muscle drain

Ever thought top surgery drains would be the last JP drains you ever saw?

Yeah, not for me haha. If you have been following my phalloplasty journey or are aware of my complication, then you know we performed the gracilis muscle flap in order to close a sinus tract that was an ongoing fistula since the day of surgery. 

But its like fuck, we need to talk about all of these things, the good and the bad. Nothing easy comes without sacrifice. But I can’t say I would have signed up to sacrifice the entire last 2 years of my life. We can’t choose our lives but we can choose how we react to situations put ahead of us. 

Instagram saw it first, but they deleted it within less than 10 minutes. 

Maroon (M)

→ Baekhyun Smut Drabble

Word count: 776


“Y/N?” 

You turned hurriedly at the smooth sound of a familiar voice, a quick pain appears in the muscles of your neck at the sudden movement but you payed no mind to it. Not when you noticed who exactly spoke your name; Baekhyun. 

“Oh my god- Baekhyun, it’s really you.” You smiled widely at your old friend, receiving an equally wide smile in return before you’re buried in the embrace of the holder of those pearly white teeth. 

It had been so long, so long since you’d seen Baekhyun. Three or so years, and recalling it, the only message left for you: a note after your last time together, was an outstanding, bitter memory;

“Be back soon, hopefully. Will miss you.”

In the beginning, his absence was mostly hard for your shallow pleasure and burning desire, but as two years without him went by, something else started - something more genuine triggered a tightness in your chest at the sheer thought of him. Your sweet, oblivious, fuckbuddy. But now, having him before you again, so suddenly - your heart didn’t race as you had imagined it do. 

He hummed as you let your own arms wiggle around his waist, your hands falling down against his lower back. 

“I missed you Y/N.” He started, loosening his hold around you slowly before departing completely. “No one was as good as you were.” 

You scoffed, startled, punching him lightly in the shoulder while your cheeks flushed at his sexual innuendo. “Stop, Baekhyun, you’re just here to get laid again?” You chuckled and Baekhyun shrugged, smirking. 

“Depends.. You want to reignite the flame?” Your cheeks lost their warmth and color as a feeling of neutrality, perhaps light excitement, filled your body. You smirked lightly, shrugging your shoulders with an easy said “Sure.”

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It Can’t Rain Forever

(In response to this post https://eddiekaaspbraks.tumblr.com/post/166153229332/will-someone-write-a-fic-where-stan-feels-insecure)

Clean.

That’s all Stanley wanted.

He just wanted to feel clean.

But every time he looked in the mirror and saw the scars, he was transported back to that dark and dirty sewer. The complete and utter loneliness would take hold of him and suddenly, his bathroom lights were too bright. They were too close. They were growing closer. They were towering over him. They were paralyzing him-

He was dirty.

So, so dirty.

And he couldn’t get clean.

No matter how hard he scrubbed his face, the marks wouldn’t leave.

His hands began to shake, frantically tugging at his face. The wash cloth in his hand came back bloodied this time; he must have picked one of the scabs off. So be it. He couldn’t feel his face anymore anyways. And the lights just kept getting brighter.

He felt like an actor, and this was his scene. The spotlight was on him, just like it always is. Like it always will be.

So he better play his part.

He must play his part.

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Speakers

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Sam takes the reader into the woods for a romantic night, but what she tells him causes a shift in the mood.

Word Count: 1,294

Warnings: semi-public smut (they’re in the middle of the woods), Sam being sweet and adorable, fluff

A/N: My first [decent] aesthetic! Told from Sam’s POV. Inspired by this song.

Laying in the bed of my old truck, the wind whirled around us, cool air running over the skin left uncovered by the blanket I’d brought along. My lips connected with the soft skin of her neck, barely touching, the warmth from my lips and breath leaving a spot that was especially affected by the chill. She gasped in sharply, her hands came up to grip at my shoulders as I moved to hover over her.

Her head leaned back on the balled up t-shirt she was using as a pillow, and the speakers permitted faint bumps of bass drum beats to come through the windows. The bed liner rumbled under her back, but all I could focus on was the pounding in her chest, like her heart was physically trying to jump up at me.

The chilled breeze whipped around us, following my fingers through her hair. If I could commit one thing about this night to my memory for the rest of my life, it would be the way [Y/N] looked. The moon was so bright, shining down and illuminating her in ways the sun never could, casting shadows of the trees across her face and body. 

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anonymous asked:

unbind me bellarke pleeeeease :)

Here, have a little s5 spec.  ;)

Bellamy craned his neck towards the woods, searching for any sign of the miners.  They’d only left one guard on them and she was more than a dozen paces away, hardly bothering to pay attention.  After all, where would they run?  There was no one else left and just a tiny patch of green in which to survive.

The miners had arrived suddenly and swarmed out of the docking bay with clubs and shock batons, searching for materiel to scavenge before their final descent.  He and Echo and Harper had managed to take down a dozen before they were overwhelmed.  The leader had ordered them chained up, preserved as useful resources for surviving the ground.  They had chosen Murphy to question first and he’d thrown Bellamy a pointed look as they dragged him away.

Bellamy’s stomach had churned listening to Murphy scream and Emori had fought against her restraints like a demon, but somehow Murphy kept his head.  He’d claimed the bunker couldn’t have possibly survived past five years, leaving the planet devoid of human life.

They hadn’t been able to reach the bunker, but Bellamy still had hope.  That their people wouldn’t have given up just yet.

That his sister wouldn’t have given up.  He might have already lost Clarke, but he wouldn’t lose her.

So the miners threw them all in the brig and promised them their freedom if they helped them survive.  One shaky broach of atmo and what Raven called an amateur landing and here they were, back on the ground for twelve hours and still chained to trees.

The miners had found a lake and ran whooping towards the water, leaving them with a guard who pouted about staying behind.  Bellamy caught Echo’s eye and she nodded, her wrists already chafed raw as she tried to slip from her restraints.  He looked to Raven, who flicked her eyes towards the guard.  She had the best vantage point from her tree and Raven pursed her lips in a silent whistle.

That would be the signal, then.  

The miners might have once been prisoners but they were terrible guards.  Bellamy’s shoulders ached as he twisted in his restraints but already he could feel the chain loosening.  He glanced at Echo again to gauge her progress and found her staring straight ahead, muscles tight.  Raven’s face drained of color and Monty’s mouth dropped open.  Whatever it was that had them terrified was just out of his line of sight, hidden by the underbrush.

Fear spiked in Bellamy’s gut.  If a panther had survived they were nothing more than bait, and one miner who had never seen a live animal before with a shock baton wouldn’t be much protection.  He redoubled his efforts and a trickle of blood ran down his forearm to his palm, but he’d deal with that later.  Bellamy bent his head down to try and shift the angle of his chains, and then he heard it.

A footstep.

It was quiet— so quiet that for a moment he was sure it was a panther, but then he looked up.

And his heart stopped.

Blonde hair, blue eyes.  A rifle strapped to her back.  Cheeks thinner than he remembered, jaw a little sharper.  A slice of red in her hair, chopped to her chin instead of braided down her back like when he’d last seen her.

But it was her.

Clarke.

Bellamy stared, his chains forgotten, and drank her in.  Something like a grin flickered across her face and she stole through the trees, her finger pressed to her lips for silence.  Her eyes never left his and she crouched down in front of him; real.

Part of him had wondered if she was a ghost but ghosts didn’t crack twigs and their knees didn’t sink into mud and they certainly couldn’t touch you, their palms rough with callouses but gentle against your cheek.  Clarke brushed a curl back from his forehead and smiled, so bright and genuine he thought his heart might never start beating again.  “I’ll get you out of here,” she murmured, and then her eyes lost that soft look.  They snapped back into focus and he knew, without a doubt, they would survive.

Because Clarke was alive.

Imagine you’ve decided to try an experimental drug

Imagine youve decided to try a new, experimental muscle gains drug, called SwoleAid. You’ve been trying to develop some more muscle, but no matter what youve tried before you just arent getting muscular fast enough for your liking, so youve been messing with different diets and supplements for the past few months.

A buddy of yours that heard about what you were looking for got you this bottle. It worries you, as he said it was actually illegal in a couple countries, but this country isnt aware enough of it to have laws against it yet. But youre willing to try anything at this point, and youve always been a bit of a gambler.

Still, you sit in your work out room, waffling back and forth. Eventually you just shove a pill of it in your mouth and swallow as fast as you can to get it over with.

Immediately, a tingle comes over you. Youre not sure how long it takes for the rest of the effect to kick in, because its impossible to focus while it feels like every inch of you is vibrating.

You feel all the skin on your body start to tighten, and incredible arousal comes over you. You look down at your shaking hands, and watch in awe as they and your arms grow before your very eyes, becoming bigger and more muscular, tearing your sleeves. You move turn to look at yourself in the mirror, and see your thighs and calves become thick and chiseled enough that your shorts tear to shreds as though you’re becoming the Hulk.

You’re giddy beyond belief as you run fingers through your hair, your biceps bulging, your chest and shoulders widening. Its better than you couldve ever have even dreamed of. You felt every bit of muscle in you tighten and relax as though you were getting a deep tissue massage.

As the growth finally seemed to finish, you tried to take care of your arousal… But taking care of it alone refused to help. Your rod refused to be satisfied with just jacking it and continued to stand at attention, so you decided to go to a bar to pick up somebody for a little fun with the new you.

As you went in to the bar, you immediately noticed that most eyes were on you, and you loved it. It wasnt a very populated bar, but you preferred the more personal, quiet bar experience. You decided to attempt to flirt with a pretty brunette you spot, so you sit down close to her.

You’re caught completely off guard when she suddenly clutches her middle and moans. You attempt to reach for her and ask if shes okay, but as you get closer she only starts to moan louder, and you see her belly begin to swell before your eyes. She moans and moans, her face flushed, she tries to stand and run to the bathroom. But as she tries to speed waddle there, you see a gush of fluid soak her crotch and run down, and she stumbles.

You watch as she continues to moan in spite of herself, clutching her swollen middle. She moans the word “push” again and again for some reason, and eventually, she slowly turns around to face you, panting. She unbuckles her pants and tugs them off past her knees, and you see a big wet bulge against her underwear. “I-I’m givinNNNGH B-BIRTH!” she moans, in a way that makes you even more hot and heavy, as she tugs the panties off to reveal that she really was, a baby’s head crowning from her body.

Your distracted from the spectacle by a cute waitress walking into the bar area, and the moment you made eye contact with her, her hand shot to cup the bottom of her belly as it rapidly swelled, becoming big and tight as a basketball. You stood, but couldnt help but watch as the two pushed and pushed. You got up for a moment to try to leave, and then the bartender, walks out and drops your drink in horror, before he looks to you and freezes.

His hand moves to his middle as he falls to his knees and even his belly grows. You nearly finish in your pants at the very sight, despite your horror and guilt, at the realization that this is your fault.

You run out onto the sidewalk, and hurry home. As you get out of your car and rush to your room, you see various tennants you pass as you run to your room double over and swell, and you suspect even some who were close to the doors of their apartments got knocked up.

You curl up in your bed, hearing moans and the crying of babies from downstairs, babies that’re probably yours. You desperately want relieve this urge, but it refuses to go, and only gets more maddening every time you knock someone up by accident. Your guilt and arousal are all you can think of.

Until finally, you finally manage to relieve yourself. You finish with a massive gush of fluids, and your muscle seems to drain from you as you return to your normal size, but… Your belly grows. You scream, knowing whats happening as your belly gets bigger and bigger, and tighter and tighter, so big you can see it contract around the mass of babies growing inside you, and you feel yourself grow a birth canal to push them out of.

But as you do, something shifts and instead of being scared, youre aroused again. And you moan, and moan and moan…

Aw, lil bro thinks hes smart, isnt that cute, huhuhuh. He doesnt know that muscle is takin over his life. That soon muscle will be all he thinks about. Muscle n the gym. The gym is where it happens, bro, Im tellin ya. Ya start to love lifting, the burn on your muscles, that drained n tired feelin after ya workout… drained like ya brain huhuhuh…

Yea bro I know this is what you always wanted. So let go of bein smart an fuckin lift bro. You’ll see.

Heyo! It’s been a while, I know, but I’m back now. Got a lot planned this summer - learning to drive, writing, coding projects - but I’m determined to make some serious progress on this fic too don’t you worry. It’s not a huge chapter to return with but hopefully it’s still good. Enjoy, my darlings!

I’m really curious about what’s gonna happen in the next part of Tower!

‘The Tower’ (Part 5)

Part 4

The only sounds to fill the silence after Loki left were the crackle and spit of the fire. In retrospect, burning the man’s property for a little water might not have been the best idea but it was a necessary evil.

You stomped out the burning books and sighed. Such a waste. From the ashes, smoke began to fill the room, making your eyes water, so you retreated to the bedroom. With all other doors closed, the smoke was free to make its escape through the various windows. Meanwhile, you positioned yourself as comfortably as possible on the “mattress” and begged for sleep.

And, boy, did it come…

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sometimes, forever is just a second


For @ponyregrets, @bgonemydear, and @reblogginhood.  Title is paraphrased from Alice in Wonderland.


Bellamy still feels like he’s floating.  And not the terrifying, stomach-churning floating of his nightmares where he’s the one shoved out the airlock instead of his mother.  This is a pleasant, liquid feeling; like being wrapped in a soft, fuzzy cloud.

He shifts and something warm against him moves.  Blonde hair is splayed out across his pillow and smooth, pale skin is pressed against his chest.  She turns and beams at him, and for a moment, Bellamy can only stare.

It’s Clarke, naked and smiling in his bed.  At first he can’t remember her arrival the night before, but then his brain shutters through a slideshow of her dancing against him, her hips grinding against his leg, their fingers twined together.  He remembers her smile when Niylah poured them both another cup of the Jobi tea, and he remembers her lips finding his in a dark corridor.  He remembers more and more, and each flash— the curve of her hip, the feel of her hair sweeping across his skin— deepens his smile.  “Morning, Bell,” she says, and he realizes she’s never called him that before.  It sits awkwardly, but he brushes it away like a fly in the summer.  He curls his hand around her jaw and brings her up for a lazy kiss hello.  Everything is golden and warm— even the grey metal walls seem welcoming instead of grim and forbidding, and his heart swells.

“Morning,” he says, and wonders if it’s the after effects of the tea or her that has him feeling like this— euphoric and content despite the wave of fire that is coming to incinerate them all.  He runs his hand down her side and stops at a long scar across her ribs.  It’s pink and shiny, long healed, but he rubs his thumb across the raised flesh and frowns.  “When did you get this?”

Clarke giggles.  “You remember,” she says, playful, and he can’t stop himself from stealing a kiss before returning to his fixation.  He shakes his head and she sighs.  “Mount Weather,” she explains, and he furrows his brow again.

“You were injured at Mount Weather?”  He realizes it must have been on her way out the first time, back when he thought she was dead.  Raven had told him she spent the night in medical before he returned, but he’d thought that was just Abby being overprotective.  But now he bends down and kisses it, an apology feeling once more inadequate.

“You must have visited me four times in med bay,” she adds, but Bellamy is too busy nuzzling the soft undersides of her breasts to pay attention.  He hadn’t even let himself want this, but now that she was here he was going to take every second they had.  

But when he goes to kiss her lips again, he pauses.  “In med bay?” he asks, and Clarke cranes her neck to close the distance, but he pulls away.

He never visited Clarke in med bay.  He’d seen her sick or injured dozens of times, but never when there was time to take her to med bay.  Never sat next to her bed, waiting for her to wake.

Another memory stirs in his mind, of an unconscious blonde on a cot in the corner of the clinic.  Of Raven being in the bed next to her, sarcastically telling him off for worrying over nothing.

He shakes it off, but it persists, buzzing in his ear.

Gina had been there too, but that’s wrong— all wrong.  Gina never knew Clarke.  They never existed in the same space; Gina never stood at his shoulder and said Dr. Griffin says she’s fine, come get something to eat while Clarke slept.

Bellamy blinks and the muzzy, liquid feeling in his muscles starts to drain.  The heat fades, replaced by a swelling coldness.  The hip he’s touching is too narrow, the blonde hair he’s seeing just a shade too dark.  He blinks again and it’s like his vision is swirling, telescoping in and out.  The golden haze dims and the world turns grey and bleak like a radio tuning to a new channel.

Bellamy’s stomach turns to writhing snakes.  Clarke’s smile is replaced by Bree’s, and all at once everything comes into focus.  “That tea was some serious shit, wasn’t it?” Bree says, and he feels sick but not because of her. Because of what he did.  “Pretty sure I thought you were my ex at one point,” she continues, completely unconcerned.  “But this was fun.”  She rolls out of the bed and starts getting dressed, brisk and businesslike.  “We should do it again before the world ends,” she says with a wink, and Bellamy does his best to muster up a smile.

He’s not sure it’s convincing, but she buys it anyway.  “See you around, Bell,” Bree says finally, and he waves goodbye.  The door shuts and he falls back against his pillow.

Alone.

WDW’S Reaction to You Dating Another Member- Jonah

Masterlist

Prompt: He’s had feelings for you for the longest time, but there’s nothing he can do because you’re dating another member of the band  ((angst??))

(1/5) Other installments coming soon!

Reaction Requests are open!


J O N A H: As the oldest member, he’d felt the pressure to be a leader and a role model for his band mates since day one, always helping to keep everyone in line and spirits up. He’d never understood how other bands could get so worked up over such little things, letting it tear them apart, and he vowed to never let that happen to WDW- which is why it tore him up inside when you walked into his life or, more specifically, Daniel’s. At first he thought it was just a silly crush, that maybe he liked you because he didn’t have many female friend’s in his life on a regular basis, but after your 1 year anniversary with his best friend and band mate- he knew his feelings for you were far from temporary. Jonah’s the guy who would put on the most elaborate of masks, smiling and laughing with the rest of you as though everything were fine, maybe even playfully flirting a bit if he was feeling confident, but at the end of the day he’d only beat himself up for ever trying to make you blush because that wasn’t his job, and it never would be. Most likely he’d give up after a while, not because he didn’t have feelings for you, but because he would never let himself ruin your’s and Daniel’s happiness. As much as it made him ache inside, he only wanted you to be happy- even if he wasn’t the one who made you feel that way.

“Hey bro, we’re going out for pizza, you coming?” Daniel called cheerily from the doorway as he slid on his windbreaker. Jonah looked up from his notebook as he laid casually on his bed, his limbs sprawled out in front of him as he thought it over. Just then, you appeared in the doorway, wrapping your arm leniently around Daniel’s as you smiled towards him. The way your eyes lit up made his every muscle drain, but he mustered a small smile nevertheless.

“Oh, umm, nah…you guys go ahead. I’m just working on some stuff for the new album.” Daniel nodded, sending him a thumbs up before exiting the door way. You perched a moment longer, smiling obliviously as you waved towards him.

“We’ll bring you back a slice!” You spoke happily, before turning away and following your boyfriend downstairs. Jonah sighed, running his hands through his hair in aggravation as he glanced down at his notebook, only to realize he’d been scribbling over lyrics he was ashamed to say you’d inspired him to write.

Would he ever confess? He’d never tell a soul.

mesdea  asked:

Can you please continue the Goodbye Master story, but please, can we have a happy ending, canon is already depressing enough. Qui-Gon obviously had feelings for Obi-Wan and I think often times it's human nature to misunderstand that people love us, even if we don't see it. Anyways, thanks for always sharing your stories with us, they sometimes are the only thing that get me through a tough day.

“I’m back.” Qui-Gon murmured, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “You won’t believe how many cross trips me and Anakin had to take to get home. Honestly, I am a master of the Living Force but even I can only handle cattle cargo ships for so long.” The long haired master shook his head and settled on the medical bed. “Looking dashing as always Obi-Wan.” He whispered, feeling his heart twinge at the others pale and still face.

Four years and Obi-Wan was still comatose though he was breathing on his own so there was some improvement at least.

“I see the droids haven’t gotten around to shaving you yet.” Qui-Gon let his fingertips brush the others two cm long beard before brushing the others hair. “Or wash your hair.” He smiled meekly. “That’s alright, I’ll do it since I’m here.” He stroked the greasy hair lightly.

Getting up, he got the water bowl and shampoos, talking about the mission.

Normally the droids were on top of taking care of Obi-Wan but…

Well Qui-Gon liked taking care of the other too after it was clear that he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

From helping with the muscle stimuli to helping transporting Obi-Wan to the bacta tank and to simple things like washing and shaving the other.

It made Qui-Gon feel…useful.

Well when he wasn’t too busy with Anakin.

“Anakin asked me about your room a week ago actually.” He murmured as he returned with the lukewarm water and settled the towel tarp under Obi-Wan’s head so not to soak the bed. “Or I mean… his room. Its still odd to refer to it as Anakin’s room.” He sighed quietly.

Mulling a bit, he started to carefully washing the others hair.

“He was wondering if I removed everything from the room or if anything in it was yours when he took it.” Qui-Gon elaborated, catching his thoughts again. “I told him that the bed, desk and dresser were standard fare and were there when you were there too but that everything else had been tucked away in a storage for when you wake.”

He rubbed carefully, making sure not to pull on the hair.

Perhaps Obi-Wan couldn’t feel it, perhaps he would never wake up but Qui-Gon liked to tell himself that if Obi-Wan woke, he’d appreciate the stimuli.

“…You know, I remember when you were fourteen and you’d curl against me, hopeful that I’d rub your scalp.” The older master murmured. “You never asked for it outright but… you wanted that positive attention.” He chuckled quietly.

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, only continued to breath softly as Qui-Gon washed his hair.

“You continued with it until you were sixteen.” He started to rinse the sudsy water darkened copper hair. “I think that’s around the time you developed your crush on me.” Qui-Gon hummed. “You were so embarrassed.”

He took care of the others hair and wrapped it in a soft towel before moving on to the stubble on the others face, gently shaving the gaunt cheeks.

Force it still felt like a physical blow to his stomach how gaunt Obi-Wan was getting.

Despite the muscle stimuli, fat was draining away from the others body and there was almost none left by now. Qui-Gon feared that eventually, despite the best of care offered, Obi-Wan would go into the Force.

Setting the sonic shaver aside, Qui-Gon stared at the others pale skin, stroking the mole beneath his eye gently.

“…Please wake up Obi-Wan. I need to make this right. You mattered so much to me.” He whispered before leaning in and pressing his lips to the others forehead. “Please Obi-Wan.”

Settling one large hand on a slender shoulder, Qui-Gon set his forehead against Obi-Wan, reaching out into the Force and towards the redhead as he had since he landed in coma, trying to find the other man to draw him back.

Obi-Wan…wake up please.’ He rubbed the shoulder gently through the thin medical gown.

“Master?” Qui-Gon lifted his head and looked to the door, giving the blond a small, assuring smile as Anakin shifted akwardly by the door. “I didn’t mean to disturb but its dinner time and Master Windu was asking for you.” He glanced at Obi-Wan, his eyes sparkling sadly before looking back at Qui-Gon.

“I see. Alright then.” Qui-Gon looked back down at the still comatose man and sighed. “…Yes, its dinner time. Lets go eat and then I’ll see what Mace wants.” He stroked Obi-Wan’s clean cheek before getting up, moving to his padawan’s side and ruffling his hair gently. “Come along then Anakin.”

The two left the room, leaving the sleeping man to the solitude.

Unseen by anyone else, Obi-Wan’s fingers gave a little twitch.

The Bigger Man

“I don’t think he likes you doing that,” groaned Mike.

Vance threw up another flex. “You mean this?” He did a double bicep pose. It showed off his huge arms. “I don’t know Mike. I think he likes it more than you think. Look at how red that face is getting.”

Mike just rolled his eyes. He wasn’t about to pick a fight with Vance over something so stupid. He was just there to sit and watch to make sure he didn’t start a fight. See Vance had learned some magic that could help him change some things about his body. He’d started going to the gym and seeing all the really big guys got pretty jealous. He wasn’t going to steal much. Just a pound or two off the really big ones. They didn’t even notice.

After about a month Vance had gotten a pretty awesome body. At 5’9 and 160 pounds he looked like a pretty strong fighter. His body was fit and he felt comfortable with the weight he was lifting. His confidence soared and he even decided to get a few tattoos. Something he’d been a bit embarrassed about before. He hated the idea of looking like some kind of poser who was just trying to look tough because he got some ink. But the physique he had at the time, they made him look amazing.

With all the changes Vance had made, he was starting feeling pretty good about himself. He was starting over, and able to move on. But then Damien came around. His stupid high school bully who never knew when to shut up. The guy seriously pissed everyone off. But he was fuckin jacked. Nobody dared mess with him. The school kept trying to test him to see what he was on but somehow it always came up clean. There wasn’t anything they could do.

And lucky little Vance was his favorite target. In high school he loved showing off his huge body to Vance. Then forcing him to touch it and calling him a little faggot ‘for enjoying it’. Under different circumstance Vance might have but Damien was way too rough. He’d pull his weak body really hard and then make him fell the large muscles.

Vance had almost put all of that behind him. He was about to move on completely. That is until Damien decided to join his gym. And somehow he found Vance on day one. It was like it was fate. Vance had hoped he’d just go workout. Or that he’d gained some kind of maturity. But no. In an instant Damien comes rushing over to Vance.

“Hey little shit. Not so little anymore I see. Been working out a lot. Bet it’s all thanks to me. Jealous of this mad bod right?” Damien grinned.

Vance tried ignoring him. But the idiot wouldn’t let up. Damien just kept pestering him while he worked out. Mike came over to see what the commotion was. He was just making sure there wasn’t going to be a fight in the gym. He knew Vance could handle himself and that made him all the more worried.

“You know what. Fuck it.” Vance said. He couldn’t concentrate anymore. He reached over and grabbed Damien by the shoulder. Muscle started draining rapidly from his body. The huge muscles the jock had worked so long to get were disappearing in an instant. They wrapped in on themselves. No longer big and round but flat and weak. He was looking up to make eye contact.

But before him, Vance’s muscles were growing. Their already round bold shape bulked up. He was already a pretty strong looking dude but now he had the size. That large intimidating size. The huge amount of weight that Damien had been working so hard for. Looking like a total stud who never had an off season in his life. His muscle shirt started ripping around his lats. They were far too wide to fit inside the large shirt. His shorts strained against his thighs and butt. Threatening to rip at any moment. While his feet pushed out of the front of his shoes. Even they looked like they had packed on muscle.

Damien stood in disbelief of what just happened before him. His shoulders were so thin he could almost fit through the head hole of his shirt. “What just…” His mind was reeling. “This isn’t possible… You took everything! Give it back!” Damien’s small body tried to attack Vance. He couldn’t do anything. All his punches felt like they were hitting a brick wall.

Vance laughed. It was the first time he’d felt so unbelievably strong. The bully couldn’t do anything to him. He could almost understand why Damien liked picking on him so much. If he wanted to he could do anything he wanted to the little guy as he flailed punches at him. But he wasn’t like Damien. He wasn’t going to endlessly torture people who were smaller than him. However that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy this a little bit.

“I didn’t just take from you,” Vance smiled. “I also gave you a little present.”

“Wha…” Damien felt Vance’s hand grab his wrist and pull it to his chest. He was confused for a second and then let out a soft moan. His hand naturally started feeling the muscles. Going in and out of the deep striations built from hard work. It felt so amazing. “Fuck!” he pulled his hand realizing how much he was enjoying it.

Vance pulled in real close to Damien. He spoke softly into the little guy’s face. “And you know Jenny,” he waited for Damien to nod. “I’m going to show her what a real man is. I thought I’d have more to take from you. But 2 inches is still 2 inches.”

Damien wanted to shout, but couldn’t. There was something holding him back. He tried to think about the times he spent with Jenny but ended up only thinking about Vance putting him in those same compromising positions. His hands started to slowly drift back up to the muscle giant before him. He swatted them away, face turning bright red. He was gay now.

Vance threw up another flex just to make his point. “Nah man. I think he likes it.”

d.w - Part 2

Title: d.w.

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 10,528

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Blood, Slightly Descriptive Injury

Summary: Under the hold of a ruthless djinn, Reader finds herself in her perfect world with a strangely perfect man she’d never seen before.

Part: 2/2

Previous Part: Part One

A/N: As per your requests, here’s a part two. I was kinda hesitant in writing one because I didn’t want to drag it out. But, you all seem to really enjoy it. So, I hope you like this one just as much. Just a quick disclaimer; a Niche, and a Krismet are made up creatures that I specifically made up to fit the story line. I, also, made up a small town in Colorado called Clotho because that fits the story as well. If you’d like, you can look up the meanings behind the words, Krismet (try removing the ‘r’) and Clotho to see why I added them. However, I urge you to finish the story first so that you don’t ruin the ending for yourselves. It’s very long, so grab some coffee or tea or whatever it is that you like to drink, and get comfortable. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this. Thank you!

Originally posted by debatchery

Reader

The moment he walked out the door, you rushed around the room, ignoring the throbbing pain on your arm where your stitches sat. The only thing on your mind was packing your things, getting your sister to pack her things, and getting the fuck out of here. All this was a little too fucked up, even for your-devil-tortured-self.

“(Y/N)!” your sister exclaimed once she walked into the room. She was about to rush over to you, when she noticed your frantic actions. “What are you-”

You cut her off, zipping your duffle bag. “Pack your shit.” you demanded, pulling off your bloody clothes and changing into the new ones you’ve already laid out.

“Why?” she asked, shutting the door.

You pulled on a fresh pair of black jeans, answering, “Look, I can’t explain it all right now. I just really need you to go get your shit.”

Your sister furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to understand your words. “Did Dean do something?” she questioned. “Cause I’ll kick his ass.”

At the mention of his name, you froze with the clean, army green shirt only covering your arms and half your torso. “No,” you responded after a minute, pulling the shirt all the way down. “No, he didn’t. (Y/S/N/N), just please trust me on this.”

Thankfully, she didn’t try to challenge you again, and hurried out of the room. “I’ll be back in five.” she called over her shoulder as she ran down the long hallway.

You sighed of relief, throwing on your black leather jacket and knee-high combat boots. You sat down on the edge of the bed and tied the laces. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a glare off the chair he previously occupied. Tightening the bow on your boots, you felt around your neck, only feeling your bare skin. You immediately shot up out of your seat and made your way to the chair. There, covered in droplets of dried blood, was your sliver necklace.

Did he take my necklace? You wondered, picking it up and gently scratching off the dried blood. Your mind raced with multiple reasons as to why he would do such a thing, but none seemed to make any sense. However, it didn’t even matter at this point. You were leaving, and he was staying here – far, far away from you.

Pulling you hair to the side, you clasped on you necklace. Your fingers held on to the misty blue pendent as memories of your father resurfaced. True, your time with him moments ago was practically a dream. Yet, still, a part of you wished you had stayed in that life.

“Let’s go,” your sister called, walking passed the room.

You snapped your eyes away from the necklace and you grabbed your bag, quickly jogging after her. You felt a little out of place in the long hallways, and the crappy lighting. “Where the hell are we anyways?” you asked, turning down the corridors.

“It’s their bunker. It belonged to some cult or something and they’re the last ones part of it.” she explained, leading you down an extensive stairwell.  

You snorted at the thought of Dean as a cult member. “What do they do?”

“They pretty much hunt with just a bit more brain power. They have tonnes of books on every monster imaginable.”

The both of you entered, what seemed to be, the garage. There were many cars and motorbikes lined up behind one another. And, in the centre right beside your mother’s crappy bug, was the beautiful black car you saw in your wish.

Your sister led you past it and it took everything in you not to touch it again. How the hell did you know that this was his car? The pounding of your heart echoed in your ears as your sister unlocked your car doors.

“Are you alright?” she asked, opening the trunk and tossing her bag in.

You looked up at her with wide eyes. “Yeah,” you breathed, handing her your bag.

“Let it go, Sam.” his deep voice suddenly sounded. Before either of you could react, Dean entered with the taller man beside him – Sam. Dean’s eyes landed on the two of you as his brows furrowed. “We’re taking separate cars?” he asked, confusion ridden all over his handsome face.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, looking between him and your sister.

She shut her eyes, and let out a little sigh. “Shit.” she muttered, before meeting your bemused stare. “I forgot I promised them I would help them with a case.” she whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Fuck no. “Why the fuck would you do that?” you hissed, fear suddenly crawling up your throat again.

“They helped me find you.” she replied, in the same harsh tone. “If it weren’t for them, you’d be dead.”

You shook your head. “No, I got myself out. I don’t want – need him – them.” you stuttered over your words, feeling his gorgeous green eyes on you.

“Got out of what?” she asked. “You were still tied up when we found you.”

Shit. You mentally cursed. You’d said too fucking much and with him standing so close. Shaking your head, you mumbled, “Never mind. Look, we help them, then we leave.”

Your sister hesitated. You knew she wanted to fight the truth out of you, but she glanced behind you at the two men. Reverting her eyes back to you, she reluctantly nodded.

“No, we just had to get some weapons.” she lied, looking back at the brothers. “We like to use our own.”

You let out a little breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you walked passed her and lifted the false bottom, pulling out your guns and several bullets.

The two boys nodded, sharing a confused look as they got into their car and waited.

“You’re telling me what the fuck this is about later.” (Y/S/N) whispered, shooting you a hard glare.

You gave her a little nod as you hid your knives in your boot and the gun in your waistband. Your eyes landed on the back of the car, and you swallowed your terrors. This guy, whoever the hell he was, was attached to you somehow. And, if in a perfect world of pure imagination and wishful thinking he was with you, what does that mean in the real world? The world with pain, torture, and death?

The question made your heart race as (Y/S/N) shut the trunk and led you to the car. The two of you got in the back seat with your bags, earning more puzzled looks from the two sitting in the front.

“Don’t you want to put those in the trunk?” Dean asked, his husky voice like music to your ears.

(Y/S/N) went to reply, but you beat her to the punch, quickly shouting, “No!”

They stared at you, perplexed with your sudden action. You took a short breath, calming your nerves down before continuing, “No, they’re okay here.”

Sam nodded, clearly giving up on trying to understand your ways, and turned to face the front. However, Dean kept his eyes locked on you. They flickered down to your chest, and at first, you thought he was staring at your breast. But, once you followed his eye-line, you found he was truly staring at your necklace.

You held on to it, redirecting his eyes back to yours. Slightly raising an eyebrow at him, you questioned his actions. He exhaled sharply, turning back to the front and driving out of the garage.

What the hell was this guy’s deal?

“So,” your sister said, breaking the silence after a while. “What are we hunting?”

Sam, with his laptop opened on his lap, replied, “A Niche in Colorado.”

“Ugh.” The groan fell feely from your lips. Niches were undeniably your least favourite to hunt. They fed on their victims’ muscles, draining their lived slowly and painfully.

Sam looked back at you. “You’ve hunted them before?” he asked, looking between you and your sister.

(Y/S/N) nodded. “Yeah, they’re disgusting. It takes a lot to take them down. You a have to tear them apart piece by piece, then burn them.” she described.

Sam bobbed along as he quickly typed everything down.

“Wait,” you cut in, shaking your head. “Niche? In Colorado? How does that make sense?” They usually hide in caves on the coast. The last time we hunted a Niche, was in North Carolina.” you rationalised, questioning Sam’s deductive skills.

He shrugged, opening the web browser to the news article. You and your sister scooted closer to the front seat looking over his shoulder. Your hand brushed Dean’s shoulder and the two of you tensed up. You instantly removed your hand, avoiding his gaze in the rear-view mirror.

Tuning your attention back to the article, you skimmed it, understanding how Sam could assume it was a Niche. The victim did lose a significant percentage of their muscles; however, a Niche would never go for the guts.

“Niches don’t exactly enjoy the intestines.” you clarified, sitting back in your seat.

(Y/S/N) agreed, moving back as well. “Yeah, they rarely take any flesh or tissue.”

“So, what the hell are we hunting then?” Dean asked. Judging by the shortness of his tone, it was obvious he was growing impatient.

Your nervous eyes flickered towards him for the first time since you’ve got into the car. Gulping, you cursed yourself for giving into your urges. The more you stared into those eyes, the less control you had over your emotions.

“Guess we’ll just have to find out when we get there.” your sister replied, shrugging.

Three Hours Later – Clotho, Colorado

You entered the motel room with (Y/S/N), taking the bed closest to the door. Unzipping your duffle bag, you ruffled through it looking for your suit. The door suddenly slammed shut, making you turn to it with a steady hand on your gun. Your sister stood before it with an annoyed look.

You put down the gun, turning back to your bag. “Did you want this bed?” you asked, taking a light-hearted tone to her sternness.

She glared at you, making her way to the other bed and throwing her bag on it. “What the hell is going on?” she questioned, angrily.

You sighed, pulling at your sleeves. “With what?” you played dumb, hoping it would soften her interrogation.

It didn’t.

“(Y/N)!” she yelled, adding a little stomp with her foot. You chuckled at the action, but a deadly scowl silenced you. “You said you’d tell me later.”  

Another annoyed sigh escaped your lips as you resumed your search for your suit. “No, actually. You said I’ll tell you later.” you corrected.

She didn’t reply, staring you down with murdering daggers. She wasn’t going to let this go.

“You know I don’t like to hang around anywhere for too long.” you said, brushing her off.

She mimicked your actions, rummaging through her things as well. “Yeah, but what makes the Winchesters so special that you had to leave right away?”

You did your best not to tense up at the mention of the name again. You finally found the suit, pulling it out and starting to undress. “The place.” you blurted out, pulling on the black pencil skirt.

“The place?” she repeated with a little scoff as she found her own suit. “What about the place?”

You swallowed, buttoning up the white blouse and tucking it into your skirt. “It’s just really creepy. The hallways are way too long, and have you seen the ugly colors?” you lied, avoiding her eyes.

She stared at you for a moment, bewildered. “You wanted to leave so badly because of the halls and ugly colors?” she slowly asked in disbelief.

“Well, it all just looked so sketchy, okay?” you slightly raised your voice, throwing on the matching black jacket. “And that whole cult business didn’t sit well either.” you added as you pulled your hair back in a low bun.

Your sister, now fully dressed too, watched you carefully to pick up any signs of a lie. “Alright,” she said slowly after a few minutes. “Whatever you say.”

You knew she wasn’t fully convinced, but you ignored it anyway. The two of you exited the room, with your weapons hidden in your clothes, to find the Winchesters all ready, leaning against the car.

Your eyes fell on him in that suit, pulling you back into the memory of your dreamland. You bit your lip, forcing your eyes away as you did your best to regulate your breathing.

Son of a bitch.

“All set?” he asked, following your figure as you walked passed him and into the car.

You glanced at him with a little nod. “Yeah,” you muttered, getting into the car as your heart pounded against your chest.

He got in with his brother just as (Y/S/N) shut the door on her side. And, from a small glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught a sly smirk on his face. It was like he knew what he was doing to you… and he liked it.

(Y/S/N) looked between you and him, her eyes narrowing. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked, pulling your attention away from him.

Sam turned to face the both of you. “Well, I was thinking we should split up. Maybe two could question the victim’s family, and the other two could check out the morgue.” he suggested, with a little proud smile.

Before you could even open your mouth, your sister asked, gesturing between herself and Sam, “Why don’t we see the family?”

Sam hesitated, glancing at Dean for a split second, then answered, “Sure,”

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the realization that you’d be stuck alone with the one person you wanted to get far away from. “I’d feel more comfortable if I was with my sister.” you quickly interjected.

(Y/S/N) rolled her eyes, immediately brushing you off. “Come on, (Y/N). I’m not a little kid anymore. I’ll be fine.” she reassured, giving your shoulder a little bump with hers.

You forced a smile, trying desperately to ignore the bile creeping up your throat. Your eyes, regrettably, found Dean’s through the mirror again. And, if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he looked just as anxious as you.

After a few minutes, the car stopped in front of a large house. Both Sam and (Y/S/N) got out, but before Dean could drive away, your sister spoke up. “(Y/N), why don’t you come sit in the front?” she asked, her voice laced with faked innocence.

You glared at her, realizing what she was trying to do. “No, it’s okay.” You faked a smile. “I’m fine here.”

Sam opened the passenger door, urging you to change seats. “Yeah, it will be easier.”

You looked between the two, before sighing and caving into their requests. You changed seats, sitting beside him in the front. The image of driving to the restaurant re-entered your mind. You pushed it out as the doors shut and the two of them walked over to the house.

The car jerked forward as it sped down the road, catching you off guard. Your back slammed into the seat, making you huff in surprise. You turned to him, glaring in his direction. He didn’t seem fazed, keeping his eyes locked on the road and hands tightly clutching the wheel.

You let out a little scoff as you reached behind you for the seatbelt. However, your hands grabbed only at the air. “Where’s the-” you cut yourself off, remembering his words in your alternate reality.

“Seatbelts are for bitches.” you both muttered at the same time.

His head snapped towards you for the first time since you got in the car. He sent you a look mixed with confusion and slight frustration. “How-”

“I don’t have seatbelts in my car either.” you quickly lied, cutting him off.

His green eyes, the ones you couldn’t stop thinking about, flickered from the road to you. He studied your blank expression between each take.

You remained silent. The last thing you needed was another slip up.

His hand found the radio, turning it on to fill the awkward silence. As the music leaked through the speakers, you bobbed your head along with the beat and mouthed the words.

“You listen to Led Zeppelin?” he asked, surprised.

You met his slightly impressed eyes, nodding. “I’d be an idiot if I didn’t.” you replied. “They rule.”

A small smile crept up on his lips, as he fully reverted his eyes back on the road. You watched as he tried to hide his grin while he tapped to the beat on the wheel.  

You were somewhat disappointed when you made it to the hospital, wanting to go on forever just listening to music in each other’s presence. But, you forced yourself to recall your plan. Find the monster, kill the monster, then get the fuck out of here.

So, once the car was parked, you practically jumped out, and darted to the entrance not bothering to wait for him. You walked down the halls, maneuvering between the rushed doctors and strained patients as you searched for the morgue. Truly, you had no idea where you were going, so when you saw a random arrow pointing to the right, you followed it.

A calloused, warm hand suddenly found yours, tugging you back. You froze at the connection, turning to the owner. Dean slightly pulled your hand closer to him, nodding his head to the left. “This way,” he said, noticing the contact and letting go of you hand.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from complaining about the missing warmth. Those beautiful green eyes landed on them and that sly smirk played on his lips again. He turned, and this time you followed like a lost little puppy.

“Agents Steller and…” Dean trailed off looking to you.

You pulled out your fake badge. “Montgomery,” you finished, putting the badge away.

The doctor, quite old and short, looked between the two of you and wiped her hands clean. “Dr. Grant.” she greeted, shaking your hand. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re here investigating the Terry Reynolds case.” Dean answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It would really help if we could take a look at the body.”

Dr. Grant nodded, wasting no time. She turned and made her way to the cold chamber, pulling out a body from the middle. “Terry Reynolds,” she stated, removing the while sheet from his face. Both, you and Dean, circled around the body. “Male, late twenties.”

You studied his cold, blue face, your eyes scanning over every little detail. His face seemed to show nothing, but the fact that he didn’t own a razor.

“Cause of death?” Dean inquired, as he too examined the body.

She smirked, chuckling, “I don’t think you can handle it.”

You and Dean shared a quick look. The amusement in his eyes made you bite back a chuckle. With smiles playing on your lips, Dean turned back to the doctor. “I think we can.” He replied, giving a little shrug.

Dr. Grant began rummaging through a file cabinet, taking out a file and handing it to Dean. “Alright,” she settled. With just a flick, the white sheet swooshed back revealing Terry’s gutless gut.

And though the file was opened in his hands, Dean didn’t even take a glance at it. He stared at the body with his mouth slightly agape.

You, on the other hand, instantly cringed at the sight. “So much for gut feeling,” you joked, looking to the doctor.

A bust of deep laughter shattered your heart. Looking up, you found Dean doubled over, laughing at your humor. A little proud smile stretched across your lips. You made him laugh, and boy did he look cute as fuck when he did.

Dr. Grant, however, took a different approach to your lighthearted joke. She stared you down, her hands on her hips. The smile on your face fell as she gave you a disapproving look. She opened her mouth to, most likely, yell at you, but was luckily cut off by a voice at the door.

“Dr. Grant?” a nurse called, poking her head into the room. “Dr. Barns needs to see you.” she informed before rushing out once again.

The doctor gave you one last glare, before exiting the room. You let out a sigh of relief, turning back to the body.

Though, you couldn’t concentrate as you felt like you were being watched. Your eyes met the culprit, a ghost of a smile hovering over his perfect lips. You shrugged, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “What?” you muttered, suddenly feeling self-cautious.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Those green eyes didn’t detach themselves from yours. You noticed, that though he was smiling, the light in his eyes wasn’t as bright as they were in your wish. He looked happier then, much more alive too. Perhaps that was just the price of the hunt.

You reverted your attention back to the body, taking in the disgusting sight. The ripped flesh, peeled open like it was revealing its secrets, displaying the hollowed insides. But, the missing intestines weren’t the only odd things. Along his arms and chest, the skin was teared apart, more desperately than the stomach.

“Look at this,” you muttered, hovering a pointed finger over the areas.

Dean looked up from the file, asking, “Missing muscle?” He shut the folder in his hands, and places it on the table behind him.

“Yeah, his muscles are missing there, but look at the skin.” you continued as he passed you a pair of white latex gloves. You gave him a small smile as you slipped them on.

He put his on too, trying to follow along with you. “Where?”

“Here,” you gestured to his right bicep. “the skin is literally ripped.”

Dean’s gloved hand brushed yours as he moved to touch the skin. You quickly snapped your arm to your side. He quickly glanced at you before returning his attention to the body. “It looks clawed.” he concluded.

“Then look at the stomach,” you pointed at the carefully cut flesh.

His big hands examined the gut, feeling the skin between his fingers. “The muscles in the stomach could be more fragile than the ones in the arms.” he reasoned.

You nodded, your brows furrowed. “But, if this monster is just looking for food, why would it care if its mushed?”

Dean took a deep breath, shrugging. “Guess we’re gonna have to do some research.” He quickly pulled out his phone and took a few shots before Dr. Grant could return.

You recovered the body with the sheet once he was done and pulled off your gloves. “We should probably get back to (Y/S/N) and Sam.” Without waiting for a reply, you made your way to the door, throwing the gloves out.

When you got back to Reynold’s house, you returned to the back seat despite Sam’s requests. The closer you were to Dean, the worst it would be for your unsettling heart.

“So, what’d you find?” Sam asked as Dean drove back to the motel.

Before you can answer, Dean tossed his phone to his brother. “I took some pictures of the body.” he informed.

Sam swiped through the photos, his brows slightly raised. “Wow,” he muttered, handing the phone to your sister. “That thing really ripped into him.”

“That’s just gross,” (Y/S/N) mumbled, handing the phone back to Sam once she was done with the photos.

“What about you?” you asked, shifting in your seat.

Your sister shook her head. “He lived a pretty good life. A wife, three kids, steady job.” she explained.

“He wasn’t acting strange?” Dean asked, turning into the motel parking lot.

Sam shook his head. “No, he was perfectly fine.” he replied, getting out of the car.

You brewed over the new information as you followed everyone out of the car. It was clear that it wasn’t a Niche, or demon possession. And the fact that it didn’t take the heart, ruled out the chances of it being a werewolf too.  

“I feel like were missing something here.” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

The three turned to face you, confusion ridden on each other their faces. “What do you mean?” (Y/S/N) asked.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Usually there’s a pattern or something that points to one thing or place. We are literally running off assumptions that, for all we know, could be so far from the truth.”

Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket, making his way back to the car. “Alright, let’s go.” he said, pulling open the door.

You shared a questioning look with your sister. “W-what?” you stuttered, looking anywhere on his scruffy face to avoid those green eyes.

“Let’s go.” he repeated, gesturing to the passenger’s seat. “You need a pattern, so we’re going to find one.” Dean turned to Sam, tossing him his phone. “Try to find something that can explain those. We’ll be back with some food,” he turned back to you with a small smile. “and hopefully a pattern.”

With that, he got into the car. Sam already had his nose in Dean’s phone, analyzing the pictures, and (Y/S/N) followed him, typing furiously on her phone. You tried to silently get her attention, but she had quickly disappeared into the room, unfazed.

The car window suddenly rolled down, redirecting your attention. “Getting in, or what?” he asked, leaning against the steering wheel to catch a glimpse of your face.

You opened the door and got in, speechless. Was he seriously about to drive you somewhere just to get you some answers? Even the thought of that was ridiculous. Obviously, he’s doing this for the case.

Or maybe he feels the same way about you. A small voice suggested, twirling the anxiety in your heart.

Holy shit, you were delusional. This is for a fucking case. Don’t forget your plan. Find monster, kill monster, get the fuck out of here.

“Where are we going?” you mumbled, turning to him, careful not to look too long.

He glanced your way, forcing you to repress all the thoughts that would indicate anything but a professional relationship. “Police station.” he answered, turning back to the road. “I figured if there are any other cases like this, the police would know about them.”

You nodded, turning back to the windshield. “Good idea.”

“I thought so.” he smirked. “So, what do you think is missing?”

You shrugged, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat. “I’m not entirely sure,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lips as you sorted through your thoughts. “I guess just some sort of pattern, or something that can help us track down what we’re hunting.”

You turned to face him, to find he was rapidly looking between you and the road. He’d scan your features in the few seconds he had before turning back to the road to avoid a collision. His throat bobbed once he noticed you caught him, and he instantly nodded at your words. “Yeah,” he muttered, locking his eyes on the road.

You watched him carefully before turning back to your window, watching the trees, like an endless sea of lush green, pass by.

“The djinn,” he started, making your shoulders tense and the air catch in your throat. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as he continued. “caught me too, once.” He confessed.

You gulped. He knows. Panic of the worst kind pumped through your veins as you tried to regulate your breathing. “W-what?” you stuttered, not daring to turn and face him.

“It was a few years ago.” He went on, clearly oblivious to your panicked tone. And if, by the off chance, he did notice, he didn’t mention it.

Curiosity tugged at you from one side as fear pulled you from another. Relax. You ordered your heart. Nothing is certain. He’s just making conversation. “What happened?” you asked once you finished schooling your emotions.

He hesitated. Curiosity has won, tempting you to turn and face him. He glanced at you, muttering, “My mom was alive.” A sad smile surfaced as he recalled the memory. “And Sammy was at Stanford and his girlfriend was still alive too. And I just remember thinking it was all so perfect.”

“It was like that for me too.” You muttered, thinking back to your father, and a happy (Y/S/N).

He nodded, sparing you another glance. “Yeah, but then things like my dad being dead and-”

He cut himself off, nervously glancing at you. Your brows drew together, confusion and suspicion taking over your thoughts. And you couldn’t help but wonder, were you in his wildest dreams as well?

Nonetheless, you dismissed his abrupt pause. “I’m sorry about your parents. I know what it’s like and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” You mumbled, absentminded placing your hand over his.

Those green eyes watched you with an unnatural alarming gaze as they flickered between your hand and, very rarely, the road. Your awareness kicked in and you snatched your hand from his.

“Except, Lucifer, of course.” You quickly joked, hoping he’d ignore your previous action.

You idiot. You mentally scowled.

And to your rare good fortunate, the car pulled into the parking lot as Dean let out chuckle that warmed your heart. You did your best not to blush as you got out of the car.

As you made your way inside, Dean turned to you with a little smirk. “Let’s keep the cute jokes to a minimum.” He suggested, opening the door for you.

You blushed at his comment, mulling over the little word he added between the and jokes. Did he just imply that he found you cute? But, your mind wouldn’t let you look too closely for it pulled you back to your memories in your false reality. For a split second, you felt like you were walking into the restaurant ready to see your family at a table patiently waiting for you and your husband.

However, the illusion shattered as quickly as it came and you felt a hand on the small of your back gently guide you to the front desk.

Dean looked down at you, whispering, “You okay?”

You looked up, once again star-struck by his award-winning features. Your eyes flickered to his lips before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You breathed, slightly running into the front desk.

You didn’t want to admit it, but the longer you spent time with him, the more you let yourself want him. That realization alone, was enough for you to pick up your pace, making his hand fall from your back.

Your eyes snapped to the receptionist, who was already glaring at you. You gave her a little smile before Dean redirected her attention.

“I’m Agent Steller,” he gave her one of his famous smirks, locking her attention. “This is my partner, Agent Montgomery.”

The red head didn’t so much as glance at you. And why would she when she was talking with someone as beautiful as him, giving her his undivided attention. An unfamiliar irritation tugged at your emotions, making you cross your arms over your chest.

“How can I help you?” she asked, batting her eyelashes and biting her lower lip. He didn’t even need to show his badge.

You rolled your eyes, sighing. Dean glanced at you with a knowing smirk before turning back to the red head. “We were just wondering if we could look at cases similar to the Terry Reynolds one?” he asked in that husky, cool tone.

He was flirting with her, and she was loving it. And you were… hating it? Were you jealous? Of course not. Your mind screamed.

Yes, you are! Your heart replied. And the more you deny it, the worst you feel.

“(Y/N),” Dean called, his hand falling to your back. “You coming?”

You nodded, forcing yourself not to get lost in those eyes and followed him to the back. The receptionist took out the similar files and handed them to Dean, ignoring your presence.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked, dragging a hand down his bicep.

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but your voice came out. Your words were out of your hands, working faster than your mind. “No, thanks.” Your tone silenced her, and her hand was quickly returned to her side.

Dean gave her one last smile before turning and placing the flies on an empty work table a few ways away.

You went to follow, but the receptionist held you back. “Sorry,” she muttered lowly. “I didn’t know.”

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

“I didn’t know he was your boyfriend.” She shrugged, and exited the room without another word.

Boyfriend? You wanted to rush after her and correct her very false statement, but Dean called you back. “Take a look at this.” He said, handing you a file.

You sighed, accepting the file. Opening it, you quickly skimmed it. The woman was must older, in her late thirties, and had the same injuries.

You moved closer to Dean, watching as he took out each file and opened it before laying it on the table. After all five flies were out and opened, you set yours down as well. “So, other than the injuries, what else is the same?” he asked, hands on his hips.

You forcibly tore your eyes away from his built frame and looked over each file. All different ages, races, features. You took out your phone and quickly took pictures of each file.

“No clue, huh?” he asked, smirking.

You glanced up at him as you took your last photo. “Guess we’re gonna have to do some research.” You replied.

His smirk widened into a full out smile at your – or rather – his words. “I guess we do.”

Four hours. The four of you have been studying and reviewing the six files for the last four hours surrounded by wrappers and the greasy stench of fast food.

“If I stare at these fucking files for another minute, I swear I will murder someone.” Your sister declared from her place on the couch beside Sam.

Sam nervously glance at her, picking up his lap and scotching away to the other side of the couch. You let out a little chuckle, looking at the fourth file for the hundredth time. Still, everything revealed to be different. Even the address.

Wait. You thought, getting out of your laid position on the bed. You grabbed the laptop from Sam.

“Hey-” he started, but cut himself off as you walked back to the bed and sat on the edge.

Dean got up from his seat by the desk and sat beside you. You opened six tabs and search an address from each file in each tab.

“Construction sites.” Dean concluded as he watched over your shoulder.

Your sister and Sam shot up from their seat and rushed towards you. “Finally,” your sister exclaimed.

“How many sites are in this town?” Sam asked.

You opened another tab and quickly searched it. “Seven,” you answered. “And whatever this is already hit six of them.”

Your sister looked to Sam, asking, “Did you happen to find out what it was?”

Sam solemnly shook his head. “I don’t even have a lead.” He admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Dean stood up, slightly brushing his arm against yours. “Looks like we’re gonna have to be ready for anything.” He turned to face you with a little smile. “I know you like using your own weapons, but you might have to use ours too.”

You gave him a confused look before looking at your sister’s alarmed face. Her earlier excuse came rushing back to you, and you dropped your perplexed expression immediately. “Oh, yeah.” You nodded. “We do like using our own weapons. I’m surprised you remembered.”

Dean smirked, his eyes glancing over your frame. “I remember everything.” He muttered, before his brother dragged his eyes away.

“Well, we better go change.” He said, leading Dean towards the door. “We’ll meet you outside by the car.”

Once the door shut, you dashed to your sister. “It happened to him too.” You spat out as she ruffled through her bag.

She gave you a confused look. “What?”

“He’s been under the djinn too.” You clarified, as you turned and began pacing. “I think he saw what I saw, with his own variations, of course, but the gist is the same.”

Your sister stood before you and held your shoulders tightly, keeping you in place. “Okay, you’re not making any sense.” She spoke in a calm, cooled tone. “Explain what happened when you were with the djinn, then we’ll talk about Dean.” She ordered before grabbing your bag and shoving it to your chest. “And get changed while you do it.”

So, you did. You changed out of your cooperate suit and into your plain jeans and t shirt as you explained all that happened. You confessed all your interactions with your father, Dean, her, and her boyfriend. You watched as her face fell at the mention of her passed boyfriend and grow into a sad smile at your father. You told her about the tattoos and how he told you he’d been under the djinn as well. You laid everything on the table, unable to bottle it up much further.

“And I think I was his wife in his world too.” You finished, as you pulled on your combat boots.

Your sister stared at you, already dressed and ready to go, as she looked over the weapons. “Well, he does like you.” She concluded. “That’s for sure.”

You blushed at her words, but pushed passed them as she missed to catch the one of your main fears. “But, (Y/S/N/N), I knew what he looked like, and what his car looked like. I knew who he was and I’ve never even seen him before.” You replied, finishing from your boots and pulling on your black leather jacket. “How would I have known that? And, if he saw me in his world, how would he have known that?”

(Y/S/N) stayed quiet for a while. She handed you a gun as she mulled over your words. “I really don’t know what to tell you, (Y/N).” she muttered. “Maybe if you asked him about it-”

“No.” you quickly cut her off. “I can’t ask him if he’d seen me in his djinn dream thing as his wife. It will just bring up some really awkward tension in the car.” You stood up, searching for your gun. “Also… he’s really pretty and if I look at him longer than I have to I think I’ll cry.” You admitted, much to your disapproving mind.

Your sister tossed you a gun, ending your search. She chuckled at your words, shaking her head. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

You caught the gun, rolling your eyes. “Whatever,” you muttered, leading your sister out of the room, making sure to grab your phone on the way out.

Instead of finding the boys leaning against the car, you found them behind the impala with the trunk open. They spoke in hushed tones, Dean’s raspy voice cutting in and silencing his brother’s.

“Sam, I swear, if you don’t drop this, I will throw you at whatever the hell we’re hunting.” He threatened, snapping the shotgun shut.

Sam watched him wearily, truly wondering if his brother would actually give him up. He must’ve been convinced he would, for he exhaled deeply through his nose, and remained quiet. You shared a weary look with your sister before revealing your presence.

“Ready?” you asked, looking between each brother. Your eyes lingered on Dean, trailing his frame. He must’ve loved flannel shirts because, despite the fancy suit, they were all he wore.

You met his enchanting eyes once again, helplessness crashing into you. The more you stared into them, the more you wanted to tell him the truth.

Don’t be insane. Your mind warned. Remember, find monster, kill monster, get the fuck out of here.

You gulped, dragging your eyes from his and to the trunk. It had a false bottom, you realized, as it was propped open with a shotgun. A bundle of about five combat knives, wrapped with a thin strip of brown leather, caught the corner of your eye. You reached over and pick it up. Looking up to Sam, avoiding Dean’s gaze, you asked, “May I?”

Sam nodded. “Take anything you want.”

You gave him a closed lipped smile, quickly giving both brothers your back. Your sister swooped in behind you, and began rummaging through the trunk. You searched for the opening, twirling the knives around in your hands.

“It’s tucked in here.” His raspy voice advised. He stepped around you, making himself known. He reached over, and flipped over the knives before pulling out a loose end of the strap.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, only to shoot your eyes to the floor. “Thanks,” you quickly muttered, walking away as you unrolled the knives. You shoved one in each boot, one on either side of your belt, an one stayed steady in your hand, ready to strike as if the monster was coming at you right now.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

You looked up to find him standing in front of you. You redirected your eyes to the knife in your hands, pretending to find the sleek blade interesting. “I’m fine,” you shrugged before turning to the car. “We should probably get going, or we’ll have another body on our hands.”

He silently watched you, those damned green eyes grazing over your features. It was as if he was wondering how true your answers proved to be. You stared back, suddenly frozen under his strong gaze. If he stared at you any longer, you were sure you were going to weaver your plan, and crash right into him.

His throat bobbed, followed by his head, as he threw your distance demeanor right back at you and circle around the car to the driver’s seat.

And though you wished – no prayed that it wasn’t true, you felt your heart ever so slightly shatter. And you had no one to blame but yourself.

Dean

He had said too much before; that much was true. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything at all, but he did. And, now, it was like she was an ocean away. But, if this was just a reaction of his previous words, then that must’ve meant that she saw something under the djinn’s magic too. Something they both probably don’t want to believe, but may be as clear as day.

Yet, the woman he had seen in his alternate reality was slightly different. Still as beautiful as ever, but the woman he’d seen was much less… dark. She was so full of life and possibilities. The woman, in this life – the real one, was much less enthusiastic about life. And how could she think otherwise when she lived the life of a hunter. He knew, first hand, how destroying hunting is to one’s spirit, much less, their life.  

Still, he wished she would just come out and tell him. Tell him what she saw, who she saw, if she had the same inked mark on her collarbone as he did. Maybe, it might even get Sam off his back if he knew what she experienced.

“You missed the turn.” Sam informed, pointing his thumb behind him.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Dean glanced at the rear-view mirror. He found the turn, but only after meeting those (Y/E/C) eyes. He dragged himself away from them, slowing the car down to make a swift U-turn.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pointing the car in the right direction. His eyes, much to his dismay, drifted to the mirror again, finding her. She was looking out the window, brows furrowed and her bottom lip between her teeth. And, watching her, he couldn’t help but think about what he’d do to get that lip between his teeth instead.

“You missed it again,” Sam said, letting out a frustrated sigh. He glared at his brother, asking, “What’s up with you today?”

Dean spared him a sidelong glance, turning the car around and making sure his eyes stay focused on the road.

They weren’t. And so, he missed the turn again.

After many failed turns, he finally parked the impala near the construction site. Everyone hopped out of the car, weapons at the ready, as Sam passed out flashlights.

“Alright, I think-” (Y/S/N) started, but (Y/N) quickly cut her off.

“Look, we don’t know what we’re hunting. It’ll be better if we stick together and try to kill this thing as a team.” She explained. Dean couldn’t help but notice she was looking at everyone, but him.

He’s face adapted to a harsh, stone cold expression as his heart fluttered then, ever so slightly shattered.

“Dean,” Sam called, nudging his brothers elbow. The two sisters were already heading inside. “Stop staring, and come on.”

Dean glared at his brother. “I’m not staring.” He grumbled, following the two girls in.

Sam merely rolled his eyes, clearly tired of trying to convince his brother of talking to the girl who happened to also be his wife.

The building was, naturally, unfinished. The metal beams, hosting up the building, were scattered around the grand floor, while the stairs remained stairless. Wires were twitching, and pipes were dripping as the four hunters walked through the dark building. Dean instantly saw why the creature brought its victims here. It was abandoned, dark, and creepy. Just the way these monsters liked it.

An ugly screech sounded like an alarm, making Dean, Sam and (Y/S/N) point their guns in the direction it came from, while (Y/N) got in her fighting stance, keeping her knees bent and knife at the ready.

Scratching and hasty scurrying caught their attention, turning them all around. “There!” Sam yelled, shooting his gun through a corridor. His bullets missed, making him grunt. “I’m going after it.” He informed, not waiting for a reply and rushing after the creature.

“Sam,” Dean called after him, his brotherly instinct kicking in. He moved to follow, but hand caught his forearm, pulling him back.

“Watch out,” she warned, skillfully throwing her knife at a wooden beam, only just missing the black clothed creature.

Dean turned to her with wide eyes. But… A small voice, that always steers him to loneliness, wondered. I thought she didn’t care. “Thanks,” he managed to breathe, watching her in awe. She nodded, watching him just as charily.

The sudden sound of gun shots drew them out of their minds, both turning to face (Y/S/N). “I got it!” she exclaimed, running down the hallway and turning the corner.

Dean and (Y/N) went to follow, but a hackling cough turned their attention to the left. Their eyes landed on the black, musky figure, watching them. It then occurred to Dean that the figure wasn’t coughing, but laughing.

At the sudden realization, Dean’s calloused hand absentmindedly found the small of (Y/N)’s back. And, to his surprise, she slightly leaned into his touch, inching closer towards him.

Then, right before his eyes, a knife went flying to the creature. To further complicate things, the twirling knife stopped. In midair, the knife froze just inches away from the creature. Dean was sure it would come flying back, only making him pull (Y/N) closer they were shoulder to shoulder. And again, she didn’t object.

But, instead, the knife fell with an echoing clatter. “I see my threads are already starting to tie,” it hissed, hovering closer towards them.

Dean turned to (Y/N); both shared the same confused look. “What?” she asked, already pulling out another knife from her belt.

The creature tilted its head, examining the two hunters. In a blink, it was a foot away. It’s face was concealed by a droopy hood, but a red glow shined though it. Dean took a step back, pulling (Y/N) with him. She moved half an inch, not wanting to back down just yet. His eyes trailed down the floating figure, landing on long, black talons. They were big enough to tear his guts out.

“What you’ve seen,” it hissed, drawing closer. “will come to pass.”

Enough of this. The voice scoffed. Dean cocked his gun, pointing to the creature. “What the hell are you?” he questioned, his frustration and anger clear on his face.

“I believe your kind would call me a Krismet.” It answered, it’s red eyes, carefully watching the gun.

“What do you mean, what we saw will come to pass?” (Y/N) asked, drawing a bit closer to the foggy figure.

Dean, worry engulfing his better sense, drew nearer as well, reluctantly lowering his gun for the time being.  

The hackling returned instantly. “Why must you humans need everything spelled out?” it asked no one in particular. The two hunters exchanged glances, cautiously waiting for the Krismet to explain. “Your illusions are a mirror to your existing world. You-”

Dean cut it off, lifting his gun once again. “You have ten seconds to tell us what you want.”

However, the Krismet ignored him, keeping its blood-shot eyes on (Y/N). She watched it carefully, the knife steady in her hand.

The Krismet opened its gauzy, grey mouth, ready to speak in more half sentences, then instantly burst to flames.

Dean’s eyes widen, his hand dropping the gun, and wrapping around (Y/N)’s waist instead. He pulled her back, pressing her closer to his frame. She leaned into him, bracing herself against him as it screeched loudly, the sound high enough to rattle their teeth.

Then suddenly, it stopped. They relaxed into one another, looking over to where it once stood. Sam and (Y/S/N) stood, both holding flamethrowers, before a pile of charcoal looking ash. Sam gave Dean a knowing smile, biting his lip to hold back his laughter. Their intimate position finally registered in both hunters as they quickly pulled away from one another.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, curling a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “How did you-”

“We heard it say it was a Krismet. So, while you two distracted it, we googled it.” Her sister explained. “Plus, I always wanted to use one of these.” She laughed, waving the flamethrower.

(Y/N) forced a chuckle along with her, returning her knife back into her belt. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m so fucking tired.” She muttered, making her way to her sister. They both turned around, (Y/N) pausing to pick up her fallen knife, and made their way to the car.

Dean couldn’t help but let his eyes linger down her frame and stay there, watching as she walked away.

“I knew it.” Sam scoffed, forcing Dean to drag his eyes away from her shrinking figure.

Dean gave his brother a once over, carefully watching the weapon in his hand. “Better put that down before you hurt yourself.” He mumbled, following the girls to the car.

Sam let out a little chuckle. “I don’t think you can deny it anymore, Dean. The Krismet said-”

“It was a trick.” Dean cut in, angrily. “It was messing with our heads.”

His brother shook his head. “No, Dean. Do you even know what a Krismet is?” Dean glared at him. He’d just seen one. Of course, he knew what it was. “It’s a servant for the gods of fate. It feasts on muscle and harvest it’s victim’s guts to give to the gods.”

Dean’s face twisted in disgust. “Charming.” He grumbled, the car coming to view.

“It also matches human threads.” Sam continued. “Which means-”

“Look, Sammy,” he cut in, stopping in his tracks to face his brother. “Me and her? It’s not gonna happen. The last thing I need is another Lisa situation on my hands.”

Sam glanced at the girls leaning on the car as he scoffed. “She’s not Lisa, Dean. She’s a hunter. She’s seen what we’ve seen, maybe even more by the way she and her sister seem to carry themselves.”

Dean’s eyes drifted towards her, his jaw tight. “What if-”

“You know what I’d do to find someone that matched my threads?” Sam asked. “I wouldn’t waste my time on ‘what ifs’ because after all the crap we’ve been through, I’d like to have someone to show me that it’s not always like that.”

For the first time, Dean didn’t have anything to say. He wanted her, there was no denying that. And maybe he was being stupid, and taking her for granted, but he couldn’t handle losing her. Because, no matter the circumstances, everyone who has ever come near him, including his brother, has died.

“Sam,” he mumbled, looking his brother in the eye. Sam nodded as his eyes reflected his hope. “For the last time, drop it.” He ordered.

He turned away from his brother, and the idea that maybe he could be with this girl, for no amount of love would be worth losing her. So, as he schooled his features, Dean eliminated her from his thoughts, his heart, and forcibly, from his soul.

Reader

The next day

Though you cited and recited what the Krismet said over and over again, you knew it didn’t matter. From the moment, he turned away from his brother last night to the way he ignored your general presence, you knew he had made up his mind.

Yet, still, you blinked back a few stranded emotions as you stared up at the ceiling, aimlessly watching the fan spin. You couldn’t help but feel foolish. You knew he was different here, he wasn’t the same Dean you dreamt. This Dean had seen death, possibly been dead, and still managed to get up and walk it off. That had consequences, it must, for it took his spirit and a shard of his life each time. And you knew it all too well, for you too had seen death, been dead, and felt the life drop out of you as you picked yourself up.

Though, none of it mattered. Your mind could lecture your heart all it wanted, it would never listen, never want to. You just had to understand that it was what it was. He didn’t want you, and you couldn’t make him.

A quiet knock came to the door, before it was slowly opened, and your hand drifted to the gun hidden under your pillow. Your sister’s head peaked through, making you relax, removing your hand from the gun, and sit up.

She gave you a small smile, drawing further into the room. “You’re still in bed?” she asked, using the soft voice she usually used to sooth victims.

She was pitying you, and that annoyed the shit out of you. “Yeah,” you grumbled, as you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’ll get dressed and meet you in the garage.”

She opened her mouth, to probably baby you some more, but thought against it. With a nod, she turned around and exited the room, shutting the door behind her.

Sighing and wiping the sleep from your tired eyes, you pick up your bag and began changing into your black jeans and grey t-shirt. You pushed every thought of Dean from your mind in the process. That was it. It was done. There was no use trying to overthink it. You found the monster, killed it, and now it was time to get the fuck out of here.

After getting fully dressed, you zipped up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder and grabbed your leather jacket as you exited the room.

The hallway was longer than ever, and you instantly forgot the way to the garage. This place is a fucking maze. You thought looking up and down the hallway.

Finally deciding you couldn’t just stand there like a lost idiot, you random turned right and walked down the corridor hoping it would take you to where you needed to be. However, it seemed to go on forever, and you couldn’t turn back now since you had no idea which room you stayed in.

You stopped and looked around. There has to be-

A hard frame ran into you, knocking off your balance. But, just before you hit the ground, a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you up right. Your eyes snapped up to the owner, and you froze. You had hoped to avoid him, but there he was.

His green eyes showed the slightest indication of surprise, before they resumed their cold expression. He quickly dropped your wrist, taking a step back. The sudden change in demeanor snapped your eyes away from him. You scoffed, turning to walk away from him.

“Wait,” His hand found its way to your wrist again, pulling you back. You turned to face him, cursing yourself for looking into those eyes again. Still, they showed no emotion. “The garage it that way.” He said, nodding his head to the other side.

You gently pulled your wrist out of his grip, and turned the other way, no bothering to mutter some thanks. As you walked down the hallway, towards the garage this time, you heard the echo of heavy boots behind you.

Is he following me? You wondered, as you slowed your pace. His slowed down also, confirming your thoughts.

You turned swiftly around, catching him off guard. He stopped a few feet away from you, finally displaying some emotion. “What?” you asked, sounding harsher than you meant to.

He stared at you, mouth agape and completely frozen. You raised a brow, impatiently waiting for him to answer. He cleared his throat, his sense finally coming back to him. “Um, I’m just making sure you don’t get lost again.” He confessed, shoving his large hands into his pockets.

You furrowed your brows at him. He was seriously hard to keep up with. One minute he’s laughing with you, the next he’s ignoring you, then the next he’s concerned about you, making sure you get where you needed to be. You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “Make up your fucking mind.” You said, without thinking.

He stared at you, confused. “What-”

You cut him off, speaking freely now and ignoring your mind as it yelled at you to shut up and walk away. “One minute you’re nice to me and the next you’re ignoring me. Just tell me what you want or leave me alone.” Your desperate state began to seep through, causing you to flush with embarrassment.

He sighed, drifting his gaze down to the floor. You waited a moment for him to say something, anything. When he didn’t, you scoffed, turning around to continue on your path to your sister.

“I saw you.” He blurted, forcing you to freeze in your tracks. “Three years ago; when the djinn caught me.”

You turned around to face him once more, your heart beating abnormally fast. “What?” you breathed, your eyes glassing over.

“I saw you, and you were…” he trailed off, as he took a step closer. “My wife.”

Your breath hitched as bile coated your throat. You couldn’t find words to speak. When he saw your dazed state, he sighed and turned away, shaking his head.

“Where are you going?” you called, your feet, finally, moving after him. “You can’t just dump that on me and walk away, Dean.”

He turned to you. “You’re asking me what I want from you, but I want to know is what you want from me.” He demanded, slightly raising his voice as he walked closer to you.

“I-” you stuttered, losing your words once again. What did you want from him? “I… don’t know.” You whispered, shaking your head. “Clarity?”

He furrowed his brows, that handsome face scrunching up. “Clarity?” He echoed. “Over what?”

“What we saw.” You blurted. “I knew what your car looked like, what you looked like. I knew how you talked, and moved. How would I have known that? How would you have known me? We’ve never met, Dean. Doesn’t that scare you?”

“It was an illusion.” He replied, brushing off your question, as he stepped closer.

“Then, why did you tell me about it? Why do you think it’s your responsibility to make sure I get somewhere safe?” you asked, your voice raising to match his as you too drew nearer.

“I don’t.” he yelled, now a few inches away.

You drily chuckled, “Then why did you follow me?” The two of you were so close, you had to look up to meet his gaze.

He stared down at you, your bodies about an inch apart. He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, stumped. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a frustrated groan, his hands grabbing your waist, pressing you against him as his lips crashed against yours.

You dropped your things, your hands instantly on his shoulders, kissing him back. They ran through his short hair, as his pressed you further against him. All anger, fear, and worry washed away as he rained down on you, engulfing you in every way possible.

He pulled away all too soon, leaving you breathless. Your hands trailed down his shoulders to his chest where they stayed. He rested his head against yours, keeping his hold on you.

“Stay.” He breathed, meeting your eyes. “Please,”

You blinked back tears, almost relieved by his words. “Okay,” you muttered, finally feeling a strange sensation bleed into that void in your heart as his eyes bore into yours and his lips curled into a sweet smile. You, then, realized that strange feeling was peace. And, that void in your heart was almost as distance as your fears. Because you finally found it, or rather, him.

Dean Winchester.

Enough to Grab Onto

I got sad talking to @inkedferns about his hair last night. So I woke up and spat this out. I also definitely got teary eyed over one line (EMBARRASSING MUCH!?) – guess which one! x. (I was going to wait to post it until more of the world was awake, but I CAN’T!)

“It’s just hair,” Harry tells you with a heavily lined forehead.

“I know,” you say. “It’s just… it suits you, you know?” You reach up and run your fingers through the curls that nearly go to his shoulder blades now. “And I’ve gotten used to it. I like them.”

“All this time,” Harry says with a shake of his head, “I thought I’d have to worry about someone loving me for m’money. I was wrong.” He kisses you pertly and you scowl. “It’ll grow back, won’t it?” he soothes you. “Didn’t you say it was looking a bit tattered anyway?”

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