THIS IS SO GOOD!! 😭😭💔

the confession (jensen's version) | the night we met

"In my mind, I was sitting there thinking that... you know, it was like this flashback—you know they say that when you're about to die your life flashes before you. In my mind, I was flashing back to Lazarus Rising and seeing him walk through the barn with the sparks flying and all of the sudden all of these clips in my mind of Castiel and walking into the lake, and all of these things that are ingrained in my memory and seeing this now character have to say goodbye, but also knowing that my friend was in there having to struggle with this as well and I just thought he did such an artful job and such an incredibly nuanced performance in that moment that I was really proud of." x

inspired by @drulalovescas's post | watch it on youtube

distracted art appreciation | Ethan Ramsey x MC

Summary: It takes him fifty-six days in the jungle to get over her. Or, well, so he thought.

WC: 3k+

Warnings: N*FW

She’s been staring at the same painting for the past fourteen minutes.

Though, she uses the term ‘painting’ loosely – whatever she’s looking at is made of twisted straw wrappers and crumbled pages of an IKEA manual. The placard next to the work features phrases like ‘a work of action’ and ‘an introspection into rampant consumerism.’ To her (admittedly untrained) eye, it looks like someone dumped a trashcan over a canvas and spray-painted it with viscera and glitter. Taking another sip of her wine, she glances down at her phone to see that only another minute has passed.

“Two more hours,” Sloane mutters to herself, hopelessly wishing again for time to speed up.

It’s not that she isn’t happy for Kyra, who started out with painting tutorials on YouTube and worked up to a modest following in Boston’s art community, which led her here to her first gallery show. She was excited for the first hour, sticking close to her friend as Kyra chatted with fellow artists about mediums and superatism and juxtaposition and a hundred other terms Sloane didn’t understand. But as conversations flowed, Kyra’s nerves settled down, and she waved Sloane off to go get some air and peruse the other artwork.

Which is how she came to standing in front of The Shopper’s Sediment, waiting for the event to end so she can help Kyra haul her paintings back down the block to her car.

The pleas for company that Sloane sent to the group chat have gone unanswered; they’re probably all still out at the new fantasy-themed bar that she skipped on to be a good friend who keeps her promises.

She’s so concentrated on the ugly artwork that she doesn’t realize there’s a person standing beside her. In fact, she only realizes they’re even there when she lifts her wine glass and ends up whacking them in the side with her elbow.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, I–” she swallows back the rest of her panicked apology.

Ethan smirks down at her. His hand is clasped around her offending elbow.

“It’s all right. I won’t be pressing charges.”

Keep reading

the prettiest of them all

summary: What better way to use a closet mirror, conveniently placed beside the bed than to see you writhe in his arms?

pairing: damien nazario x f!mc(written as ‘you’, no name usage)

warnings: mature/smut (minor DNI!)

a/n: couldn’t just leave our man Nazario out after writing for Beckett, so please enjoy this fic with our favourite private investigator! ‘you’ can be yourself or your OC! and don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another choices fic? check out my m.list!

disclaimer! this is a submission for:

‘CFWC Naughty & Nice’ by @choicesficwriterscreations​ with the prompts (Naughty); “I can’t move.” “That’s the idea.”

‘Picktober: Choices October Challenge’ by @choicesmonthlychallenge​ using the prompts (Kinktober); Biting & Mirrors.

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This is so Beautiful😍

Sometimes ice-cold snow makes you feel so very alive. 💙

So good 😫😫❤

slowly kissing down the body [49 + dean] ── ✮⋆˙

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, smut (MDNI) To note/warnings: Established relationship, spooning, body worship, oral (m receiving), cussing, not proofread Word count: 1.4k A/N: @xpurdyglambertx requested this one in our Discord server and I hope I did it justice 👁️👁️ Thank you, Liz! Sorry it took me so long.

kisses askgame here 💋

It’s a rare occassion — or maybe it’s been happening more frequently lately. Either way, it feels special and you’re pretty sure it always will.

His back molds perfectly against your chest, both your bodies forming a seamless curve together. Your limbs are wrapped around him like some koala’s, as Dean likes to phrase it.

“Shut up,” you smile softly, your voice half-muffled by the way your face nuzzles the nape of his neck. “You enjoy being the little spoon, admit it.”

A gentle chuckle escapes his lungs, the deep vibrations of which buzz lightly against your palm, which he holds close over his heart.

“Guilty as charged,” he hums sleepily, before bringing your fingers up briefly to press a small kiss to your knuckles.

You know you’re lucky to be able to unwind with Dean like this.

Such a long day, so much work to do, a long drive after a complicated hunt — it’s all worth it once you can cuddle up with your boyfriend in clean sheets, comfy pillows and each other’s body warmth.

After coming back to the bunker, you had shared a warm shower. He threw on his sweatpants, you stole his shirt and thus you turned into two puzzle pieces that connected into one on the bed.

You sigh happily, all but melting into him. If you could crawl into his skin, you would. Your lips automatically find home at his bare shoulder, pecking a freckle there.

“I’m startin’ to think you just enjoy being the big spoon way more,” Dean teases.

Your smile widens into a smirk and you hum, practically feeling the shudder that runs down his spine.

“Mhh, maybe,” you mumble back and brush your lips at the spot between his shoulder blades. His skin is warm, the perfect balance between smooth and roughened. “Wanna know my favorite part of it?”

Dean’s breath hitches before he can answer. All thanks to your teeth grazing down his naked back.

“Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he utters through gritted teeth and ragged breath, voice all husky and heavy.

You could get high on the effect you have on him.

Your mouth latches onto an old scar of his, your tongue hot and wet as it trails down lower and lower. Another kiss follows, that one carefully exploring a faint bruise on his ribs, before you continue your exploration further south and add a purple mark of your own.

Dean’s hand squeezes yours tightly, pressing it impossibly closer to his chest and you swear you can feel his heart drumming against your palm.

Then, you sit up slightly, using that exact palm to push his back against the mattress. Shifting, you position yourself on top of him, straddling his lap. The plush of your thighs drapes on each side of his hips perfectly, pulling his hands to them like magnets

“This is my favorite part,” you mumble sweetly, wide eyes feigning innocence as you bat your eyelashes down at him and trail both your hands over his torso. Over his stomach, to his hips, where you toy with the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Right here,” you add with a not so innocent smirk and roll your hips against his slowly.

You feel his cock hardening beneath you right through the thin lace of your panties and you feel yourself clench around nothing at the broken grunt you’re able to pull from Dean. The way his fingers sink into your supple flesh has your mind reeling.

It’s about him though.

Your plan is to make him feel good and from the looks of it, you’re doing a fine job at it.

Dean’s body, lax and compliant from a stressful hunt, tenses and squirms just enough to signal you which spots are the most sensitive.

You lean down, claiming his lips in a chaste kiss, to which he eagerly lifts himself, only to be nudged down by you again.

“Sit back and relax for me, babe,” you smile, before repeating your previous steps. Your pecks and kisses and nibbles wander down his jaw and throat, over his chest, his tattoo, lower and lower.

You map out every freckle and scar, each dip and curve.

You know his hands are itching to touch you all over, fingers itching to paw at every inch of you, but for now it’s his turn to be pampered.

Your tongue leaves behind a trail of slick, warm saliva cooling against his flushed skin. By the time your teasing kisses reach his navel, he’s impatiently bucking his hips.

He’s getting desperate, so you throw him a bone by ghosting your fingers over his clothed cock.

“Quit— shit, babe, fucking *shit*,” he interrupts his own whimpering briefly to swallow thickly, “quit teasin’ me already.”

“I just wanna take my time with you,” you breathe sweetly, while tugging the fabric down. “It’s supposed to be relaxing, remember?”

“You just wanna drive me crazy.”

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips and you look up at him theough heavy lidded eyes and a glimmer in your widened pupils.

“Is it working?” You ask teasingly.

“Obviously,” he quips back, unable to contain a grin of his own. Christ, he’s so smitten with you, it should be illegal. You have him wrapped around your little finger. Though your fingers are wrapped around him, pulling his twitching dick from its confines at last.

Dean’s head falls back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy as you begin to pump him slowly.

Your other hand gives his thigh a firm pat.

“My eyes are down here,” you joke while you lower yourself into a more comfortable position, your knees tucked neatly beneath you, head resting between his thighs.

“’S very funny,” he huffs back and his chest is heaving as he pants heavily.

Still, his green eyes lock with yours and you reward him by placing your lips right at his base.

Dean’s brow twitches and it’s obviously taking all his self-control to stay still.

He’s already ruined, but God, what are you doing to him? You’re taking him apart at the seams, making him crumble. Whatever did he do to deserve you?

“Just a little reward for such a hardworking hunter,” you giggle coyly.

Had he said his thoughts out loud or are you just able to read his mind so well?

You kiss up his shaft and he thinks his soul is about to leave his body and ascend to heaven. He’s been to about every plane of existence fathomable, but this is like a spiritual calling. The sight of your tongue swirling around his red tip, your lips stretching around his head as you begin to slowly take him into your warm mouth.

You let him place his hand on top of your head and hum in approval as his fingers run across your scalp. His actions are tender as he lovingly wipes some of your hair out of the way. He can’t help but grasp at it, especially when you hollow your cheeks and suck.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, putting angel’s choirs to shame

After a second, you force your jaw to relax further and waitingly look up at him. While Dean would never want to hurt you, he takes the cue and pushes your head down more — gently, but definitely to the point of your eyes getting glassy with tears.

You nearly sputter around him and his grip loosens.

“Shit, sorry,” he hisses through his teeth. “Did I hurt you?”

You hum a negational “mhh-mm”, that pretty little mouth of yours still stuffed with his thick cock. You take him even deeper, until he almost slips down your throat and your nose bumps against him.

You know exactly how to snuff out any doubts of his. Whether or not he thought about pulling you back, now he can’t help meeting your head halfway with shallow thrusts of his own as it bobs up and down.

“So good f’me, sweet girl,” Dean praises and strokes his fingers through your hair. “Takin’ such good care of me, hm? ‘S like your pretty mouth was made for me. Taking me. So. Damn. Well.”

Each word is punctuated with another thrust, making you — and him, consequently — see stars.

Because as much as this is to help Dean unwind, you know you could end every day like this, worshipping every inch of him.

Dean Winchester Taglist (Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist):

@ladysparkles78 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126 @zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46 @midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @lyarr24

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 3

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: None really. Angst. Dean being a bit of an asshole. A brief, near sexual encounter. Smidge of fluff.

Word Count: 3,654

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So, here I am with chapter 3. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the very kind comments that this series has received so far. You're all fabulous.

Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

The next morning Dean was sitting at the table in his tent, listening to the camp waking up around him, when his tent flap opened and Cas strolled in. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, we gotta put up a piece of wood on the tent poles or something so people can knock.” He said in a surly and growly, early morning voice. When Cas didn’t respond, he challenged him with an even surlier tone. “What? Why are you here?”

Cas walked further into the tent. “I saw you gave Y/N back her daughter.” Dean raised his hand and then dropped it, conceding the point. “And,” Cas continued, raising his hand in the air and waving it slightly, “no more manacles.”

Dean spread his arms wide. “These are all things I already know, Cas; why are you telling me this?”

Cas shrugged slightly. “So, can I assume this means you no longer think she’s going to turn into a monster at any minute?”

Dean blew out a puff of air. “It means, she’s been here a week, and hasn’t turned yet. And since that isn’t really something that happens to people who get bit, I think I can be reasonably certain she won’t turn, randomly, out of the blue one day. And I gave her back her kid so she can look after her, and I can get Risa back as a soldier instead of a nanny.”

Cas wore a very enthusiastic expression as he moved closer. “Come on, even you have to admit that this is exciting.”

Dean arched a brow. “Exciting?”

Cas’ voice became awestruck. “Dean, this is the most hopeful sign we’ve had in…years!”

“Aw, don’t come at me with that hopeful bullshit!” Dean’s scowl and fierce countenance was immediate and slightly intimidating, even to the angel. 

“Hope is nothing but a fucking lie, okay? We know it. We HOPED we could stop Lilith breaking seals and we didn’t, we HOPED we could stop the apocalypse, but we failed at that too. We HOPED we could save everyone, and well, we’re doing a pretty piss poor job of that, aren’t we? Every single time we go out on a raid, I hope we come back with the same number of people we left with, but it doesn’t happen very often, does it? We hoped -” 

Dean cut himself short and swallowed hard, lowering his voice. “We hoped that Sam would be strong enough to say no, but…he wasn’t. I hoped I could save him. And-” He cut himself off again and rubbed a hand hard across his face. 

“So just don’t come at me with ‘hopeful’.” Dean said, sneering the word.

He tapped his fingers against his chest. “Cause I gotta live in the reality of this situation. And look, if you wanna hide away from that reality, you wanna get blitzed and bombed every day, and pretend like you’re some kind of sexual guru, fuck around with dozens of girls, I don’t really give a shit. Okay? Do it. But I,” he banged his chest with his whole fist this time, “I have to live in the reality of our lives.”

Dean stood up and stepped closer to Cas, swinging his arm out sideways. “And the reality is I have no fucking clue why that woman hasn’t turned.” He shrugged dismissively. “Maybe the person who bit her wasn’t fully turned themselves, or maybe they didn’t fully break the skin so it didn’t take completely. Who knows. All I know is that she’s probably not gonna turn and so now we’ve got one more mouth to feed. Two, actually.” He said holding up two fingers. “And two more people draining our resources.”

He stepped back and turned away, giving Cas his profile. “That’s the reality. So you wanna join me in it, great. If not,” He turned his head to look at him, lifting his hand towards the entrance, “there’s the door. Or, you know, the tent flap.”

He dropped down onto the chair he’d vacated and rubbed a hand across his lips. He looked up when Cas spoke softly. 

“I don’t wanna live in this reality, Dean. I just can’t anymore. So I choose hope, I choose to be hopeful that maybe she marks a change, maybe things can be different. I’m telling you, this reality isn’t the only option.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s my only option. I learned a long time ago, and you should’ve too - hope is dangerous. Reality can’t hurt you like hope can.”

Cas’ expression was discouraged and disappointed as he nodded, looking away from Dean. He said nothing more as he turned and walked away.

***

A little while after Cas left, Dean moved out to his campfire and cooked and ate his ration of eggs and potatoes. As he drank his coffee, he was actively trying to push the argument with Cas out of his head. He had a camp to lead, he didn't need this crap clouding his judgment.

It was ridiculous to think the woman represented some kind of new hope for mankind. He rolled his eyes at the very notion.

Still, he found himself calling out to Johnston as the soldier walked by. The man stopped abruptly and turned fearful eyes on Dean. It drove Dean a little crazy that after more than two years of Johnston serving the camp, of protecting it and helping to run the day-to-day work and activities there, he still seemed petrified of Dean. 

I can't possibly be that scary, Dean thought with a deep scowl. Not like I've had him flogged for looking at me wrong or something.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the fear radiating from the other man.

“You settled Y/N and her daughter?” He asked.

Johnston's blue eyes were slightly bulging and his prominent Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Dean waited a minute for him to elaborate before prodding him gruffly. “And?”

The other man seemed at a loss and Dean snapped his fingers impatiently. “And where did you put them?”

Understanding finally lit in Johnston's eyes and he began nodding. “Oh, yes sir. I put them in the southwest corner. Fourth row, the tent on the end.” He seemed proud to get that much out. But then he raised a finger. “Oh, the tent is red.”

Dean nodded and waved at him. “As you were.” 

Johnston saluted (even though Dean had told him a million times not to) and hurried on. Dean sighed deeply and without thinking about it too much, he headed in the direction of the red tent. 

When he got there he shouted out a hello, feeling slightly foolish and vowing then and there to make it a project to put some kind of wood near tents’ openings so people could knock.

The flap opened and Y/N's face lit up with a beaming smile when she saw him. “Hi!” 

Not knowing what to do with her enthusiasm, he just nodded. There was a slightly awkward moment and then Emma, her big blue eyes staring up at Dean, poked her head out from behind her mom, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around her hips and leaning her head into her side.

Y/N lifted her arm a little so Emma could shuffle out from behind her a bit more. She combed down Emma's slightly flyaway curls with her fingers and then settled her hand on the little girl's thin shoulders.

She gestured to Dean. “Say hi to Mr. Winchester.”

The little one just pressed closer and looked away from Dean to bury her face in her mother's side.

Y/N gave him a slightly chagrined look. “She isn't usually this shy.” She said by way of apology. 

But Dean simply shook his head. Unlike Johnston, he understood all too well why this blue-eyed moppet was scared of him. She'd watched him nearly end her mother's life - not something she was ever likely to forget.

Dean hated that that realization came with a trace of guilt. Feeling very annoyed with himself, he straightened up and nodded curtly.

“Good.” He said succinctly, responding to nothing. “I just wanted to make sure you were settled properly.”

He turned in an abrupt about face and started walking away. 

“Dean, wait!” Y/N called out to him. He turned back to see her wave Emma back into the tent and head towards him. When she reached him she wore her bright smile again, and he frowned deeper as a result.

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

Dean said nothing, waiting for her to continue. She seemed to be a little nervous, fiddling with her hair. She finally clasped her hands in front of her and continued. 

“So, I was talking to Eric?” She said as though it was a question. Dean did give her a puzzled look.

“Eric?” He asked.

Y/N had opened her mouth to continue talking, but then closed it and gave her head a shake, pointing to the side at nothing in particular. 

“Eric Johnston? The…soldier that brought us to this tent and helped us set it up.”

Dean nodded in recognition. Yes, he remembered now, that was his first name. He never used it. “Right.” He waved her on. 

“And I was asking about school for Emma, but he said there isn't one.”

Dean shook his head. “No, the parents, guardians, they look after that themselves.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, but I was thinking…well, I was a third grade teacher in the…before.” She thumbed behind her as though their former, normal lives were just right behind them, around the corner, instead of existing eons ago.

She shrugged. “So, I was thinking that maybe I could start a kind of school for the kids here. Eric figured there were about 35 or 40 of them. So I thought we could hold lessons somewhere outside most days, but if the weather's bad, maybe we could use the main cabin.”

Dean was scowling harder now, so she rushed on. “It would only be for a few hours a day. Wouldn't be anything spectacular, but it could help them with reading and math, and just some basics. Keep the kids' minds occupied and give their parents a couple of hours on their own.”

She shrugged. “It's nothing much, but it might help people feel a little more hopeful about the future.” She finished with another bright smile.

Dean felt his ire rise with that word again - hopeful. This woman was going to upset everything, tip the precarious balance of the camp on its head. 

He shook his head angrily. “We don't do shit like that. This isn't a fucking gated community, okay? These are survivors who get by together. That's it.”

Y/N's eyes were so earnest it almost hurt to look at her. “But, don't you see, it could be a community. Not gated, but open. We could do more for each other than just survive.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, if you're unhappy with being here, we can happily help you on your way.”

Y/N raised her hands. “No, of course not, that's not what-”

Dean cut her off with a cold, hard voice. “And you can't teach kids like this.” He waved a hand towards the red rings encircling her irises. “You'd scare the shit outta them. Take one look at you and freak out, thinking you're gonna turn into a monster any minute.”

That pulled Y/N up short and Dean could see by her slight flinch that his words had hit home. She was quiet a minute and her smile was dimmed as she nodded.

“Right. That's…no, you're right.” She gave an imitation of a chuckle. “There aren't many mirrors around, so I…sometimes I forget about…” she gestured to her eyes.

She shook her head. “I was just trying to find a way to be helpful, you know.” She shrugged. “But yeah…” She trailed off and Dean felt a sick gnawing sensation in his stomach as she gave a final dull smile. 

“Okay, well thanks.” She said as she turned away. Though what she could have possibly been thanking him for, he had no idea.

He thought about Cas’ disappointed expression, and Y/N's bent smile and he gritted his teeth. This morning was not going well for him.

The day didn’t get much better from there. He spent most of it planning their next raid for canned goods. They were running low, and it was September already. Over the next couple of months they’d have to make sure they had whatever they needed for the winter. Once the snow hit, the winter roads were sometimes impassable for weeks at a time. 

They were having to go further and further out from the camp to find supplies. The area was becoming picked clean. There were four or five other, smaller, groups of survivors within about a hundred square miles of their camp. For the most part they all rubbed along together alright, pretty much just leaving a big buffer of space between the camps, and leaving each other alone.

However, Dean was starting to worry about what would happen now that resources and supplies around them were starting to run out. In this last year, they’d started having to drive hours and hours away from camp to find un-ransacked grocery stores and restaurants in the abandoned cities. They could manage it because of their size, but some of the smaller groups had very few working vehicles, making it harder for them to travel. Dean worried what would happen when they got desperate. 

He wanted to be ready for winter.

So, he tried to spend the day planning the best route to hit as many cities as they could without hitting too many known Croat hives, or cleaned out cities. But he kept getting interrupted by his soldiers. The concerns of the camp were unending, and sometimes felt completely overwhelming. 

The morning kept being interrupted by issues and grievances his soldiers brought him from some of the camp inhabitants. He tried to put out as many fires as he could, while continuing to plan the raid.

Then he ended up spending far too much of the afternoon talking about drainage and irrigation with the young guy who used to be an engineering student, and an old farmer who’d spent his whole life in the fields. The two very different men were teaming up to try and see about making bigger winter crop plots this year. They’d grown some winter vegetables last fall and winter, and even that small amount of fresh food had made a big difference in the health of the campers. So this year they were hoping for more. 

Finally the men went off to plan some more and Dean folded up his maps. He hadn’t made much headway into the raid route, but the light was getting low; he’d have to come back to it. He fried up some spam and a few of the cooked, frozen potatoes they’d put up in the spring and sat beside his fire for a while before tossing water on it and going inside his tent. He lit a lantern and started to try and look at the maps again, but he was interrupted by Risa.

Dean lifted his chin towards her by way of greeting. She came forward and dropped a small piece of machinery on his table. “Here’s the piston for that Ford we towed back last week.” She said, referring to the truck they’d found abandoned on the side of the road with no owners in sight. “Should work.”

Dean nodded. “Great.”

Risa lingered a moment and then walked closer to him. “How are you?”

Dean shrugged. “Fine.”

She moved forward to stand between his legs and then reached out to run her hands over his cheeks and down his neck. She bent over and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

“I miss you.” She said, her voice softer and more intimate than it ever was when they were soldier and commander. “You haven’t been to see me in weeks.”

“Sorry.” Dean said gruffly and then let her kiss him again, kissing her back for a moment before pulling away. 

Not willing to give up, Risa straddled his outstretched thighs and reached for his zipper. “It’s okay, I bet I can find ways to entice you back.” She said, dark brown eyes flashing with heat.

But Dean grabbed her hands and pulled them away. He kissed her briefly to try and ease the sting of his rejection. “Sorry, not tonight.” He nodded towards the maps on his table. “I’ve got shit I gotta finish.”

Risa bit into her lip, looking down at their hands entwined in his lap, and then nodding before she stood up. She lifted her mouth in a smile. “Yeah, sure. ‘Kay.” She nodded again and pointed to the piston as she left. “Let me know if that works.”

Dean sighed as his tent flap fell back into place. And that was the third person he’d disappointed today. Without his permission Y/N’s face floated into his mind. Despite what he’d said to her, he couldn’t deny how beautiful that face actually was. The red pigment in her eyes made no difference to that beauty.

He couldn’t erase the image of her crestfallen expression when he told her she’d scare the kids. That was complete bullshit and he knew it. Five seconds in her shiny presence and the kids would be eating out of her hand.

He growled slightly as he could feel himself caving. But would it really be so bad to let her teach the kids somewhere? They’d have to stay out of the way, and she’d have to keep them all quiet when they were together in a mob. But it might actually free their parents up for more of the endless tasks it took to maintain the camp.

If he let her do it, he’d have to make sure she knew he was only saying yes so that they could have the kids out of the way for a while. This wasn’t some hopeful mission for the future. It was just a practical solution for improving the camp.

He nodded. Yeah, I'll tell her tomorrow. 

But even as he though it, he got up and walked out of his tent, moving towards the southwest corner of the camp. Within a couple minutes he was standing in front of the red tent and again found himself clearing his throat and embarrassingly calling out a hello, like he was the Avon lady.

Y/N poked her head out of the tent and smiled. But she lowered her eyes a little and wouldn’t look directly at him. He wanted to punch himself.

“Hi.” She said softly, and then stepped out of the tent into the cool, late evening breeze. She waved towards the tent. “Emma’s sleeping.”

He nodded. She rubbed her arms and he frowned. “Didn’t they give you a jacket?” Then he noticed she was still wearing the grubby clothes she’d been wearing when she came. “And clean clothes?”

Y/N nodded and even in the dusky twilight Dean could see her blush. “Yes, but I realized…I’m all dirty.” She shrugged. “Nothing but basin baths for weeks. I’d like to get cleaner before I put on the clean clothes. One of your soldiers said there was a place where people went to bathe nearby. But he didn’t have time to take me.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, there’s a river about four miles south of camp. It does the trick. I’ll take you tomorrow.” 

He scowled; he didn’t know where that offer had come from. He could have had one of his soldiers, or any other camper really, take her out to the river. But he didn’t rescind the offer and Y/N nodded happily.

“That would be wonderful.” She said rapturously. 

Dean nodded curtly again. “Yeah. And uh…you can do the school.” Y/N looked directly at him now and her face was surprised, but clearly thrilled. 

“Really?” 

He nodded and scowled. “Yeah, the kids'll get over it." He said with a nod to her red eyes. "But just make sure you all stay out of the way of the work in the camp. And let the parents know we’ll have some work for them during the hours their kids are gone. We can use the extra hands.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to help out where they can.”

Impulsively it seemed, she threw her arms around him, squeezing his arms tight to his sides as she hugged him. Shock coursed through him and he didn’t know how to move. Thankfully it was a brief hug and she was soon pulling away.

“Thank you so much, Dean. I’m so excited. I think it’s going to make a real difference. Just wait.”

As she bid him goodnight and bounced back into her tent, he shook his head, frowning deeply. 

Fuck, he thought, everything is too different already.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @deangirl96

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

Truly the way this scene would have hit so much harder if Mary was the right age. Like Dean, girl, you're 40! You sound crazy!! That is a truly crazy thing to say to her!! She's 29! She's been dead for decades! She was brutally murdered! Her marriage was arranged by heaven! Her babies are now fully grown men! She just learned what tiktok is!

But this dynamic also validates Dean's feelings sooooooooo much more imo. If Mary really is 10+ years younger than he is, and if she's given the internal life in the narrative to process everything that's happened to her and to grieve and figure things out on her own, then what he wants is truly something he can't have!

It's not just an issue of Mary being able to meet his needs and choosing not to or needing more time, she really truly cannot give him what he's asking for and that is so painful! And it's so real. That kind of grief and the struggle to accept that your parent is never going to parent you the way that you need them to.

Dean really did lose his mother, and even though she's back, it doesn't change or fix that, it just forces all these feelings to the surface. It's messy. It isn't fair. And it isn't either of their faults. It's that kind of family trauma that you don't really have anywhere to put, it just carves out a space in you.

Anyways stream Ten Minutes From Home: Lebanon Coda to play in the 29 year old Mary space with me <3

Hurricane

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Beta!Reader

Word Count: 1,836

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: You decided to stop running for only a moment. But that’s all it takes for Dean to catch up to you.

Warnings: Language. 18+ themes. Masturbation.

A/N: This update took so much longer than I liked, and that’s because I kept taking it a hundred different directions, but I’m finally proud of where it’s at. Thank you everyone who has shown support and love for this story. Just one more part, I swear!

 You secluded yourself in an old hunting cabin. One of Bobby’s hideouts deep in the woods of Oregon that he’d purchased for a song with one stipulation: no hunting on the property.

“Trust me,” Bobby had told the old man selling. “I’m not here to shoot at Bambi or any of his woodland friends.”

The cabin was sturdy and functional, but deeply in need of upkeep. The porch steps had given way to wet snow, warping towards the center; the windows clouded over in grime so that seeing in was just as impossible as seeing out. Barren trees lined the front like crosses on the side of the highway.

The snow had been constant, covering the land, caking the trees and making the dirt road slick. The sun a foggy memory behind miles of clouds.

Keep reading

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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