He walks with her until he can’t go any further. Until she’s got to go through security and board the plane home.
‘Just think about—’
‘Sucking you off in front of your mates, I know, I’ve got a good memory.’ She rolls her eyes taking her suitcase back from him when he’d offered to carry it.
‘Well when you say it like that sounds fuckin filthy.’ He mutters.
‘Isn’t it?’ She smirks. ’S’why you want it so bad isn’t it?’ She pulls out her boarding pass and passport from her handbag to avoid holding up the line behind her.
‘Can’t do much showing off with a blender.’ He admits. She still thinks getting him a blender for his birthday would be a good present, a good present to place in their new home. She probably shouldn’t have told him about it, should have just surprised him with one and that’s it.
‘You could, you could make one hell of a smoothie.’ She grins.
‘I could I suppose.’ He plays along sarcastically.
‘Can’t say it’d taste as good as you do,’ she inches closer to him. ‘Or how good I do.’ She traces his jawline slowly. ‘You could try.’ She shrugs casually. She’s properly asking for it now and she’s not being fair to him one bit. Because she’s got to get on that plane and he’s gonna be left thinking about filthy things for the rest of the night.
‘Who keeps letting you talk like that?’ He covers her mouth. ‘Fucking Christ—watch your mouth.’
She can’t answer him with his hand on her mouth but for one, he likes it when she talks like that. Craves it too. He’s just plain bothered now, wants her again but this is the last flight tonight and she will yell at him if he makes her miss this one too.
She shifts her head to line her mouth with his fingertips, he catches on far too late when she wraps her lips around his index and middle. He glares at her, looks at her like she’s actually crazy. He presses his lips together tightly when he realizes that this is nearly what he’s asking from her for his birthday and the picture starts racing through his head. His stomach tightens when she begins sliding her lips across his fingers. Her lips wet, pretty pink gliding across. And he can’t do this right now, in the middle of a busy airport with people walking by them to stand in the line she has to start queuing in soon. He’ll lose it, he’s already bothered and already missing her.
‘Wanted this didn’t you?’ She whispers. ‘This is what you want from me…’
‘Get on the bloody plane,’ he reluctantly pulls his fingers away and she laughs before he grasps her jaw tightly. ‘Before I never let you leave.’
‘M’going m’going. Just wanted to tell you I love you first.’ She grins wrapping her arms around his neck and he wraps his arms tightly around her waist. ‘Come back to me quickly yeah?’ She buries herself into his neck. ‘Too many episodes of the bakeoff to watch alone, in a house much too big for just me.’
He nods, this bit is always hard. ‘Travel safe.’ He kisses her forehead and his lips linger there because they too, are having a hard time saying goodbye. ‘I’ll see you real soon, not much longer.’ He whispers before kissing her hard then shaking his head trying to avoid getting too sad about this. ‘I love you.’ He whispers. It’s always been like this and it’s going to keep being like this, they try not to get upset.
She finds her seat before reaching for her phone in her bag. ‘You win, like always. Happy early birthday. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Much better than a paper weight and a blender I’d say.’
Harry has already stepped into a late meeting when he gets the message. He grins widely at it, his stomach tightens again but he knows he can’t afford to think about this right now. He’s about to turn over his phone to get back to the meeting when it vibrates again. A blender is on their way to their home, should be delivered tomorrow at noon. He chuckles softly into his hand turning the phone over after sending her a message.
-M’not making you any smoothies.
You have to, m’blowing you in front of your friends. Start practicing your blending.
Summary: The reader met the Winchester brothers just 6 months ago, and her life would never be the same again. Now, Dean refuses to speak to her and won’t say why. Will they be able to make it past this and focus on the case?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader
Word count: 2,320
Warning: Angst, ignoring, reader not feeling like she is enough.
A/N: I’m excited to put this 2 part story up! :)
You had been with the Winchesters for what has been the best six months of your life.
You were working at a bar. That night you were leaning up against the counter because business was slow, when they walked in. Both tall, but one even more so. The taller one had long brown hair and the other had dirty blonde, with striking green eyes. The latter was the kinda guy that turned heads with his handsomeness.
Needless to say your life flipped in a way unimaginable after that “meeting”. It turns out that scratching you heard in your apartment wasn’t rats, but something even worse.
Imagine everything that you had ever been told was fiction, wasn’t. And most of them, weren’t those sugar-coated, magical, good-doing creatures. No, ghosts weren’t transparent blobs; ghosts were people who had a vengeance that tethered them to this world. Witches were soul-suckers, or naive satanic soccer moms and werewolves were unstoppable heart-eaters. And things you could’ve never dreamed of, were even worse.
Sam found a case in a small town in Minnesota only yesterday. You remained at your current motel room for the night, though and him and Dean were packing up now.
“Bank robberies, murders, kidnappings, you name it and it’s there,” Sam had said.
“What are you thinking?” you wondered, in reference to what it might be.
“That’s not much to go on,” Dean huffed as he packed up his bags. “Could be anything.” He threw his duffle over his shoulder and sauntered out of the motel room, letting the door slam shut behind him.
“What IS up with him lately?” you asked Sam. Dean had been pissy for a straight week now, and on and off for a little over a month.
“Don’t ask me,” he replied, shrugging his large shoulders as he carefully placed his laptop in his bag and rose to his feet.
“He’s worse than a teenage girl with those moods,” you remarked, rolling your eyes. You crossed the room to grab your backpack and slung it over your shoulder, having already placed your other bag with the necessities in the car already.
Sam waited in the doorway, holding it for you as you lead the way out.
“Thanks,” you said passing over the threshold to the gloomy outside. Dean already had his favorite classic rock album blaring, sitting in the driver’s seat. It was a miracle he wasn’t deaf yet. You threw your bag in the trunk and scooted into the backseat, cringing at the volume.
“How long?” you asked Sam loudly over Led Zeppelin, leaning close to his ear. Not a word had been spoken nearly an hour into the ride, and Dean had yet to turn down the music a single decibel.
“About three more hours,” he replied flatly, not wanting to break the tension. You glanced at Dean’s hands, noticing that they were both wrapped tightly around the wheel, his knuckles white.
You sighed, realizing that you could not stand this loud silence for hours.
“Dean,” you tested. He didn’t hear you. “Dean,” you said louder, tapping his shoulder. He turned his head to look at your hand, letting out a breath and turning the volume dial down enough for you to be heard.
“Yeah?” he wondered. You could feel Sam’s hot gaze on you, afraid that you may set off his brother.
But you had hope. It was the first time in a full week that Dean’s voice hadn’t been calloused and cold and cut-off.
“Are you okay?” you wondered.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dean huffed in an irritated tone; it was too much to hope for that it would stay away. You winced at the way your best friend was now speaking to you, but you didn’t stop.
“You just seem so pissy lately,” you trailed off softly.
“I’m not pissed,” he challenged. You were really getting enough of this.
“That doesn’t sound like the tone of someone who’s not pissed,” you crossed.
If there was one person who could never keep their eyes on the road, it was Dean Winchester. He turned around completely, for only a brief moment, but you weren’t sure if you could handle any more than that of his terrifying glare. Your stubbornness was only fueled as he turned around without snapping back at you.
“Would this be a bad time to ask if we could make a stop?” you asked sweetly, though you were grimacing internally, knowing that once you got out, he would be forced to at least look at you.
Dean huffed in response.
“I’ll take that as an ‘okay’, thanks De,” you said, pulling yourself forward to plant a taunting chaste kiss to his cheek. You couldn’t see the reaction on his face, but you thought you saw his cheek twitch, possibly cracking a smile for the first time in a week.
Just a few minutes down the highway, he pulled into a rest area.
“Hurry up,” he said, stepping out of the car and slamming the door. You quickly followed him, jogging at his heels to catch up, though he didn’t shorten his brisk stride.
“Dean,” you called from a few steps back, earning no response. “Dean!” You pulled his shoulder as you caught up to him. He faced you reluctantly, staring you down, hard. “Why are you ignoring me?” you breathed.
He scoffed and began to turn away.
“Hey!” you shouted, grabbing his shoulder again. He may have had sheer size and power over you, but you were more headstrong and definitely done with his bullshit. “Would you quit acting like you’re on your man period? Not even a man period, you’re acting like a little boy!” He turned to you and gave you a look, as if you had done something to him. Yeah let out your anger in a shaky breath. “What did I do?” you spoke softer this time.
“Nothing,” Dean shook his head as he pulled from your grip again, and you let him. You stood there for a moment, incredulously.
What the fuck? He even admitted that you hadn’t done anything wrong, so why was he acting like this? Needles pricked the back of your eyes as tears threatened to pool in them and fall, but you refused to let them, instead jogging to the rest stop bathroom.
Once you returned to the car, you were surprised, that Dean wasn’t wolfing down the food he had gotten and hadn’t even turned the music back on. But the silence was almost worse, and it was only ever broken by Sam talking about the case, even that was almost immediately shut down.
In the town, you wasted no time relaxing. Dean took charge and decided that you would immediately head for the police station.
“FBI,” Dean stated, each of you showing your badges once you were seen by a deputy. “We’re here about the spike in crime in town and we’d like to speak with the sheriff if he’s available.” The deputy held out his hand and Dean passed over his badge. The man squinted at it, before sighing and replacing it in Dean’s hand.
“I believe he is,” the man said, eyeing you. “Excuse me.” He turned and strided to an office and knocked.
You heard a muffled response. The deputy cracked the door open and poked his head in.
“FBI agents are here sir,” he stated, before stepping back to allow a stocky, middle-aged man to pass through the doorway.
He stood there for a moment before waving you into his office. It was fairly large but only had one chair opposite his desk, so rather than arguing over who got to sit, you all stood.
“Sheriff Adams,” he introduced himself. He squinted at you. “How may I help you today?”
“We’ve been sent to investigate the recent increase in violent crimes,” Sam stated.
“Uh-huh,” Sheriff Adams trailed off. He continued to scrutinize each of you, though he took special care looking over you. “And may I ask why there are three of you?” You clenched your jaw. Shit.
“Agent Gontier is in field training,” Dean replied quickly, gesturing to you. You wanted to glare at him, but forced a smile onto your face.
“Uh-huh. Now what about the crimes?” Adams asked.
“We’d like to see the burglary tapes, any that you have. I believe there was one at the… Clearwater Bank, was it?” Sam replied.
“Yeah,” the sheriff huffed and began digging around in the desk drawers. “Ah-ha.” He produced a VHS tape and crossed the room to an old bubble television, pushing the tape into a VCR. He fast forwarded the tape to the burglary. All of you watched the TV intently as the figure moved across the screen.
As they checked their back, you realized that they were a woman and you caught a flash.
“Could you replay that?” you asked. Sheriff Adams gave you a look before complying.
You moved slightly closer as you watched again. The glowing eyes were unmistakable this time and Sam and Dean made eye contact with you, mouthing, ‘shifter’.
“Uh,” Sam trailed off. “Could we please get a copy of this? And any others you have of the recent crimes?”
“Could I see your badge again?” Sheriff Adams tested. Sam readily pulled out his FBI badge again, handing it over as the man scrutinized it. “Agent Young?” He looked up from the card.
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied.
“And you are?” he asked Dean and you.
“Agent Angus,” Dean said.
“And Agent–in training– Gontier,” you forced a smile.
He signed, handing Sam back his badge before he sifted through more drawers, handing Sam no more than half a dozen more tapes. “That’s all we’ve got. The criminals must have realized by now that they’ve been getting caught on camera.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
“No problem. We really appreciate that the government decided to help our little town,” the Sheriff smiled sweetly for the first time since you had arrived. It was almost too sweet.
“We try to pay attention to these kinds of things,” Dean forced a smile back.
“I’m sure you do.”
“It is our job,” Sam smiled as you were escorted out.
“Shifter,” Dean said aloud as you slid into the impala.
“No kidding,” you rolled your eyes, earning yourself a glare in the rear view mirror.
“It’s late,” Dean sighed as he pulled the impala out of the lot.
“It’s only five–” Sam tried.
“We should find a motel,” Dean interrupted. Sam shook his head at the ground.
After finally arriving at one, Dean went in to go get a room while you and Sam waited.
“You should probably sleep with Dean tonight,” Sam turned in his seat to face you. You furrowed your brows at him.
“Sam,” you stared at your best friend, hard. “You know he and I haven’t been on the best terms lately.”
“I know you hate not talking to him,” he sighed. “I know you hate not sleeping with him.”
“No, I don’t,” you argued. “It makes no difference to me.”
“Y/N,” he shook his head, then meeting your gaze with intensity. “I know you lo–”
“Don’t you dare say that to me, Sam,” you fumed. “We can’t have that kind of thing.”
“It’s killing the both of you,” he insisted. “If you both weren’t so damn stubborn….”
“It’s him! He’s the one who hasn’t been speaking!” you burst.
“And you refusing to sleep with him is making it worse,” Sam reasoned. “You do realize that’s what this is about, don’t you? I try talking to him but he won’t hear it.”
“It’s not like he’s listening to me either,” you huffed.
“Well, it’ll be my idea then,” he smirked.
“I’m gonna kill you, Sam Winchester,” you grit your teeth.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean said, sauntering up to the car. “No dead bodies on this case.”
“No promises,” you mumbled.
“Hey, Dean,” Sam said, earning Dean’s attention as he sat down in the car. “I’ve been the one having to put up with Y/N at night these past couple weeks, I think it’s about time you had your turn.”
“And so you want me to deal with her stealing the covers from me?” Dean questioned. You rolled your eyes, you really weren’t that bad of a blanket hog.
“Yeah,” Sam matched. “Like I’ve been for two weeks straight.”
“Fine,” Dean growled, pulling around the back of the Motel to your room. His snarling really got to you sometimes, what had you even done?
You unloaded your personal pack and weapon bags from the car into the bleak room. You were sitting on the other bed, looking at Sam, when Dean brought in the final duffel and plopped down next to Sam.
“Takeout?” you suggested.
“What else?” Dean asked rhetorically.
“What do you guys want?” you asked. Dean wanted a burger, of course, and Sam opted for a salad. “Ok, I’ll go out and get it.” You raised your open hand, and Dean tossed the keys to you, after a moments hesitation, without looking.
“Not a single scratch,” Dean called.
“Don’t you trust me?” you called back as you swung the door shut behind you.
When you returned, the room was empty, though you heard the distinct trickle of shower water from the bathroom.
“Dean?” you called, setting the food on the dresser.
“It’s Sam,” he answered. You walked towards the door, stopping just short of three feet away.
“Where’s Dean?” you asked.
“He took off,” Sam replied. You sighed knowing what that meant; it meant he was at a strip club, or a bar hitting on some busty blonde who had a much better toned body than you.
“I’m sleeping with you tonight, Sam, sorry,” you called.
“Yeah,” was all he replied. You dragged your feet to Sam’s bed and flopped down, stifling tears as silent sobs racked over your body. It was pointless and stupid really, because you couldn’t help it. This was just Dean.
And you would never be enough for Dean Winchester.
After being locked in a room for days, she finally let me out. Mud in my hair and solid on my skirts, dirt under my fingernails and bruises littering my arms and hands. She ordered her guard to drop me at her feet. She looked down from her throne, careful not to let her crown slip from her hair, she locked eyes with someone on the other side of the room, and nodded. Then she stood. Her skirts falling behind her and following her with each stride.
She gestured for her maiden to move me so I was facing her and the crowd crammed in the hall. They wanted to see a witch hang. It didn’t matter that I was halfway innocent. It didn’t matter that I never hurt anyone or ever had the intention to hurt someone. All anyone card about was the evidence found in my hut. That’s all she cared about as well. And for the chance to prove that she is Queen.
“Kaia.” She starts. Looking at the chains around my ankles and hands. I could only imagine the state my hair was in if my dress was a dirty as it was. “I am Queen now, and I do not condone witchcraft - of any kind.” She cocks her head and locks eyes with Ivar. A deceiving look flashed in her eyes. “I do not appreciate that you would try to conjure Aslaug from the dead.” A collective gasp was heard from bystanders. “Or that you would try to get me killed, so your husband’s brother can become King.”
I tried to say something, but a sword was placed under my chin.
“Let her speak!” An array of voices cried from the crowd. Lagertha nodded, turning to face me again. The sword was taken away, and I was forced to get off my knees and stand.
“I was not conjuring the Queen.” My voice was hoarse and raspy. The other side of the room had to strain to hear anything. “I did not what I did in malice-”
“You admit to witchcraft?”
“Everyone knows that witches have been in my family for generations. We practice in the name of Frigg we are decedent’s from Odin!” I cry out in desperation. The chains feeling tighter by the second. “Your husband claimed he was a descendant from Odin also.”
Her expression turned cold at the sound of Ragnar’s existence. “My husband was bewitched by Aslaug. She cast a spell on him.”
“She did not!” Ivar roared from his seat. “He loved her more than he loved you and you were so blind you could not see it for what it was, but for witchcraft.”
Voices talking over one other caused an up roar and horns were thrown as ale spilt everywhere. Lagertha had to yell out for there to be silence. “I do not condone witchcraft. Not after what Aslaug has done to my city. To my home.” She pauses, looking at the walls of the halls and the throne she stole to call herself Queen. “There is evidence that you were conjuring Aslaug late into the night only last week. There was evidence when the walls were breached that witchcraft was involved,” she sits down on her throne, and clears her throat. Her eyes narrow and sink into my skin. “You and your husband, are nothing but sad children. You are hurt over Aslaug’s death. I understand. I am hurt over Ragnar’s death, but there are some things that I need to have made clear; I am Queen. I am in charge. The sons of Ragnar are not in line for the throne, but my son Bjorn. I will not let myself be put in danger by followers of Aslaug and their witchcraft. I will not let anyone conjure Aslaug to try and bring me down- and I will not let someone take my right and usurp my rule. From now on; anyone accused of witchcraft will be put on trial. Anyone proved guilty, will be strung up outside and made a lesson of.” An audible gasp left everyone’s lips and silence fell.
The eerie silence was broken by the heavy doors banging open. Floki stalks into the hall. He takes a standing by Ivar and crosses his arms. The seer shuffles in, his cloak covering his face and whispers leaving his lips. Everyone stayed silent.
“You accuse a girl of conjuring the dead?” His voice, though soft, bounces off the walls. “There was once a time when you asked me of life and death.” He points and bony finger at her. “No one should be on trial here.”
I saw in your follower give away thing that you would do a simple animation thing for one of the winners. This may be a dumb question, but would it be possible to just commission you for a thing like that? and if so, how much would it be?
That’s not a dumb question, anon! I guess something very basic like the mentioned chill gifs would be okay - people have asked about commissioning those before so I might have to cook up a base price for them and add them to my comm sheet in the future. Considering the time I put into these, base price would definitely be over $100.
Something that really annoys me is when people hate on Sansa for not telling Jon about the Knights of the Vale. I personally think she made the right decision but fair enough, she could've told him. But people make it out to be like it was the worst decision ever but 'perfect' Jon made a massive error in judgement and fell into Ramsay's trap, just as Sansa warned him against, and without Sansa bringing the Knights of the Vale, Jon would've easily lost the battle
Anon here we disagree a little. I love Sansa with all my heart (she is my favorite character is clear by the content in my blog, and i admit, i am biased towards her because i love her too much). But Sansa not telling Jon about the vale was a shitty thing to do. I also think Jon made a whole “leeroy jenkins” move in the battle, so the blame is on both. Personally, I think they made Sansa not tell jon about the knights only because “cool surprise effect” not really for any plot point. (and also because they had to re-introduce Littlefinger in the plot). I think in the books it wont happen like that at all. (my wild guess: Sansa will escape Harry the heir, run to Jon at the wall, littlefinger will convince the knights of the vale to go to her, in the battle harry will die. Taken winterfell, Littlefinger will try to kill Jon, Sansa will execute littefinger for it..).
Having said that I absolutely agree that the knights of the Vale will be the real reason for the starks re-taking winterfell. Not because its described by littlefinger, but because Robb and Catelyn foreshadow the “jon/sansa” problem of ruling Winterfell (which can be resolved only in a marriage… yes i say this again because it makes sense to me…) in this quote (before sansa even escapes kings landing….)
“Young, and a king,” he said. “A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her.” His mouth tightened. “To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north.”
“No,” Catelyn agreed. “You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son.” She considered a moment. “Your father’s father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest… it might have been a Templeton, but…”
“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”
She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”
“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”
Petyr arched an eyebrow. “When Robert dies… Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie… and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden’s cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back… why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa… Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell.
. its clear what Grrm is doing..its setting up a possible confrontation between SANSA/JON about ruling winterfell. I want to be clear here i think there wont be any “stark bowl” or shit like that, because Grrm with these quotes makes it evident how Jon and Sansa wont be fighting for the north:
Jon: ”By right, Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa"
Stannis: “Lady Lannister, you mean? Are you so eager to see the Imp perched on your father’s seat? I promise you, that will not happen whilst I live, Lord Snow.” …
Jon: “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”
Stannis: “I have heard all I need to hear about Lady Lannister and her claim.
He was only her half brother, but still… with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again.- Sansa Stark.
Who will rule in the north then? my guess: Jon will be crowed King, but he will find out about his parents and leave for the south (when he will meet dany), leaving Sansa ruling until Bran comes back home. At the end of the of books Brandon Stark will be the king in the north… But Bran cant have children, Sansa doent have a good reputation after being married to a lannister and being associated with the Vale, and Jon doesnt have the Stark name. So all these people cant rule individually. But togheter? They have everything:
Bran can have an heir (jon and sansa child), Sansa can have an husband that is loved in the north and cares for winterfell and the starks, and Jon can have the stark name thanks to his marriage with Sansa. Its the only solution for the north and the stark name to survive. Marriage for duty is a predominant element in the books but most fans dont like it.. but i am sure Grrm will close the series with one (look at these quotes here):
“what has love have to do with marriage? A prince should know better. Your father married for love. How much joy has he had of that?”
“We don’t choose our destinies but we must do our duties.”
and of course my personal favorite:
Even when he took her maidenhood, their love had more of duty to it than of passion. We made Robb that night, though; we made a king together. And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned’s solemn face
(as for Arya, she wont ever marry for duty and if she ever marries, it will be with Gendry…that union of house Stark and Baratheon will happen like my dude tyron says to Sansa here it was a really good idea: “More’s the pity, the match was one of Kings Robert’s better notions, if Joffrey hadnìt mucked it up”)
Things I was expecting to do at work today: produce a 16 page report about everything that’s occurred in the last 4 weeks.
Things I was not expecting to do at work today: have to defend my anti Fifty Shades of Grey stance.