cuticles as he gathers his courage. “I need help. Picking a song and… and with something else.”

A look of concern passes over Sebastian’s face, not used to seeing the usually confident Sam so sheepish. “Of course, I gotchu Sam. What’s up?”

“I- I want to propose to Danny. After the show, considering it’s where we had our first kiss. I just, I don’t really know how to do it. And I want to do a song that sort of hints at it, but not so much so that he knows it’s happening before I actually do it. And my brothers can’t know, I don’t want them to accidentally spoil the surprise.” He looks at Sebastian hopefully, feeling vulnerable and anxious as he asks this of him. “Do you think… do you think you can help me?”

Sebastian’s face splits open in a wide smile as he makes his way towards Sam, pulling him into a tight hug before he responds. “Of course, I got the perfect idea, kid.”

Three weeks later, Danny finds himself back at Bradley’s Honkey Tonk, seated next to Jake and Austin as they wait for the show to start. Jake’s voice across the bar table snaps him out of his anxious daze, and Danny looks over to see a concerned look painted across Jake’s features. “Hey man, you alright? You look a little pale.”

Danny takes a deep breath, having to remind himself to breathe as his nerves send him spiraling. He nods slightly before reaching for his glass of water and taking a large gulp of it. “Yeah, just nervous.”

He brings his hand to the pocket of his black jeans, checking to make sure the box holding Sam’s ring was still there for the 15th time that night. The knots in his stomach slightly loosen when he feels the outline of the box safe and snug within the fabric. As much as Danny was worrying about Sam’s reaction, he knew deep down he would love the ring; the second he had seen it, he knew it was so perfectly fitting for Sam. It had pansies engraved around the band, Sam’s favorite flower (and “coincidentally”, Danny’s star sign flower), the detailing dark black against the shine of the white gold.

“Everythin’ll work out just fine, Daniel. Your plan’s solid as it gets, and I’ll be damned if Sam says no to you." Austin brings his hand to Danny’s shoulder, offering him a small pat of encouragement before Jake joins in on relieving his worries.

“Exactly, we all know the plan, everything will work out. And I’ve known Sam for his entire life, I can’t think of one reason he would say no to you.” Danny offers a small smile at both boys, his nerves slowly dissipating from their words of encouragement. A distraction from any remaining nerves is provided when Sirena takes the small stage, mic in hand, and the crowd begins to quiet their side conversations in anticipation.

“How’re we feelin’ out there tonight?” She enthusiastically questions into the mic. She’s met with a loud roar of cheers and applause, as always joined by a few stray wolf whistles. She grins at the crowd’s obvious excitement, giving them a moment before continuing. “Fantastic! Just what I like to hear. I am your host tonight, Sirena de Lune, thank y’all for comin’ out tonight! And let’s make sure to give a big thank you to Bradley’s for hostin’ us tonight!”

The crowd erupts once more in appreciation of the owners allowing them to use their space for the night. “Now before we start our performances off for the night, I just have two things to say. First, consent is fucking sexy! If you don’t want extra attention or interaction from a performer, just throw your arms up into an ‘X’ and they’ll respect that. Consent also goes two ways, so make sure to not touch a performer without them initiatin’ that interaction. Lastly, tip your motherfuckin’ performers! Especially for tonight cause our theme is ‘Money, Money, Money’, so I better see some tips in the air for our amazing artists tonight! With that, I’ll introduce you to our first performer of the night, give it up for Elle Fernanda!”

The crowd nearly drowns out the upbeat intro of Material Girl with their applause as Josh sashays towards the stage. With his already unruly hair teased and donning bright pink lipstick, he looks like he walked straight out of the 80’s. Austin’s eyes linger for a moment on the short hem of his sequined, deep pink bodycon dress before they trail down his legs clad in fishnets, the stage lights catching on the small rhinestones scattered across the fabric, and down to his platform glittery heels, not once tripping over the various cords and steps in his journey towards the stage. His arms, neck, and ears are weighed down under as many pieces of flashy jewelry as he could fit, sending small beams of rainbow light around the room.

Jake snorts from his place beside him. “He looks like a fucking disco ball.” Both Danny and Austin smile at his comment, keeping their eyes on the performer as he teases the audience with the instrumental intro. He drops low down into a squat, grabbing more bedazzled bracelets from the stage floor before standing slowly, pushing his ass out towards the crowd. Finally, he turns around to face the audience as the first verse starts.

“Some boys kiss me,

Some boys hug me,

I think they’re ok.

If they don’t give me proper credit,

I just walk away.”

He makes his way off the stage, taking careful steps down so as not to trip in his heels. He motions along with the song, dropping low and bringing his hands together as if in prayer.

“They can beg and they can plead,

But they can’t see the light (that’s right).

‘Cause the boy with cold hard cash

Is always Mister Right.”

Working his way through the crowd slowly, he turns as he snatches tips from outreached hands, lip syncing in practiced perfection. He makes his way towards Austin, ignoring his tip and pulling him off his seat when he reaches him, placing his pink gloved hands on his hips as he still securely holds his fists full of bills.

“Some boys romance,

Some boys slow dance.”

Josh sways them both to the beat, once again teasing the crowd (and mostly Austin) by intentionally over-exaggerating his hip movements and pushing his ass out.

“That’s alright with me.

If they can’t raise my interest then I

Have to let them be.”

With that, Josh taps the tip of Austin’s nose with his finger, offering a wink before snatching his tip and turning to make his way back to the stage. Austin takes his seat again with a lovesick grin on his face as he watches his boyfriend weave through the crowd.

“Some boys try and some boys lie

But I don’t let them play.”

Josh reaches the stage, taking a large step onto it and turning to face the crowd as he raises his hands above his head.

“Only boys that save their pennies

Make my rainy day.”

He throws his tips in the air, and they flutter down around him as if they were droplets of rain. For the rest of the song, Josh continues spinning his way through the crowd, enthusiastically interacting with every patron he came upon whether they tipped him or not. As the song comes towards its end, he finds himself back on stage, gesturing dramatically as he uses his theater experience (and personal experience with Austin) to flash his biggest doe eyes flirtatiously at the crowd as a more “calm” part of the song plays.

“A material, a material, a material, a material world.”

His energetic energy is back as just quick as he had put it on to play up that part as he sways his body on stage, dropping down to a squat sideways from the crowd as the last few beats of the song play. He suddenly tips back, falling on his back dramatically and cocking one leg in the air as his arms sprawl around his head, perfectly timed with the last beat of the song.

The crowd erupts, their applause deafening with a few stray wolf whistles (most of which belonging to Jake and Austin) as Josh stands, blowing kisses to the crowd before exiting the stage, leaving the stagehands to quickly retrieve his fallen tips for him.

“Thank you, Elle, for that sensual performance.” Sirena says into the mic with a wink. She introduces the next few drag performers, one after the other, one of them being Shimmer performing to Rich Girl. Sparrow takes the stage after Shimmer’s tips have been collected, and all three boys seated at their table immediately know that it’s Sirena’s turn next. After a brief introduction, Sparrow jumps off stage as the intro to Sirena’s song starts.

Donning a different outfit than she had at the beginning of the show, Jake recognizes it instantly, not even needing to listen to the intro to know what performance she was about to give. Wearing simple converse, black overalls over a flowy light blue blouse, a light brown wavy wig with the front strands tied at the back of her head, and minimal makeup (for a drag queen, of course), she’s instantly recognizable as Donna from Mamma Mia!

Her face is set in serious frustration as Maryl Streep’s voice begins singing over the speakers.

“I work all night, I work all day

To pay the bills I have to pay.

Ain’t it sad?

And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me,

That’s too bad.”

Her eyes lock on Jake as she steps off stage, slowly singing her way through the song as she weaves through the crowd towards him.

“In my dreams I have a plan:

If I got me a wealthy man,”

Her left hand comes up to his face as she slowly trails the back of it down his left cheek. She turns, her back leaning against him and keeping her hand on the side of his face, applying the slightest amount of pressure to get him to turn his head towards her.

“I wouldn’t have to work at all, I’d fool around and have a ball…”

Just as Jake’s lips are about to brush her own, she slips the tip from his hand and struts away from him, continuing her play of frustration to fully embody the show. She continues this energy throughout the performance, heavily interacting with the crowd as she collects handfuls upon handfuls of tips. When the song ends, the stage lights cut out on beat, sending her into darkness before they flash on again and an appreciative smile replaces the scowl she had donned for the performance. Sparrow hands her the mic again as the crowd applauds her, impressed at how accurate her act had been.

Once again, she introduces the next few performers; names that Jake, Danny, and Austin had grown familiar with from their partners’ involvements with the drag community. Faebelle and Sparrow give an animated duo rendition of Partners in Crime until, at last, she breaks the sad news of the show’s imminent end.

“Now I hate to remind y’all, but the night must come to an end at one point or another. Please give a warm welcome to our last performer of the night, Callie Bungah!” A familiar pop-ey intro begins and Jake instantly knows that Sebastian had helped Sam pick his song. He struts up onto the stage with a bounce in his step as he waits for his cue to sing.

Danny’s first though is: oh my god he looks so cute, when he takes in the image of Sam, wearing a wavy blond wig with the front strands dyed blue, a white turtleneck tank top, a long, flowy, baby blue skirt, and light pink go go boots decorated with red hearts.

“The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met.”

He points to Jake and then Josh, watching his performance from the standing group of kings and queens in the corner, drawing a laugh from both.

“Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet.

Now I’ve read all of the books beside your bed.”

Sam keeps his eyes on Danny for most of the performance, yet intentionally avoids the area around him until a little over a minute is left in the song. The song calms down just as he reaches him, all instruments except the piano and guitar playing softly in the background.

Suddenly he’s reaching into the pocket of his skirt, pulling out a small piece of paper in the shape of a ring, carefully folded to have an origami heart. He holds it out towards him, lip syncing to the words as Danny extends his hand with a smile, allowing Sam to slip it onto his right ring finger.

“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings.

Uh huh, that’s right.”

Despite his cool outwards appearance and the grin gracing his features, Danny’s mind is racing in worry. Shit. Does Sam know? Did one of the twins tell him? They would never… would they? His internal panic is silenced momentarily by the lovestruck look on Sam’s face, his hand coming up to hold the side of the other man’s face, who brings his own hand up to rest on it.

“You’re the one I want.

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.

Uh huh.

Darling, you’re the one I want.”

He offers one last small smile to the other man before turning to make his way back to the stage, grabbing the last of the tips from outstretched hands on his way. As the song begins to fade out, he walks towards the group of other performers, weaving through them and “hiding” behind a couple as he lip syncs with his head next to theirs, before he exits the room through the performers door as the song finally fades to silence.

The quiet is short lived as the crowd quickly shows the last performance a round of applause for the night. Sirena takes the stage once more, calling up each performer in order, for one last show of support to each artist. The crowd cheers equally as loud for each, and each time one of their partners is brought up, Jake, Danny, and Austin let out shrill wolf whistles and whoops.

“Once again, thank y’all for comin’ out to support us tonight. Big thank you to our tech crew and to Bradley for lettin’ us hijack his bar for the night! We’ll see y’all at the next show!”

Jake, Danny, and Austin patiently wait for their partners to finish taking pictures with the other patrons before they make their way towards them, the group of performers slowly dispersing back to their green room to get undressed for the night. By the time they reach the stage, there’s only a few patrons left in the building as groups file out the door and into the night. Josh is the first to spot them from his spot on the edge of the stage as Sebastian and Sam are caught up in a quiet conversation to the side. “So, what’d you guys think?”

Austin wraps his arms around the other man’s waist, lifting him up and spinning him a few times before gently placing him back on his feet next to him. He stoops to plant a kiss to his lips before answering. “Fuckin’ amazing, darlin’. You are drop dead gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

Josh laughs, lightly placing his hand on Austin’s chest as he looks up at him. “Mmmm you flatter me. But thank you, love.”

Drawn to the show Austin and Josh had just put on, Sebastian and Sam make their way towards the group smiling. “You trying to turn Sammy boy into a Swiftie, Seb?” Jake says with a grin.

“Maybe, maybe. He put on a damn good show though, don’t ya think, Danny?” At his name, Danny’s trance is broken, his eyes having been glued on Sam since his performance began and he turns to look between Sebastian and Sam.

“Mhm, you all did fantastic. As usual of course. Love the pockets, baby.” Sam’s face lights up at the observation, immediately sticking his hands into the pockets of his skirt and slightly turning back and forth to flare it as he looked down happily.

“Thank you, Daniel. I love them too. All skirts should have pockets in my opinion.”

“I’ll second that!” Sebastian interjects with a laugh. “Alright, I don’t know bout y’all but I’m dyin’ do get outta this wig so imma go change. Y’all comin’?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice; these heels are killing me.” Josh says as he tentatively transfers his weight between each foot.

Sam grimaces in agreement. “Same here.”

“We’ll be here waitin’ for y’all when you’re done.” Austin says as the other three file back towards the green room. The remaining boys make their way towards a table, taking their seats as they wait for their boyfriends. Both Austin and Jake notice Danny’s anxiety creeping up on him, his leg bouncing wildly under the table as he fiddled with the paper ring still on his finger. “You alright, Daniel?”

His gaze shoots up to Austin, finding a slightly concerned look on his face. “Mhm, yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just nervous. Do you guys… do you guys think he knows? That I’m going to propose. With the song he picked and all it’s just… too much of a coincidence.”

Jake shakes his head, offering a small smile to Danny. “I know Sam, and I know Seb. Sam definitely didn’t even know where to start for a song choice and Sebastian gave him an idea. That’s like, one of his favorite songs. I swear I hear it at least once a week.” He finishes with a laugh.

Danny lets out a deep breath, slightly relieved from the information. “Ok, yeah, ok. He doesn’t know, it’s just a coincidence that will be something to laugh at later.”

Once again, Jake pats his shoulder in encouragement. “Exactly. Just breathe, don’t think about it too much. And I mean, it’s Sam we’re talking about. He’s so in love with you, I think he’d say yes even if you passed out with the ring in your fingers. Its honestly gross sometimes.” This brings a smile to Danny’s face, easing the tension in his mind and body as he realizes what Jake said was probably true. They sit in silence for the rest of the wait, content with listening to the music playing quietly over the speakers.

Just as planned with Sebastian and Josh, Sam is the first to come back out. Now wearing loose black jeans, comfortable slip ons, and a sweater he definitely stole from Danny, he makes his way towards the group and his boyfriend stands to meet him. Sam drops his bag on the floor near his feet, immediately following their after-performance routine of Sam melting into Danny’s arms as the taller man gently rubs his back. Austin and Jake share a knowing look that goes unseen by both Sam and Danny, and Jake is the first to speak, clearing his throat before standing.

“Seb just texted me that he needs help with some bags so, I’m gonna go do that.” Austin follows suit, the pair already beginning to make their way towards the performer’s door.

“And imma go make sure Josh can still walk, those heels were tall as hell and I don’t need him stumblin’ around and possibly hurting himself.” Austin jokes.

“Probably for the best, see you guys later.” Sam mumbles, his face tucked into Danny’s neck. They leave the room without another word, both men shooting Danny a smile and thumbs up behind Sam’s back before disappearing in search of their boyfriends. The pair stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes before a song both were very familiar with begins playing. Sam removes his face from Danny’s skin, looking up at him with a small smile.

Danny returns it, cocking an eyebrow at him in question. “Wanna dance? It is our song after all.”

“Lead the way, Daniel. Just nothing too crazy, my feet sill hurt.”

Danny laughs, beginning to lead Sam towards an empty spot between tables, intentionally finding the place where they first danced together to the song so long before. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t sweep you off your feet this time.” Sam’s hands find their way to Danny’s back, beginning to slowly sway along to the song as his head comes to a rest on his shoulder. Danny brings his head down to rest against Sam’s as he closes his eyes and tries to breathe through his nerves.

“Any place is better,

Starting from zero, we got nothing to lose.

Maybe we’ll make something,

Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.”

They slowly dance through the song in silence, with Danny hoping the other man can’t feel his racing heartbeat from where their chests met.

“And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder.

And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged.

I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone.

You got a fast car,

Is it fast enough, so you can fly away?

You still gotta make a decision,

Leave tonight, or live and die this way.”

The song comes to an end, and the pair momentarily break away from each other, just enough for Sam to look up at Danny while still being wrapped in his warm embrace. He looks around for a moment, taking in his surroundings before looking back up to see Danny watching him with so much love behind his eyes that it almost knocked the wind out of him. “Is this?” He starts. “Is this where we first danced to that song?”

Danny grins down at Sam, his heart soaring that he also remembered where exactly they first danced with each other. “Mhm, it is.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Wagner, I’d think you had something big planned.” Sam half-jokes.

“Maybe I do, Kiszka.” Sam cocks a questioning eyebrow at him, both men staring down the other to see who would speak first. Danny takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and muster up the courage to start, knowing that once he said that first word, the rest would come to him as easy as breathing. His hands trail from Sam’s back, down his arms, and finally stop with the others hands in his own as he takes one final deep breath.

“Sam…” he starts. “I think, no, I know that I’ve been in love with you since the eighth grade. And I… I’m gonna keep loving you for as long as I’m on this Earth, and even after that too.”

Sam’s breath catches in his throat as tears begin to well in his eyes. Oh my god, is he about to-? This can’t be happening.

Danny continues, tears beginning to brim in his own eyes at the sight of Sam hanging onto his every word. “You are my best friend and… and I couldn’t ask for a better person to share the rest of my life with.” Danny reaches for his pocket, his shaking hands somehow grasping the small box as he lowers to one knee. With Sam’s hands now free, they come up to cover his mouth in surprise, looking down at his boyfriend in adoration. Danny clicks the box open, holding it out as he finishes the question he had been wanting to ask Sam since they first got together. “So, Samuel Kiszka, will you do me the greatest honor by marrying me?”

While Danny had thought he had prepared himself for any possible answer or reaction, what he’s met with is somehow not one of them as Sam bursts out in laughter, his tears making streaks down his face as he sinks to his knees in front of Danny. He barely notices the look of extreme confusion painted across Danny’s face through his tears and laughter as he reaches for his own pocket, pulling out a small box and opening it to reveal a simple, yet gorgeous ring; a silver band with a singular stripe of black inlay around its center, a triangular cut diamond set into the middle. As the gears turn in Danny’s head, he joins Sam as they kneel together laughing through their tears.

Sam’s the first one to catch his breath enough to speak, bringing his hand not holding the ring up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “And I thought I was gonna be the only one proposing tonight.” He laughs out. “I thought I was being so sly with the hint of Paper Rings.”

“I fucking knew there was something behind that! Jake tried to tell me otherwise that it was just a coincidence and that Sebastian helped you pick your song.”

“I mean Jake’s not half-wrong; Sebastian did help me, he was in on this.”

Danny’s jaw drops. “No fucking way, he was in on my plan too. Sneaky bastard.” He says with no real malice in his tone. They gaze at each other as their laughs die out, both shaking their heads at their friends’ role in both of their plans. “So, you haven’t answered me.” Danny says with a smile. “Will you marry me, Sammy?”

“Of fucking course, is that even a question?” Is all he gets out before tackling Danny, toppling them both backwards onto the floor in a bone crushing embrace. They stay this way for a few moments, letting their tears fall and dry on their cheeks before they both get back onto their knees, each placing a ring on the other’s finger. Sam admires his ring with a grin before his gaze rests on his fiancé once more. “My favorite, pansies.”

“I know.” Danny says with a matching grin before gently grabbing Sam’s chin and bringing his lips to his own. The kiss is slow and passionate, filled with all the unsaid words of how much the other meant to them. They break apart eventually, their foreheads resting against one another with their eyes closed as they take the moment in.

Sam is the first to notice the song had once again changed to something he recognized. He leans back, gazing at Danny with all the love he could muster into once single look.

“But I must admit it,

That I would marry you in an instant.

Damn your wife,

I’d be your mistress just to have you around.”

“You know, I almost thought you were gonna propose to me that night, when you sang it to me in the car.”

Danny laughs at his words. “Baby, we had been dating for three months at that point. I know we’re in a gay relationship, but we aren’t that stereotypical.”

He receives a lighthearted swat to his shoulder as Sam tries, and fails, to hide his smile. “I know, I know! But I mean, we’ve known each other since sixth grade and had already talked about how we’d been in love with each other for years. Like I said I almost thought you were gonna propose.”

Danny takes Sam’s hands in his own once more. “Well, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”

Sam offers him gentle squeeze. “I’d wait for you forever, Danny.” Their tender moment is broken by a loud yell, their heads whipping towards the source to see Josh standing with the performer’s door cracked open as he yelled back at the others waiting silently around the corner.

“I THINK HE FUCKING SAID YES!” They all begin filing out, grins wide across their faces as Danny and Sam get to their feet.

“Yeah, think we could gather that ourselves, Josh.” Jake says in a sarcastic voice as he shakes his head at his brother. He aims his question at Sam, next. “You said yes, right?”

“We both did.” Danny says with a grin as he holds his left hand up for the others to see. Everyone but Sebastian’s eyes go wide as their jaws drop.

“You both proposed?!” Josh exclaims, rushing towards the pair to tackle them in a tight hug.

“We did, and it turns out, Sebastian was in on both of our plans and didn’t say jack shit.” Josh, Jake, and Austin turn on Sebastian who only holds his hands up in defense.

“Listen, y’all both told me not to tell no one so I didn’t. Worked out mighty fine in the end anyways.” While Jake pouts at Sebastian for not telling him, Josh rounds on Sam instead.

“You told Sebastian but not Jake or I???”

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t want you guys to accidentally spoil it.”

“You can make it up by making me best man at the wedding.”

This brings Jake’s attention back to Sam and Danny, his eyebrows furrowing. “Who the fuck said you get to be best man?”

Austin speaks up, having gotten good at diffusing twin banter over the course of his and Josh’s relationship. “Alright boys, that’s enough. I’m sure Daniel and Sam have a lot to plan before they even think about that so let’s just get back to bein’ happy for them, alright?” With their attention turned back to their engagement, each boy takes turn hugging Sam and Danny, congratulating them both. Jake is the last to hug Danny, squeezing him tight before patting his back.

“You’ve always been a brother to Josh and I, but now it’ll be legal. I’m so fucking happy for you, man.”

“Thank you, Jake.”

“I hate to break up this moment, but we better leave before they kick us out.” Sebastian half-jokes. The others voice their agreements, grabbing their bags as they slowly make their way towards the door.

“So, who’s taking whose last name?” Josh says as soon as the cool night air hits their skin. Danny and Sam exchange a look, not having had that conversation yet due to the interruption of the others.

“I don’t know, Daniel Kiszka has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, Sammy?”

Sam intertwines his fingers with Danny’s, leaning into him as they walk. “Hmmmm, it does. But so does Samuel Wagner.”

“I guess y’all have another thing to figure out before you can even get to the question of best man.”

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

Songs:

Material Girl- Madonna

Rich Girl- Gwen Stefani

Money, Money, Money- Meryl Streep, Julie Walters & Christine Baranski

Partners in Crime- Set It Off

Paper Rings- Taylor Swift

Fast Car- Luke Combs

Cleopatra- The Lumineers

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

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm

#fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #greta van fluff #daniel gvf #sammy gvf #sanny gvf

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dreamersbcll · 7 months

Text

Saying that I want more, this is what I live for.

(sequel to this au)

——————————————————————————

“You sure about this one?”

God. Those five words pissed her off. Sam knew her anxious babbling bothered Tara, but her big sister couldn’t help it anyway.

Tara flexed her neck, bouncing up and down on her toes. She felt her muscles ripple through her body and flexed her fingers, feeling the tape pad her knuckles like it should. As she hopped up and down, she could feel her braided hair slap against her neck, grinning widely. Most people would put their hair up in a tight bun or shave it off, but Tara didn’t roll like that. She liked her hair braided tightly, always within hand’s grasp.

It’s not like she would let them get close enough to grab, anyway. And if they did, she didn’t mind the pain. She would always inflict more damage once she got them to let go.

She smiled to herself, feeling the stitches above her eyebrow pull, the pain shooting through her skull and to her heart. It didn’t matter. It only fueled her more. She was sloppy last night. But today was a new day- a new chance to inflict pain.

Lord knows they deserved it.

Turning to Sam, she saw her big sister looking at her nervously, her mouth set in a permanent frown. Tara rolled her eyes, biting her tongue.

In all fairness, her big sister had a fair reason to be strung out on nerves. This was a new arena for the two. Sure, it still was a midnight brawl, but this wasn’t an all-girls club. It was a criminal ring.

Former felons, violent and nonviolent alike, join and fight. For most, it was just a stress reliever, a pause from the strenuous struggle of life. But for some, it was life or death, a battle of brawn or butchery.

Tara knew that. She did her research extensively. It turns out felons paid more than upper-class yuppies chasing real-world adrenaline. She had no idea why that was, but it didn’t matter. She put her name in the ring and got prepared.

Sam wasn’t a fan at all. Though she had a few bodies under her belt and was slick with a knife, Sam just couldn’t get behind this. She was barely on board El Vampiro as it was- she would be much happier if she could fight more- but she soon warmed up to it once the cash flowed in. She had to grudgingly admit: her little sister could put on a show- and she could kick some ass.

But Tara wore down her big sister. It took a bit of convincing- but once Tara promised that Sam could enter the weapons brawl once- it was a golden idea.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew her big sister needed an outlet. The rapist they killed a month ago wouldn’t tide Sam’s urge. That’s why she had to ensure they got into this new ring.

And tonight was the first official night. Tara’s first official night. Last night was just a trial run, and she knew what she needed to tighten up. There was less dancing around, more mind games, and more precise punches. Fighting men was more manageable, in a way. They always let their pride take over the wheel.

Tara knew how to pick someone apart, letting them fall at her feet, disoriented and bloody. She was good at fighting- something she learned from Sam.

Her big sister took another deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “I know you don’t want to hear me ask.”

Rolling her eyes, Tara returned to the mirror, adjusting her makeup. “So don’t.”

Sam clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Just, are you sure? Like really?” she asked casually, quiet panic in her tone.

Taking a deep breath, Tara faced her sister and put her taped hands onto Sam’s shoulders. She looked deep into her big sister's eyes, the two melding into each other.

“Sammy, you gotta trust me,” she whispered, touching Sam’s cheek.

Her big sister leaned into her touch, sighing. “I just worry that you’ll lose badly. I can’t have that.”

She pulled her big sister in, hugging her tight.

“I won’t. I’ve got us. Let’s do what we’re best at, yeah?”

“Carpenter Style?”

“You know it.”

——

She had to prevent her eyes from rolling when she laid eyes on her opponent. He called himself The Virgin, and Tara understood immediately at first glance.

Another skinny white boy with dark curly hair. More twinks? God.

“What kind of name is The Virgin?” she scoffed, sizing him up.

The boy across from her sneered, his dark eyes twinkling. “Something you know a lot about.”

Before she could retaliate by shoving her fingernails through his larynx, Sam held her back, tutting quietly. As much as Tara hated to admit it, Sam was right. She couldn’t get disqualified before the bell went off; five thousand dollars was on the line.

Instead, she stared down the boy, mouthing You’re Mine. He swallowed hard but didn’t turn away.

The Croupier returned to the competitors, the cash in his hands shining in the moonlight. “You ready, Vampiro?”

Tara snorted. What a stupid fucking question.

“Let’s roll, pretty boy,” she said, stretching her muscles in preparation.

The Croupier looked at both opponents. “You both know what league you signed into tonight, yes?”

Both kids nodded. Yes.

“Just to be clear, it goes to the last breath. Do you both understand these terms and accept the risks?”

Tara couldn’t help but grin, feeling the blade Sam pressed into her hip pierce her skin. She was born ready.

Satisfied with their silent answers, the Croupier stepped back. “Alright. Let's do this.”

Sam squeezed her shoulders tightly before whispering in Tara’s ear. “Go for the eye. Te Amo, mi vida.”

Nodding sharply, Tara accepted the kiss Sam pressed into her braids. “Yes, Sammy. Te Amo,” she whispered back.

As her big sister pulled back and walked behind the ring, The Virgin sneered, his curly head bobbing with the motion. “Oh, you sweet, dumb thing. Should’ve stayed out of the big-kid fight,” he sang, bouncing on his heels.

She cocked her head. “Then who would do this?” she asked innocently before landing an uppercut across his sweet, dumb face.

Once she felt his nose break under his knuckles, she knew she had this.

——

It took about two minutes for Tara to dismantle the boy.

Once she carved enough slashes across his throat, she straddled him, holding the blade to his neck. She grinned manically, her dark eyes shadowed with lust. He looked up beneath her grip, his eyes dull, his mouth flowing with blood.

She leaned in, enjoying how he whimpered as the blade started cutting into his carotid artery.

“Now die a fucking virgin,” she whispered.

Once she felt his vein snap beneath her touch, she got up; she let his blood spray her legs, blood running from her nose down her teeth, a violent smile across her face. She raised one fist as the crowd roared, her blood pumping red-hot.

She turned to Sam and pointed at her big sister, watching Sam come to life through her win.

Sam pointed right back at her, her smile wide and eyes dark.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #ao3 author #AU: there’s blood on my hands #oooo fighter carpenter sisters ?#bloody carpenter sisters

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