these photos were sent from the depths of hell just to ruin me

Logged in - Part 4

Originally posted by canonspngifs

Summary: Dean x Reader: Sam tells Dean and the reader about a new online community for hunters and they both scoff at him, but secretly use it and end up drawn to each other.

Word Count: 3953

Triggers: None really

Y/N = Your name

Note: OK, so by now we all know I’m a filthy liar who can’t control my word count >< The “final” part ran just over 8000 words which seemed a bit excessive, so I split it. Final part is ready though, just gonna read through it and should be posting it tomorrow unless the coworkers tempt me with after work wine. Which honestly might happen, I don’t just get lead into temptation, I have memorised every shortcut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5


The anonymity of the computer screen had made it too easy for you to open up more than you’d ever meant to open up to anyone. Especially considering you were still fighting your whole red pill, blue pill battle. You unfortunately came to this realisation quite late, almost a full month after your first drunken confession to the internet stranger. By the time you realised you had already spent countless evenings, nights and the occasional lazy afternoon talking to J.T about all the little things that occupied your mind. Including your messed up emotional state. Specifically your conflicting feelings for the two separate hunters.

Yeah, so maybe it was stupid to talk to one of the two men you found yourself attracted to about said attraction. Actually it was abso-fuckin-lutely the stupidest, most insane thing you’d done, and you’d done some fucked up shit. Still, J.T wanted you to share and he had only responded in kind. And since that vulnerable moment where you had confessed your confused state of mind and him his, your evenings had often returned to the topic as you both felt so close to each other, yet still in love with your respective hunting partners. Your conversations easily ranging from light and easy to what read like a bunch of really really sad one-line love letters.

And every time you spoke you found another reason for not ending it. Whether it was the easy, friendly chats that read like the script of some low-budget sitcom or the more in depth chats where everything he said made it seem like J.T was reading your mind. Or like he had just bypassed your mind completely and hooked an amplifier and full surround sound system directly into your heart. Those nights were always the sweetest, yet the most bitter and hardest to deal with. Like whiskey and dark chocolate.

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