~Glen~Reblogger~Writer~Requests closed đno exception~empty blogs will be blocked Slightly older than đ« & đżïž J2/Wincest sideblog @sammywinchester5283 AO3 *AKF* *FAMILY DON'T END IN BLOOD*
Summary: Assigned to manage Soldier Boy, you become the only person who can keep him under control. But as tension turns into dangerous attraction, keeping things professional becomes impossible.
-requested-
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language
Word Count: 4154
DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes.
The letter sat on your coffee table. Your name and the words âhereby tender my resignationâ staring up at you. Your signature at the bottom looked shaky, like your hand had tried to change its mind halfway through.
You were curled on the couch in your cat pajamas, little cartoon kittens all over them, utterly ridiculous for someone whoâd spent the afternoon coming apart in a supeâs penthouse. Your hair was damp, your skin clean, but you still felt⊠wrong. Like youâd left parts of yourself behind in his hands, in that room and in the way his voice had sounded when he said this isnât over.
You pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, staring at the letter. Marmalade hopped up onto the cushion beside you, circled once, and flopped down with her back pressed to your thigh, purring like everything was fine.
âI canât go backâ, you whispered. âI canâtâ I canât be around him and pretend this is just⊠scheduling or stupid talking pointsâ.
Your heart stuttered, remembering the way his hips had moved.
If you quit now, maybe you could still be⊠normal. Take another PR job. Write bland press releases about soup or tech companies. Go back to being invisible. Forget that, for a few awful, perfect minutes, a man like him had looked at you like you were the only thing holding him together.
Your chest hurt. You pressed your forehead to your knees while your eyes were burning, and tried not to have a full-blown panic attack on your secondhand couch.
Tomorrow, youâd go to HR and put the letter down. Caldwell would be pissed, but heâd deal. Vought would assign someone else. Ben would⊠lose his shit. You knew that. But you wouldnât have to see it. You could be gone.
You were in the middle of imagining exactly how badly heâd react when a knock came. A loud one.
You jolted so hard Marmalade shot off the couch with her tail puffed and started sprinting under the coffee table. Your heart launched itself into your throat, because nobody knocked like that. Not your neighbors, not delivery guys. The door rattled in its frame, dust shivering down from the cheap molding. You stared at it frozen.
Another round, even harder.
âOpen upâ, his voice snapped through it. âBefore I fucking kick it inâ.
You went cold. Then hot. Then both.
Your first instinct was to pretend you werenât home. Lights off, TV off, dead silent. Maybe heâd think he got the wrong apartment. Maybe heâdâ
âDoll, I can hear you fucking panickingâ he said very impatient. âAnd your cat too. Door. Nowâ.
You squeezed your eyes shut. âOh my godâ, you whispered to yourself.
He sounded like he was about two seconds from putting a you-shaped hole in the door. âDollâ, he barked and his knuckles hit the wood one more time. âEither you open this, or Iâm remodeling your fucking hallwayâ.
You swallowed hard while walking to the door. Your fingers were fumbling with the chain before you finally got it free and eased the door open just enough to peek out.
He took up the entire frame. He was still in the suit. The real suit. Soot streaked across his jaw. There was a smear of something darker drying on his collar and one forearm.
âHiâ, you managed, voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes swept over you in one quick pass. His mouth twitched, something almost like fondness flickering there before the other emotions shoved it aside.
âYou gonna let me inâ, he said, âor you gonna make your neighbors hear this conversation?â.
That did it. The idea of Mrs. Flores from 3b hearing any of this through the stairwell made your skin crawl. You opened the door wider and stepped back. He brushed past you, bringing the smell of metal and sweat with him.
Up close, the damage looked worse. A thin tear in the fabric at his side, scorched edging. A spatter of dried red was on one thigh that definitely wasnât his, because he was moving too easily for that.
âYouâre hurtâ, you blurted.
He looked down, then snorted. âThis? Please. Iâve had hangnails worse than thatâ. He looked up again, eyes already scanning past you, into the room. âWhere is it?â.
Your pulse jumped. âWhere is what?â.
He gave you a look. âYour fucking love letter. Few too many big words. Smells like ink and shitty decisionsâ. You froze.
His gaze cut to the coffee table. To the single sheet of paper lying there. He didnât go for it. Didnât even move his feet, only his jaw tightened. âThought soâ, he said.
You suddenly wanted very badly to be back inside your own skin instead of standing there in cat pajamas in front of a bloody superhero looking at your resignation letter like it had personally insulted him.
âI⊠havenât turned it in yet,â you said, defensive even to your own ears.
âYeah, no shitâ, he said. âKinda hard to quit when youâre still busy shaking in your living roomâ.
You flinched. âHow did you evenââ.
âI know you".
You swallowed and wrapped your arms around yourself. âYou shouldnât be hereâ, you whispered. âYou should be⊠resting. Or debriefing. Or whatever it is you do afterâŠâ. You gestured vaguely at the soot and cracked armor and blood.
He watched the movement, then shrugged one shoulder. âIâll liveâ. His eyes pinned you in place. âYou, on the other hand, were five minutes away from nuking my sanity, so. Prioritiesâ.
Your throat closed. âDonât say things like thatâ.
âLike what?â, he demanded. âLike I just ran through hell and the only thing spinning my head is the idea of you handing that in and disappearing? âCause thatâs the truth, sweetheart. Doesnât get less true âcause it scares youâ.
You swallowed, looking down at your feet. Your toes curled on the cold floor. âI canât do⊠earlierâ, you said quietly. âNot again. I canât handleâŠâ. You flushed hard, the memory of his hands, your own body, crashing over you. ââŠall of it. You. The job. The way it makes me feelâ.
âThe way what makes you feelâ, he asked, stepping closer, âme touching you, or me not?â.
You went pink to your ears. âBenâ.
He stopped himself then, exhaling hard as if wrestling something back down.
âOkayâ, he said, rubbing a hand over his face, smearing soot a little more. âIâm not here to drag your cute little ass back and pick up where we left offâ.
Your brain shorted. âYouâre⊠not?â, you said suspicious.
He gave a short, half-wild laugh. âTrust me, I want to. But every time I get near you lately you look like youâre torn between kissing me and jumping out a fucking windowâ. His gaze softened just a fraction. âIâm not gonna push you âtil you breakâ.
âYou keep saying thatâ, you whispered. âThat you wonât hurt me. But youâre⊠you. You hurt people just by being in the room. You scare them. You scare meâ.
He went very still at that. Not in the brittle explosive way youâd seen in other people before they yelled. This was colder and sadder. His jaw flexed like heâd just taken a hit. He looked away, to the peeling paint by your kitchen light switch, then to the IKEA bookshelf youâd put together crooked, anywhere but your face.
âYeah. I knowâ.
You shifted your weight. âThatâs⊠kind of the problemâ, you said softer. âIâm⊠not like you. Iâm not built for⊠high-stakes anything. I do emails. PowerPoints. I talk to my catâ.
âYou also walk into my suite when Iâm coked out and pissed off and tell me no daytime talk showsâ, he said. âEveryone else gets sent in with a team and exits pre-planned. You just⊠show up. Tiny and shaking and still standingâ. His mouth pulled into a crooked not-smile. âDonât sell yourself shortâ.
Your chest squeezed and you dropped your eyes, blinking hard. âIt doesnât feel like standingâ, you whispered. âIt feels like Iâm going to fall apart all the time and you just⊠happen to be there when I doâ.
âYeahâ, he said quietly. âAnd I kinda like being there, if thatâs not obviousâ.
That didnât help.
You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. âWhich is exactly why I wrote thatâ, you said, nodding at the letter. âBecause I canât think straight around you anymore. I canât tell where my job ends and⊠whatever this is begins. And if I screw up? People get hurt. You get hurt. I canât have that on meâ.
He studied you.
âSo your solutionâ, he said slowly, âis to run. Pretend the last weeks didnât happen. Pretend Iâll just⊠go back to being the asshole in the suit who doesnât listen to anyoneâ.
You fidgeted while your guilt started pricking. âYouâd be safer that wayâ.
His laugh was short and grim. âSweetheart, I have been unsafe since 1935". He shook his head. âNot lettinâ you blame yourself for shit I was already doing before you were bornâ.
âThen what do you want?â, you asked helpless. âBecause I canât be your⊠I donât even know. I canât be the only thing standing between you and a crater. Thatâs too muchâ.
He looked at you like he wanted to argue. Then he visibly forced himself to swallow it.
âWhat I wantâ, he said finally, voice low, âis you not to disappear without giving this a fucking shot. A real one. Not this halfway professional-only bullshit where we pretend Iâm just your calendar with musclesâ.
Your heartbeat stuttered. âBenââ.
âI know youâre scaredâ, he went on. âHell, Iâm fucking-⊠You think I like the idea that one little PR girl can get under my skin more than a goddamn rocket launcher?â. He huffed a humorless laugh. âItâs fuckin' patheticâ.
He blew out a breath and finally closed the distance between you. When he was right in front of you, he stopped.
âAlrightâ, he said. âYou want the truth? Here it is. I donât want a fucking Handler. Iâve had those. They were leashes. I wantâŠâ. He grimaced, like the word tasted strange. âI want you. And that messes with my head. So congratulations. You freak me out just as much as I freak you out. Happy?â.
You let out a small, helpless laugh. âNo?â.
He snorted. âYeah. Me neitherâ.
Silence stretched.
You shifted your weight again, then forced yourself to look up at him. âWhat if I screw it up?", you asked. âWhat if I run, or⊠just canât do it?â.
He shrugged one shoulder. âThen we slow down. Or we yell at each other and fuck. I dunno, doll, we figure it out. You donât gotta have a five-year plan for thisâ.
You stared at him. âSince when do you believe in âfiguring it outâ?â.
He made a face. âSince someone started crying in my elevator and I realized Iâd rather eat glass than make her do it againâ. His eyes dropped, flicking briefly over your pajama pants. âEven when sheâs dressed like a kindergarten field-trip chaperoneâ.
You glanced down at the cats with heated cheeks. âTheyâre comfortableâ.
âYeahâ, he muttered, something warm in his tone, âI betâ.
You swallowed. Your heart was still racing, but it wasnât pure panic now. It was⊠something else. Something that felt like standing on the edge of a pool, deciding whether or not to jump.
âYouâre really not here toâŠâ, you gestured vaguely, face heating, ââŠdo anything?â.
His mouth twitched. âDidnât say thatâ. At your alarmed look, he held up both hands. âIâm not here to push anything. Big difference. You want me to stay on the other side of the room, I will. You want a fucking hug, you get a hug. You wanÂŽt me to pop that cherry? My fucking pleasureâ.
Your gaze snagged on his hands, big and empty and strangely controlled. Your cheeks went even more pink.
ââŠa hug sounds kind of niceâ, you admitted quietly.
He went very still, like youâd said something much bigger. Then, carefully, he stepped in, wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, snug but not crushing, one hand splayed between your shoulder blades. You fit there obscenely well.
Up close like this, the smell of him was⊠a lot. Smoke and metal and sweat, that harsh tang of burnt concrete and something coppery underneath. It soaked into your clean skin, into your freshly showered hair, like he was overwriting the day whether you wanted him to or not.
âYou knowâ, he rumbled eventually, voice vibrating through your ribs, âI did just get back from turning assholes into pavement artâ.
You swallowed. ââŠI noticedâ.
His hand slid a little lower between your shoulder blades. âKinda unfair youâre all warm and clean and smellinâ like vanilla and Iâm over here wearinâ whateverâs left of some guyâs spleenâ.
You made a horrified noise into his shirt. âBenâ.
âWhat?â. You could hear the grin in his voice. âYou wanted honestyâ.
âYou are getting me dirtyâ, you mumbled, pulling back half an inch and looking down at where his suit was pressed against your front. There were definitely new smudges on your cats now.
âYeahâ, he said utterly unbothered. âBest youâve ever lookedâ.
Your face heated. âThat is not a complimentâ.
âSure it isâ. He tipped your chin up with a knuckle, meeting your eyes. Up close, you could see the streaks on his jaw, the tiny cut at his hairline, the tiredness thinking about settling in around his eyes but not quite there yet. âMeans youâre mineâ.
You opened your mouth, then shut it, caught somewhere between flustered and fond. âYouâre disgustingâ, you whispered.
He smirked. âAnd you let me in anyway. Whatâs that say about you, sprinkler?â.
âThat I make poor choicesâ, you said under your breath.
He huffed a laugh and then you saw that flicker again, that quick little glance down at your pajama top, then back up like he was reminding himself not to push.
âCâmereâ, he said, loosening his hold just enough to look you over. âBefore Iâll ruin your whole kitten paradeâ.
You glanced down at yourself. âDamage is doneâ.
âNahâ, he said. âThis is just level one. You keep me in this suit much longer, youâre gonna need to burn the whole outfitâ.
You grimaced and he chuckled, finally stepping back a little. His gaze flicked toward your bathroom, then back to you. âYou got towels?â.
You blinked. âYeah?â.
âGoodâ. He hooked a thumb under one cracked shoulder pad, testing it. ââCause if I sit on your couch in this, itâs never recovering. So you might wanna let me de-gore firstâ.
The word made you wince. âCan you⊠please not phrase it like thatâ.
He rolled his eyes. âFine. Iâll go⊠freshen upâ. He said it in a horrible fake-posh accent.
Your brain short-circuited for a second at the implication of him in your bathroom, in your tiny apartment, taking off that suitâ You shoved the image away before your cheeks could catch up.
âClean towels are on the shelf. Please donât break the showerâ, you said while backing up a little to give him space.
âNo promisesâ, he muttered, already angling toward the doorway. He paused as he passed you, eyes catching on the new smudges on your pajamas. âYou look good messy, by the wayâ.
âGo wash off your⊠organsâ, you whispereds shyly.
Eventually, while Ben was in the shower, you crossed to the coffee table on autopilot. The paper felt heavier than it should when you picked it up. All those words that had felt so certain this afternoon looked flimsy now. Premature.
You thought about him in the elevator, saying 'Iâm not gonna hurt you' like he meant it more than heâd meant anything in years. About tonight and the fact that he came straight from hell to your crappy apartment, because he couldnât stand the idea of you leaving without a fight. You thought about how it had felt, just now, with his arms around you and the way your body had gone quiet for the first time all day.
Your fingers crumpled the top corner of the letter.
âOkayâ, you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. âOkayâ.
You tore it and carried the pieces to the trash, dropped them in, and shut the lid.
âFineâ, you muttered at the air. âWe⊠figure it outâ.
-
A few weeks later, your world had gotten⊠different.
Ben was everywhere.
Not just in the literal, he-takes-up-the-entire-room way, though he did. But everywhere in the ways youâd never let yourself imagine before. You woke up tangled with him, legs over his, his hand on your hip, Marmaladeâs tail flicking against your bare calf because she was jealous of the space he took in your bed.
Heâd spent exactly one day pretending to take things slow after your first time. One. After that, it was like a switch flipped in him, like once heâd tasted softness he realized heâd starved for it all his life.
He was greedy for you, and he didnât care who saw. Not Vought, not your neighbors, not the city through your living room window.
But it wasnât just you he was greedy for. He was greedy for every part of you. The way you blushed when he teased you, the way youâd hide your face in his shoulder after a compliment, the way your hands trembled when you touched yourself in front of him for the first time, shivering and wide-eyed and trying to be brave for him.
And when he figured out just how deep your self-consciousness went, how quickly youâd hide from yourself if he let you, he decided that was one thing he wasnât going to let stand.
Which is how you ended up here.
In his bed, knees tucked under you, blanket bunched at your hips. Ben behind you, hands bracing your thighs apart, his body pressed flush to your back. The big standing mirror across from the foot of the bed caught every inch of you both.
Youâd protested, but he hadnât listened.
âLookâ, he murmured with his lips rough on your ear and one hand splayed low on your belly. âYou spend all this time thinkinâ youâre not enough, or not pretty. Look at you now. Look how fuckinâ gorgeous you areâ.
You tried to duck your head, but his other hand caught your jaw, tilting your face toward the mirror. His eyes met yours in the glass, bright and hot and so unguarded it made you ache.
âBenâ, you whispered, mortified at the sight of yourself.
He only grinned, hungry and soft all at once. âThatâs it. See? Thatâs mine".
His hand slid from your jaw down the line of your throat until his palm rested between your shoulder blades.
âDown, sweetheartâ, he murmured. âHands and knees for meâ.
Your breath hitched. You hesitated half a heartbeat, but the way he said it, like it was a privilege he was asking, made your arms fold almost on their own.
You sank forward and the blanket slipped away while your palms pressed into the cool sheets. The mirror caught how your back arched, your breasts swaying slightly with the movement and your thighs trembling as you settled on your knees.
Ben moved with you, never breaking contact. One big hand stayed splayed across your lower back, while the other guided your hips until you were exactly where he wanted: ass up, face angled toward the glass, eyes wide and glassy with nerves and want.
âThere we goâ, he praised while settling behind you.
The heat of him blanketed your back, his chest brushing your spine as he leaned over you, surrounding you completely. You could feel him against the curve of your ass, but he didnât push in yet. He just let you feel him, let the anticipation coil tighter.
âLook at youâ, he said again, softer this time, almost awed. His hands smoothed up your sides, thumbs tracing the dip of your waist and the swell of your hips. âLook how pretty you are like this. All soft and open for meâ.
You whimpered, tried to drop your head, but his fingers were already threading through your hair, gentle but firm, tipping your face back toward the mirror.
âUh-uh. Eyes up, baby. You donât get to hide from thisâ. His voice dropped. âWatch what I do to you. Watch how fucking perfect you look taking meâ.
He shifted behind you, one hand sliding down to grip himself, dragging the thick length of him through your slick folds, coating himself in you. Every pass over your clit made your hips jerk, a broken little sound spilling from your throat.
âBenââ. It came out a plea, while you werenât even sure what for.
âI knowâ, he soothed, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades, then another, open-mouthed and hot. âIâve got youâ.
He lined up, the thick head nudging at your entrance, and paused. Just long enough for you to feel the stretch before he even moved.
âEyes on the mirrorâ, he ordered, voice strained now, like holding still was costing him. âWant you to see the exact second I make you mine againâ.
Then he pushed in. Slow, watching your face in the glass as he sank deep. Your mouth fell open on a silent cry, back arching sharper as he filled you inch by inch. The mirror showed everything: the way your thighs shook, the way your fingers clawed at the sheets and the way your body took him like it was made for it.
He groaned, bottoming out with a final roll of his hips that made you sob his name.
âThatâs itâ, he rasped, both hands gripping your hips now, holding you steady. âLook at you. So fucking sweet, and youâre taking all of meâ.
He drew back, almost all the way out, then slid home again, slow and deep, forcing you to watch every second. To watch the sight of him disappearing into you, the flushed, desperate girl in the mirror who didnât look shy anymore, just undone and beautiful and his.
âKeep watchingâ, he growled, starting a steady rhythm while one hand slipped around to circle your clit in time with his thrusts. âDonât you dare look away. I want you to see what I see every fucking time Iâm inside youâ.
And you did. You couldnât have looked away if you tried.
-
Three months later, the gala dress lived in the back of your closet in a garment bag that smelled faintly of his cologne. The diamonds came out only for cameras. The cardigans stayed. You wore both, your softness and your shine, depending on the day and what the world demanded.
Vought tried, of course. There were meetings with too many bullet points, memos about âopticsâ, a brief-but-memorable moment where Legal asked if you could ârefrain from being seen breathing in photos with Soldier Boyâ. You smiled, sent back edits, and stood at Benâs shoulder anyway.
He learned, too. Not the PR stuff (God help anyone who tried), but you. How to say please without choking on it. How to pull back when your shoulders crept up to your ears. How to ask, quietly, âgood?â when the color drained from your face, and how youâd nod (yes, slow down) until the room felt breathable again. He never stopped being himself. He was still brash, dangerous and so damn loud. But with you, there was a lane carved through all that noise that no one else got to use.
At home, the world got smaller in the best way. Marmalade made peace with the intruder and began sleeping on his sternum.
Work found a new equilibrium. You drafted statements with fewer apologies and more truth. He stopped torching rooms just to feel the heat.
You never turned in a resignation letter. You did, however, rewrite your job description in a way that made HR blink and then sign it because nobody wanted to be the one to tell Soldier Boy he couldnât have the handler heâd finally started listening to.
Brand new Grateful Dead / Sugar Magnolia inspired wall art painting. This piece is 12x12 on 1/4 inch plywood. I used acrylic paint, spray paint, iridescent finish, artificial flowers and rope. This is honestly one of my favorite paintings, hope you like it too. Check it out in our Etsy shop. Link below.
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega Thief!Reader
Series Summary: Youâve spent years slipping through museum shadows and ancient ruins, lifting artifacts from people who wonât miss them till one night you run into Dean Winchester on a routine score. The moment your paths cross, the mate bond locks into place like a loaded round in the chamber. Heâs all alpha instinct and guarded heart; youâre all sharp edges and escape routes. Loving him might cost you your freedom. Leaving him might cost you both something worse.
Warnings: +18 language & smut (ABO dynamics, heat/rut, true mates, forced/accidental claim), major angst, hurt/comfort, heists/artifacts/thievery, fluff
A/N: My first ever try at an Omegaverse story! Figured it was about damn time after all these years that I dip my toe into this pool as well. Reader comes with some serious Robin Hood/Indiana Jones vibes. Hope you enjoy, friends! đ€
Main Masterlist || DW Masterlist || Tag List
Chapter 1: The Killing Moon
đ tumblr: Oct 2 || Patreon: Aug 16
Chapter 2: Unbelievers
đ tumblr: Oct 9 || Patreon: Aug 23
Chapter 3: I Will Follow You Into the Dark
đ tumblr: Oct 16 || Patreon: Aug 30
Request: @prettybubblesintheair87 Ooo could you please do something maybe with John Winchester where heâs always come to you when he needs stitches or fixing up after a bad hunt but what does he do when you call him and youâre in trouble this time âșïžâ€ïž I still think heâd give the best hugs đ
A/N: sitting in my drafts since April, whomp.
Summary: You get hurt on a hunt one day and call the one person you never expected to ran to your aid. [wc 894] [ao3]
John always showed up unannounced. Youâd be halfway through cleaning your tools, or trying to get a few hours of sleep, and thenâ three knocks on your door. Always the same pattern.
Youâd open the door, and there heâd be: blood on his shirt, jaw tight, eyes already scanning past you like he didnât have time for this. âSit,â youâd tell him, already grabbing your kit.
He never argued. Just dropped into the chair like a man used to being held together by other people. And youâd patch him up. Stitches. Bruises. Once, a burn that made your hands shake so bad you had to pause just to breathe.
He never thanked you properly. Not really. Just a quiet, âI owe you one,â on his way out.
You stopped believing that a long time ago. Because John Winchester didnât owe people. He just⊠kept going.
So when you called him, you almost hung up before it rang twice. This was stupid. You knew it. He had bigger things to worry about than you. But your hands wouldnât stop shaking, and there was too much blood, andâ
âYeah.â His voice was rough, distracted. Like he was already halfway out the door for something else.
You swallowed. âJohn.â
Silence. Not long. Just enough to tell you he recognized something in your voice you hadnât meant to show. ââŠWhat happened?â
You slid down the wall a little, pressing your hand harder against your side. It didnât help. âBad hunt,â you said, trying for casual. It came out thin. âIâI could useââ Your voice cracked. Damn it. âI could use some help.â
Another silence. This one heavier.
âWhere are you?â
â
You didnât expect him to come. Not really. You figured maybe heâd call Bobby, or send you a number, orâhellâtell you to hold pressure and walk you through it over the phone. Thatâs what people like him did. They delegated. They kept moving. They didnât stop.
The door slammed open so hard it hit the wall.
You startled, fumbling for the knife youâd dropped somewhere nearby, butâ
âItâs me.â John. He crossed the room in three strides, dropping to his knees in front of you like the world had narrowed down to this one moment. To you. âLet me see.â
You almost laughed. âFunny. Thatâs usually my line.â
He didnât smile. Didnât even react. Just carefully moved your hand away from your sideâand then went very, very still. ââŠChrist.â
Okay. Not great.
You tried to make light of it. âIâve had worse.â
âDonât,â he snapped, sharper than youâd ever heard him. His hands were already moving, pressing gauze down, checking the depth. Efficient. Precise. But there was something off.
Too fast. Too tense.
âJohnââ
âHow long have you been like this?â
âCouple hours.â
His jaw tightened. âWhy didnât you call sooner?â
You blinked at him. âBecause youâre not exactly on-call, Winchester.â
That hit something. He froze for half a secondâjust a flickerâbut you caught it. Then he shook it off, grabbing supplies from your kit like he knew exactly where everything was. Of course he did. Heâd been here enough. âStay with me,â he muttered.
You huffed. âNot planning on going anywhere.â
âDonât joke.â
Oh. Oh, that was new. You watched him for a second, really watched him, and⊠yeah. This wasnât the man who showed up at your door like a storm you had to weather. This was someone⊠scared. Trying very hard not to be.
ââŠHey,â you said, softer now. âIâm okay.â
âNo, youâre not.â The words came out immediate. Automatic. Like he didnât even think before saying them. And then, quieter, âYouâre not.â
Something in your chest twisted.
He worked in silence after that. Cleaning the wound. Stitching you up with steady hands that didnât match the tightness in his shoulders. Youâd stitched him a dozen times. Heâd never flinched like this. Not once.
âYouâre pulling too tight,â you murmured at one point.
He adjusted instantly. âSorry.â
You raised a brow. âDidnât know you knew that word.â
âYeah, well,â he muttered. âDidnât know you were this bad at taking care of yourself.â
You snorted weakly. âLook whoâs talking.â
That earned you the ghost of a breathâalmost a laugh. Almost. Then his hands slowed. ââŠYou always pick up when I call,â he said, not looking at you.
It took you a second to realize what he meant. ââŠYeah.â
âI just figuredâŠâ He trailed off, jaw tightening again. âDidnât think youâd ever need it back.â
There it was. That thing he never said.
You shifted a little, wincing. âEveryone needs it back, John.â
He tied off the last stitch. Didnât move his hands right away. ââŠYeah,â he said quietly. âGuess they do.â
When he finally leaned back, you caught his wrist before he could pull away. He stilled instantly.
âYou came,â you said.
It wasnât an accusation. It wasnât even a question. Just⊠something you needed to say out loud.
His gaze flicked up to yours, something raw and unguarded slipping through before he could stop it. âYeah,â he said again. Softer this time. Like it meant something.
And for once, John Winchester stayed. Not pacing. Not planning his next hunt. Just sitting there on the floor beside you, close enough that if you reached out again, he wouldnât pull away. Watching. Waiting. Like you were the thing that mattered.
Here, please find the incredible stories written by the talented contestants braving this Storytellers Contest. Please read, enjoy, and give them all the love and interactions they rightly deserve!
warnings: smut ofc! huge age gap!, that's pretty much it.
dbf!older!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Navigation
Request page
Masterlist
Supernatural masterlist
a/n: today is my 18th birthday so I thought why not make this! I hope y'all like it! also, sorry if I be rushing into the smutđik some people like to get right into it.
wc: 2,456
Today was my birthday, the most special birthday someone could ever have. My 18th birthday, I had finally made it to adulthood. People are finally gonna start seeing me and treating me as an adult.Â
My parents thought it would be nice to have a little backyard party for me with some friends and family. My birthday was on a weekday so I decided I was gonna celebrate my actual birthday with my best friends.Â
But as of right now I was getting ready for my special day, family was already arriving and they were bringing in my gifts. Iâm so excited to see what I get this year..but Iâm even more excited to see Dean. Who knows, I might have a chance with him today.Â
I put on my dress and heels, popped some gold earrings on and paired them with some gold bracelets. After that I placed some light blush on my cheeks and placed some lipgloss on before spraying my favorite perfume on. I looked in the mirror and made sure nothing was out of place, I needed to look perfect for my big day.
I grabbed my phone and left my room, now heading downstairs. I was met with hugs and kisses from all my friends and family. After my best friends greeted me they were looking at each other all giggly. I looked in between them trying to figure out what was going on. âWhyâre you guys acting like that?â I chuckled. They looked like two school girls trying to keep a secret from me.
âDean is here.â They both teasingly said before heading off to the backyard. I shook my head at the two girls before turning around towards the front door. Dean walked through the door and it was like everything else faded in the world.Â
I eyed him from head to toe. He was dressed in some cowboy boots, jeans, and a white button up. That shirt does wonders for him, I swear. He always looked good but thereâs just something so different when he wears a white shirt.Â
I was so in my head I didnât even realize he was giving me a hug.Â
âHappy birthday, doll.â Dean greeted me as he gave me a hug before placing a kiss on my forehead. My breath hitched at the closeness. I could practically roll my eyes at the scent of his cologne.Â
âThanks..â I muttered as he smiled and walked off to the backyard.Â
I know heâs my dadâs best friend and itâs wrong to have a crush on him but I canât help it. He looks so good and donât get me started on his voice. Everything about this man is hot.Â
I quickly got myself together before heading out to the backyard where everyone else was at. I was met with tons of âhappy birthdayâ and compliments. I eventually went over to my friends and we were talking about random stuff. But I wasnât really tuned into the conversation, my focus was all on Dean.
Deanâs large hands were wrapped around a cold glass of whiskey in his hand as he was standing next to my dad by the grill. His hair was slicked back some and I noticed he had undid a button on his shirt since it was hot outside.Â
The things I would let this man do to me..
âGirl, are you even listening to us?â My friend Maya asked. I quickly whipped my head back to my friends as they laughed. âYouâve been staring at him for like 5 minutes without blinking.â My other friend added as I rolled my eyes.Â
âJust look at him though! He looks so good!â I desperately said as I looked back at Dean. He finally noticed my staring and chuckled to himself before taking another sip of his whiskey. Shit! He saw me. I quickly turned my back facing him before looking back at my friends. âHe saw you..didnât he?â Maya asked as I nodded my head in response.Â
My friends were laughing their asses off at my embarrassing moment and I just stood there with a blank face. Nothing about this is funny!Â
âWhatever.â I groaned before heading inside the house. It was super hot outside and I couldnât take anymore of my friends' teasing. I went to the kitchen to grab a small cup of ice for me to chew on, maybe it will cool me down. Just as I closed the refrigerator I heard a voice from behind me.Â
âWhyâre you in here? The party's out there.âÂ
I knew that deep sultry voice from anywhere. I turned around and it was no one other than Dean Winchester.Â
I turned around and it was like my panties dampened on the spot. He had a smirk on his face as his large veiny hands were flat on the counter. I was trying to keep myself together. âI was hot..I needed to cool down.âÂ
âHmm.â He hummed. There was an awkward silence between us as I was trying to look everywhere but at him. âSammy couldnât make it, heâs sick but he sends his love.â Dean spoke up. I flashed him a small smile.Â
I needed to get out of here, it was like I was being suffocated in here. I excused myself and headed upstairs to my bedroom. Once I made it to my room I let out a breath that I didnât even know I was holding. I immediately placed an ice cube in my mouth. I feel at peace when I eat something crunchy. I sat my cup down on my nightstand before flopping back on my bed.Â
I swear itâs like everytime I get a second of relaxation someone always ruins it. There was a knock on my door. It was probably my friends coming up here just to tease me again. I groaned to myself before speaking up. âCome in!â I shouted.Â
My door opened and it was Dean. It was like he was standing in all his glory. He closed the door behind him before walking over to me. I sat up on my bed and looked at him waiting for him to tell me what he was doing in here. Dean had only been in my room a couple of times, helping my dad set up my furniture.Â
âThought Iâd come up here and bring you your present.â He softly said. My eyes followed his hands as he reached into his back pocket. He handed me a small box. I opened the box up and I couldnât believe it. It was his amulet.Â
I smiled at the gift and instantly took it out the box as I looked at him. âYouâre giving me this?!â I asked in shock. âYeah, I figured youâd need it if youâre gonna be a hunter soon.â He shrugged. Dean had a small smile on his face and I couldnât help but to get butterflies from him.Â
âCan you put it on for me?â I asked as I handed him the necklace. âOf course.â He said before I turned my back towards him. I raised my hair up so he could clasp the necklace on me. Once he finished I turned around and showed him as my fingers glided on the amulet. âI love it so much! Thanks Dean.â I happily thanked.
âIâm glad you like it.â He smiled.Â
This is the closest weâve ever stood with each other. We were both staring into each other's eyes and it was like I was holding myself back from him.Â
It felt as if I lost control over my body, before I knew it, I was wrapping my arms around his neck and we both leaned into a kiss.Â
My heart was racing and my body was hot, all these years of me crushing on him was put into this kiss. It was slow and passionate. Our tongues clashed together as Deanâs hands went to my waist and squeezed it some. The kiss went on for a little longer than it shouldâve. I was the one to break the kiss as we both rested our foreheads together, breathless from the kiss.Â
âI-I shouldn't have done that..Iâm sorry.â Dean stuttered as he took a step back from me. I was immediately shoved back into reality. This was wrong. I shouldnât have kissed him, but it was my only chance.Â
âDean-â I started off but he cut me off. âY/N! This is wrong, youâre my best friendâs daughter!â Deanâs voice boomed throughout the room. This was all my fault. Is he gonna tell my dad about this? Should I guilt trip him into not saying anything?Â
âDean..please donât say anything.â I begged. He looked down at me and he looked stressed. He didnât know what he was gonna do. âShit, sweetheart.â He sighed. Dean ran his hand across his face trying to figure this whole thing out.Â
I noticed him hardening in his jeans. As much as he tried to deny me..he knew he couldnât.
âJust this one time..â I whispered as I rubbed him through his jeans. Deanâs body tensed up from my touch. His eyes scanned over me one last time before he cussed to himself and pushed me onto my bed. I started to smile to myself as he placed kisses all over my body.Â
My panties were soaked by this point. Deanâs kisses trailed all the way from my exposed chest to my inner thighs. âCanât tell anyone about this..â He said under his breath before spreading my legs open. My dress was already short enough so it didnât need to be pushed up that much. Dean slowly slid my panties off as he almost damn near choked at the sight of me.Â
I was practically pulsing around nothing, I needed him so bad right now. His hand made its way to my core, my body jolted at his cold hand touching my most sensitive area. âYouâre soaked down there, sweetheart.â He said with a smirk.Â
âSo whatâre you waiting for?â I teasingly shot back. Dean let out a dark chuckle before he unbuckled his jeans. After he pushed his jeans down along with his briefs, his dick slapped against his stomach.Â
He was way bigger compared to my ex. I couldnât help but to stare at it, Dean noticed and chuckled to himself. âLike what you see, darlinâ?â He cockily said. I playfully rolled my eyes as he now hovered over me and began to kiss me. I was craving his touch, I needed him inside me immediately.Â
My hands went to his long hair as we made out again, I was so into the kiss that I didnât even notice his tip trying to force its way inside me. âYouâre tight down there sweetheart, are you nervous or somethinâ?â He asked in concern while he started to place kisses on my neck. I was a little scared but this is what I want. âA little bit.â I nervously chuckled.Â
He let out a small laugh to himself as his face was still in the crook of my neck. âAinât nothinâ to be scared of, alright? Itâs just me.â He reassured. I nodded my head in response. He kissed me again and ran his hands up and down my thigh to calm my nerves. I felt a bit more at ease now.Â
Dean started to tease my folds with his tip and I began to feel my breath hitch. His tip was sliding in me little by little. When he finally made it all the way in I let out a loud moan but his hand quickly slapped against my mouth. âDamn girl.â He teased.
He slid out of my wetness and then slid back in so he could adjust himself. My body jolted at him entering me a second time. He was just so thick and filling. âFuck!â He cursed to himself at the feeling of me being wrapped around him. âYouâre so big!â I whined out.Â
Dean began to thrust inside me, Iâve never had anyone this big inside me before. I wanted to scream as loud as I could but I canât because everyone outside would probably hear my screams.Â
His strokes were slow and deep, he raised my legs to rest on his shoulders and now it was like his dick was somehow deeper inside me. âDean!â I moaned. âWhat? That feel good?â He asked before placing a kiss on my exposed chest. âSo good!â I said back in pure bliss.Â
âThis is so wrong but fuck, you feel so good!â He groaned as his large hands gripped my thighs. I grabbed his head and brought him into a deep kiss as dick was going in and out of me. âPlease donât let this be a one time thing.â I whispered after pulling from the kiss. âIâll come back for this everyday if I have to.â He breathlessly said.
I squeezed myself around him at his words. âDonât do that, I almost busted inside you.â He choked out. I giggled at his words but those giggles quickly turned back into moans once he rolled his hips into me.Â
My eyes rolled to the back of my head as he fucked me. My wetness was dripping all down my thighs and they were mixing with Deanâs pre-cum which made a sticky slap sound every time he thrusted into me. I felt my legs starting to shake and thatâs when I tried to stop his thrusts but he quickly snatched my hands and gripped them with one hand.Â
âThis is what you wanted, huh? So fuckinâ take it.â He grumbled. I whined and threw my head back against the pillow. Dean was also almost finished, I could feel him twitching inside me. My wetness splashed a little every time our skins clapped against each other.Â
I felt that coil in my stomach was about to snap, I could feel it. âDean-Iâm almost there!â I cried. âI know, sweetheart.â He soothed. He did one last thrust inside me and thatâs when my body went into that euphoric state. My orgasm washed over me as my juices spilled out of me. Deanâs warm nut filled my insides and dribbled down my thigh.Â
We were both out of breath as he was still inside me. Dean laid on top of me but he was careful to not put all his weight on me.Â
âSo what now?â I asked as I was still breathing heavily.Â
âWe donât tell your dad, thatâs for sure.â He stated as I giggled.Â
âThank you, Dean.â I smiled. âFor what?â He questioned as he looked up at me some.
You plan a weekend at the motel in town, needing some time to get a handle on your feelings for a certain green-eyed hunter. But guess who shows up at your door?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2329
Warnings: None, just some angsty fluff
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Youâre sitting on the bed, watching the end of The Proposal, painting your toenails a lovely shade of burgundy. Mulberry Wine. Or Black Cherry Kiss. Or some kind of purple-ish color with a fruity name, it doesnât really matter â you are actually painting your nails. You had treated yourself to an almost hour-long bubble bath, with candles you brought with you and soft, soothing music. You are pampering yourself, and it feels indulgent and glorious.
You stop for a moment, looking around at your motel room with a smile. Complete peace, total privacy, no bickering brothers in the background or complaining about your choice of movie. It was heaven. Well, almost. If you keep telling yourself that, you might start to believe it.
You clench your jaw and stare doggedly at the TV, determined to focus on the movie and the quiet and the luxury and definitely not the black hole of hopeless longing your mind tends to gravitate towards every time you donât keep yourself occupied. You told Sam and Dean you just needed some alone time to do girly things, read and watch chick flicks, and just get out of the bunker for a couple of days. Sam had completely understood. Dean had said he understood - with his green eyes fixed on you, searching, reaching into your soul. At least, thatâs what it felt like. You havenât been able to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds for weeks now.
You just finish the last toe when a soft knock sounds at your door. You look up, confused, then sigh and hobble awkwardly over to peer out the peephole, trying not to mess up your freshly painted nails. You freeze for a second when you see whoâs standing there.
Dean.
The very reason you had come up with this brilliant getaway in the first place. What the hell is he doing here? You take a breath, blowing it out slowly and trying to control your bodyâs reactions to his proximity before opening the door.
âDean?â You look at him, your eyebrows raised in question.
âYeah, hi. I know, Iâm not supposed to be here.â
Your expression shifts to concern. âAre you okay? Did somethingâŠâ
He was shaking his head, looking down at the ground, scuffing at the concrete with his boot. âNooo, no, worldâs not blowing up or anything.â He looks up at you again, clearly out of his comfort zone. âLook, I didnât plan toâŠâ He stops and starts over. âI just came into town to have a few beers, and⊠I really didnât mean to bust up your whole,â his hands gesture aimlessly, âgirl-time, whatever.â
You recover yourself enough to take a step back and even manage a weak smile. âCome in, tell me whatâs going on.â
Bottom lip in the grip of his teeth, he shuffles his way in, and you close the door behind him. You duck-walk your way over to the bed, and plop down, looking up as he smothers a laugh. âWhat? I just painted my toes, theyâre not dry yet,â you protest, unable not to smile.
âSorry, it was just cute. Couldnât help it.â
âWell, make yourself useful and grab us a beer, thereâs some in the mini-fridge.â He raises his eyebrows in approval and grabs two long necks, opening one and handing it to you. âThanks. So maybe you should sit down and tell me whatâs going on?â
He pulls a chair out and turns it to face you, then sits and takes a long pull from his bottle. He holds it up afterwards, nodding, âThanks,â setting it on the table and then slowly exhaling before looking at you once again. âJust be honest with me. Did I do something? Did I piss you off? Or say something that hurt you?â
You stare at him in surprise. âDean, no! Of course not. I told you and Sam, I just needed a little time alone. You didnât do anything wrong.â
He picks up his beer again and takes a swallow, then leans forward, arms on his knees, picking at the label as he goes on, stumbling a little as he searches for words. âIt just feels like â not just today when you left, but all the time lately⊠We used to be so easy around each other, you know, and it seems like youâre not anymore. Comfortable, I mean. With me. Like youâre kind of trying to keep your distance or something, I donât know. And maybe Iâm just being stupid, but it felt like this whole time-to-yourself thing⊠like it was because of me.â
Youâre beginning to feel trapped, and youâre doing everything you can to pretend things are normal â drinking your beer, pulling the foam spacers from between your toes, looking everywhere but at those candid moss-green eyes that are focused intently on you. You tuck one leg beneath you and glance his way, beginning to follow Deanâs example and destroy the label on your bottle.
He speaks again, and the quiet urgency in his voice sends a twinge of guilt through you. âTalk to me.â
You take a shaky breath and answer him softly. âSome things I just canât talk to you about, Dean.â Your eyes are glued to the floor, and you close your eyes as he rises from his chair and comes to sit next to you on the edge of the mattress.
âYou can talk to me about anything, you know that.â
Thereâs a hard lump forming in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to make it disappear. âMaybe Iâll just go lock myself in the bathroom until you go away,â you try to joke, but it falls flat.
âLike I canât pick a lock?â You steal a sidelong glance at him, just in time to see the little smirk that curves his lips for a moment.
You attempt a smile, but itâs weak and short-lived, your eyes filling with tears. âDamn it, Dean. You canât just let me crawl into a hole and hide in peace, can you?â
âNope.â He pops the âp,â and he raises his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. âCâmon, Nug, tell me whatâs goinâ on.â
You close your eyes, shaking your head with a little smile at his nickname for you (Nugget because youâre smaller than him and Sam, like 90% of the population of the world) and blink some of those tears away before you look at him. He can see you were about to cry, he never misses anything, and his brows furrow a little, concern in his eyes. âDamn it, I canât look at you,â you say, turning away a little, hugging your arms around yourself as if that could protect you. If you tell him how you feel, things will never be the same. Permanently never the same. Heâll never think of you the same way, treat you the same way. But heâs right, things havenât been the same anyway. You have been avoiding him. You havenât been comfortable around him. Because youâre in love with the jerk and he doesnât have a clue.
âOkay, Iâm gonna talk, but you have to listen and just â listen. Okay?â
Heâs silent for a moment, then answers you softly. âOkay.â Thereâs hesitation there, and a little apprehension, like heâs not going to like what you have to say. He has no idea.
âSo, I guess I have been kind of avoiding you a little. Okay, a lot. I canât relax around you because Iâm too busy tryingn to hide how my heart starts beating faster, and I canât breathe like a normal person, and my brain goes all numb and Iâm afraid Iâll make an ass of myself. My stupid body has a mind of its own when Iâm around you.â There are tears in your voice as you continue, fighting to stay in control, but the dam has burst and words come pouring out of you in a torrent. âI tried really hard not to, but Iâve got feelings for you, Dean. Major, earth-moving kind of feelings that I can barely keep under control, and all I wanted was a couple of days away from you to try and get a handle on whatâs happening with me. Because I never â never â want to mess up the relationship we have. And now you had to go and make me tell you and itâll be awkward and awful and Iâll never be able to just be with you like we always used to. I miss cuddling up to you while we watch a movie, or having you lay with your head on my lap, or having you rub my shoulders or play with my hair. I canât do any of that any more because it just makes me want more, makes me want everything, and that canât happen so Iâm just miserable and I was scared to let you see the effect you have on me, so I just run and hide and cringe away when you come near me.â
You finally take a breath after the endless rant, and swallow a sob thatâs fighting to escape your throat. âSo now you know, and you can go home and figure out how you can disappear on a hunting trip for like, the next year or so to avoid dealing with me.â Youâre literally shaking now, your teeth clamped together so hard they ache to try and hold back tears. âSo go, Dean! You made me tell you, now go away!â
Your nails are digging into your palms as you sit there, every part of you tense and rigid, waiting for him to leave so you can lose control in private. Instead, he just sits there, and you finally hear him take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before he speaks. âDid you ever think that maybe you should just talk to me about it? That maybe I was feeling the same way?â
You turn your head, staring at him with tear-filled eyes, in shock at his words. Heâs staring at the floor, his palm rubbing up and down his thigh, something he always does when heâs nervous. He finally raises his eyes, and the naked vulnerability there makes your heart lurch in your chest.
âI have feelings for you, too, but I â I just kept hoping youâd find somebody. Somebody who could give you a regular life - a normal life, and a normal family, somebody whoâs not so twisted up and damaged that they canât treat you like you deserve.â
âWhat makes you think I want normal?â Your voice is a little louder than you intended, and you take a beat to calm yourself, continuing in a more gentle tone. âIf I wanted normal, I could have left a long time ago. I want you. I want you and Iâll take everything that goes along with that.â You feel a tear escape and run down your cheek, and you swipe it away impatiently. âDean â if youâre not here to tell me I can have that, then I just need you to leave.â
The muscle in his jaw is twitching, his teeth clenched as he stares down at the floor again. âI wish I was strong enough to tell you what I should. But Iâm not.â He looks into your eyes again, and his expression quickens your pulse, makes time seem to stop for a moment. His hand comes up to sweep your hair back, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips before he leans in. He brushes his mouth across yours, sharing your breath, then seals his lips over yours in a kiss so filled with the longing you both feel that it makes your chest ache.
When you finally part, he looks at you, watching you, his hand still on your face. You lean into his touch, your eyes finally fluttering open as you meet his. âFor the record, you have always treated me better than anyone in my life ever has. What youâve been through has made you the most caring man I have ever known. I could never â never â find anyone better.â
His eyes are glistening, and he blinks hard a couple of times, gnawing at his lip a little before he speaks, his hand dropping down to take hold of yours. âSo â if weâre gonna do this, maybe we should take it kinda slow, do you think?â His thumb is brushing over your hand, and you give his fingers a gentle squeeze as you nod.
âYeah, I think so. We need to get used to us this way. And I think weâre worth the wait.â He smiles, a touch of something akin to shyness in his eyes as he glances down for a moment.
âSo I guess I should leave then. Let you finish your little girly getaway.â
âOrâŠâ You giggle as he looks up hopefully. âOr you could stay, we could order some pizza and you could suffer through a chick flick with me.â
He scoffs, then softens it with a smile. âI happen to love chick flicks. Well, some of âem.â
A little while later, you settle in with your backs propped up by pillows, legs stretched out on the bed with pizza and beer in hand, the opening credits of Overboard on the screen.
âI love Kurt Russell,â you say, your mouth full of pizza, and Dean smirks at you.
âYeah? Well, I love Goldie Hawn,â he fires back, bumping you with his shoulder. You laugh, and then youâre both quiet as the movie gets started. Once the pizza is gone, he puts an arm around you and you settle onto his shoulder with a contented sigh. He leans closer and says softly, âSorry I ruined your alone time.â
You look up at him, your heart shining in your eyes. âYou didnât ruin anything. Being alone with you is way better.â
âOh, yeah?â
You snuggle closer. âDefinitely.â
Tag List #1:
 @saenalife   @deanscarlett   @jensensgotyoudean   @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis   @deansdirtylittlesecretsblogÂ
  @geeklibrarian   @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid     @mrswhozeewhatsis   @littlegreenplasticsoldier   @sleep-silent-angel Â
  @darcia22   @winchesterprincessbride   @ellen-reincarnated1967      @deanslittleangel2y5  @deanwinchesterswitch
  @melanie451     @spectaculacular-sammy   @bookchic20   @jodyri   @selma-jean-blog  Â
    @savingapplepie-eatingthings   @kittenofdoomage   @masked-maiden42   @lean-mean-deanwinchester   @ericuhlorain Â
  @undecided-garden   @ceeceewinchester   @typicalweirdbookworm      @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit   @youtoldalieÂ
  @tanithlowisabamf-blog   @deandoesthingstome   @jxackles   @nerdwholikesword   @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic Â
  @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman   @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog   @darkx143   @disassociativedogma Â
