This is: supernaturalthisbitchjerkI will reblog and write supernatural fanfiction on here so enjoy :)
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me, with a vague plot idea, 1 (one) character name, and an outline that consists of mostly question marks:
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found some really good fics here!!
(p.s. one of mine is in the list! how exciting!) so go check it out!!
happy halloween! it’s fic time, baby!
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COLOR (supernatural au)
Pairing: Dean x Reader (kind of)
Word Count: 1762
Warnings: war, mention of gunshot wound, kind of angst but not really?
A/N: I tried something a little different this time but all things considered, I think I did a pretty good job and I hope y’all ENJOY :) Let me know how y’all feel about AUs! I have mixed feelings lol
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AU where your entire life you’ve only seen in black and white, until you receive the first touch from your soulmate and color blooms before your eyes.
I watched the clouds of white as they floated above me. They seemed untouched, unbothered by the chaos happening beneath them, slowly drifting by as if floating in a pool of grey. I’d previously been told the sky was blue and the sun cast a golden glow as it set and the presence of color was magically life changing. But the thought of color and being able to see it was never a worry of mine. With no concept of comparison, it meant very little to me. I was content with my life and how I experienced it. There was no need for color, not for me.
My train of thought was broken as a puff of dark grey blocked my view of the sky, the smoke from the canons releasing and spreading into the air. For a second I had forgotten I was in the middle of a World War II. Dirt and dust fell onto my face as one of the opposing soldiers aimed too low and shot their canon at the ground less than eight feet from where I laid. I flinched at the proximity. Another shot was fired. And another one after that. I quickly sat up and sunk my body deeper into the piece of debris I was hiding behind. I looked to my right. Men were running amok, some tripping over the lifeless bodies of those they called friends. My focus switched in front of me as an american soldier approached, taking cover behind my means of protection. The soldier’s eyes glistened slightly in contrast to his soot covered face. And although the smoke blocked most light from shining through, the darkness failed at masking his prominent features. His jaw was chiseled and structured. His lips were full and plump. My eyes travelled down, taking in his broad shoulders. It was no question he was handsome.
“Ma’am?” My eyes shot up as the sound of his voice registered. “Ma’am? What’s your name? Are you alright?” I nodded my head. I felt a little weak but that was to be expected considering what I had been through today.
“My name is (y/n) and yes, I think I’m alright.” My voice was soft but firm. I maintained eye contact.
“Alright. Listen to me.” His voice was deep and commanding. “I have to keep going and find my brother, but I’m coming back for you, you hear? Don’t move, I’m coming back.” He placed his helmet on top of my head and began shifting his way back out into the open field, looking back at me every few seconds. “I’m coming back for you! I promise!” And with that he was gone, disappearing into a wall of smoke. The exchange of gunfire, the sound of bodies dropping, and the layer of smoke that had formed itself over the ground lasted no more than 20 minutes. Then, silence. I’m not sure if it was the tiredness taking over my body or the fact that I couldn’t stand to see any more men drop dead right in front of me anymore, but my eyes had closed. However, my eyes shot open not long after, not because guns or cannon fire had started back up, but because I heard two voices drawing near. I listened carefully. The first voice was deep but full of air. The type you would hear in a book reading.
“Dean, what are you doing? It’s over, we won.” We won? The war is over? We can go home? “The rest of the guys are heading back to camp.” A sigh followed. “Dean, seriously. Look around you. Be realistic. Whoever you’re looking for probably didn’t make it. A lot of people were lost.” It’s when I heard the second voice that I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Sammy, I promised I would come back. I promised.” It was him. The soldier. He survived. He came back for me. The excitement in me grew and I shifted my body, but dropped back into my previous position as pain shot up my side. I looked down. A pool of black had seeped through my soiled uniform and was slowly spreading. I was shot. When was I shot? My breath quickened. I fumbled with the buttons of my dull grey service jacket trying to open it and inspect the wound. My fingers were failing me as the panic inside me began to rise. I let out an exasperated breath. All I could do was press my hand on the injury and hope. It was then that I heard their footsteps and their voices begin to soften, moving farther away from my location.
“Help! Over here!” My voice came out barely a whisper. I let out a small cough. They couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t hear me! My eyes darted around frantically, searching for something I could use to draw attention to myself. I froze as my free arm smacked against the helmet of a deceased soldier laying next to me. I turned my head. The helmet. The helmet. The helmet! The helmets were made with a steel outer shell. I reached for the soldier’s clip and slipped off his helmet. I looked at him for a second, feeling pain for the family he left back home. I placed the helmet on the ground and slipped the one I had on off, banging them against each other. The soldiers’ voices continued to depart. My eyes closed. I banged the helmets one more time, louder. Again. The voices stopped. Bang, again. Bang, again. Bang, again.
“Sammy! I found her!” I parted my eyes opened and connected with the soldier’s eyes as he stumbled towards me. “(Y/n)! (Y/n)! Hey, it’s me, Dean. I promised you I’d come back didn’t I?” I faintly smiled as my energy grew weaker.
“Dean, huh? I like that name.” I said between shallow breaths. He gave me a smirk. It quickly fell as his eyes shifted down to the black blood stain on my nurse uniform. My hand dropped from my side, now feeling too heavy to hold up. His eyes went wide. The pressure I had been applying was quickly replaced with Dean’s hands pushing down on my uniform.
“Sammy!” A tall, shaggy haired boy approached. He looked no older than 19. His face was, like Dean’s, covered in soot and ash. “Do you think you can help me carry her back to camp? She needs medical attention!” His voice was frantic and desperate. Sammy looked down at me, pity evident in his eyes. I knew that look. I’d personally given that look thousands of times during the war. I managed to slow my breathing. I turned my head towards Dean.
“No, no, I’m okay.” Dean looked at me uneasily, obviously not believing a word that had come out of my mouth. I changed the subject. I looked up to the tall man. “You must be Dean’s b-brother?” He faintly smiled and nodded.
“Yes, ma’am. My name is Samuel but everyone calls me Sam. Well, everyone except Dean. He likes to call me Sammy.” He chuckled softly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.
“Ni-nice to m-meet you Sam.” I was beginning to struggle more with pushing my words out, the pain was starting to grow stronger. “You know, you r-remind me a lot of my b-brothers.” I smiled. “They were twins and they were t-tall, just like you. Their h-hair was definitely shorter than yours but I don’t think they c-could’ve p-pulled off your style either way.” I paused. “They both d-died in World War I and th-they’re the reason I signed up to be an army nurse. I didn’t wan-want anyone losing their family like I did because there was no one to help.” I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed out. The second I opened them back up, I was met with Dean’s worried eyes. “D-Dean, like I said, I-I’m a nurse. T-trust me. I’m okay.” He lifted his hand from my side. His hand was drenched in my blood. He pressed it back down.
“Sammy, why don’t you start heading back to camp and let Sergeant know were okay?” Sam nodded his head, looked at me, and retreated. Dean and I sat in silence until Dean spoke up. “You know, you’re right (y/n). You’re gonna be fine. I mean,” my eyes met with his, “It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, alright?” It was evident he was trying to keep his demeanor calm and speak to me reassuringly. My eyelids began to feel heavy. “Hey! Hey!” I tried forcing my eyes open. “(Y/n). Listen to me, were gonna patch you up, okay? You’re gonna be good as new. I’m gonna take care of you. You’re not gonna die. I’m gonna take care of you.” I leaned my head back and looked into his eyes. Grey. They were grey and suddenly everything I had believed before was gone. I wanted to see color. I wanted to see the blue sky and the golden glow of the sun. I wanted to see his eyes. Dean’s eyes. I knew I was dying and his eyes were the last thing I was going to see. But they were grey. A tear slipped down my cheek and I closed my eyes. Dean slowly lifted his hand from my side and stopped applying pressure. I heard him wipe his hands on his clothes, most likely cleaning off my blood from his hands. A few seconds later, I felt his hands cup my face as his thumb drag across my cheek, wiping the tears from my face. I sucked in a breath as I felt Dean’s face inch closer to mine. “Open your eyes. Please.” Dean whispered. I parted my eyes as he leaned back. Another tear fell down my face as I stared at Dean. His green eyes were a vibrant pool of color, rimmed with golden specks of yellow and dark hues of blue. They were bright and soft, all at the same time, giving off an aura of reassurance and serenity.
“You’re eyes are green.” I cried, slowly reaching up to cup his face with my right hand. “Your eyes,” I took a breath, “are green.” Without breaking contact, I slowly dropped my hand and gripped his with all the strength I had left in me. “Thank you.” My grip on him slowly loosened and I took my last breath, still gazing into the eyes of the man who gave me life before death.
#dean x reader#wwii#gunshot wound#dean winchester#fanfiction#supernaturalthisbitchjerk#supernaturalthisfanfic#spn oneshot#spn au#soldier#Sam Winchester#angst
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definitely using some of these as inspiration!!
100 FOLLOWER PROMPT EVENT!
OK, so first let me say hello to all my new followers. I hope you continue to enjoy what I write. Now I have been holding this event over on my Instagram for a while now and the followers there seem to really like it so I figured why not get my Tumblr followers in on it too!
I have 8 small lists of prompts. You can join the event in two ways either message me a prompt and a character to use the prompt for and I’ll write an imagine with it OR you pick one and a character and you write something with and just tag me in it when you post it.
This will be linked in my story info page for easy find. LET’S HAVE FUN!
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Who prays for Lucifer?
Pairing: Lucifer x Reader
Word Count: 2537
Warnings: mentions of alcoholism
A/N: ok so funny story. I started writing this in 2016 and I finally finished it, 3 years later. Anyways, here it is. I’m kinda rusty but I’m really proud of this one so ENJOY!
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Imagine the reader runs into Lucifer at the bar and has a heartfelt moment and tells Dean, Sam, and Cas later, “But who prays for Lucifer? Who, in the past eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it the most?”
The familiar smell of liquor and nicotine hit me the moment I stepped into the bar. The mix had become a comforting scent, one signaling me to relax. Visiting the bar had become a habit I’d developed. Not a safe habit for a hunter to have, but one therapeutic enough to numb some of the emotions I tried my best not to feel. My dad was a deadbeat alcoholic and now here I was following in his footsteps. Oh, the irony. It wasn’t meant to be this way but I felt like I had to drink in order to forget. I was never good enough for the old man. I was always one step behind on all our hunts. I was always making trouble. I was the black sheep of the family, the girl no one cared for or looked after. I was always on my own.
I had Sam and Dean now, whom I was so thankful for. They took me in about 2 years ago and they treated me like family. They were nothing like my real family, if I could even call them that. They cared for each other and looked out for one another. The things they did in order to keep the other safe was like nothing I’d ever seen before. I’d even seen them die for each other, more than a few times. It was strange at first, but I slowly became more comfortable around them, learning what it was like to be a part of something bigger. Dean always told me, “Family don’t end with blood, kiddo.” I think he got it from an old family friend. Robby? Bobby? I can’t remember right now. But even then, sometimes it wasn’t enough. The childhood trauma I went through wasn’t something I could just get over so quickly. Sam and Dean knew this and they understood me, which is why they gave me my space every once in a while. They let me work through whatever I needed to in any way I needed to.
A burning sensation flared down my throat as I swished back a shot of whisky. As I signaled the bartender for another round, I sensed someone sit down next to me. It was when they spoke that the hairs on my arms stood up and my body tensed.
“I’ll have what she’s having.” Although I knew it would have been useless in this situation, I slid my hand down to my gun, but found it missing from my waistband. “Relax sweetheart. I’m not here on business.” I turned my head towards the devil himself. Lucifer. My gun was spinning in his right hand.
“Then what are you here for?” He stared down at his drink before responding.
“Company.” The emptiness and loneliness in his voice was evident, and for a
slight second my eyes softened before hardening again. He took a sip of his drink
and closed his eyes. “You know, I used to be my dad’s favorite. At least that’s what everyone tells me. It’s been so long, I can’t remember for myself. The only real memory I have of my father is him casting me down from home, putting me in a cage for billions of years. For what? For disagreeing with him. For not believing you humans to be his perfect creation. For thinking bowing to a broken and flawed species was beyond us. So he cast me out of heaven, punishing me with an eternity of isolation. After something like that, it’s hard to imagine ever being his favorite.” His jaw clenched. Setting his glass back down onto the bar table, a long silence crept between us before he turned to look in my direction. His eyes were dark and seemingly sunk into the shadows of his face. Dim blue lighting coming from the bar made them look dull and vacant. The creases in his forehead gradually softened as the corners of his mouth relaxed, allowing a melancholic demeanor to replace his usual devilish front. He looked vulnerable. I found myself reaching across the bar, gently placing my hand over his. He froze.
“I’m sorry.” It might have been the alcohol in my system and the light buzz I was beginning to feel, but I felt compassion for him. Growing up and even now as an adult, I’d always been told the devil was an evil man, a fallen angel who was dangerous and rebellious, walking about “like a lion, seeking to devour someone.” The “wicked one” is what he was referred to as. Yet, the man sitting in front of me right now was the complete opposite. There was no trace of maliciousness on his face. His posture weak as he hung his body to the bar’s counter.
“You’re sorry?” he softly questioned, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” I stared back at him, trying to convey my sincerity through my eyes which had then begun to glaze over. “All these years you’ve been alone. You’ve been judged for your actions and your mistakes. And all based on the word of God. No one’s ever bothered to ask for your side of the story. They’ve discredited you, insulted you, made it to where redemption didn’t seem an option. So yes, I’m sorry.” I turned to face the bar, breaking eye contact. He kept his gaze on me for a minute longer before turning his direction towards the bar. The rest of the night was spent in silence, a quick glance exchanged as I left.
I saw him again the following week. And then the week after that. And the one after that. Before we knew it, it became routine for Lucifer and I. Every Tuesday night I’d head down to the bar and I’d find him sitting in the same stool, three chairs down from the pool table, sipping on a glass of whiskey. This went on for months. We sat in silence at first, but as time passed, we began having conversations. We spoke of our favorite music, our favorite movies, shared more of our life’s stories. Our talks deepened with every encounter. At one point, I’d forgotten I was speaking with the devil. “I have to get back to the motel. I’m not usually out this late and I need to head back before Sam and Dean come looking for me.” I laughed. At the mention of the Winchester brothers, Lucifer’s eyes flickered a bright red before shifting back to the regular warm brown I had grown accustomed to these past few weeks.
“Wouldn’t want the mighty Winchesters to come and try to save the day.” He rolled his eyes and waved his hands around in a mocking fashion. I sighed.
“Hey Lucifer?”
“Yes, (y/n)?”
“Thank you.” He cocked his head to the right, scrunching his eyebrows. “Thank you for- just thank you. I enjoy your company.” His eyes softened and before he could say anything, I rushed forward and threw my arms around him. My embrace caught him off guard and his breath silenced for a split second before he relaxed and gently placed his arms around me. We lingered in each other’s embrace a minute more before I pulled back. “I’ll text you once I get to the motel safely!” I shouted as I pushed against the glass door of the bar and walked out into the cold september air.
As I reached the motel, I slowed down and prayed for the boys to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to explain why I was out so late. This was the fourth time this month I’ve come home late, not to add this was the latest I had ever been out. I honestly had no idea what excuse I was gonna give them this time. I hesitantly reached for the motel door, but before my hand could fully grasp the handle, the door swung open. Sam was standing in front of me with his bag hung over his shoulder, phone pressed up against his ear.
“(Y/n)!” He lowered his phone from his ear and dropped his bag onto the floor, pulling me inside the room. Dean came bursting through the bathroom door.
“Where the hell have you been?” Dean tucked his gun which had previously been in hand, back into his waistband. “Sam and I called you a million times. We were just headed out to look for you. It’s three o’clock in the morning! What were you thinking?” My heart quickened and the sweat built on my forehead.
“I was at the bar,” I said as calmly as possible, “my phone ran out of battery.” I looked anywhere but the boys’ faces, avoiding all eye contact. I could feel their eyes on me as I slipped off my jacket and moved towards the bed. I lifted my head and my eyes connected with Dean’s as I attached my phone to its charger. “What, Dean? You think I’m lying? I was at the bar and my phone ran out of battery. I don’t know what else you want me to s-” I was cut off by Dean pulling his gun out and pointing it straight at me. “Woah, woah, woah! Dean!” My breath hitched and I shot both my hands up. “I get you’re upset but what the hell!” My eyes opened wide. Any trace of alcohol in my system was surely gone by now.
“(Y/n),” Dean spoke cautiously, “move over here now.” He cocked his gun.
“Alright boys, no need to get violent here.” I turned around to face the voice coming from behind me.
“Luci? What are you doing here?” I stared at him with wide eyes.
“You said you’d text me when you got to the motel safely and I hadn’t heard back from you. I called but you didn’t answer. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. There’s some bad people in this world you know?” Lucifer smirked at the end, shifting his stare towards the Winchesters. I turned my attention towards Sam and Dean.
“(Y/n)?” Sam sneered. “You want to explain to us what the hell is going on?” I let out a sigh as I switched my gaze between Lucifer and the boys. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Well,” I hesitated, “Luci and I-”
“Luci?” Dean interrupted with a bellowing voice. “(Y/n), do you hear yourself right now? You just gave the devil a damn nickname. You’re acting as if he’s your friend!” His eyes were hard and I could see his jaw clench.
“He is my friend!” Quiet fell across the room and all you could hear was my heavy breathing. Luci was the one to break the silence.
“I think the nickname is pretty cute.” He earned a glare from Sam and Dean. “What? You don’t like it? I was thinking of keeping it.” Shrugging his shoulders, he took a seat on the bed. My eyes switched from Luci back towards the boys as I placed my hand on my forehead.
“All of you. Stop.” I spoke with a firm, demanding voice. I needed all of their attention for what I was about to say. “Everybody sit on the bed.” Nobody moved. “I said, everybody sit on the bed. Now.” This time the boys moved. They sat on the opposite bed in which Luci was already sitting. I turned towards them and took a deep breath. “I know we all have our differences. And before you say some smart ass comments, Dean, Luci, let me finish.” I looked towards the boys. “Boys, every Tuesday for the past few months, Lucifer and I have been meeting at the bar. We’ve talked more than you can imagine and we’ve gotten close.” They both scoffed. I gave them a glare. “Luci is my friend and that’s not going to change. He isn’t who you think he is. He’s just lonely and hurt. I mean think about it. Everybody believes he’s a bad person and in the past billion years he’s had no one there for him.”
“And for good reason (y/n)! For crying out loud, there’s a whole damn book talking about how dangerous he is, how manipulative! You’re falling for a trap!”
“Sam! That’s exactly my point! That book was written by who? By God. By his prophets. It’s told from God's point of view! But what about his? What about Lucifer’s? God’s book tells you all his faults and all his wrongs but what of his good? He’s still an angel for pete’s sake. He just needs someone to care! He needs company! When God created humans, Luci went from being the favorite to being completely ignored. God had his prophets. The angels had the humans. Lucifer had no one. He was forgotten. You have no idea what that can do to you. Loneliness is a poison.” I took a breath before I continued, leaving no room for an interjection. “If according to everyone else, Lucifer is the father of sin, why hasn’t anyone prayed for him? Huh? Who prays for Lucifer? Who, in the past eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner who needed it the most?” I looked over at Luci. “Luci. You are my friend and I promise you, you will never be alone again. Not as long as I’m alive.” I took a step back, signaling I was done saying what I had to say. We basked in the silence until Sam spoke up.
“Ok.” He nodded his head and looked at me with his puppy dog eyes.
“Ok?” That’s all he had to say?
“Yeah. Ok. I understand.” He stood up, looked over at Luci and then back at me. He walked over to Lucifer and stopped in front of him. Dean followed. “I don’t like you. I probably never will. But for (y/n) I’ll stand you.” Dean leaned in close and continued after Sam.
“Listen here, Luci,” he mocked, “(y/n) is family and I look out for my family. Saying that, if you so much as hurt her in any way, I’ll kill you.” Both the boys backed up. I stepped in front of them, grabbing Luci by the arm. Leading him outside, I closed the motel door behind us.
“(Y/n). Did you really mean everything you said? Am I really someone you consider a friend?” His voice softened at the end, no louder than a whisper. I looked back at him and gave him a faint smile.
“Of course I meant everything I said.” He gave me a big smile and dropped his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I should probably go back inside, don’t want to push my luck.” I laughed. “See you next week, Luci.”
“Yeah, see you next week (y/n).” He smiled at me. And then he was gone.
#lucifer#supernatural#supernaturalthisbitchjerk#supernaturalthisfanfic#dean winchester#sam winchester#lucifer x reader#alcohol#motel#hunter#fanfiction#bobby#god#heaven#prayer
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guys guys guys, I’m finishing up a fanfic imagine and I think it’s turning out so well like I LOVE IT and I hope yall do too once I post it!
it’s kind of like a reader x lucifer fanfiction but there’s not really any romance if that makes sense
#supernatural imagine#supernatural fanfiction#fanfiction#imagine#supernatural#supernaturalthisfanfic#supernaturalthisbitchjerk
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writers:
break up your paragraphs. big paragraphs are scary, your readers will get scared
fuuuuck epithets. “the other man got up” “the taller woman sat down” “the blonde walked away” nahhh. call them by their names or rework the sentence. you can do so much better than this (exception: if the reader doesn’t know the character(s) you’re referring to yet, it’s a-okay to refer to them by an identifying trait)
blunette is not a thing
new speaker, new paragraph. please.
“said” is such a great word. use it. make sweet love to it. but don’t kill it
use “said” more than you use synonyms for it. that way the use of synonyms gets more exciting. getting a sudden description of how a character is saying something (screaming, mumbling, sighing) is more interesting that way.
if your summary says “I suck at summaries” or “story better than summary” you’re turning off the reader, my dude. your summary is supposed to be your hook. you gotta own it, just like you’re gonna own the story they’re about to read
follow long sentences w short ones and short ones w long ones. same goes for paragraphs
your writing is always better than you think it is. you just think it’s bad because the story’s always gonna be predicable to the one who’s writing it
i love u guys keep on trucking
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Parents coming in my room thinking I’m working so hard on school papers, but really I’m writing fanfic for my fandom friends.
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No Pulse.
REQUESTED: NO ONE (found imagine on tumblr)
INSPIRED: X
A/N: Another one?! Yes!! Hope you all like this one too :)
READERS POV
Full battery. I’m good for the day. They won’t know. I’ll be fine. Don’t stress yourself.
Keep reading
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Fanfiction Problems #11
When you, as a straight female, know more about gay sex than straight sex because the plethora of slash fanfiction you have read has made you somewhat of an expert.
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au where dean decides to enlist in the vietnam war and manages to convince sam to enlist right along side with them. it’s the first time that either one of them has been outside the small state of kansas and they are both filled with wonderment as they watch the land change beneath them. but that all changes the moment that they land in the miskito infested swamp. they’re both handed an ak-47 and told to keep it dry. that was going to be their only friend for the next few months.
Time seemed to stop all together. Everything in the background seemed to fade away. The heat. The humidity. The sun. The fucking rain. The only thing that he saw was his brother dropping to his knees, his hands gripping his stomach that had just been torn apart by a bullet.
Dean didn’t realize that he was screaming, that he was screaming at the enemy to stop shooting at them.
Just stop shooting. Please. Just stop fucking shooting for a minute. That’s all I ask. Please. That’s my brother. That’s my baby brother you bastards.
But the gunfire didn’t stop. Metal and lead still broke through the air and all Dean wanted was to get to Sam. Get to him and get that damn bullet out. Save him, take him away from this place where death hung in the air and back to the safety of their small house back home.
He started to stand from where he had taken cover. He just needed to get to him but someone pulled him back down, his chest slamming back down on the jungle floor.
“What the hell are you doing, Dean?” Hendrickson yelled. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Stay the fuck down.”
Dean shook his head, trying to stand again but Hendrickson pulled him back down by the front of his uniform. “But that’s my brother. You don’t understand, I gotta get to him. He’s not safe out there.” Dean pleaded.
“Neither are you, soldier. You’re going to be no help to him if you get so pumped full of lead that you can’t walk. If you get shot too, I’ll have to drag both of your sorry asses out of this goddamn jungle and put you back on that plane in a cardboard box. I am not losing two soldiers today. You got that?”
“But…”
“Stay down and wait, soldier! That’s a fucking order.”
Dean clenched his jaw. Every bone, every muscle, every tendon in his body wanted to do nothing more than to run to Sam and throw his body on top of his and protect him from the hell storm of lead that was happening above him but he couldn’t.
He might be stupid. Like the kinda stupid that drove him to not only enlist in this damn war but also convince his brother to enlist but he wasn’t suicidally stupid. Running out there into that mess would only get him killed.
Finally after what felt like years, the gunfire stopped and it was no more. Before Hendrickson even gave the all clear, Dean was already running over to the fallen soldier, sliding to his knees.
Sam didn’t look good. Blood covered his uniform. Mud and dirt and grime and even more blood was under his fingernails, coating his arms and face. He was losing color and god, that light that was always in his eyes were starting to fade away.
“Hey… hey, Dean,” his voice was broken, garbled even as he smiled up at his brother who was now blocking that godforsaken sun out of his eyes.
“Hey, Sammy.” Dean replied, moving Sam’s hands out of the way and unbuttoning his uniform. If he could get the bleeding to stop then he would be okay. That’s what he kept telling himself. Stop the bleeding. Save Sammy. “We gotta get you outta here, alright? I can’t get the bullet out right now. We’re still too exposed. I’ll hafta do that when we get back to camp. Do you think that you can hold out?”
But Sam’s eyes were starting to cloud over. He was shaking. Underneath the uniform that was too big for him, he was shaking. Dean couldn’t swallow. There was something stuck in his throat and he just couldn’t.
He pulled at the water canteen that was looped onto Sam’s belt and poured some water on his face, trying to clean up some of the dirt. It had stopped raining. For the first time since they landed here, it had stopped raining.
Dean wasn’t ready to let go of his brother. Not yet. Not when Sam still had his whole life to live. Sam’s eyes were starting to close and Dean grabbed the front of his uniform, shaking his brother, pulling him back to the world.
Sam blinked once. Slowly, not really focusing on anything in particular.
“Sam…” Dean’s voice cracked and if Sam had heard him, he showed no signs of it. His eyes started to close once more and Dean patted the side of his face, trying to keep him awake. “Sam… Sammy, please don’t… you can’t… you can’t go. I won’t let you. Come on, you stubborn son of a bitch, open your eyes.”
His eyes remained shut. The hand that was resting on his brothers chest could no longer feel the heartbeat that should have been beating underneath it.
“Sammy…” He cried out one last time, the sound barely above a whisper and only silence sang back to him.
He had gone numb. His whole body lost feeling. So that was it. This was it. This was how it was going to end. His brother was going to die at the hands of the enemy and he was going to have to rewatch it happen every night he closed his eyes.
He turned to look at Hendrickson, his hand still clutching the front of Sam’s uniform, his eyes completely void of emotion, dead themselves. “I think I’m ready to go home now, sir, if it’s alright with you.”
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"meet my boyfriend, shopping extraordinaire, angEL OF THE AISLES"
IM DYinG OMFG
#just look at Dean #he’s so proud #huh #hey kevin #meet my boyfriend #shopping extraordinaire #angel of the aisle
(x)
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Friends after all - Dean Winchester x Reader - Chapter 31 (Fake boyfriend/Neighbour AU)
Title: Friends after all
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Lisa Braeden
Word count: 6k+ (cause I don’t want you to have a heart attack)
Warnings: None
Summary: AU. Dean Winchester. Mechanic. Neighbour. Best friend. Single father. And fake boyfriend? You babysit his daughter. You’ve known him for years and you’ve been really close. Everything will be put to test though when your sister’s wedding approaches and he has the brilliant idea of pretending to be your boyfriend. Nobody would have ever thought of the result. Certainly not you.
Read: Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7 l Part 8 l Part 9 l Part 10 l Part 11 l Part 12 l Part 13 l Part 14 l Part 15 l Part 16 l Part 17 l Part 18 l Part 19 l Part 20 l Part 21 l Part 22 l Part 23 l Part 24 l Part 25 l Part 26 l Part 27 l Part 28 l Part 29 l Part 30
You didn’t want to face reality, not just yet. Being in Dean’s arms even if it was for a few more hours, hell even minutes, you’d be willing to take it. However you couldn’t have it your way and certainly this was the worst timing ever.
Your eyes snapped open as you heard the door creak open and slowly a figure come closer. Well, shit.
Your breath hitched on your throat, every minute that ticked by made you feel even more hazy due to the lack of oxygen. You fisted Dean’s shirt in your palms without realizing it, you contemplated waking him up but you couldn’t move at that specific moment. Until the door was fully opened and-
“Mama?” Mary’s voice was heard in a whisper as she peeked at you.
You let out a shaky sigh, your eyes closing for a moment as you realized how paranoid you were being. Of course.
“Hey baby.” you whispered smiling at her “Wait a second.”
You tried to get free from Dean’s grip, stopping for a second when you heard him grunt slightly. You carefully moved your pillow and as you started slipping from his arms you put it in your place and of course Dean once more tighten his hold on the thing. You let a soft chuckle, shaking your head and soon stopping. It felt so… weird. You never thought you’d say this but it felt so foreign, hell even pulling your lips in a smile let alone laugh. Because not only was your throat soar but your mouth and lips dry as well.
You stood there for a moment just looking at Dean before you shook your head and got up. Mary padded her way towards you and you did the same, both of you careful not to wake the sleeping man.
“Mommy, why is daddy sleeping with you?” she murmured, tilting her head to the side to look at him.
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Just an Observation
Mary sat in the back of the old Impala. It was the only thing exactly as how she remembered it. The man driving it was her son, her grown son. And the passenger beside him was an angel, a real angel. She guessed they were close by the way they clung to each other when Castiel saw them.
But they bickered. This time it got heated enough for Dean to pull over so they could continue their conversation out of earshot of Mary. The voices were muffled but she could see them both making gestures and their body language was tense. At one point there was a staredown.
Cas moved to walk away but Dean grabbed his arm and spun him around. Dean’s shoulders slumped and he hung his head for the next exchange. Cas relaxed as well and put his hand on Dean’s left shoulder. He squeezed it and they nodded in some kind of agreement. They went around to their sides of the car and got in. Dean took off and it was several minutes before Mary leaned forward between them.
“So, how long have you two been married?”
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Conversation
me, facedown on the floor: make me write
you, unimpressed: literally nothing is stopping you, inspiration is a fickle bitch and should not be relied upon, and if you don't structure your time, self-motivate, avoid distractions, and do the work anyway, no external force can compel you
me, still facedown on the floor, now on tumblr: ...make me write
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Please
For @deandaze, a winner of the Sanctuary contest! Hope you enjoy!
Summary: PURE SMUT NO PLOT. Dean likes making you squirt.
Warning: smut, squirting
Word Count: 1100ish
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