#THANK YOU AGAIN DEAN I AM SO SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS

[transatlantictoast]

Okay I may be going insane because I am currently on bed rest due to a kind of head injury BUT the tragedy of Destiel has similarities to the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, Bear with me.

1. They are supposed to be a working against eachother like the Montagues and Capulets, a hunter and an angel should hate eachother, Castiel is even told to work against Dean and he betrays heaven the only thing he has ever known just so he can be with Dean. After Cas dies the first time Dean claims that he never trusts angels and yet he places no protection against angels and although he never says it that other angel says it's because he wants Cas to come back to him.

2. Romeo and Juliet are supposed to be united in death, Romeo sacrifice's himself to save Juliet then Juliet kills herself so that she can even maybe just maybe see Romeo again.

Castiel sacrificed himself in his homosexual declaration of love for Dean and shortly after Dean dies and makes Sam promise not to bring him back, in my opinion this had to have been atleast some form of suicide.

Dean Winchester did not die by getting impaled by a rebar spike just like that he wanted that to happen so he could be with his love again.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I promise I'm completely normal about these gay guys who died 4 years ago.

[e-dubbc11]

Old Memories…And New Ones

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dad! Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, little bit of angst, and PG-13 smexy time.

Word Count: 4.1K-ish(Wasn’t expecting it to be this long)

Summary: Dean shares some old photos with you, prompting you to look for the photos you have of you and your mother. And Dean has a surprise for you at the end.

A/N: Part of the Carrying On series. If you need a refresher or haven’t read it, I’ll leave it linked HERE. I didn’t expect this one to be this long, it took on a life of its own so I hope you like it.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Delicately holding the photograph, you studied it carefully for a brief moment.

A beautiful young woman with blond hair peeking around her adorable young son, both of them had closed lip smiles stretched across their faces, and their kind eyes had smiled for the camera as well.

Like your mother, Dean’s mother had passed away when he and Sam were very young but in very different ways. However, losing a parent is difficult no matter what. You were even younger than Dean was when your mother passed.

Vaguely, you remember her being sick and then in a blink of an eye, she was gone. You didn’t have any real memories of her. All you had were a few old photos from when you were a baby and as a young toddler.

If you didn’t have those, you wouldn’t have even known what she looked like although every chance he had, your father would always tell you how much you reminded him of her and in more ways than just her looks.

From the stories your father told you about her, she just seemed like such a wonderful person and more than anything you wished you could recall just one fond memory of her but at least you had your dad’s stories and the photos.

Charlie was already in bed so it was just you and Dean relaxing by the fireplace with a couple of beers.

“She was beautiful, Dean.” You voiced, softly with a slight smile. “And look at how cute you were!”

“WERE?! I’ve changed that much, huh sweetheart?” He joked. “I’d love to see some pictures of you, y/n. Do you have any?”

You chuckled a little, leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and replied, “I don’t have a lot of photos but I do have some. I’d love to show them to you. And what I meant was, now you’re just incredibly handsome.”

Dean set his beer down on the coffee table after taking a sip, closed the gap between your bodies and purred in your ear, “I dunno how but you always manage to turn me on with just a smile and a little compliment but you do.”

He removed the bottle from your hand and set it down next to the other one. His tongue swiped along his lower lip as he gazed at you with his beautiful green eyes. They were the color of fresh blades of grass after a summer rain, healthy and bright with the molten orange flame from the fire reflecting in his pupils.

You knew that look well. Dean gently swept a stray hair away from your face, stroked the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb before deftly pressing his lips against yours. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as he deepened his kiss, his full lips slanted over yours while his tongue silently pleaded to tangle with yours.

A hint of light citrus and wheat were still fresh on his lips from the beer as you moaned against his mouth and his hands traveled from your face, down your body before finally resting on your waist.

“Whoa, wait a minute there, stud. I know what you’re doing.” You said in an accusatory but playful tone.

Dean’s strong hands roamed over your hips and on the outside of your thigh as a sly smile stretched across his lips.

“What am I doin’, baby?” He asked with raised eyebrows before passionately kissing you again.

“You’re normally always the one to point out that we could get caught in the act by your son when we fool around out here. And now, you’re initiating it…which is VERY hard to resist.” You said, pointing your finger at him.

The two of you hadn’t been caught by Charlie yet but as he was very curious, it was only a matter of time before you got yourselves into a position you wouldn’t be able to talk your way out of.

Dean continued to stare at you while biting down on his lower lip, his agile fingers dipped below the waistband of your jeans and simultaneously brushed along the sensitive skin of your stomach and the pants. Goosebumps peppered across your skin as a sharp tingle traveled down your spine and you felt him undo the top button of your jeans.

“Oh I’m hard to resist, huh? I can show you somethin’ else that’s hard.” He said with a goofy grin.

Dean had the ability to turn any sexy moment like this one into a ridiculous one which always made you laugh and you loved him for that. Being with someone that could make you laugh was important because you had gone through most of your life without a lot to smile about.

A loud cackle escaped your lips and you quickly covered your mouth, hoping Charlie wouldn’t hear you.

“Let’s go to bed, handsome.” You said, raking your fingers through his soft brown hair.

After spending your life on the road with your father, hunting, and never having a place to call home, it was the best feeling in the world to finally have a home and spend your time with someone who had your heart.

You both stood up, Dean grabbed the beer bottles, and before he started for the kitchen, he replied, “I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Gonna shut off the lights and make sure the fire will be alright ‘til morning.”

As you walked in front of him, with his free hand, Dean playfully slapped you on the ass and said in a slightly deeper and gravelly tone this time, “And no sleeping!”

Glancing down at your gray Henley, you grasped it at the hem and in one fluid motion, pulled it up and over your head. Dean’s jaw dropped as he hungrily stared at you in just your red lace bra.

You tossed the shirt, he caught it with his free hand, and you quipped with a wink, “Then hurry up, baby.”

Before you closed his bedroom door behind you, there was a sound of the glass bottles clinking and crashing into the sink, followed by Dean trying to find the light switches before muttering, “Son of a bitch.”

**********

Dean woke you the next morning by softly kissing your bare shoulder and spooning up behind you to warm your body. The bristles of his beard tickled your neck as he left a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your pulse point.

“Mmmm…that feels nice, baby. I’ll make some coffee, ok?” You said.

“No, no, where ya goin’? I can do somethin’ else that feels even nicer.” He purred into your ear.

“Well, if you wanna enjoy your coffee in peace before Charlie and Bear get up, I suggest we get up now. Come on, stud.” You said with a smirk.

Letting Charlie sleep in on the weekends was standard. He did so much during the week, between school and a couple of activities, the poor kid was exhausted so he and Bear were still asleep while you and Dean enjoyed a cup of coffee at the kitchen table.

“Thank you, Dean.” You said in barely more than a whisper.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he took a sip of his coffee and replied, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Then, with a confused look on his face and after the coffee hit the pit of his stomach, he turned to you and asked, “F-for what, exactly?”

“For showing me all of those pictures last night. The ones of you and your parents when you were little…those are nice to have.” You said.

Dean brushed your knuckles with his fingers, smiled, and replied, “You still have to show me yours.”

“I’ll find them later today while you’re out with Charlie. Don’t forget, that birthday party starts at 2.” You stated.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. You could tell he forgot and was angry with himself for forgetting.

“Crap…” Muttered Dean. “I forgot about that.”

Like magic, you pulled a gift bag from underneath the table and said, “Lucky for you, I didn’t forget. Charlie said the kid is a little bit of a nerd and he likes baseball, so I got him a puzzle of Yankee Stadium.”

“You really are the best. I love you so much, thank you.” He said, as he leaned across the table to kiss you. “Sure you don’t wanna come too? It’ll keep the horny single moms away from me.”

“You have fun at the arcade with Charlie and I’ll see you guys when you get back. I have some chores to do at home and I know I have those photos, I just don’t exactly know WHERE they are.” You said with a chuckle, brushing his beard with your thumb.

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh, “Okaaaaaaay. Well, it will give me time to make sure my hunter fighting skills are up to par.”

You giggled and replied, “I love you too, handsome. Just drop Bear back home before you head out, ok?”

He nodded, kissed the top of your head and began to rub his hands together rapidly. “You got it, baby. Think it’s time for Charlie to rise and shine.”

You just shook your head, smiled, and watched him walk down the hall to wake Charlie up.

**********

The nervous tingle in your hands and fingers persisted as you searched high and low for the photographs of you and your mother. There was an uneasy and panicked feeling in your stomach as you frantically opened desk drawers and tore apart your bedroom looking for the only pictures you will ever have of her.

After Dean and Charlie dropped Bear off, it reminded you to look for them.

Life had been so busy since buying your home that you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually looked at those pictures and you were starting to wonder if they got lost in the move or if you put them in a “safe place” that was so safe, even you couldn’t find them.

You were starting to freak out, your jaw was so tight and rigid that your head was starting to hurt, and all other sounds had been blocked out by your drum-like heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears.

“Where could they be?!” You asked yourself in an anxious tone.

Because you were so preoccupied, you didn’t hear the knock on the door or when Dean called out to you in his deep gravelly voice.

“Sweetheart?! Y/N?! We’re back!” He said.

Charlie sounded excited to see Bear. “Hi Bear!”

You developed tunnel vision trying to find them and your cheeks flamed with anger but you didn’t want Charlie to see you upset so you composed yourself long enough to call out to them from the bedroom.

“Hey guys! How was the party?!” You asked.

Dean’s heavy footsteps could be heard coming from the living room. You could hear him step over the books and papers that were all over the floor.

“Hey baby, whaaaaat are ya doin’?” He asked, looking down at the mess you turned your bedroom into.

The tears that had formed were stinging the back of your eyes as you tried your hardest for them not to streak down your cheeks. You were in pain from kneeling on the hardwood floors practically all day, you felt mentally and physically exhausted, and you still couldn’t find the pictures of your mother.

Immediately, Dean called out to Charlie when he saw the look on your face.

“Charlie?!! I need to help y/n find something very important so take Bear back to our house and come back in like an hour with that box we picked up, ok?” Shouted Dean.

“Ok Dad! Come on, Bear.” Said Charlie.

As soon as you heard the door close behind them, Dean dropped to his knees, you burst into tears, and he tightly wrapped his arms around you to try and comfort you.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s ok. We’ll find them, baby. We’ll find them.” Dean said, calmly.

With your face buried in his chest, your tears fell into his shirt as you worriedly replied, “They’re all I have of her, Dean. I feel like I’ve looked everywhere!”

“Look at me, y/n.” He said as you looked up at him through your tear soaked lashes. “You haven’t looked everywhere. If you did, then you would have found them, ok? Let’s keep looking, come on.”

Dean helped you look inside of books, folders, drawers, cabinets, and basically anything that could be opened, he went over it with a fine-tooth comb and made sure he checked under and inside of everything.

As you continued to tear apart everything in your desk drawers, Dean walked over to your nightstand and looked inside. He pulled everything out, only to come up empty so he turned his attention to your bed.

As he lifted the mattress away from the box spring, he saw what looked like a journal and pulled it out. While thumbing through the pages, he came across a stack of photos tucked into pocket at the end.

The first picture he saw was of a baby girl dressed in pink from head to toe and her beautiful mother, with features similar to yours, fondly looking at her as she slept in her crib. He knew he had found them.

“Sweetheart…” Whispered Dean, holding the journal and waiting for you to look up at him.

Your eyes darted from his, down to his hands gently holding the journal and the photos were now sticking out from the top of the book for easy access.

It all came rushing back. You had kept your journal close during your long drive from Oklahoma to Colorado and after the movers unloaded your bed, you wanted to keep it in a safe place and close to you. But inside the nightstand wasn’t close enough so you placed it in between the mattress and the box spring for easy access for when you wanted to write in it.

When you first moved in, you wrote in your journal quite often, mostly about Dean and Charlie, but as you and Dean became closer, you didn’t write in it as much and very apparently forgot about it. But you remembered tucking the pictures in the back to “keep them safe.”

“Dean…you found them.” You said, taking the journal from him and removing the photos from the pages. “I don’t know what I would have—thank you for finding these.”

You snaked your arms around his neck, and without warning or hesitation, you aggressively pressed your lips to his which surprised him but only for a brief second before he returned your kiss and pulled your body in close so it was flush with his.

“You’re welcome, baby.” Said Dean with a warm smile.

He kissed you again.

Dean’s lips tasted like sugar and cherries and as you pulled away, you asked him through narrowed eyes, “Did you have cherry pie at that birthday party?”

Stumbling slightly over his words, he replied, “W-well, as a m-matter of fact, I did. The boys had cake and one of the mom’s m-made a cherry pie.”

After you touched your tongue to your top lip, you asked, “Lemme guess, she made it just for you.”

Dean blurted out, “NO!!” But his tone quickly changed and he retorted, “B-but s-she did offer me the first p-piece.”

“Of course she did.” You said with a wide smile.

Dean tried to flash you a quick cute smile which you found amusing.

“But baby, I—“ He started to say.

You interrupted him.

“Dean, it’s ok baby. I’m just messin’ with you.”

Looking down at the pile of pictures, you sat down on the bed and began thumbing through them to find your favorite one.

“This one’s my favorite.” You whispered, handing the picture to Dean.

It was of you and your mom with a birthday cake in front of you and the number “2” on top. Her long hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail and she had a purple turtleneck on. You couldn’t explain why it was your favorite, just that you really loved it.

“Look at you…so happy. And lucky me, I get to see that beautiful smile every day.” He said, brushing hair away from your face and giving you a kiss.

“Thank you, baby. Wait a minute…are you trying to distract me from the horny single mom that made you a pie?!” You asked.

“Depends…is it working?” Asked Dean.

“No.” You firmly replied.

He shrugged. “Worth a shot, I guess. Well, how ‘bout I only eat YOUR cherry pie?” He said with a sly smile and raised eyebrows.

“I’ve never made a cherry pie, Dean.” You said, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

“I think you missed my point, sweetheart. See, what I meant was—“ He started to say before you cut him off.

Laughing, you replied, “I know what you meant, baby. But before you can taste my cherry pie, I have to clean up the mess I made of my house plus Charlie is still awake.”

Dean playfully rolled his eyes.

“Okaaaaaaay. Later then.” He said, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

**********

As you and Dean were cleaning and putting things back where they were supposed to be, you could feel him staring and stealing glances at you.

“I love you.” Said Dean, with a warm smile.

You smiled back and replied, “I love you too, Dean.”

“You should get a frame for a couple of those, especially your favorite.” He said, pointing at the photos on the bed.

“Maybe I will. That’s a good idea, baby.” You affirmed.

“Yeah, I’ll get one too for my picture and m-maybe we can put them n-next to one another…in the s-same house?” He asked nervously.

You froze. Heat rushed to your cheeks and your stomach dropped. Was Dean, in his own way, asking you to live with him?

“Dean? What are you saying?” You asked with a hitch in your voice.

“Move in with us, sweetheart.” He said, confidently. “Please?”

Your heart said yes a thousand times over, but your mouth was having trouble getting the words out. You were nervous. What if it didn’t work out? Someone else would be living in your house and you wouldn’t have it to go back to. Plus, you only just bought it a little over a year ago.

“But…what about my house? What if we don’t work out? What if—“ You started to say.

“Sam can rent the house. I’ve been buggin’ him ever since he left the last time to move out here so he can be closer to us. Charlie’s always so bummed out when he has to leave so it will be perfect if he lives next door.” Declared Dean.

Shocked, you finally blurted out, “Dean, are you really sure? Because I can forget you said any of this and we can go back to just—“

“You don’t think I’m serious?” He asked.

As you moved closer to him, you shook your head and replied, “No, it’s not that I don’t think you’re serious, baby. I just…I just wanna make sure that it’s what you really want because I love you and Charlie more than anything. And I will move in tomorrow as long as I know that both of you want me to.”

Suddenly, you heard the side door open and you heard Charlie’s voice coming from the kitchen and you could hear Bear’s nails clicking on the tile floor.

“Did you ask her yet, Dad?!!” Shouted Charlie.

Dean answered, “We’re in the bedroom, buddy.”

“You’re not naked, are you?” Charlie asked as you started to laugh.

“Coast is clear, Charlie. You can come back here.” You replied.

Charlie appeared in the doorway and Bear charged into the bedroom to say hello.

“Did she say yes, Dad? Or were you waiting for me to bring this over?” Asked Charlie, holding out a black velvet box.

You didn’t think you could be any more stunned than you already were.

“Please tell me there’s just a house key in there!” You exclaimed.

Charlie started to laugh.

“Don’t be silly, y/n. There’s a ring in there!” Charlie said with excitement.

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“CHARLIE!” Dean barked.

Slightly disappointed, Dean took the box from Charlie’s hand then got down on one knee.

“You deserve to have a proper proposal, sweetheart.” He said, opening the box and revealing a solitaire oval shaped diamond.

“Say yes!!” Yelled Charlie.

“Be patient, son. Y/n, I honestly never expected to do this again. I thought I had my one shot and that was it but when you moved in next door, everything changed. I was smiling and laughing again, I found someone who loved my son as their own, and I found someone who could understand all the pain and all the shit that I’ve been through because she’s been through it too. And I’d love for the name on the mailbox to match everyone in the house. I love you so much and was wondering if you would marry me…marry us.” Asked Dean with a hitch in his voice.

You looked over at Charlie whose smile was so big you could see all of his teeth and Bear next to him with his ears at attention. It brought tears to your eyes. When you moved here, you were just hoping to live a semi-normal life and that’s exactly what you got and more.

“Charlie? Are you sure this is ok with you?” You asked, shyly.

Charlie continued to smile and he replied, “Please say yes, y/n. Then you’ll be my bonus mom.”

“Oh Charlie…” You choked out.

Dean smiled and said, “I didn’t even tell him to say that. What do ya say, sweetheart?”

You’ve never been more excited to say the word “yes” in your entire life.

“I say yes!” You answered with excitement.

Dean slid the ring onto your finger and it fit perfectly. Charlie ran over to you, wrapped his arms around you, and squeezed as tight as he could. Even Bear was excited.

“How did you know what size ring to get, baby?” You asked.

He stood up, tilted your chin up so you were looking into his hypnotizing green eyes, and planted a soft kiss onto your lips.

“EW, DAD!” Said Charlie, shielding his eyes.

“While you were sleeping one night, I got up and traced the inside of one of the rings I see you wear all the time on that finger.” He said with confidence and so proud of himself.

Impressed, you replied, “Not bad, stud. Not bad.”

“Dad! Can we go home and call Uncle Sam? He can move here now that y/n is gonna live with us, right?!” Asked Charlie.

Dean turned to you and asked, “How ‘bout it, sweetheart? You ready to go…home?”

Charlie said, “Yeah, maybe you and Dad can move more furniture around like you did last night.”

You felt your whole face turn red and warmth rushed across your cheeks as soon as Charlie finished that sentence. Covering your eyes in embarrassment, you began to laugh nervously.

Completely mortified, you asked Charlie, “What makes you think we were moving furniture around, buddy?”

Dean nervously scratched his beard waiting for Charlie’s answer.

“Well, I heard the bed hit the wall a bunch of times and you must have liked where Dad put it, because I heard you say ��YES! Right there.’ I thought maybe you just started the move early and I went back to sleep.” He said, so innocently.

“Oh she liked where I put it alright.” Dean said with a devilish smirk.

You playfully slapped him on the shoulder, “DEAN!”

“What does Dad mean, y/n?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing buddy, your dad is just trying to be funny.” You replied.

Slightly offended, Dean said, “What do ya mean TRYING to be funny? I’m damn funny.”

Charlie looked down at the bed and noticed the picture of you and your mother. He smiled, looked up at you, and said, “Your mom was pretty, y/n. You look just like her. I’ll make room for this picture on the mantle, ok?”

Charlie Winchester had your heart just as much as Dean did. And although it was a little different being with someone who had a child already, they made it easy to love them both and you couldn’t wait to start the next chapter as a wife, as a “bonus mom” and as a…Winchester.

You hugged him tightly and replied with a warm smile, “Thank you, Charlie.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

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If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

[adelaidedrubman]

— IF SHE BLINDED YOU WITH SCIENCE, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN WEARING YOUR LAB GOGGLES

had the always delightful opportunity to commission the incomparably talented @derelictheretic for a pin-up style portrait of my girl jenna, and when i tell y’all i am in absolute AWE. i have been losing my mind at the gorgeous coloring and all the little details on this from the moment i laid eyes upon it. dean is a genius and a delight to work with, i highly recommend grabbing a commission from him if you ever have a chance! also, alternate coloring below cut as a treat:3 (and you can check out the jestiny pin-up here.)

[inbabylontheywept]

The Condom Bomber

The crux of the story is Brother Dean. Brother Dean was…is…a hate preacher. Red or blue, everyone agreed on that. His origins and his motivations, those were a little more mysterious. Different groups had their own legends. I had a class with a guy that was part of the campus pro-life movement, and the tale he gave me is the one that I give the most credence to. According to him, Brother Dean had started out as a “normal” pro-life preacher. He’d gone around campus, led parades, given speeches… And then he’d gotten punched in the face.

This led to a lawsuit against the school. Something about failing to provide adequate protection? The main result was that he got something like half a mil. Half a mil is an incredible amount if you’re still working, but he’d tried to use the money to fund a sort of pro-life career, and it had just… trickled down. Ten years later he was running dead low on funds, and had taken to the particularly dumb strategy of trying to get punched in the face again. You know. For economic reasons. It had become kind of a vicious cycle: He’d started off saying some objectionable shit to try and goad someone into taking the punch. The worse the shit he said was, the harder it became for him to find work doing anything else, and the harder it became for him to find work doing anything else, the less he had to lose by saying really objectionable shit. Throw in two years of living on ramen, and he was so desperate to get punched that he was quoting the Westboro Baptists. If you know, you know. The pro-life group, to their credit, hated him the most out of anyone. They viewed him as the ultimate sellout, someone who was actively making their positions and beliefs look worse by the day, solely for his own enrichment. The other conservative groups held him in the same regard. The rest of the campus hated him for simpler reasons. It would be difficult to find anyone more detested anywhere else on site. Brother Dean’s antithesis was the Trojan Warrior. TW was a normal student by day, but maybe once a month or so he’d don his hoplite armor and roam around, handing out free condoms. Trojan condoms. It was kind of his shtick. Between the costume, and the whole character that he had going on, most people didn’t really recognize his alter ego. I myself am pretty good with faces, so one day I noticed he was behind me in the foodcourt and decided to thank him by paying for his smoothie. Small tangent, but if you’re looking to get good stories, buying lunches for interesting people works like magic. TW decided that he was going to thank me for thanking him by giving me something like 10 feet of condom roll. I was mortified, aggressively single, and on SSRI’s. He was not sure how many of those were permanent. I wasn’t either. He wound up giving me just a handful, and said that if nothing else, they could probably be used as water balloons. I accepted. Who doesn’t like water balloons?

I finished my lunch with the warrior and left, considering targets for the "balloons". I passed by Brother Dean near the main commons and had my lightbulb moment. I spent a few minutes watching him from a distance, trying to find the optimal angle to get him without getting caught on camera (he always had someone filing in the background, it was a necessary thing for his hopeful future lawsuit). The time delay was useful for helping me realize that it really wasn't worth it. The sun had been bearing down so hard that the glue in my shoes had melted, and getting him wet would be a favor that day. 

So, mildly disappointed, I shelved my dream and left. 

A week later the monsoons hit. I left one class and ran to a campus computer commons to try and get some shelter and study between classes. Just before I got through the door, I saw Brother Dean, umbrella in hand, setting up his speaker and mic. He wasn't technically allowed this far into campus (the commons were owned by the city) but he'd gone to where his audience was and security was probably holed up somewhere cozy. I could hardly blame them. 

I made it up to the second floor and started studying when the mic picked up. All glass buildings are not very soundproof. He was loud, and he was annoying, and he was outside a library, under a balcony, and-

And I had condoms. Water balloon condoms. 

And he was under a balcony. 

I put my laptop away, pulled out my condom roll, and went to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure how big a condom could actually stretch, so I just kept filling it until it was about the size of basketball. Maybe a smaller watermelon? And thus armed, I waddled my way out into the halls. I cannot emphasize enough just how unsubtle this was. I was cradling this big, overfilled condom like some sort of phallic ghost baby, and it was so heavy that I sort of had to squat as I went. People saw me. Lots of people saw me. I passed by one room full of computer science students, all learning C++, and three of them waved at me. And I waved back in that my-arms-are-full-but-I’m-excited-to-see-you-too way, where you jut your wrist up a little bit and flap your hand around excitedly. I did, eventually, make it to the balcony. The building’s high ceilings made the second-floor thing kind of a misnomer: I was easily forty feet up. I scooched my way to the edge, and the view I had… it was perfect. Brother Dean was directly underneath, thank God. If he’d been even seven or eight feet out, I’m not sure if I could’ve shotput the condom-bomb far enough to hit him directly. Better yet his cameraman was only a few feet away from him, far too close to catch any action going up 40 feet above. I managed to wrestle the payload onto the balcony, and with a gentle push, I sent it and Dean to destiny. I realized that I’d made a mistake almost as soon as the condom began to fall. You know that sound that bombs make in cartoons, that long drawn out whistle? The condom made that sound. I had a second education in the seriousness of my mistake when the condom hit Dean’s umbrella. It did not pop. Of course it didn’t pop. I had no experience with condoms, I swear to you, I promise, I did not know how much they could stretch. You can fit your whole leg into them. You can fit them over whole park benches. A gallon and a half of water was nothing compared to that. It broke Dean’s umbrella. It hit the top, and it snapped the stem like a twig, and then-

Violence. Unspeakable violence. It clipped Dean’s shoulder and stretched down to his knees before recoiling back to its original shoulder height. It did not bounce. It floated in space, no wasted energy in the collision. One hundred percent of the kinetic energy, all 3300 Joules of it, were discharged into this sad wretch of a man. He did not collapse. There was no time for that. He rotated on his axis. It was as if the hand of God had reached down and grabbed him about his waist, only to twist. In a fraction of a second, his head filled the space where his ass had been and his ass filled the space where his head had been, and then his cheek, carried by the shuriken motion of his body, slammed into the pavement with a noise like Shaq slam dunking a porkchop. Maybe wetter.

He did not move.

I panicked.

I want to make it clear: I did not mean to assault this man. I meant to get him wet and embarrassed. But I also have to confess that this was a beating. Mike Tyson himself can only put about 1600 Joules into one of his punches, and if he hit me I would bounce off five walls before I fell. I would not wish 3300 Joules upon anyone.

I walked into the building and sat myself in the back of the C++ class. The people next to, to my immense and eternal gratitude, did not question why I was wet.

A minute later, Brother Dean stormed into the building with his microphone.

He yelled. He screamed. He hollered. He informed the entire world that he had been assaulted, with a condom, by someone on the second floor. I was ecstatic that he was alive. 

Every person in that class knew who had brought this hell upon them. Every single one of them knew it was me. And if I’d done this to someone else, some Steven Crowder, some Ben Shapiro, someone would’ve thrown me to the wolves. It would have only taken one person in that room of sixty. But Brother Dean was hated by everyone, literally everyone, and so the entire class sat in silence.

Some of that silence was gleeful, and some of it was bored, and some of it, a very small amount, was directly disapproving, but even the disapproving silence carried an understanding. A note of, “Yes, yes, that was very irresponsible, and you should not do that again, but who could blame you? Something needed to happen. Not that something, but…something.”

Security could be given grace to ignore the man when it was raining, and he was just outside the building, but they were not given such grace when he was inside with a microphone. Just a few short minutes later, a golfcart pulled up, and he was summarily marched out. There was maybe a minute of silence after that before the professor announced that his class was not open to visitors.

I left. He’d made his point.

It was a few weeks before I saw Brother Dean again, and his black eye still hadn’t healed all the way when I did. He was, however, still preaching the same old things as always. Percussive maintenance works better on vacuum tubes than human brains. I will say that he definitely made a point to stay away from balconies after that. And the next time it rained, I actually went out to watch him put his speaker and his mic into the back of a wagon and wheel it off the campus.

It appeared that he’d developed some opinions about the kind of weather he was willing to preach hate in.

[siriusblacksbxtch]

I'm in love with your dean x male reader smuts- is there any way you could do a pretty extreme dom!dean sub!male reader with any combination (your choice) of the following kinks?: gun play, bondage, choking, knife/blood play, oral fixation, stalking/cnc/kidnapping, religious play, spit sexual fighting (like slapping, punching, etc.) , violence/gore, demon!dean, edging/teasing begging, sub not being able to form words, degrading and praise- and could you include specific terms? like pretty boy, good boy, kitty, slut, bitch, whore, dumb, and easy for the sub and for dean just simple stuff like sir, dean, stuff similar. I'm writing you a book I'm so sorry bjfjd I just have a really hard time finding male reader smut as good as yours that suit my kinks 😭😭 I also love a good sub!dean dom!male reader and the kinks and names I provided earlier would suit a fic like that too!! thank you sm for reading this NOVEL jdjsjs i hope you have a great day- aaaaand if you're not comfortable writing something with such extreme kinks I completely understand, I just thought I'd ask cause I love your work!! xoxo 💞💞💞

A/N: everybody kiss this requester on the mouth I demand it/ I wish I did better but I did what I could! I hope you still like it!

Pairings: Demon!Dean x male!reaader

Warnings: unholy, seriously.

Summary: Demon!Dean had been around for too long, and he looked much too like your boyfriend

You glared across the kitchen at the flannel wearing monster. Oh you hated him. Hated him bad, wearing your beautiful Dean’s face to be an absolute fucking psycho.

Sam had come to terms he’d be sticking around until they found a cure, but you couldn’t stomach it. It made you so goddamned mad.

Like right now in your own home glaring invisible lasers into his head as he sat across from Sam eating food like he was normal.

“(Y/N),” Sam sighed with a conflicted look. “It’s nothing new.”

“Better get used to it, baby boy.” Dean, or not Dean, or whatever— gave you a devilish grin.

“Oh, both of you fuck off. I can’t standing seeing his disgusting ass every second.”

“This disgusting ass can remember some pretty nasty images of you as well.” The demon lowly chuckled as you flushed red, Sam looking down at the table to avoid the conversation.

“Fuck you, psycho.” You rolled your eyes, stomping to your room and slamming the door. You kicked the metal irritably muttering curses under your breath as you pulled off your shirt.

You were hot, nearly feeling as though you were sweating from the interaction. You hated him, god more then you thought you could, walking around with your boyfriends face and just about everything that made him an asshole.

“Let me get this straight—”

“God!” You let out a gasp as you clutched your heart, turning to face the very demon himself.

“Not God,” he smirked. “Just me (Y/N).”

“No shit, what the hell do you want?”

Before you could move for your shirt he stepped closer, walking you back into the wall until your chests were touching.

“What do I want?” Dean laughed, his hot breath hitting your face. “I want to know why you could bend over like a bitch—” His eyes flashed black— “Before I got these babies.”

You swallowed harshly at the words, staring into the abyss of black.

“You used to be so good for me.” He began rubbing at your crotch, you breath hitching in your throat as you tried to look anywhere else.

“You’re not—”

“But I am,” he hissed before you could finish. “I’m still Dean. The Dean who would sleep next to you, fuck you til you cried baby.”

You once again shuttered at the thought, cheeks growing hotter as he continued to palm you through your jeans.

“The one who knows how secretly bad you’ve wanted something like this.”

At that you shoved him back, swinging a fist into his jaw and slamming him into the wall across from you.

He punched you straight back, pushing you onto the bed and swinging his fist again for good measure.

You could taste the blood on your teeth as he grinned down at you, moving his hips down to meet yours as a strangled moan left your lips.

“Quit trying to fight it and be a good boy.”

“Fuck you,” you sighed out.

He backhanded you, grabbing your jaw in a stone clutch, moving so his lips pressed against yours.

“I know how bad you want it, (Y/N). Stop fighting.” With that he pulled back slamming his lips into yours.

You couldn’t help but pull him closer, missing his soft lips and strong build.

As soon as it started it seemed to be over, Dean pulling off your pants and flipping you over before you could even process.

“See how good things go when you’re a good boy?” A strangled gasp left you as his hand slammed down on your ass cheek. He did it once again with enough strength to cause you to move forward. “You just love being my little slut?”

Dean’s low chuckled filled the air along with the sound of his hand coming down on your ass.

“Fuck,” you were struggling not to be a drooling mess at this point, Dean flipping you around again to face him.

“You ready to stop being a little bitch and be a good boy, (Y/N).”

You stared into his black eyes finding what you used to despise all too intriguing as you finally gave a stiff nod.

“No, no,” he chuckled lowly as he ran a hand over your torso. “You are a pretty boy, but your mouth,” he whistled lowly. “We gotta make up for all that ugly talk, baby boy.”

Dean pulled you by your hair, and you let him, shoving you roughly to your knees as he undid his belt.

“Open.” Came the cold voice, much less playful than he had been when he entered your room.

You did so, opening wide as he slid his dick into the back of your throat, a soft sigh escaping as he did so.

“Jesus, slut.” Dean’s moan was like music to your ears, the demon grabbing your hair roughly as he moved you up and down on his dick.

“You act so tough now I get it,” came his devilish laugh, “you’ve been so worked up because I haven’t used you like the dumb whore that you are.”

You moaned around him at this words, his movement suddenly slowing as he pulled you forward and rested his dick down your throat.

“Acting like a whiny bitch when all you wanted was me back in your bed.” Tears and drool began to escape you, struggling to breathe on his dick.

The sight seemed to amuse Dean, you felt his dick growing in your throat as you struggled.

“All you had to not do was be a whiny slut, and instead here you are choking.”

You began to try to pull off, but he held you there a few seconds long before pulling you back into a wet kiss.

“You gonna be a good boy now, (Y/N).”

His black eyes poured into yours and instead of hatred all you felt was desire.

“Yes—”

Dean smacked you hard, pulling you close by the jaw as he bit on your lip and pulled, a hand going to your throat to squeeze roughly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed shakily. “Please.”

He grinned as he flipped you back onto the bed, hovering over you as your chest rapidly began to rise and fall.

“Please what, pretty boy?”

“Please,” you whined. “Please, fuck me. I’ve wanted it for so long please, Dean.”

His arrogant smile never left his face as he spit into his hand, the other going to squeeze around your neck. Dean shoved his fingers into you, loving the way you squirmed around him, trying to moan but nothing coming out from the force of his hand.

“Cant have Sammy hear us. Can we dumb whore?”

You only tried to moan more as he worked you open, then suddenly without warning he flipped you over and pressed at your entrance.

“You want me to fuck you, baby.”

“Yes sir, please.” You were trembling at this point, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you into the mattress so hard you couldn’t walk.

“Not very convincing for a needy whore,” he sighed teasingly.

“Please, Dean. I need you to fuck me, please. I need it so bad—”

A low moan escaped you as he suddenly pushed in, grabbing the back of your hair to control his thrusts as he set a fast pace.

Dean’s hand slammed down on your ass once again, a whiny moan escaping you as you felt him stretch you open.

“You gonna be a good boy now, or do I need to remind you who you belong to all the time?”

“A-All the time,” you muttered out between gasps. “Need this all the time.”

Dean laughed grabbing your hips to pull you back even harder as your moans only grew.

“Say you’re my whore,” Dean grunted as his pace began to falter.

“Yours. All yours, Dean. All the time.”

With a final hard thrust, and another smack to your ass, you felt the demon finish deep inside you, as you did on the sheets below.

You were gasping for air, tears of pleasure gathering in the corners of your eyes. You slowly turned to meet Dean, a shit eating grin always seeming to appear on his face.

“What?” You snapped with an angry glare, a flush of embarrassment falling over you.

However, Dean leaned forward pulling you into another warm kiss.

“Been wanting to do that since I got here pretty boy.”

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Arguing with Dean about music

Summary: You, Sam and Dean are all prepping for a hunt. Meanwhile, you and Dean have the dumbest of arguments.

Pairings: Dean X reader

Notes ; fluff, silly argument, one shot.

Requests are open

“All I’m saying is, everybody knows that four was their best album.” Dean said while fishing a clean cloth from his duffle.

“And all I’m saying is, you’re just being stubborn.” You said in an unbothered tone with that underlying cadence of smugness he knows all too well. Your nimble fingers work at taking apart a hand gun to give it a well needed, and far over-due, cleaning.

“I am not!” (He definitely was) “But c’mon, mothership came out in two-thousand sevennnn.” He says as if it were some sort of crime. “All of it’s remastered crap anyway, nowhere near as good as the original.” He scoffs while handing you the cloth.

“You do realize “remastering” is just updating a song to match new quality standards?”

“And that’s the problem!” Dean said with a groan.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you knew where he was going with this.

Dean picks up a knife and a sharpening block and begins to work as he goes on with his spiel. “Everyone is so obsessed with “new quality standards” and i-tunes and-and Justin Bieber!”

You roll your eyes and begin to reassemble the gun and move on to another.

“- physical media! That’s where it’s at. Just gimme some cassettes or hell even a vinyl and I am good. To. Go.”

You had heard this rant more times than you could count. You loved your boyfriend to death but damn could he talk. “Uh-huh” you say, looking up at him from your spot on the edge of the bed, the rest of the space taken out by the assorted weapons. “Whatever you say honey.” You nod with an amused smile. Regardless, it was still endearing how passionate he was.

Dean turns the knife in his hand and begins to sharpen the other side. “Okay, okay I’ll stop ranting,” he smiles. “But, there was no-“

“-Good music made after 1979,” Sam finishes, pushing open the motel door open with his foot and stepping inside.

You chuckle at this but Dean just nods his head approvingly. “Damn straight.” Dean replied.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you guys are arguing over Led Zeppelin again.” Sam sets down the paper bag he was carrying- filled with salt and other things you’d need for tomorrow’s hunt.

“She thinks mothership is a good album.” Dean said.

“So? It’s not bad, just a best-hits type thing.” Sam shrugs.

“See!” You pointed to Sam. “Thank you!”

“Two-thousand seven” Dean frowned.

“Dazed and confused is on there!” You retorted.

“Just listen to the album like a normal person.”

“I’m the one who’s not normal?”

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was going to be a long night.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Houses of the Holy | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )

Warnings: MNDI 18+ ONLY, canon violence, canon gore, SMUT, breast play, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl pls and thanks), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, clit spanking, descriptions of religious trauma (there’s a lot of talk of the two things you should never talk about in here: religion and politics)

Word Count: 5892

A/N: need i say it again, goodbye, minors!!! Be gone!!! please!!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Every twenty or so minutes, you reloaded the FBI’s database you’d managed to tap into. You were getting incredibly anxious about Dean’s presence on their radar following the bank “robbery” the week prior. 

Sam went out to pose as a psychotherapy nurse to interrogate a woman whose personality seemed to have changed overnight after killing a man, claiming an angel led her to do so. You were placed on “Dean duty” after Sam insisted his brother stay here to avoid being seen. You were right on board with that idea, but you needed to stay behind to make sure Dean didn’t go stir crazy and leave stupidly.

A thousand thoughts swirled through your head as you wrote in your journal. 

“When I was on my own, I was a fucking expert at staying away from police,” you wrote. “Now, suddenly, I’m on cases with these two where every time I turn around, a cop is on my ass. I’m not super crazy about that idea. However, I don’t wanna leave them. They’re my best friends, and I know Dean is something more to me. I don’t wanna give that all up just because I’m starting to sweat a bit, y’know? 

“I am not one to shy away from trouble, and I’m loyal. Those are two qualities I’m super proud of,” you continued writing, “I just am worried. And I feel like that’s completely normal. But it’s a different kind of worry. I’ve never had to be concerned about two other people when I’m hunting. This is the first time I’ve had partners who are just as good as I am. And I’ve never cared about my partners this much. And in a way, that sucks.

“And what the hell was I thinking promising Sam that I’d kill him if necessary? Am I out of my fucking mind?? I don’t know what I’d do if Dean hated me. But I’d still rather him hate me than hate himself. I can go it alone again. I really could. I just don’t think I want to.”

You dropped your pen and scrubbed a hand over your face before pulling it through your hair. 

“Sweetheart. C’mere,” Dean groaned from the other end of the room. He was laying on a vibrating motel bed with his headphones in his ears. He’d been obsessively fueling the “Magic Fingers” machine with quarters. 

You headed over to him just as the bed stopped vibrating.

“Damn, that was my last quarter,” he huffed, taking his headphones out of his ears. He seemed not to notice you until that moment. “Oh, hey.” 

You sat on the bed next to him, and he was still laid out in the center of the bed on his back.”Whatcha need?”

“You,” he said, smirking.

You laughed as he pulled on the ends of your— his— shirt, trying to get you to lay on top of him. You happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him. Between kisses, you giggled, “Dee, we already fucked this morning. You’re seriously ready again?”

He hummed against your lips. “Always.”

You rolled your head away from him. “I have sex with you once, and suddenly, you’re insatiable.”

“I can’t help it,” he smirked. “You’re gorgeous.”

You faux-pouted. “That’s it?”

He rolled on top of you and kissed up your neck. “And smart.” He kissed you again, moving to your left cheek. “And badass.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “And sexy.” He kissed your lips. “I hate how much I need you.”

You mocked offense. “Why do you hate it?”

“ ‘Cause I don’t like to need anyone,” he replied. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I need you, too.” You leaned up to him and pecked his lips before leaning back down on the pillows. “And not just sexually,” you clarified.

He chuckled. “Same here,” he told you earnestly.

You grinned widely, pulling him back down to your lips by the nape of his neck. He eagerly bit your bottom lip before trailing his lips down your neck. He sucked a dark spot on your collarbone, making you tug his hair and moan. He groaned against your skin before hiking the shirt up your body, swirling his tongue around your nipples. Still sensitive from your activities earlier in the morning, your back immediately arched into him and you keened, encouraging him to keep going. He switched to your other breast and chuckled as you continued writhing underneath him. “Wonder if I could make you cum just like this,” he said, looking up at you. 

“Stop teasing, Dean,” you whined, shoving his shoulders down to your pussy.

“Hmm, but it’s so much fun,” he replied. Dean skimmed his fingers down to the band of your underwear, playing with the hem. You sucked in a sharp breath and squirmed beneath him. “Why would I do what you want when this is so much more enjoyable for me,” he chuckled darkly.

“Dean!” you cried out. “Please!”

“Fine,” he responded. The man above you pushed your panties down your legs before dipping his fingers into your cunt. “So wet for me already?”

“Fuck you,” you murmured in embarrassment.

He tsked. “Is that any way to talk to the guy who made you cum three times this morning?”

“It is if he’s being a fucking tease,” you replied, running your nails over his abs just above his V-line.

He groaned at your actions before grabbing your wrist and pinning it next to your head. “Now who’s being a tease?” Dean used one hand to pin your wrist above your head and the other to grab your other. He pinned them above your head, instructing you to keep them there.

He moved back down your body, stopping when he reached your core. He eagerly ate you out like a man starved, and your hands flew to his hair. He immediately stopped. 

“What’d I say?” he asked gruffly.

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly, grabbing the headboard above you to keep your hands there.

He moved back to your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth and making you grip the headboard tighter. “Fuck, Dean!” you cried out.

He curled two long fingers inside you, groaning at the slick pooling between your thighs. Your orgasm was quickly approaching as he hit your g-spot with the tips of his fingers and continued harshly sucking your clit, every now and again swirling his tongue around it. 

“Fuck, fuck, please, I’m gonna—” And then he was gone. “What the fuck?” you whined at the feeling of his fingers leaving you.

“You don’t get to come until I say,” he growled. “You understand?”

You nodded eagerly, still white-knuckling the headboard. You spread your legs wide, fully displaying your pussy to him. “Fuck me, Dean.”

His hand came harshly down on your clit. You yelped in surprise.

“You don’t make the demands here, I do.” He spanked your clit one more time for good measure before shoving his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on them in earnest, closing your eyes as you licked them clean. Dean groaned at the feeling and freed his fingers from your mouth, gripping your throat as he bent down to kiss you. 

Before you knew it, Dean’s cock was inside you, making you gasp into his mouth. He sheathed himself fully inside you, and you locked your legs around his hips. He rocked into you roughly, each thrust making you come more and more alight. 

“Can I touch you?” you breathed out. “Please?”

“Beg,” he replied, still keeping his thrusts even.

“Dean, please let me touch you. Please, please, I need to touch you,” you groveled through shallow breaths. 

“Hmm…” he smirked, rolling his hips into yours roughly. 

“Dean! Please! Please!” you cried, gasping. “I need to feel you, Dee.”

“Okay, sweetheart, you can,” he said.

You were on him in an instant, one hand in his hair and the other winding around the underside of his shoulders. You kissed your way down his neck and nipped at the base of it, careful not to leave any dark marks; even though you really wanted to. Dean’s pace began to falter as you felt his cock twitching inside you.

“Cum with me,” he instructed you. He reached down to your clit, drawing rough circles, before burying his face in your shoulder. “Cum with me, now, (Y/N).”

You came with a high-pitched moan, your orgasm crashing into you suddenly. Your legs locked around the base of Dean’s spine, keeping him inside you as he came. You moaned again at the feeling of his cum spilling inside you. His thrusts slowed, and he pulled out, causing you to whine at the loss. Dean laid on your bare chest, breathless. 

You took a few minutes to linger in this feeling which you decided was your version of heaven. No monsters, no fighting, no police run-ins— just Dean laying on your chest, breathing in time with you. However, you knew Sam would be coming back any minute now.

“Dean,” you said, trying to wiggle out from under him.

“Hm?”

“We gotta get up, Sam’s gonna be back soon.”

“Who cares.”

“Me!” you squealed as his grip tightened around you. “I don’t really want Sam to see my bare tits!”

He kissed between the valley of your breasts, nuzzling your left one with his cheek. “But I wanna keep lookin’ at ‘em.”

“Dean!”

“Alright, alright.” He finally let go of you, and you pulled your clothes back on. This time, you put your jeans and the shirt you wore before you and Dean fucked for the first time that morning to avoid Sam knowing what had been happening. You headed back over to your laptop, and reloaded the FBI’s database page.

“What is so important over there?” Dean asked, coming over to you. 

You turned your laptop to face him. 

“Seriously? You’re gonna drive yourself crazy lookin’ at that.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m trying to keep you from getting arrested,” you scoffed.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know.”

You looked away from your computer and back up to him with big doe eyes.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that,” Dean growled.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause I’m not gonna be able to control myself if you don't,” he replied.

Despite your earlier activities, heat flooded once more between your thighs. “Dean—”

At that moment, Sam burst through the door. “Hey.”

Dean jerked away from you, and you awkwardly returned to the computer in front of you.

“So, did you get in to see that crazy hooker?” Dean questioned, scratching the back of his neck. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Gloria Sitnick. And I'm not so sure she's crazy.”

“But she seriously believes that she was... touched by an angel?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace.”

You scoffed. “Definitely completely sane. What about the guy she stabbed?”

“Uh, Carl Gully. She said she killed him because he was evil,” Sam explained. 

“Was he?” Dean asked.

The brunet shrugged. “I don't know. I mean, I couldn't find any dirt on him. I mean, he didn't have a criminal record, he worked at the campus library, had lots of friends. He was a churchgoer.”

Dean paced around, all-business mode. “Hm. So then Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko. I mean, phew, she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion. Know what I mean?”

“No, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to. Little bit odd, don't ya think?” Sam countered.

“Well, little odd, yes, supernatural, maybe. But angels? I don't think so.”

“Agreed,” you chimed in.

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“ ‘Cause angels aren’t real,” you replied.

“(Y/N/N), there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted,” the younger brother reminded you.

“Yeah, you know what? There's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they, they ride on silver moonbeams, and they shoot rainbows out of their ass,” Dean grunted.

Sam sat down across from you, deadpanning, “Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?”

“That's cute,” Dean monotoned, “I'm just saying, man, there's just some legends that you just, you file under ‘bullcrap’.”

“And you've got angels on the bullcrap list.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause I’ve never seen one,” you chimed in.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “So what?”

“So I believe in what I can see,” Dean argued.

“Dean! You and I have seen things that most people couldn't even dream about.”

“Sam,” you started, trying to mollify both brothers. “I think that’s his point. We can actually see that stuff. Hard proof, y’know? We don’t have hard proof of angels.”

“This is a– a demon or a spirit,” Dean continued. “You know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms.”

Sam sighed. “Maybe.”

“Can we just— I'm going stir-crazy, guys. Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?” Dean begged you and Sam. 

“I was just there. Nothing. No sulfur, no EMF…” Sam trailed off.

“You didn't see any fluffy white wing feathers?” Dean deadpanned.

“But Gloria did say the angel gave her a sign, right beside Carl Gully's doorway,” Sam huffed.

Dean perked up at that notion. “Could be something at his house; it's worth checking out.”

“I don’t love that idea, Dean. Please… stay here, okay? Sam and I can handle it,” you argued.

Dean groaned. “(Y/N), I’m going fucking crazy in here. Please?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

He went to say something again.

“No. Sam, you’re on Dean duty. I’ll be back in a few hours,” you stated firmly.

“(Y/N)—”

“Dean,” you warned. “I’ll bring you back some beers, okay?”

He huffed. 

“I’ll throw a burger and some quarters in there, too, okay?” 

Dean huffed again, but said nothing in response. 

You tugged your boots on, and Sam tossed the keys to you.

“Not a scratch, (Y/N),” Dean told you firmly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

***

About two hours later, you returned with a six pack and burgers and fries for the boys. 

“Oh, (Y/N), thank god,” Sam exclaimed when you returned. 

“What, has he been that bad?” you asked. 

“I’m right here, y’know,’ Dean grumbled. “You bring any quarters?”

“Told you I would.” You chucked the roll of quarters and his car keys back at him. 

You put the six pack down on the table and began distributing the food between the brothers.

“Woman, you’re fucking awesome,” Dean groaned as he took a bite of his burger. 

Sam laughed. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Well, Mr. Gully had some pretty dark secrets,” you began. “I found three sets of bones buried under his house. Poor babies were kids from the local college who disappeared about a year ago. And get this; all of ‘em were last seen at the library.”

“Sick bastard,” Dean grunted. 

“So Gloria's angel—” Sam started, only to be cut off by Dean.

“Angel?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay. Whatever this thing is…”

“Whatever it is, it's struck again,” Dean jumped back in through a mouthful of food.

“What?” you questioned.

“Dean hasn’t put down the police radio since you left,” Sam told you. “There was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk; he went up to a stranger's front door last night, stabbed him in the heart.”

“And then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?” you asked.

“Yep. Roma Downey made him do it,” Dean quipped. He took a post-it note off the mirror. “Now, I, uh, got the victim's address.”

“Dean—”

“(Y/N), I am not staying here again. Just this one thing? Please?”

“No, Dee. I’m not taking that risk. You have got to lay low,” you insisted.

“(Y/N), how are you gonna stop me from doing my job?”

“Because if it involves putting yourself at risk, then it’s not happening,” you protested. 

“My whole job is risk,” he argued, stepping closer to you. “There’s just… an added level now.”

“Exactly. Which means we have to be that much more careful. Especially considering we have the feds on our ass. I’m not letting this happen,” you shot back.

“Hate to say it, Dean, I think (Y/N)’s right,” Sam jumped in. “I’ll go check out the vic’s house. (Y/N), stay here.”

“Fine by me,” you said. 

Dean grunted in aggravation, and flopped down on the bed after putting a few quarters in the Magic Fingers machine. You knew he’d probably stay angry with you for the rest of the evening. 

After a few minutes of silence and when the rumbling came to an end, you spoke up again. “Dean,” you sighed. “I’m not trying to be a huge ass, okay? I’d be angry with me, too. But this is just… It’s a lot. And I’m trying to keep you boys as safe as possible. And I wanna help Sam with this case, but I can’t if I’m worried about you not staying put, okay?”

Dean didn’t respond, and you thought for a moment that he’d fallen asleep. At least, that was until you heard him murmur, “Okay.”

*** Sam informed you and Dean that the most recent victim had been planning to meet with a thirteen-year-old girl. Your stomach turned when he told you, and Dean looked like he would’ve kicked the guy to hell and back given the opportunity. Sam also told you that both victims went to the same church called “Our Lady of the Angels.”

“That’s funny,” you’d commented. 

Following last night’s conversation with Dean, you felt more comfortable leaving him to his own devices. And so, it was up to you and Sam to go talk to the priests at said church.

“So you're interested in joining the parish?” the priest, who’d introduced himself as Father Reynolds, asked you.

“Yes, sir,” you replied.

“Where'd you say you lived before?”

“Fremont, Texas,” you said without missing a beat.

“Really? That's a nice town,” Fr. Reynolds noted. “St. Teresa's parish, you must know the priest there.”

“Yes, sir. He’s wonderful,” you nodded.

“You know, we're just happy to be here now, Father,” Sam broke in.

“And we're happy to have you, we could use some young blood around here.”

“Hey, listen, I gotta ask,” you began hesitantly. “No offense, but uh, the neighborhood?”

Fr. Reynolds sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Well, it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that, but that's why what the church does here is so important. Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime you work your butt off.”

“Yeah, we, uh, heard about the murders,” you acknowledged.

“Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years.”

Sam quirked his head to the side. “And the killers said that an angel made them do that?”

“Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic,” the priest sighed. 

“So you don't believe in the whole ‘angel’ thing?” you questioned. 

“Oh, no, I absolutely believe,” he chuckled. “Kind of goes with the job description.”

Sam nodded toward the painting on the wall. “Father, that's Michael, right?”

“That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons. Holy force against evil.”

“So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant?” 

“Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful. But, uh, yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. ‘An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified’,” the priest finished.

You nodded sagely. “Luke two nine.”

The priest seemed surprised you knew that. “Yes, actually.”

You laughed uncomfortably. “My, uh, my mom was a pretty zealous Catholic,” you explained as Fr. Reynolds began leading you out of the door. “She’d quiz me on the bible verses every now and again.”

You could feel Sam’s eyes on you while you began heading down the steps of the church. 

“Well, thank you for speaking with us, Father,” the brunet said. 

“Oh, it's my pleasure. Hope to see you again,” the priest nodded.

You noticed a collection of tribute items at the bottom of the steps; candles, flowers, pictures, and rosaries. “Hey, Father, what's, what’s all that for?”

Fr. Reynolds deflated a bit. “Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here.”

“Was?” you questioned.

“He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt,” he explained.

“When did this happen?”

“Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you told him.

“Yeah, me too.” The priest couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from his friend’s memorial. “He was a good friend. I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died I've been praying my heart out.”

“For what?” Sam asked.

“For deliverance. From the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose,” he replied.

“Thanks, Father. We’ll see you around sometime,” you nodded solemnly. He headed back inside.

“Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there,” you noted.

Sam seemed a bit uncomfortable.

“And he knew all the vics, because they went to church here,” you continued. “In fact I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew. Reconciliation and all that jazz.”

“Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right? Right about the time all this started happening?” Sam countered.

“Sam,” you sighed. “I know you wanna believe, but I’m not really sold on this whole ‘angel’ idea. Why do you seem so convinced?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “But I do know that I pray. Every single day. I have for a long time.”

You startled a bit. “Really? I had no idea.”

“And what about you?” he asked. “What made you stop?”

“Well, like I said, my mom was always a bit of a zealot,” you began. “And… let’s just say I saw how well prayin’ worked out for her.” 

Sam shot you a puppy-dog-eyed look. 

“C’mon, let’s go check out Fr. Gregory’s grave.”

Sam followed you down to the crypt. It was a bit of a maze of stone hallways lined with numerous stone angel statues. You headed a little ahead of Sam deeper into the crypt. You turned back when you noticed Sam wasn’t behind you, and then suddenly felt the ground beneath you shaking.

“Oh, fuck,” you murmured before running to where you thought Sam may be. “Sammy?” you called. “Get the rocksalt out—” You halted momentarily when you noticed Sam’s slumped over form on the ground. “Hey! Sam! Wake up!” you cried, grabbing his face in both your hands. He jerked awake as soon as you touched him. “You okay?!” you asked worriedly.

He looked past you at the angel statue behind you. “Yeah. Yeah. 'm okay.” He seemed a little startled.

You helped him to his feet and led him into the sanctuary. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, (Y/N), I saw an angel,” he said.

“You—” You shook your head, unsure how to approach this situation. “So. What makes you think you saw an, uh, angel?”

“It just, it appeared before me and I just, this feeling washed over me, you know? Like, like peace. Like grace,” he explained.

You swallowed harshly, feeling suddenly unsettled. “Wh—” You laughed uncomfortably.

“I know this is a lot, but I’m telling you, it spoke to me. It knew who I was,” he said.

You shook your head. “Spirits can do that, though, y’know that, right?”

Sam didn’t seem convinced. 

“Okay, let me guess,” you tried. “You were personally chosen to smite some sinner. You've just got to wait for some divine bat signal, is that it?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam nodded.

“Great. I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did?”

“Actually I did, (Y/N). And the angel told me. He hasn't done anything. Yet. But he will,” Sam nodded.

You started pacing. “I don’t believe this.”

“(Y/N), the angel hasn’t been wrong yet!” Sam protested. “Someone's going to do something awful, and I can stop it!”

You scoffed. “You’re supposed to do something awful, too. Does that mean I’m just supposed to nuke you right now?”

“Y’know what? I don't understand! Why can't you and Dean even consider the possibility?”

“What, that this is an angel?”

“Yes! Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop! Maybe this is God's will!”

“Y’know what, Sam, if that’s what you believe, fine,” you sighed. “If faith is what helps you sleep at night and brings you a little peace, then, that’s great and I’m happy for you. But I cannot rationalize worshiping a god who’s gonna condemn me to a pit of fire and suffering for the simple fact of non-belief. I mean, think about it, man. He knows exactly what it would take to get every person to believe, and he still chooses not to show it to us.” You began to pace faster. “And, and? Why would homosexuality be the thing he chooses to put his foot down on? And if you are this great and good god, why is that love wrong? And if people believe in other religions, why does that mean they’re going to hell? What if they’re Buddhist and an exceptional person; they still have to go to hell? Hindu? I don’t fucking get it, Sam. And if my options are going to heaven with all the churchgoers— who are mostly hypocrites and these fuck-os who are abusing kids and murdering on Tuesday after just leaving church the Sunday before, then send me straight on down to hell. I’ll take eternity with actually decent people over these yuppies and troglodytes any day.” You stopped, taking a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Sam seemed shocked. “It’s okay,” he said, despite himself. 

You huffed, scratching the back of your head. “Anyway, I got some hard proof we’re dealing with a spirit.” You led him over to Father Gregory’s grave. It was crawling with mangled vines, and you crouched down in front of it. 

“That looks like—”

You cut Sam off. “Wormwood. Plant associated with the dead; specifically the ones that are not at rest. I don't see it growing anywhere else, except over the murdered priest's marker. It's him, Sam.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Maybe?”

“I don't know what to think,” he said honestly.

You sighed. “Okay. You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof.”

“How?” Sam asked.

“We'll summon Gregory's spirit,” you responded simply.

“What? Here? In the church?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just need a few odds and ends and my journal for a séance ritual.”

“Oh, a séance, great. Hope Whoopi's available,” Sam quipped.

You deadpanned at him, “Cute. Seriously. If Father Gregory's spirit is around, a séance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest.”

“But if it's an angel, it won't show. Nothin' 'll happen.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “And then we’ll know for sure. And then I can grovel in front of Michael or Zachariah or Castiel or whichever the hell angel it is and beg for their forgiveness before they smite me.”

“The hell kind of angel’s named Castiel?” Sam’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Angel of temperance and serenity. Not traditional Catholicism, but I digress. I told you, my mom was a complete Jesus-freak,” you snorted. “Alright, let’s go get my journal. Hopefully Dean’s still there. I swear to god, I’ll send him to hell and back if he’s not.” *** Thankfully for Dean, he was right where you’d left him. He looked bored out of his skull, but he actually listened to you. “Jesus, how fuckin’ long does it take to talk to a priest?” 

“Not right now, Dean. Sam’s a little, uh, possessed? Cursed? Don’t know what the right word is in this situation. Divinely inspired?” you continued.

“What? He saw it?”

Sam nodded.

“We don’t have time to rehash all this. Now, Dean, you comin’ or not?” You turned to the elder brother.

“Wait, you’re letting me out?”

You scoffed. “Dean, you’re not a hostage. C’mon. We could use the help especially now that Sam’s been angel-drugged.”

Dean chuckled. 

“What?” you asked.

“Sam got touched by an angel,” he snickered.

You burst out in laughter, and Sam just deadpanned.

***

Your next stop was a small grocery store that you hoped didn’t have security cameras that would be able to identify Dean. Sam bounded out of the store holding a paper sack and chuckling. “Guys. I'll admit we've gone pretty ghetto with spellwork before, but this takes the cake. I mean, a Spongebob placemat instead of an altar cloth?”

“We'll just put it Spongebob-side down,” Dean shrugged.

Sam’s laughter subsided suddenly as he stared at someone across the street. 

“What is it?” you asked him.

“It’s him,” he replied. “That's the sign!”

“Where?” Dean questioned.

“Right there, right behind that guy! That's him, Dean. And we have to stop him,” Sam pleaded.

Sam started after him, but you and Dean held the giant man back.

“Wait a second,” you stated. 

“What are you doing? Let me go,” Sam grunted.

“You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?” Dean hissed.

“Dean, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to stop him.”

“Define ‘stop’, huh? I mean, what are you going to do?” Dean pressed.

“Dean, please, he's going to hurt someone, you know it.”

“Alright, come on,” Dean said finally. You moved to the other side of the car, and Dean quickly shoved you down into the backseat. 

“Dean. Unlock my door,” Sam commanded, still standing on the sidewalk.

“You're not killing anyone, Sam. (Y/N) and I got this guy, you go do the séance,” he nodded.

“Dean!” Sam called after you, but Dean was already pulling away. He followed the man who’d been holding the yellow flowers down a short distance down the street before the guy stopped in front of a girl. She got in the car with him, and your heart sank as you climbed into the front seat.

“I don’t like where this is going,” you murmured.

“Yeah, me neither.” Dean gripped the wheel tightly and started trailing the blue car again. 

The allegedly evil man soon turned down a dark alley, and you temporarily lost sight of him. Dean cursed, “Dammit!” and slammed the steering wheel in frustration.

“Dean, Dean, follow him, c’mon,” you begged, and he slammed his foot on the gas, turning down the alley he thought he’d seen the man head down. Thankfully, his guess was correct, and you and Dean quickly ran to opposite sides of the man’s car. You could hear the young woman crying and the man shouting at her as you approached. Dean punched the window, and you took that as your opportunity to quickly pull the girl out of the car. 

“Are you okay?” you asked her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Thank god!” she cried, surging forward to hug you.

You called to Dean as the man sped off in his blue car. “Dean! I got her, you follow him! I’ll catch up with you later!”

Dean nodded, sprinting back to the Impala and following the man out of the alley.

“Did he do anything to you?” you asked her.

She shook her head, still crying.

“Do you have any friends nearby? I’ll walk you to ‘em,” you told her. 

The woman nodded. “Yeah, um, my friend—” she hiccuped, “my friend Sarah lives around here.”

“Okay, can you call Sarah? Let her know you’re on your way?”

She nodded again, and you rubbed her back with your hand to soothe her while you started walking toward her friend’s apartment.

You got to know her as you walked to help her calm down and distract her from what had just happened. Her tears slowly subsided, and you seemed to have calmed her down by the time you arrived at her friend’s apartment complex. She hugged you tightly after announcing the two of you had made it. 

“Thank you so much,” she told you. 

“Anytime,” you told her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She nodded and headed up the front steps. She turned to you when she reached the door, waving goodbye one last time.

***

You somehow managed to get back to the motel. Surprisingly, Sarah’s apartment hadn’t been too far from it. You only needed to walk about thirty minutes before you stumbled upon it. 

“Hey,” you said as you opened the door to the Winchesters’ room. Both Dean and Sam were packing. “How’s everybody doin?”

Sam looked demoralized. “You were right. It wasn't an angel. It was Gregory. I don't know, guys, I just, uh—” he sat down on the bed. “I wanted to believe… so badly. It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. You're all alone, you know? And there's so much evil out there in the world, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up—”

Dean sat next to him. “Yeah, well, don't worry about that. All right? I'm watching out for you.”

The brunet smiled. “Yeah, I know you are. But you're just one person, Dean. And I needed to think that there was something else, watching too, you know? Some higher power. Some greater good. And that maybe…” he trailed off.

“Maybe what?” you asked.

“Maybe I could be saved.” He suddenly realized what he admitted and chuckled nervously. “But, uh, you know, that just clouded my judgment, and you're right. I mean, we've gotta go with what we know, with what we can see, with what's right there in front of our own two eyes.”

“Yeah, well, it's funny you say that,” Dean said.

“Why?” you asked.

“Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information. That guy in the car was bad news. We barely got there in time.”

“What happened to him?” you questioned.

“He's dead.”

“Did… Did you?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No. But I'll tell you one thing. If— The way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes I never would have believed it. I mean— I don't know what to call it.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “What? Dean, what did you see?” 

“Maybe… God's will.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[losers-clvb]

mayor's banquet pt. 2 // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x female!reader

summary: you and sam do not get along. after a hunt where you're put in danger, you're forced to come to terms with the fact that you two are more compatible than you think.

content: enemies to sort of lovers, canon typical violence, arguing, maybe out of character sam and dean, no use of y/n, reader is about to be killed at end

word count: 2.7k

note: i lied. it's gonna have to be three parts. sorry! but the last part will be out later today (it's currently 1:25 am on 1/2 for me), and that will contain the smut. if you haven't already, read the first part of this before continuing on, and if you were looking forward to the smut, check out my other sam winchester fic. for everyone who has liked and reblogged the other fic, thank you so much!

masterlist part three

----

You woke up to a low chuckle at the end of the bed. You were first confused, then you felt a pair of muscled arms holding you close. Your own arms were wrapped around Sam, putting the two of you in a very damning position. And there, at the end of the bed, was the witness to this. Dean, who shot you a bright smile.

“You look so sweet like this.” He said, in his typical Dean sarcasm. “Not like the usual pain in the ass you two normally are.”

You moved away from Sam, waking him in the process. You looked each other in the eyes, daring the other to speak. This ended with you moving off the bed, already missing the warmth that Sam had offered you. It had been a couple years since you had woken up in someone’s arms and it had been nice for a moment. Until you realized they were Sam’s and you knew there was no way you could ever have admitted to enjoying his company.

Dean laughed again as Sam sat up. The older Winchester brother looked like he had been up for a while, having already gotten dressed and ready for the day. It would be a long one. You three had to think up a way to kill not only George Wilson, but also the rest of his family. It wouldn’t be easy but when was it ever easy in any situation you found yourself in.

“Guess he’s a cuddler, huh?” Dean joked and nudged you with his elbow. Laughter danced in his eyes while a storm cloud stirred in yours. You weren’t enjoying his little game of embarrassing you, and from the look on Sam’s face, he felt the same. You turned away, hauling your bag onto the bed. As you moved to go into the bathroom to change, you felt eyes on you. They weren’t Dean’s, he was currently outside on the phone, chatting away to Bobby. You moved your head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the brunette watching you move. You scowled, causing him to look away quickly. You assumed he was so invested in you because he was searching for some way to make what had happened your fault. If only you knew what was going on in his mind.

Sam had known he was in love with you for around a month now. He felt it when his heart fluttered when you were around. When you smiled or laughed, making him want to do the same. It was something he wasn’t prepared for when you had joined their team. In fact, he had hated you at first. He truly thought you would just get in the way of saving his brother from going to Hell. That you would just be another person he had to keep safe. Somewhere between then and now he had seen keeping you safe as a basic responsibility rather than a chore. He had wanted to tell you, but as far as he knew you hated him. So, out of some sense of self preservation, he had begun to put walls up around him. He would argue with you about small things, like where everyone would eat. If you wanted to fight, then he would fight. He tried not to start them, but sometimes, you would do just the right thing that would make his heart reach for you, and in a sick way to protect himself he would lash out on you. It didn’t make sense, but love didn’t make sense, right?

As you opened the door to exit the bathroom, you came face to face - or face to chest - with Sam. You looked up at him, frowning when he didn’t move right away. He cleared his throat before shifting to let you pass, but your shoulder still brushed him on your way out. You tilted your head in confusion and turned towards the now shut bathroom door. You were still staring at it when Dean came back into the room.

“Are you trying to memorize the wood grain? We got things to do, come on.” He spoke in his usual joking lilt. You turned to face him and rolled your eyes. His words did get you moving and you continued the things you had to do.

“Does Sam seem… weird to you?” You asked with a low voice, careful to not let Sam overhear. Dean looked at you with a smirk and you instantly regretted saying anything.

“Well, are you sure you didn’t try to feel him up in the middle of the night?” Dean waggled his eyebrows. The door to the bathroom opened to reveal a confused Sam.

“Who’s she trying to feel up?” Sam asked which caused you to roll your eyes again, this time in real annoyance. You quickly finished what you were doing before walking out of the motel room and slamming the door behind you.

----

It was already dark out by the time you had made it outside the bar. You were slightly early in hopes that you could get there before George to prepare yourself. Unfortunately, he had beat you there. You had to admit that he was handsome. If you could get past the whole immortal being who performs human sacrifices, he would be quite the catch.

You walked towards him and the only sound in the area was the clicking of your heels. You had gone shopping this afternoon for a second hand formal dress and shoes, alone because Dean hadn't wanted to sit there and there was no way you were asking Sam. The get up wasn't your usual style due to the limits in movement it put on you but it was better suited to the occasion than your usual jeans and t-shirt. When you revealed the outfit to the boys, it was like watching a reality makeover show. Dean shot you a few suggestive comments, yet Sam was silent. You could have sworn you saw his jaw flex and a fire roar in his eyes, but he didn't say anything, good or bad, about your change.

“You look beautiful tonight.” George spoke with a flirty undertone.

“You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Wilson.” George was wearing a suit, minus any kind of tie. You watched as his eyes lit up in what reminded you of a cat when it set its eyes on a mouse. It left you feeling uneasy but you told yourself that Sam and Dean would be around all night long with weapons far deadlier than the knife you had hidden on your side.

“Oh please, Mr. Wilson is my father.” George told you while taking you hand in his again. This time you were prepared for the chill and held through. You smiled warmly at him as he led you to the banquet.

----

An hour had passed by before you spotted Sam and Dean. They were dressed in their usual suits, the ones they used to pose as FBI. You locked eyes with Dean and he sent you a charming smile. Sam only rolled his eyes and turned away as George spun you in circles. You had only been dancing for a few minutes, but you were already starting to forget why it was so important to kill this man. He was so charming, so patient, so…

“Who are those guys? Your brothers… cousins maybe?” You heard the words close to your ear as George held you close, dancing to a slow song. You laughed softly at the idea of it.

“Just close friends.” You replied as you felt his hand fall down your back. You watched as Sam and Dean turned a corner, going to find the room where you were supposed to lure George. They looked to be arguing, or more of Sam arguing while Dean laughed, assumingly making jokes about whatever Sam was frustrated about. You held on to George, forcing yourself to not get caught up in his glamour. Your eyes darted to a clock on the wall, seeing that it was almost the time when you were supposed to sneak the man away.

“Do you wanna go somewhere more… private?” You purred in his ear. You felt both of his hands go to your hips.

“Anything for my dazzling date” was the last thing you heard before being led in the same direction Sam and Dean had gone.

----

Meanwhile, Sam was absolutely losing it. Dean knew everything. Every thought Sam had about you, every feeling. He had figured it out a small amount of time before Sam had, seemingly knowing his brother better than he knew himself. Of course, his first reaction to his little brother telling him was sliding a condom across the motel table while you were out. Little did Dean know that he would become his brother's sole confidant. Any time you made him flustered or angry, Dean had to hear about it. Tonight was no different when he spotted George's hand on your lower back.

“Come on Dean, why couldn't we have done this without her? Left her in the room where she would be safe and not have some immortal man groping her.” Sam whispered angrily. He listened to his brother chuckle, which only made him huff out a breath.

“This was her plan, Sammy. She knows what she's doing, and she needs to be the one to do it.” Dean replied as he searched for any lingering guests in the hallways. The last thing he needed was some old lady asking why he was there.

Sam knew his words were true. Of course he did. It was the same for him when they were looking for Azazel. He needed to kill the demon that had killed his mother. It still didn't stop the image of you so close with George flash behind his eyes every time he blinked.

Once they reached the room they needed, they started to set up. Rope and duct tape hidden behind a vase to contain the family members when they entered the room. They made sure any other exits were blocked off. They couldn't mess this up. Overnight, there were two more deaths, which left one sacrifice before the only time in this century to kill the family would pass. They knew whatever scared townsperson that was chosen would be hard to deal with once the fighting began, but there wasn't much they could do about that.

Now, all they had to do was wait for you and George to walk through the door.

----

You didn’t remember when it had started, but you were making out with George Wilson. It felt like you were in a dream. Your head was fuzzy and his hands were everywhere. The pair of you moved down the hallway in a tangle of limbs. His kiss was rough with no intent to bring you pleasure. You knew you should stop, knew this was wrong, it was all wrong. But you couldn’t. Maybe, just maybe, George was good. Maybe he was against everything his family had done. You were almost ready to throw the whole “killing him” thing out the window when you heard him say your name.

You stopped with a sharp intake of breath. You hadn’t told him your name. It hadn’t come up all night, he hadn’t asked, and you were sure you had never said it. You pushed away from him. He hung his head low as a laugh rattled from his chest. His eyes had lost the charming glint from earlier.

“You never told me your name, did you?” George asked. He stalked towards you while you backed up. Eventually your back hit the wall and you reached for the knife on your thigh. You could feel him growing closer and once he was within range, you swung your arm towards him. The blade nicked his cheekbone, causing a trickle of blood to run down his face. That was all it could do however, because he grabbed your wrist and twisted it until you dropped the weapon. You cried out in pain and hoped it wasn't broken.

“Do you really think you can kill me? Your great grandmother couldn't.” George sneered as he pushed you to your knees. He grabbed you by your hair and dragged you to a nearby room. It wasn't right. No, this wasn't the right room. Sam and Dean weren't here, the weapons and ropes weren't here. You scratched at George's arm and though it drew some spots of blood, he didn't even flinch.

“And your mother? God, she was a sorry excuse for a hunter. She was never going to kill me, kill us.” George rambled on as he threw you to the middle of the floor. You fell with a thump, trying your best to regain your thoughts. How could you do this by yourself, how could you get out of this? You felt George's hands on you again and you kicked at him. What was he doing?

He jumped away, but not before wrapping his hand around your phone. He opened it and searched through the contacts. You could feel a throbbing pain on your head.

“Ah. Here we go.” George said, smiling at you. He kneeled down to your level. “The Winchesters, a troublesome pair. You're going to tell them everything was a mistake, that you had it wrong like the stupid bitch you are, and I'll consider killing you quickly. You falter once and I kill all three of you.” He growled out the last part while daring you to object. You breathed in, still trying to find a way to get out of this. He had to have weapons somewhere, right?

He held the phone up to your ear. You heard the ringing of the line trying to go through before someone picked up. When you heard your name, something flipped in your brain. Sam. The stupid son of a bitch called Sam. You knew what you had to do, how you could tell them without actually saying it.

“Sam, I was wrong. About everything. It's some local asshole who's killing people. George and his family, they're good people,” you cut a glare to George with the last three words, “they wouldn't hurt anyone. Just go back to the room. I'll meet you there after the banquet.” You paused, waiting for the man in the other line to catch up to your words.

“Um, okay?” Sam replied, confusion lacing his words. “Are you sure? You were pretty adamant about this yesterday.”

“Yes, I'm fine. Just - I gotta go.” You stopped, trying to make your next set of words believable to George. “I love you, Sam.” You felt the phone pull away as George snapped it shut, ending the call. You rolled your eyes, feeling nothing but annoyance and hatred for the man in front of you.

“Aw, wasn’t that just so sweet?” George mocked you as he walked about the room. He was gathering items as he walked. He held braids of ribbon, one of which he tied snugly around your head as if it were a crown. It was then you knew what he was doing. You were the last sacrifice. You knew he was going to kill you, but you just assumed it would have been after everything was said and done. He snatched your hands together before tying them in front of you with another ribbon. He pulled you to your knees and forced you into a position that made you look like you were praying.

“You know, I killed your great grandmother. Yeah, she was difficult at first, but it was oh so sweet to slice my blade across her neck.” George pulled an ancient looking knife from a drawer. He walked a circle around you as if trying to take a mental picture of this moment. He stopped behind you. You felt his cold touch on the side of your head and his cold blade touch your neck. You closed your eyes, feeling fear wash over you. This was the closest to death you had been. Your heart felt like it was about to stop in your chest. You hoped Dean would find you soon, hell, you were to the point of wanting Sam to come to your rescue.

“And I bet your blood is going to look just as beautiful.” George finished.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: minor fluff, angst, murder (implied), character death

Summary: One good deed turns into your worst nightmare, one that you can’t stop from coming.

Square Filled: heartbreak (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Before you can leave the bedroom, Dean pulls you in again and kisses you. He knows exactly what to do to get you to stay, but you promised your friend you’d go shopping with her. You wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to get lost in the kiss for exactly five seconds before you pull away.

“I gotta go, Dean,” you giggle.

“Come on, stay. I’ll do that thing you like,” he smirks.

“No. It’s not fair to use sex to hold me here. I’ll only be gone a few hours at most. You’re so clingy,” you laugh and push him off you. “You’ll survive for a few hours. I promise.”

“Okay, fine, but you’re not leaving my bedroom when you get back.”

“Deal,” you chuckle. “If I’m not back by seven, you have my permission to come get me.”

You kiss Dean quickly before leaving the bedroom. Dean won’t let you take his precious car so you opt to take one of the other older ones in the bunker’s garage. They’re all vintage classics that Savy fell in love with when she first saw them. She’ll appreciate you taking the 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Savvy is only in town for a few days on business so you only have a few days to hang with her before she goes back home on the East Coast.

“How are you and Jerry doing?” you ask when you pick her up.

Normally, the drive to the mall is only twenty minutes if you take the main roads and the highway. The weather is nice so you opt to take the back roads which will add another thirty minutes to the ride. Neither of you mind.

“We’re trying for another baby, so that’s exciting.” She already has four kids so you’re surprised she wants to bring another one into the world. “What about you? Any kids for you and Dean?”

“Savy, we’ve only been dating for six months.”

“So? You’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t want kids, and I don’t think Dean will have an issue with me not wanting kids.” Kids don’t fit into the hunting life. “Plus, we’re taking things at a nice pace. He just asked me to move into the Bunker last week.”

“That must be easier for hunting.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Are you happy, Y/N?”

“Very. Are you happy?”

“I am,” she smiles.

“Good.”

You turn the music up and let the wind blow through your hair as you drive down the desolate road. You turn the corner and see a gray car parked on the side of the road about one hundred yards away. There is a man standing by the car with his hands on his head like he’s stressed about his car situation. You slow down and turn the music off when you approach the man.

“Car trouble?”

“Yeah. My tire is flat, my phone is dead, and I don’t know how to change a tire. I know what you’re thinking. A man doesn’t know how to change a tire? I was never a car man, and no one ever taught me,” he chuckles nervously.

“Do you have a spare?”

“Yeah, in the back.”

“I know how to change a tire. I can help you.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

You pull up in front of the car, and Savy looks at you with concern.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?”

“I’m just changing a tire. It’s fine. Ten minutes tops.” You get out of the car. “Stay here.”

“Thank you for stopping. I would have had to walk home,” the man chuckles. “I’m Peter.”

“Y/N. That’s Savy, and it’s no problem. I’d want someone to stop for me.”

You take the spare from the back and get started on taking the current tire off the car. You have just undone the lugnuts from the rim when your phone rings from your car.

“Dean is calling you.”

“Answer it. Tell him I’ll only be a minute.”

Savy grabs your phone and answers his call.

“Y/N’s phone. How may I help you?”

“Where is Y/N?”

“She’s busy right now. Can I take a message?”

“Just tell her to call me when she can,” Dean says and hangs up. Dean puts his phone down and looks at his brother who is looking at his iPad. “So, you thinking ghost possession?”

“Well, the witnesses claim to see black goo coming out of the victims’ ears before they killed themselves.”

“Yeah, ghost possession. We’ll leave in an hour. We’ll pick up Y/N on the way.” Forty-five minutes later, Dean enters the man cave to grab something when he sees you sitting on the couch staring at the TV that’s turned to the news. “I thought you’d be gone for a few hours. When did you get in?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Oh, well, Sam found a case a few states away. He’s thinking ghost possession. You in?” You don’t answer and continue to look at the TV. “Are you okay?”

“Look what’s on the news.”

Dean walks closer to you and pays attention to the news reporter.

“While on a car chase, authorities discovered a 2003 gray Honda Civic abandoned on the side of the road. When authorities looked closer, there were signs of a struggle. We’re not clear as to what may have taken place, but they found two women’s purses on the ground. It is presumed that two women are missing, but their identities remain a mystery as of right now. Back to you, Sam.”

The news coverage changes to another news reporter who is already on the scene.

“Yes, Jill, what happened here is a tragedy. Local authorities are doing everything they can to locate the two women, hopefully alive.” Shouts from the officers can be heard, and Sam looks behind him to see what is going on. “This just in, I think they found a body.” Sam turns back to the camera. “I am unsure if they are able to identify the body. When we have more information, you’ll be the first to know. Back to you, Jill.”

“Wow, that’s so sad,” Dean says.

You look at Dean with unshed tears in your eyes.

“I’m at the bottom of Waconda Lake.”

“What?”

“Who are you talking to?” Sam asks when he pops his head in. Suddenly, you mist away, and realization dawns on Dean’s face. His knees buckle and he has to sit down before he crumbles to the ground. “Dude, you okay?”

“I think Y/N’s dead.”

x

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[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Here For (older sister version)

Dean Winchester x big sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you help Dean through a couple different kinds of pain. (I did a big sister and little sister version of it. You can find the little sister version here)

Your head lifted at Dean’s grunt of pain. You turned to see him, antiseptic in hand as he tried to clean a large gash on his arm.

“Give it,” you held out your hand to your little brother, who barely spared you a glance.

“I’m fine.”

“Dean, give it.”

He huffed and reluctantly handed you the bottle of antiseptic, as well as the bandages.

“Don’t look,” you instructed as you poured the liquid onto his arm. “It just makes it hurt worse.”

“I’m not a baby,” the teen grunted.

“Didn’t say that,” you said as you bandaged his arm. “Just said don’t look.”

You tied off the bandage and gave your little brother a smile.

“You should sleep.”

“You’re babying me again.”

“Heck yeah I am,” you grinned. “That’s what older sisters are for.”

…

You ran your hands over your face as the front door slammed shut, the impala’s engine starting up as John drove away.

You went to the fridge to grab a water bottle, but froze when you noticed something. There was a full case of beer in the fridge earlier, and it was almost empty. Groaning, you closed the fridge and went to find the only other person here with you.

“Dean!”

“What?” You heard his angry growl from the other side of the room and rolled your eyes.

“You’ve gotta tone it down on the drinking.”

He grunted, “Yeah, thanks mom, I’ll get right on that.”

“Don’t be a brat,” you scoffed, reaching over and snatching the bottle out of his hands, ignoring his protests. “You’ve had too much already, go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You won’t be if you don’t get your butt into that bed in the next twenty seconds.”

“You can’t-“

“I can do whatever I want, and I most certainly can beat the crap outta you. Now get.”

Dean grumbled, groaned, and rolled his eyes…

But he also did exactly what you said.

…

Dean was sitting on his bed, his head ducked low. You could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the tension in his fists. He was trying so hard to appear normal, but you knew him better.

“Hey Dean,” your voice was quiet as you approached your little brother.

“Oh great,” he groaned. “Now comes the chick flick moments.”

“Shut up, you punk,” somehow you managed to get the words out without sounding angry, and when you said them Dean finally looked up.

“What do you want?” He asked after a moment.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry about Sammy.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean growled.

“Ok, so we won’t talk,” you sat down next to your brother, and the two of you sat in silence for several long minutes.

“He’ll be back,” you said finally. “I know he will. He just has to go his own way for a while.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes you do, but I know you won’t admit it, so I guess we’re at an impasse.”

“What do you want from me?” Dean demanded. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” you admitted. “I just want you to let me help you for once, you stubborn idiot.”

“What?”

You sighed, reaching up and pulling Dean into your arms.

“This,” you insisted. “Just let me do this. I know you’re hurting, you know you’re hurting. We’re both going to miss Sam. We don’t have to talk about it, but we’re not gonna ignore it either. So let me do this.”

Dean was uncomfortably stiff for a moment, before his body finally relaxed and you felt his arms wrap around you.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” you smiled.

“Y/N?”

You hummed.

“Thanks.”

Your smile grew wider.

“That’s what big sisters are for.”

[agvstdr]

Isolated - Sam Winchester

Summary: The Winchester brothers have decided to split up, each going their own way. But will Sam really be alone?

a few months ago sam and dean decided to split up. the news reached me while i was in the car with the intention of reaching them, to find a solution to stop the apocalypse.

so i asked myself what to do, whether to follow sam and help him have a normal life or whether to help dean: anyone could think that the right choice is to follow dean and help the world but it is clear that dean does not want me to follow him, perhaps because he knows that i am very attached to sam. so i was left alone too, i followed some cases, killing monsters that came my way: losing news of both winchesters. at the end of a particularly difficult case, i stop at the first bar i find on the road, when i enter i immediately realize that a bartender is sam.

"sam?"

the girl next to him, looks first at me and then at him, surely wondering what kind of relationship there is between us.

"isn't your name kit?" the girl asks sam who nods

i then understand that he hasn't revealed his real name and i understand that i got him in trouble.

"it's my middle name." he answers making her laugh

"yes, his middle name is samuel, that makes more sense." i add trying to help him

"how do you know each other?" the girl asks again, who is starting to be too curious for my taste.

"we've been friends for many years." I answer hoping she'll leave us alone, when she doesn't it's sam who intervenes.

"come on i'll buy you a beer."

"what are you doing here? were you hunting?"

"yeah, a ghost pissed off with his family."

i know he wants to ask me something and i know what it is: he wants to know about dean.

"i don't know anything about dean, if you want to know, i offered to help him but he refused, we haven't spoken since." i explain and he nods, he was definitely hoping i knew something about his brother and i'm sorry i can't help him. we don't have time to say anything else, that a group of hunters, easily recognizable, enters the bar and starts talking to sam: they are talking far from where i am sitting, so i can't understand what they are asking him but it is clear that whatever it is, sam said no.

"they wanted help with some demons that are roaming the city, i said no."

"i could have gone." i say getting up to join the hunters who have just left the place, sam, however, stops me.

"no, i don't trust them, stay here."

i do as i say, and i stay with him until the bar closes.

the calm atmosphere is interrupted by two hunters who had entered a few hours before: one of them points a knife at the girl's throat while the other starts talking to sam, ignoring me.

"demons killed my friend but they said some interesting things about you."

"demons lie."

"then tell me it's not true that you drank demon blood and that you didn't start the apocalypse."

a deep silence falls in the bar, sam can't deny the truth.

"then it's true." says the hunter as he looks at something in his hands

"either you drink this and help us kill the last demons that are left or she dies."

i realize that what she has in her hands is demon blood.

i look at sam with wide eyes, hoping with all my heart that he doesn't drink that blood, or he will go back to a few months ago.

i can't risk sam drinking it, so i quickly pull out my gun and kill the hunter who had his knife pointed at the girl's throat, who manages to free herself and runs to me for protection. in the meantime sam starts to fight against the hunter who had offered him blood: when he is about to kill him, he stops, seeing both me and the girl looking at him, yet we both know that if this man stays alive he will only create problems.

i don't think twice about pulling out my gun again and killing him too.

"you didn't have to kill him but thank you."

sam and i meet back in the hotel room, after he offers me a roof over my head for the night.

"it had to be done, no problem." i smile at him and he smiles back

we sit in silence for a few moments, sitting next to each other, then i decide to speak my mind.

"i'm not mad at you sam, sure i'm sorry about what happened but i understand why you did it. and even if it doesn't seem like it, dean will too, he just needs time."

sam looks at me and seems really surprised by my words: it's definitely not what he expected.

"thank you so much."

then unexpectedly he rests his head on my shoulder, as if he's looking for comfort and I hope he's receiving it.

sitting next to sam, in such an intimate way, I understand that my place is here with him.

[roonyxx]

Healing Love: Part 2

Summary: You have a normal life as a nurse, and you are content with it. But then a storm called Dean Winchester rolls into it and you get swept away by his charms. But secrets linger and threaten to drown you both.

Pairing: Dean x Witch!nurse!reader

Word count: 2455

Chapter warnings: angst, wounds and medical stuff (i am no professional and have no idea what the real treatments are), fluff.

support me :)

Healing Love Masterlist

My Masterlist

Deviders made by @firefly-graphics, give her some love!

The day at work seemed to last forever but eventually your shift ended and you hurried home, you jumped in the shower to shave, scrub, wax, all of it.

By the time you fed Quinn and are all dressed up it is seven.

You check your phone, no news. Which is not abnormal, he might be driving.

You sit on your porch while waiting for Dean to show up.

Seven thirty rolls around and no news.

You dare to send him a little text.

“Hey, it was seven at my place, right?” you send to him.

No answer. It’s not even read.

Quinn can feel your sadness at being stood up and lays his furry head on your lap.

“Perhaps he’s just late.” You tell him while stroking his ears.

Or he stood you up…

Around eight you go back inside and take off your heels. You really thought he liked yesterday’s kiss…

Was it a bad kiss? To you it was the best kiss ever. But maybe not to him? Is that why he ghosted you?

A smile blooms on your face when you hear your phone ringing, but as soon as it came it fades at the unfamiliar number.

“Damn spammers.” You mutter while hanging up.

Was it a little high hopes on your side that Dean wanted to go out on a date with you? Maybe… he is extremely beautiful. But he was the one who suggested it. It made no sense.

The number pops up on your screen again and you grunt while you hang up. Only for the number to pop up again.

“Jeez this one is motivated.” You sigh.

You stare at the number, maybe it’s work?

Not like you have plans for tonight anyway. You pick up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Y/N?” A strange voice asks you, but there is something similar about it.

“Yeah? Who is asking?” You frown.

“My name is Sam, I’m Dean’s brother, we need your help.” He sounds in a hurry, or worried even.

“My help?” That couldn’t be good…”Where is Dean?”

“He got hurt, badly… I know you don’t know me but- but he needs you. I will send you coordinates, could you come to us?”

“If he’s hurt badly he needs to go to a hospital.” You say, hurt again? Yesterday the cut, today this…

What are they involved in?

“That’s not an option, please Y/n, I- I don’t think he will get through the night without you.” He sounds so desperate.

Rubbing your face you grab your big bag for emergencies. “Send me the address, I will come.”

“Thank you” he sighs with relief “I sent the text, you text me when you’re here. Hurry please, Y/n.” And then he hangs up.

Walking with your big bag to your car you check the coordinates.

Who uses coordinates? You put them in your gps and see it’s just on the edge of town. You speed down the roads to get there within thirty minutes.

You get out of your car and frown, there is nothing but an old factory and woods here.

You send your text to Sam, telling him you’re here.

The big metal door of the factory opens with a loud creak.

“Y/n! Hurry, he’s in here.” Sam says from the opening.

You hurry down the little steps and follow Sam inside and look over the railing with wide eyes.

This isn’t an old factory…

The magic inside you immediately reacts to the sigils that are hidden in the walls. This whole building is magical, powerful. Your magic eases against the sigils with a soft hand, reassuring them you are not a threat. Once they are soothed they stop oppressing you like an intruder.

Inside is a very big room with many lights and machines you don’t understand. A big world map table lighting up in the middle.

And on that table is an unconscious Dean, bleeding heavily from his stomach and his face is covered in blood from a cut you can’t see.

“Oh god…” You run down the few stairs and get to the table.

“What happened!” You scream at Sam while you get to work.

Ripping open your bag you get out your stethoscope and listen for his heartbeat. It’s there but weak…

Bloodpressure is too low, he lost a lot of blood…

“What is his blood type?” You ask while cutting open his shirt.

His stomach… It’s shredded, this needs a surgeon, not a nurse.

“His b-bloodtype uhm” I can see Sam shaking in the corner of my eye, “we’re both O.” He eventually says.

“Sam…”

“I can’t explain what happened, he got c-cut open. Please… do something.”

“I’m not a surgeon.” You pant, the panic and magic rising within you.

He needs my magic but…

But the way he gets hurt every day, no hospital, the magic of this place...

Your eyes water while looking at his unconscious face, of course he has to be a damn hunter…

Hunters murdered your friend ten years ago. You swore to her to never get near a hunter again, it was the last thing she asked of you.

You have plenty of catheters and bags to make a blood transfusion. It’s not at all like the protocol in the hospital but it will have to do.

You can’t let him die.

“Sam, you need to get me some tape, water, a bowl, a lighter, and all the bandages you have. Go now.”

Sam nods and runs out of the room.

Giving you the chance to be alone with Dean.

You put on your gloves and start cleaning his stomach as much as possible to see the damage.

Definitely werewolf claws…

You grunt, “I can’t stitch this much shredded skin…”

You look over your shoulder to make sure Sam isn’t here and take off your gloves to start rubbing your hands together.

They heat up and start glowing with a golden light, you make your hands hover over his wound.

It is impossible to heal it all, your magic untrained and rarely used. But you will do what is possible.

You know that with training you would be able to heal a lot of things, but using it is very dangerous and it drains you. A lot.

You focus on healing the cells of his intestines, healing every precious organ that is inside, then you focus on the peritoneum, the bag that seals the intestines.

Sweat is forming on your brow and you wipe it away with your sleeve to prevent it from falling inside his wound.

Dizziness is creeping in and you push your magic to knit his stomach muscles back together and heal the edges of his wound, you can stitch them when they are less shredded.

You are panting heavily by the time your magic runs out. But you check his wound and are satisfied to see his muscles are perfectly closed.

You thread your needle, black spots are creeping into your vision but you push through.

Sam comes running in with everything you asked for.

“Tell me what to do.” He says.

“Check his head, find the cut and tell me if it’s deep, clean up as much as you can.”

He nods and does exactly that while you stitch his layers of skin back together.

“It’s not deep but bleeding hard, it’s just on the edge of his hairline.”

“Keep pressure on it and use butterfly bandage to put it back together. It should hold.”

I finish with my stitches and put a big bandage over his stomach, then wrapping a compression bandage around his entire waist to keep it all in place.

You move next to Sam to check Dean’s head, it is indeed not very deep and what Sam did will be sufficient.

You go to Dean’s arm and put in a catheter, you give him some antibiotics to fight of any bacteria that got in his open wound and a shit ton of pain killers, then you move to Sam.

“Sam, sit, he needs blood.”

You grab his arm and start drawing blood to make a transfusion.

After Sam donated the maximum he can, you make shift a pole to hook the blood bag so it can slowly enter Dean.

“You’re both very lucky to have O.” You sigh, exhaustion is starting to claim you but Dean can’t stay on the table, he needs to be comfy. You give Sam just a little time and hand him a cookie to get his sugars up.

“Can you carry him?” You ask Sam.

He nods “I can. W-will he be okay?”

“He can’t stay on the table. I don’t know yet, I gave him a lot of pain meds, he should wake up in a few hours, or his heart can stop from the trauma.” I say as my eyes stay on his chest, that’s slowly moving up with each breath he takes.

Alive. He’s alive.

Sam carefully picks Dean up. You stay close, making sure the blood bag stays above Dean’s head.

Sam walks him through the enormous building and reaches what you presume is Dean’s bedroom and puts him in the bed.

You arrange his pillow and cover him so he doesn’t get cold, then grab a chair and sit next to his bed.

You take off your smart watch, turn on the sound and wrap it around Dean’s wrist, a faint beeping noise sounding that follows the rhythm of his heart.

“Get some rest Sam, I will be here, if his heart stops, my watch will make an alarm noise, I will stay here, making sure he’s okay.”

“I want to stay here.” He argues.

“I can’t have you in the room when he crashes, which is a chance. Go to bed, try to rest. You will need your strength when he wakes up.”

If he wakes up…

Sam gives a little nod and reluctantly leaves.

You slump in the chair and watch Dean breathe. The exhaustion will claim you soon, so you learn forward and touch his chest, putting your very last magic into his heart. The weak rhythm of his heart starts to pick up,  with your magic it became stronger.

With the reassurement that he won’t die, you stop fighting the exhaustion and pass out.

“Y/n?” you hear your name being faintly said, but your eyes won’t open just yet. Your body feels as if it is submerged in deep dark waters, every movement feels heavy and hard.

“Y/n?” your name is repeated, and you can feel yourself rising up to the surface of consciousness.

Your eyes peel themselves open and made contact with two spring forest green eyes.

Dean.

Dean!

Your eyes jump open and you reach his side.

“You’re awake.” You gasp, you check the watch around his wrist and see three hours have passed, his heartbeat and blood pressure are not perfect yet but they are good enough.

“How do you feel?” You ask him while taking off the now empty blood bag from his catheter.

“Not great.” He winces with a small smile, “But seeing you definitely helps.”

He still looks very pale.

“Pain?” You ask him while getting some more painkiller in a needle and putting it in his catheter.

He nods.

“This will help.”

He carefully lifts the covers to see his stomach, all wrapped up. “The last time I looked here I saw inside myself… I thought-“ he swallows hard and looks at you, “I missed our date.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “You almost died and you’re thinking about our date?”

“I was looking forward to it.” He defends.

“Me too.” You softly whisper.

“This isn’t what I had in mind as a date.” He lowers the cover again, “How did you get here?”

“Sam called me urgently, saying he needed my help and let me in. Good he did, I managed to help you, the next weeks will be hard, Dean. We will see each other a lot more. You talked about me to Sam?”

The smile he gives you is far from weak, “To see you a lot more doesn’t sound bad at all. I did… I was excited to tell him about you.”

You give him a smile back, blushing at how he wanted to tell his brother about you.

How you ever doubted for a second to not use your magic to heal him.

You would risk it all just to see him smile.

“What was your idea of a date?” You ask him to keep his mind, and perhaps your own, off how close he came to dying.

“Something cheesy, like a picknick in a field with a pretty sunset. Dropping you back at your place after we had a great time and then, then I would kiss you again.” He says.

You smile, “So you’re a romantic guy, huh?”

“Very.” He grins and tries to lean towards you, only resulting in him hissing.

“Careful!” You say and help him adjust his position by putting your arms around his naked shoulders and tugging gently on his pillow.

“That’s the second time you ripped of my clothes, you know if you want to see me naked sweetheart, all you have to do is ask.”

“You’re such a flirt.” You smile at him and realize how close your faces are together, you glance down at his lips.

“I regret not kissing you tonight.” He whispers against your lips.

“Tonight isn’t over yet.” You whisper back.

He smiles and closes the gap between you two. Kissing you deeply.

You carefully cup his face, kissing him back.

He moans when your tongue brushes against the seam of his lips, asking for entrance, which he grants.

His hand comes up to brush your cheek. He tilts his head to the side and deepens the kiss, more moans spilling out from his mouth.

You’re panting against him, your hands slipping in his hair as you get lost in him.

A harsh hiss breaks you apart and you see that he tried to pull you closer, resulting in hurting himself. You slowly peel yourself away from Dean.

“You need to rest,” you pant, your lips swollen and wet from his kiss, “No excessive moving for you for at least two weeks.”

“The idea of taking a nurse on a date is much sexier than in real life.” He grunts as lays back down more comfortably, “No excessive moving, so no kissing?” he gives you the biggest puppy eyes, almost as cute as Quinn’s.

You blush and say “Only kissing is okay. Calm kissing.”

“I can survive with calm kissing,” he smiles then winks, “For now.”

You blush even harder and smile.

“Rest Dean, you need it. I will be here.”

Forever Tags 2024: @jay-and-dean @flamencodiva @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @hobby27

Dean tags 2024: @akshi8278 @pink-sparkly-witch @verytoadpapersoul @eevvvaa @muhahaha303 @alwaystiredandconfused @deansimpalababy @globetrotter28

Healing Love tags: @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @suckitands33 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @brightlilith @snowayumi

send me an ask if you want to be on any of my tag lists! (or if you want to be removed)

[rav-not-found]

Heyy! I saw you wanted to try out writing a request or two, so here I am✨

I was wondering if I could request a Dean and/or Sam winchester x reader (sepperately if you choose to do both, like two sepperate one shots in the same post) with an established relationship where they get a motel room that only has two beds, so reader has to share a bed with the winchester they're with, and it's just some awkward fluff where both are just figuring things out in this fresh relationship

Thank you!!

there was only two beds -

I love that actually!

———————————————-

Dean winchester x reader, established relationship, fluff

————————————————————————-

Its been a Long drive to Colorado for this seemingly complicated case, it seemed like forever since you have gotten a good nights sleep and tomorrow morning you have to hit the morgue first thing if you want to see the bodies before they are transported to the funeral homes.

you want nothing more than to go kick your boots, peel the layers of clothing off of you and Finally lay down, but to your surprise when Dean opens the motel room, there was only two beds.

All three of you look at each other, unsure who should go in first or where - but before you can really think about it Sam shrugs and goes directly on the closest bed to the door, drops his things, and into the shower he goes

“what a bitch” Dean says with a roll of his eyes, making his way to the other bed before you stop him

“wait where will I sleep then??”

he looks at you a little confused, then a little awkwardness can be seen on his usually confident face

“I- uhm” he clears his throat, “I assumed we’d sleep together?- I mean- not like that- of course not like that its been a long day but I meant- if you dont want to I can sleep on the couch its fine-“

you find it hard not to crack a smile at the usually confident and full of bravado Dean who is now closer to an awkward teenager in his first sleep over

“oh no no its okay- im- don’t worry its alright I don’t mind-“ you say with a small chuckle, a little awkward yourself

he goes to put his bag away and places yours next to it, he unpacks a change of clothes for himself and then looks at you hesitantly before reaching into your bag and getting one for you as well

and for a moment there between the silent movements and shuffling of fabrics, you get to see how softly he holds your belongings, how much care and love he exudes for a pair of pants or an old band t-shirt, and god if you could fall in love all over again….

he gets up from where he had placed the bags on the ground and hands the fresh clothes to you, avoiding eye contact like the plague of course.

“..Thanks Dean, appreciate it”

“yeah dont mention it” he risks a look at your soft smile, and a blush starts to creep up his neck, to which he quickly breaks the moment “SAM ARE YOU GONNA BE THERE ALL NIGHT?? WE HAVE BEEN IN THE CAR FOR THE LAST TEN HOURS TOO YOU KNOW.”

you laugh a little at his chosen method of checking on his brother, but it actually works quite quickly as Sam comes out in the next couple of minutes and flips him off. you laugh again.

Dean asks if youd like to go in first, Sam strongly suggests you take him on that offer before he “grossens up the place”, but for deans luck youre a little more tolerant than Sam and you let him go first

the moment hes in, you can see Sam unpacking and putting things aside before he sleeps, but he throws you a look or two of acknowledgment, which make the silence a little less awkward - but not completely.

“do you think I upset him when I didnt assume we’d be sleeping in the same bed?” you asked in a low voice, hoping the walls arent too thin

Sam looks at you with a small smile and a soft look, “nah I think hes just not really used to how….normal relationships function I guess? I think hes more scared of upsetting you than anything”

“oh” it just hits you now that you might be this guys first actual relationship in years, and the awkwardness might not be only from your side of the coin “oh god did I scare him?”

Sam, now laughing, “honestly? maybe, he is a little more insecure than he lets on; but I think you can just assure him and itll be okay” he shakes the chuckle in his throat away “honestly for a couple who are both older than me, it feels like im watching a highschool first crush first relationship kind of situation”

“oh fuck off like youve never had an awkward moment before”

Sam contemplates for a moment “sure yeah, when I was 16”

and with that, you also flip him off, making his success rate of getting flipped off today 2 out of 2 times a 100%

he chuckles and seemingly actually lays down to sleep this time

and conveniently enough for you, Dean comes out of the shower just then, leaving you no time to sit alone in the unsettling motel silence

“I uh” he clears his throat again, youre starting to think he does that whenever he’s nervous “I cleaned it for you - contrary to what Sam might think Im actually good at cleaning so….youre all good to go”

he also avoids your eyes mostly saying this looking down or around before going in the beds direction while you’re going to the bathroom, when you pass each other in the middle, you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and whisper a sincere thank you directly on his skin, he mumbles a “no problem” under his breath in that overly deep voice of his when hes awkward, and makes quick strides to the bed as you go to take a long awaited shower.

when you come out, all clean and fresh, you notice the clothes you are gonna wear neatly folded in pile on the bed next to a “sleeping” Dean who is so tense you could use him as a rock solid analogy, and trying to take such little space its almost funny seeing this six foot man trying to be so small

you change quietly to not wake up Sam, then slide in bed behind Dean and hug him from the back, to which he tenses even more - if thats even possible - before slowly relaxing into your hold

“you okay?” you ask in a whisper, unsure if hes gonna continue playing asleep or will actually reply to you

his reply comes half a minute later “I should be asking you that”

“and why would that be?” you say back, trying to put as much sass in a whisper as you can

“you know why.” if eye rolls could be heard, you just heard it in his voice

before you get to reply though, he continues

“im sorry I didnt really think when I was asking for the room and im so used to asking for doubles because its usually just me and Sam- I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable or assume anything I know this is all a pretty new arrangement and-“

you cut him off, “hey hey hey… Dean, its okay, I swear im not uncomfortable I was honestly just surprised by the bed sizes, it didnt look like itd fit two people, but when you said we’d be together I knew we would be able to fit because I trust your judgment okay? and I have definitely had worse sleeping arrangements than being tightly stacked next to my male-model-pretty boyfriend you know?” your voice was low but soft, full of sincerity

you can hear him chuckle lightly before turning around to face you, “its just been a while since ive had a similar… situation, with anyone - and I really dont want to fuck this up…I really like you you know?”

it was your turn to chuckle now, “I know, and I really really like you too, Dean. Believe me itd take more than a tight bed to get me to even slightly be annoyed at you, youre fine, were fine, okay?” you pause to give him a light kiss “and if Im being completely honest with you, I was kind of hoping this would happen because I really need one of your strong hugs to put my bones back in place after todays drive”

he huffs out a laugh and gives you a kiss too, “in that case, I will gladly become a weighted compression blanket” he says as he changes your positions.

now holding you impossibly close, he hugs you tightly and pulls the covers over your shoulders, with his nose in your hair and your face to his neck, you start drifting to sleep

“I love you” you say in an almost undiscernible whisper, half asleep

“I love you too” he whispers back to himself as he is sure you’re already no longer awake

he stays awake for a bit more in the quiet soft night, holding you tightly and softly smiling to himself

“I love you too” he says once more before falling victim himself to sleep

——————————————————————

this is my first fluff one shot since I tried writing for the first time a year ago or so so I really hope you like it !!^^

and thank you for the request^^

[watchandread02]

For the "Holidays with the Winchesters: A very Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar" by @archervale and @wormstacheangel

Day Eleven: Bells

Ao3

Every year one of the Elves gets to fly in the sleigh with Santa and distribute the presents. It’s probably just a coincidence that Cas has been able to do so the last couple of years.

At least that’s what Dean tells himself, as he makes sure everything is ready for him to make his trip around the world in a few minutes.

“Hello Dean.” Cas suddenly says from behind Dean.

“Dammit Cas, warn a guy. One of these days I’m going to put a bell on you.” Dean tells Cas, as he turns around to face him.

“I’m sorry I startled you, that was not my intention. I just wanted to inform you that I will be the one joining you again this year. Donna seems to have gotten a stomach bug and asked me to fill in for her.” Cas says.

Dean frowns for a moment, this is the fifth year in a row this has happened. Ever since Dean took over the mantle as Santa from his father. Normally the elves randomly pick out a name from a head and that one is lucky to ride in the sleigh and distribute presents together with Santa. Maybe Dean is doing something wrong, if none of the other elves want to fly with him. At least Cas seems happy to take the job.

Cas seems to pick up on Dean’s frustration as he asks, “are you okay with me taking over? I know that I have gone with you for the past four years and you’re probably getting sick of me. I could probably still find someone else to go out with you?”

“No! No. It’s okay. I have nothing against you coming with me. I’m just worried that the others don’t like me very much. They have all avoided going with me ever since I took over. Maybe I’m doing something wrong?” Dean admits as he looks down at his shoes.

This has been a common fear for Dean the past couple of years. Sam and Dean’s father had retired five years ago and so they had taken over. Sam had taken to handling the logistics and overseeing the manufacturing process like a duck to water. The kid was a natural. Dean took over the actual physical part of handing out the presents and checking over the naughty and nice list. Sometimes he works on upgrading the sleigh together with Charlie and makes sure that the sleigh as well as the reindeer are in top condition for the big day, every year. He had also tried to keep his relationship with the elves as good as it had been before his dad had retired. Dean had loved talking with the elves and giving them a helping hand since he had been old enough to do so. A lot of them had seen him grow into the man he was today, so he doesn’t understand why they all seem to avoid being alone with him for those few hours, once a year.

Dean is startled out of his thoughts, as Cas places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t think like that Dean. They all love you very much and I have it on good authority that they admire you. It just seems that any elf lucky enough to go out with you comes down with some kind of illness, on Christmas Eve. I am always very happy to jump in to help out though.”

Dean smiles softly at Cas and thanks him for his kind words. Dean certainly isn’t going to complain, about getting to spend some uninterrupted time with Cas. They’ve also gotten a routine down in the last few years of doing this together, so everything should go smoothly.

Charlie comes up to them to give them the ‘one minute until take off’ warning. Cas and Dean get onto the sleigh and the other elves gather around to watch them fly off into the night.

With the jingeling of the bells around the reindeers necks, they are off to their first stop.

—

Dean checks in with the home base, once they have dropped off the last load of presents. Everything seems to be in order, so Dean prepares to take off for one last time. Cas checks up on the reindeer, before getting into the sled again. Dean holds his hand up and Cas takes it, slotting their fingers together. The first time Dean had held up his hand for Cas for a high five, he hadn’t understood what Dean was trying to do and just intertwined their fingers. Dean hadn’t been strong enough to actually tell Cas what he had been going for. So this has become their tradition. After they finished up their tour, Dean would hold up his hand and Cas would take it. They just sit there like that and stare into each other's eyes for a few minutes.

Their staring contest is interrupted by the radio crackling to live, “home base to Destiel. Home base to Destiel.” Charlie’s voice comes over the loudspeaker.

Dean doesn’t really understand the whole ‘Destiel’ thing, but Charlie refuses to stop using it, so reluctantly he replies, “yes this is Destiel to home base. Everything still good to go?”

“Yes you are cleared for take off. Just wanted to know what is taking you so long?” Charlie replies.

“We are going to prepare for take off now. Cas just checked up on the reindeer, before we took off for home.” Dean tells Charlie. He is definitely not going to tell Charlie that Cas and him had just spent the last couple of minutes pretty much holding hands and looking into each other's eyes. She doesn’t need more ammunition. It’s bad enough that she knows about the crush Dean has on Cas.

Dean takes a quick look at Cas, who nods at him and finally urges the reindeer to take off into the air again.

They are still probably an hour away from home when the reindeer take a sudden dive towards the ground. They land bumpily on the snow covered ground and the second the sleigh comes to a stop, the reindeers’ harnesses disengage and they take off. The tinkling of the bells get quieter until they can’t be heard anymore and are nowhere to be seen.

Cas and Dean look at each other in shock, before Dean breaths out, “What the fuck, just happened?”

—

Back at the north pole

“Are you sure this is going to work this time, Charlie?” Sam asks.

Charlie turns around in her chair at her station, to look up at Sam. “It has to. Cause otherwise I’m out of ideas. We have tried to get them alone for a few hours every year since Dean took over. And even though they have spent hours upon hours alone together nothing seems to happen.”

“Yeah I’m happy all the other elves have gone along with this for the past few years. And also the times outside of that. I don’t even know how many times we have locked them into closets together or tried to get them under the mistletoe together. If it doesn’t happen this year. I don’t know if it ever will.” Sam lets out frustratedly.

“We’ll just try this one last time and maybe a Christmas miracle will happen. After that we may just have to leave them to their own devices.” Charlie says as she turns back around to her monitors.

Sam sighs heavily, “I don’t know if I can take anymore of their staring and their UST. They don’t even listen to me when I’m in the room with them.”

“Well let's initiate our last plan: ‘Operation Destiel’s profound bond’, is a go.” Charlie says as she activates a button and the previously moving red dot on the map, comes to a sudden stop.

—

After the shock had worn off, Dean had tried to turn on the engine that Charlie and him had installed for emergencies. Dean had never imagined that the emergency would be the reindeer just taking off on their own. When the engine failed to start, Dean had moved to the front of the sleigh to look at what could be the problem. He had been looking for a few minutes already, but had not been able to see anything wrong. So Dean trudged back through the snow towards the seats, where Cas was trying to get in contact with anyone at the North Pole.

“You have any luck?” Dean asks as he heaves himself back onto the seats.

“No. I haven’t been able to contact anyone and it just keeps giving out static. Did you have any luck with the engine?” Cas says.

Dean shakes his head, “there seems to be nothing wrong with it.”

“So, what do we do now?” Cas asks looking out over the white expanse stretching all around them.

“I guess we’re kind of sitting ducks, until the reindeer come back or Charlie decides to tell us what this is all about. She must have activated something remotely, since nothing is physically wrong.” Dean explains.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, before Cas starts shivering slightly. Elves might be made for cold temperatures, but just sitting in the snow, in nothing but a flimsy uniform and not moving around, would have anyone starting to freeze at some point.

Dean takes off his thick fluffy jacket and places it over Cas’ shoulders. Cas looks over at him gratefully.

“But don't you feel cold, without your jacket?” Cas asks.

“No, I- I’ll be- be fi- fine.” Dean says as his teeth start to chatter.

Cas raises his brow at him and damn if that doesn’t make Dean at least feel hot on the inside.

“Dean, your whole body is shivering. Come on, we can share the jacket.” Cas says, as he opens up one side, so Dean can slide under the jacket with him.

Like this Dean can feel the body heat coming off of Cas. Cas snuggles in even closer to him and tucks his face into Dean’s neck. The coldness of Cas’ skin makes him jump, but then he can feel Cas let out hot puffs of air against his skin and the hairs on Dean’s body stand up. Dean leans his head on top of Cas’ and just soaks in the moment.

“Hey Dean, why do you think Charlie would trap us out here?” Cas whispers softly, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Dean’s body stiffens up for a moment, but then he relaxes again and resolves himself that he will finally have to reveal his feelings to Cas. Of course Charlie would pull something like this.

Dean pulls back and lifts Cas’ head up. “I think I have an idea why Charlie would do this.”

Cas tilts his head, “you do?”

“Yeah.” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Well you see Charlie might have found something out. And it’s about you.” Dean takes Cas’ hands into his and looks him resolutely in the eyes. Cas is already looking back at him, attention solely focused on Dean, like he’s the only thing that matters.

“You can tell me anything.” Cas reassures him and squeezes Dean’s hands.

“Cas, I love you.” Dean says. For a terrifying second nothing happens and then a grin breaks out across Cas face. It makes his whole face light up and the corners of his eyes wrinkle slightly.

“I love you too, Dean.” Cas tells him.

Dean lets out a sigh of relief. His eyes flicker between Cas’ eyes and lips and finally he moves in closer.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean whispers, their faces only inches from each other.

Instead of answering Cas surges forward and closes the gap between them. Their first kiss is a bit clumsy, teeth clicking against each other and noses bumping. They chuckle lightly as they pull apart for a few seconds, forehead touching just looking into each other's eyes. The second kiss is much calmer, just lips pressing against lips. The smiles on their faces prevented the kiss from really going any deeper. And then finally their third kiss they get it right. Mouths slotting together and tongues intertwining. Dean pulls Cas impossibly closer, wanting to be as close as possible. After a while they pull back, breaths heaving. Damn, Dean thinks. He’s just been kissed stupid in the middle of nowhere, by the guy he has been in love with, before he even really knew what love was.

During their impromptu make out session the jacket had slipped off their shoulders, so the both of them are shivering slightly. Dean pulls Cas close and puts the jacket over them again. This time there's no hesitation though. They just snuggle up to each other, waiting for something to happen. Because surely Charlie wouldn’t actually let them freeze to death.

After what is probably an hour of them sitting alone in the snow, Cas looks up from where his head had been resting against Dean’s chest. At some point Cas had moved into Dean’s lap and they had just been sharing stories, interspaced with silence. Cas’ ears are twitching and he looks into the distance. Dean has the sudden urge to kiss Cas’ ear. So he does, because he can do that now. Cas smiles at him, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“I think the reindeer are coming back. I can hear their bells in the distance.” Cas says, as he moves to get down from Dean’s lap, but Dean just pulls him close again.

“I’m not letting you go, now that I have you.” Dean whispers into his ear.

Cas snuggles up close to Dean again, making himself at home against Dean’s chest and Dean rests his head on top of Cas’. Around a minute later, Cas is proven true, as the reindeer are now lining back up again. Their harnesses engage automatically and the sleigh lifts up off the ground. They ignore the occasional call that comes through on the radio, just enjoying their closeness.

Around an hour later, the white vastness that had surrounded them up until now, makes way for the brightly lit buildings that make up the North Pole.

The reindeer land gracefully in the landing area. Dean and Cas reluctantly pull back from each other. Cas gets off Dean’s lap and hands him the coat that had been slipping off his shoulders. Dean just leaves it laying on the seat and moves to disembark. Once he is safely on the ground he turns back around to offer a hand to Cas. Cas takes it with a smile and they just keep holding on, even after Cas is securely standing on the ground again. Finally they turn around to face the others, who had waited up for their safe return.

Charlie tackles them into a hug. She squeezes them tight for a moment, before pulling back and slapping their shoulders.

At their affronted looks she just replies, “that’s what you get for making me think you died or something out there. Would it have been so hard to just send a little notice, when we tried to contact you?”

“And who’s fault would it have been if we had frozen to death?” Dean asks drily.

Charlie looks at least a little chastised, but a grin quickly comes back to her face. “But it worked!” she screams pointing at their still intertwined hands.

“That it did.” Cas says as he moves their hands to his mouth to kiss the back of Dean’s hand. He gives Dean a soft smile and Dean is unable to stop himself from kissing Cas on the mouth.

The gathered crowd cheers as Cas and Dean are just lost in each other for a moment.

[scarletqueenx]

chapter two - i miss you, i’m sorry

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

Dean knew, from the state they had found you, that you were in serious condition. So waiting for the doctors to update them on your state was getting frustrating.

He couldn't ask about your either, as he wasn't your family. And if he showed his real concern, Henry and Peter would start to ask questions. Sam was trying to distract him, telling him about possible cases, but Dean was barely listening. He hadn't even been able to kill whoever or whatever had done this to his ex-girlfriend.

"Holloway?" The doctor's voice pronouncing your last name brought him out of his thoughts.

Henry quickly stood up, while Peter closed the comic book in his hands to pay attention to the doctor's explanation. Sam and Dean remained seated, listening closely.

"Yeah. Hi. It's me, I'm her father." Henry answered, approaching the doctor. "Is she okay?"

"Mr. Holloway. I'm doctor Ross." The man introduced himself, shaking his hand. "I am the one who took care of her." He explained. Henry nodded in silence. "She had a head concussion. But the CT came back negative. There is no sign of brain damage. She also has a couple of broken ribs and lost a lot of blood, so we've had to give her some transfusions. All of that said, we think she is going to be fine." Henry sighed with relief, while Dean felt how his breathing became normal again. Beside him, Peter could sense his relief, squinting his eyes at him in confusion. "She is still asleep. We're waiting for her to wake up, hopefully it won't be long. Everything seems normal. She's been lucky."

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much." Henry said. "When will we be able to see her?"

"I will have a nurse take you. Although only family is allowed at the moment."

Dean was afraid he would say that, but a part of him already knew. He wanted to see you, but he also knew he had no right to.

"Guys, I haven't had a chance to thank you yet." Dean and Sam stood as Henry approached them. "I am very grateful that you found her. We both are, aren't we, Peter?"

"Yeah, of course." He nodded. Sam gave him a little smile. "Although I'm actually the one who found her."

"Peter."

"What? It's true."

"We're just happy she's okay." Sam interrupted their little discussion. Feeling secretly jealous of the father-son relationship the two seemed to have.

Henry smiled at him in appreciation.

"Do you think maybe we could see her?" Dean asked, drawing the man's attention. "To know what she can tell us about the thing that attacked her?" He quickly clarified.

"I'm sure she'll want to hunt it down herself." Henry answered.

"No. Yeah. Of course. But she's hurt, and that thing can still hurt people."

"Yeah, you're right." He admitted, thoughtfully. "When she wakes up I'll ask her. I'm sure she would like to thank you too."

"Thanks."

"In the meantime, you can go back to our house." Henry declared, pulling the keys out of his jacket and holding them out to Dean, who looked at them in confusion. "If she tells me anything I will let you know. It's late, you should rest."

His concern for them was rare for the Winchester brothers. Although deep down they appreciated it.

"You should take Peter with you. If it's no problem."

"No. It's okay." Dean answered.

"Wait, wait, wait." The boy exclaimed, looking up at his father. "No. I want to see her."

"Peter, it's late." He answered. "And you have school tomorrow."

"Do you seriously think I'm going to class after today?" He asked in disbelief. "She needs me by her side."

"She is in good hands." His father assured him, crouching down to be at his level. "The doctors will take care of her. I will take care of her."

"What if that thing comes after me?" He then asked.

"I doubt it. But if that's the case, that's what they're here for, isn't it? To hunt it down." He said, pointing to the Winchester brothers.

"Because they've been doing so well so far." He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, cut the attitude." His father requested, frustrated. "They've come here to help without expecting anything in return. Be a little nice to them, okay? "

"Whatever."

Henry rose back up, giving Dean and Sam an apologetic look.

"Hey, kid." Dean called him. "How about a pizza? We can stop and get some on the way back to your house."

Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

"You're not buying me off with food. I'm not that easy." He assured him.

"Unlike you, Dean." Sam muttered with amusement.

"Shut up." He answered, but Sam keeps an amused smile on his lips.

"All right. I'll go with you." Peter finally accepted with a sigh. "But I won't go to class tomorrow. I want to be with her." He looked back up to his father.

"We'll talk about it later." He answered him. "Thanks guys."

"Yeah, no problem."

Peter didn't went to school the next day. When he woke up, his father still hadn't come home. Henry had spent the night in the hospital, in an uncomfortable chair next to your bed, waiting for you to wake up.

That morning Dean had been the first to get up after sleeping only a few hours. As the younger Holloway went into their home kitchen, Sam was reading on his computer looking for possible cases for him and his brother. Meanwhile, Dean was reading your hunting journal looking for any clues about the man who had kidnapped you and Kaila.

"If it was a demon it will be gone by now." Sam said, looking up at his brother.

"Unless he's still hell-bent on following her." Dean answered. "If we find him, we could finish him off."

"You can't kill a demon." Peter's voice drew the attention of both brothers as their gazes traveled to the kitchen doorway.

Looking at him, Dean took a sip of his coffee cup before answering his statement. "Yes, you can. If you have the right weapon."

"Like what? The Colt?" Peter asked, frowning.

"You know about the Colt?"

"My dad wrote about it in one of his books." He shrugged his shoulders as he walked toward the fridge to pull out a carton of milk. "He thinks I don't pay attention, but I do."

Sam and Dean shared a look.

Walking past Dean, Peter grabbed your diary from the counter and a box of cereal from the nearest cupboard before sitting down next to Sam.

"I was reading that, you know?" Dean looked at him in disbelief.

"It's private." Peter said, fixing a bowl of cereal. "Read a newspaper. Or a book. There's plenty of them on every shelf in this house."

"It's a hunting journal. There's nothing private about it."

Peter squinted silently, watching him closely for a few seconds. Dean turned to his brother, confused.

"You know, my sister knew a Dean once." Peter then said, gaining back the attention of both brothers.

"She did?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." He answered with a nod, looking down at his bowl of cereal. "He was a jerk. Well, I never met him, but he dumped her in a motel near Chicago. He never called or gave any explanation. "

"Yeah, that sounds like a jerk." Sam whispered, turning his attention back to the computer in front of him as he earned an annoyed look from his brother.

"Sharing a name with him doesn't help me like you." Peter admitted, pretending not to notice that little interaction between the two of them.

"Maybe he had a reason for leaving." Dean said, looking back at him.

"Maybe." Peter repeated, staring straight into his eyes.

Dean gulped harshly at his watchful gaze, feeling as if the boy could see right through him.

"You know." He noted after a few seconds, not taking his eyes off him. "You've known since we got here, haven't you?"

Sam turned his head to look at the boy.

"I know my sister like the back of my hand. I know where she keeps everything. Of course I knew." Peter answered, placing on the counter one of the photos you had saved from your time with Dean. "So, what exactly are you doing here? Trying to make up for what an idiot you were?"

Dean sighed, taking the photo in his fingers to look at it carefully.

"Bobby sent us here. I didn't know she was the one we had to look for until we got here." He explained. "I was trying to protect her, you know? When I left."

"You don't have to give me any explanations. Although leaving in the middle of the night seems like something an asshole would do."

Dean didn't know how to answer that, and he was thankful he didn't have to when the phone started ringing. Sam was the one who answered the call, getting up and approaching the phone placed on one of the kitchen walls. Peter looked at him with interest, hoping it was news from his sister.

"It was Henry." He announced, as he hung up the phone. "She woke up."

"Great. I'll wait for you in the car. Be quick or I'll go alone." Peter exclaimed, rising to his feet and leaving the kitchen in a matter of seconds.

"Don't... touch my car." Dean warned him, leaving the coffee mug on the counter as he followed him.

Sam smiled in amusement, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Dean could feel your eyes on him as he enter the hospital room after his brother. You didn't seem surprise or confuse to see him there, which funny enough made him more surprise and confuse.

"My father said you saved me." You smiled politely, shifting your gaze to Sam.

"I wouldn't say that much." He answered. "We couldn't finish the guy off, he left pretty quickly. We didn't even saw him."

"It's okay. I think I scared him."

Your response brought a smile to Sam's face. While Dean didn't know how to act now that he stood in front of you.

"I'm glad you're better." Sam said. "I'm...

"Sammy." Your completed, looking at him fondly. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Right." He nodded. "So have I, about you."

Your gaze then turned back to Dean, whose eyes had been locked on you since he had enter the room. A sense of familiarity filled you as your eyes finally met. Part of your was still angry at him for leaving without explanation, another wanted to hug him and tell him how much you had missed him. Dean felt an ache in his chest, as if this meeting was just the beginning of another goodbye.

"I should... leave you two alone." Sam's voice brought you back to reality, reminding both of you that he was still in the room. "It's good to meet you."

"Likewise." You responded with a kind smile.

As Sam left the room a heavy silence settled between Dean and you. His eyes had drifted away from your, looking everywhere and nowhere in particular. But now it was you who couldn't stop staring at him, trying to read his body language.

"I should have known." You were the one to break the silence. Dean's eyes fell on your with a sense of confusion.

"What?"

"That you were a hunter." You clarified with a nervous smile peeking through your lips. "It was pretty obvious now that I think about it."

"That you were wasn't." He admitted, feeling slightly less nervous in your presence. "I really believed the whole 'art student traveling the country' thing."

"That wasn't entirely a lie." Your assured. "I was an art student, but that's not why I was there."

Dean nodded slightly, his eyes dropping to the floor before he spoke again. "Listen, I'm sorry... I left the way I did. I really thought it was for the best."

"For me or for you?"

"You know how this job works. If anything had happened to you... it would have been because of me. I couldn't have that."

"Yes, I understand." You nodded with a slight tone of bitterness in your voice. "But you could have said goodbye, don't you think?" Dean opened his mouth to answer, but you were quick to cut him off. "It doesn't matter now, Dean. I'm over it."

"Right." His voice came out as a whisper. "I'm glad you're okay." You looked away from him, feeling that same pain you had felt when you had woke up that morning years ago without him by your side and no explanation. "I'm... I'm sorry."

As quickly as Dean left the hospital room Sam approached him, following him down the hallway.

"Did you tell her?" He asked him.

"Tell her what, Sammy?"

"Are you kidding? You know what."

"Why would I do that?" He asked, not bothering to look at him.

"Oh, I don't know. Because you've been wanting to call her for months." Sam shrugged. Dean stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at him. "Yeah, I pay attention too. You think I haven't seen you looking at her number in your phone? Well, I have. You want to tell her."

"No, I don't." He assured. "Why would I what to? Tell her I was an idiot back then, that I don't want to leave her again, but then do that exactly in a few months? No, thank you. She doesn't deserve that."

"She deserves the truth."

"Well, I was never good at giving her what she deserves. I'm back to being the jerk who leaves without explanation. I can live with that." He declared, turning away from his brother.

"Dean, you're dying. It's not the same..." Sam insisted, but Dean had already walked away far enough not to hear him.

"He is dying?" Peter's voice caused Sam to turn around quickly.

"What?" He frowned. "It's complicated."

"Listen, I don't even like him." He admitted. "But I know my sister and she loves him, I think. At least she deserves an explanation."

"I know she does. But I'm not the one who should give it to her."

"She's always wanted to get away from here, you know? To travel. She did a job once near Chicago. The only one she's ever done outside of San Francisco. That's where she met Dean." He explained as Sam listened carefully. "You guys do that, you travel around hunting monsters. I think she'd like something like that."

It wasn't hard for Sam to understand what Peter was asking. And the idea of you traveling with them didn't bother him at all. Part of him hoped that you wanted to help Dean as much as he.

"You know that would mean you may not see her for a long time."

"I don't care. I want her to be happy."

One thing that neither Peter nor Dean nor Sam knew was that you already knew about the deal Dean had made to save his brothers life. You knew Dean had little time left before he would be sent to hell. That demon had told you everything, with the sole purpose of hurting you. Because that's what that demon had been doing since you turned 10.

Your battle with that demon was yours alone. That was why you had lied to the Winchester brothers when they had asked you about your attacker. And it was also one of the reasons why going with them and leaving San Francisco seemed like the best idea. So you could hunt him down.

Except for the fact that it would mean spending a significant amount of time with Dean.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

You left the hospital the following day. You had to rest and take some medicine, but the injuries weren't too serious and your ribs would heal on their own. Besides, you were already used to the bruises.

When you and your father arrived at the house, the Winchester brothers were still there. Dean wanted to leave as soon as possible, but Sam had insisted on waiting for you to return. So while Dean was gathering his things, Sam was with Peter. At the younger Winchester's request, the boy was showing him some of the books on supernatural history that his father stored.

Their conversation got interrupted when the curly-haired blond rushed into your arms, happy to have you back home. A groan of pain left the your lips at the jolt, but that didn't stop a loving smile from appearing on your lips.

Dean heard you from upstairs, but he made no effort to join you. Minutes later, he was too focused on his own thoughts to notice your presence in the doorway of the room where he and his brother had stayed over those last couple of nights.

"A deal with a demon, Dean, really?" He turned around at the sound of your voice, meeting your gaze.

"How did you...? Did Sammy tell you?"

"No. He didn't tell me anything." You quickly assured, which only made him more confused. "I lied before. When he asked me about the man who'd attacked me and kidnapped Kaila." You admitted, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds. Dean watched you closely, listening to your words. "I lied. I did knew him. Not with that face, though. He's a demon I tried to hunt down a few months ago. I didn't succeed and since then he's been after me. He told me about it. Somehow he knew about... us. And he wanted to hurt me."

"So you already knew I was a hunter."

"Well, he wasn't the one I wanted to hear it from. But yeah, he told me." You nodded, looking up at him. "Why'd you do it, Dean?"

"Sammy was dead. I didn't have a choice." His response surprised you. Although it was the only logical reason why anyone would make such a deal. "You would have done the same thing for Peter."

He was right and you knew it. But that didn't stop your heart from shuddering at the mere thought of losing Dean again. After just a few exchanges of words and glances, you felt once again so connected to him that the thought of losing him hurt just as much as the first time.

"They really only gave you a year?" You turned to look at him once again as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed. Dean sighed and nodded. "How long do you have left?"

"A few months." He answered. "And if I try to find a way around it, they'll kill Sam."

"Is that why you came here?" You asked with a frown. "You wanted to apologize before it was to late?"

A sigh left Dean's lips as he turned to look back at you. "I've wanted to apologize from the moment I stepped foot out of that motel room. I cared about you too much. I didn't want you to get hurt."

You didn't know whether to believe him. The last time Dean had said something like that to you it had ended with you waking up in an empty room. But at that very moment, looking into his eyes, you knew he was being completely honest.

"I forgive you, Dean."

"You're just saying that out of pity." He said, turning his gaze away.

"No, I'm not." You assured him, gaining enough courage to take his hand in your. That gesture made Dean flinch, but the familiarity of your touch quickly put him at ease. "That's not the reason. I cared about you too. I still do."

"I don't want to drag you into this."

"You're not. I want to help." You said. "I may not be able to break the deal, but you guys can help me kill this demon that's after me. Peter told me about the Colt. And if you're gonna die, I want to spend whatever time you have left with you. That's of course if you wan-"

"I don't know..." He cut you off, rising to his feet.

"Come on, Dean." You insisted. "We can help each other. Or are you gonna leave Sam just like that?" Dean remained silent, pacing up and down the room. "You were right when you said I'd like him. And if he were Peter... I wouldn't want him to be alone. Plus, I might be able to find a way..."

"You're not going to look for anything." He interrupted you. "I told you, if I try to find a way around it, Sam dies."

"All right." You sighed. "I won't do anything. But..."

"You're won't take 'no' for an answer, are you?" You shook your head. "We leave in 20 minutes." He then said, making you smile.

But, before you could go anywhere with the Winchester brothers, you had to convince your father. Despite being a grown woman of twenty-four, you didn't want to leave without talking to him. You would rather leave things on good terms and discuss the situation.

You knew your father wouldn't be thrilled with the idea, but you had always been good at getting what you wanted from him. Henry also knew you could take care of yourself.

What really worried you was leaving him and your brother alone. Henry was no hunter, he could barely shoot a gun. And even though you had trained Peter to defend himself and they both knew enough about supernatural creatures, you were still worried about leaving them.

"You're not going with them." He answered as he closes his office door.

"Why not? I'll find-"

"It's dangerous." He said, cutting you off.

"I wouldn't hunt alone anymore. And I'd help more people than here." You answered, watching as he walked around the desk to stand in front of you.

"You're hurt." He noted.

"I'll stay out of the fight for a while. I can do research."

"I don't know..."

"I'm going to find that demon, dad." You stated. "They have the Colt, I'll be able to kill him."

"If there's any bullets left. They could have used them all."

"They haven't."

"I hope you're right." He sighed, sitting down. "But I don't want you to put yourself in danger again for this revenge."

"It's more than that and you know it." You answered, sitting in front of him. "I'm doing this to protect us. All of us."

"I know." He whispered, watching you closely. "You won't listen to me, would you?"

"I've never been good at it." You shrugged with an amused smile on your lips.

"No. Neither you or your brother." He sighed. "You two are just like your mother."

"I'll call every day." You promised him.

"You better." He said. "I love you."

"I love you too." You smiled, standing up. "I'll go get my stuff."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Sam was glad to hear that you would be joining them from now on. Part of him hoped you could help him save his brother. Another part of him was just relieved that if Dean finally ended up in hell, he would no longer be completely alone.

He liked you. Without hardly knowing you, he could already see what had made his brother fall in love with you. Aside from being beautiful, you seemed to be a sweet, caring, strong and intelligent person. He honestly couldn't wait to get to know you more.

"Call me anytime, for anything. Seriously, Peter, anytime." You said to your brother as you crouched down in front of him.

"I will. Don't worry about it." He answered, his eyes traveling behind you, where he could see the Winchester brothers leaning against the car, waiting for you. "I've packed a couple of comics in there, in case you get bored and so you don't forget me." He said, handing you a backpack.

"As if I could." You smiled.

"Dad has also put a gift in there. I think it was something from Mom." You looked down at the backpack.

"Would you thank him for me?" You asked, trying not to show the sadness in your voice. Peter nodded.

"Sure."

You nodded slightly, looking back at Sam and Dean.

"Remember, salt, holy water and silver knife under the bed." You said, looking up again at your little brother. "You have the key to my guns and you know where to hide."

"Relax. I've got it." He assured you, as he had already heard you say that just a few minutes before.

"Okay." You whispered.

"We'll be all right."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You nodded. "I know."

"I'll miss you." He said, wrapping his arms around you.

"I'll miss you too, buddy." You smiled, hugging him back. "I love you."

"Love you too."

You had never spent that much time apart from your brother. Peter was like a son to you. Sure, Henry was a loving and caring father, but he was also a very busy one. You had always felt like a mother to him. Every time he had a nightmare, Peter would appear in your bed. Every time something exciting happened to him at school, you were the one he told. You just hoped that the distance wouldn't break the bond between you two.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you broke away from the hug, getting to your feet to join Dean and Sam in the car.

"Ready?" Dean asked as he saw you approaching him.

"Yup." You nodded.

"All right. The back seats are all yours. You won't be driving anytime soon, so make yourself comfortable." He said, opening the driver's door.

You frowned as your hand gripped the door handle. "Why not?"

Dean looked back at you. "Remember the last time I gave you Baby's keys? I won't make the same mistake."

"I've learned since then, you know." You answered. Dean raised his eyebrows, giving you a serious look. "Fine." You sighed, getting inside the car.

Imitating your action, Dean got behind the wheel. His eyes taking one last glance at Peter, who was waving goodbye to you.

"Come on, Dean, stop frowning." You leaned over the back of the front seats, resting your arms on it and placing your head between both brothers. "We might make a good team." You smiled, before slightly nudging the youngest's shoulder. "Right, Sammy?"

Normally Sam wouldn't let anyone besides his brother use that nickname, but he liked the way it sounded when you said it. So with an amused smile he turned to Dean.

"Yeah." He replied, receiving a not-so-amused look from him.

"Is the rule still the same?" You asked, gaining his attention back as he started the car.

"What rule?"

"You know 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole'"

"Right." He nodded.

"Well I'm not riding shotgun and I've got some pretty good cassette tapes here." You informed, looking inside the backpack your brother had given you.

"You're not the driver either." He pointed out.

"Come on, Dean." You insisted. Sam smiled in amusement, looking over at his brother. "I've got good taste in music. You said it yourself."

"I must have been drunk."

"Very funny." You rolled your eyes. "But, seriously, we can't listen to the same four albums all the time."

"I've been telling him that for years." Sam commented.

"Maybe on the next stop."

"Really?" They both looked at him with surprise. You with a gleam of hope in your eyes while Sam did with disbelief.

"I said maybe."

"I take that as a yes." You smiled, leaning against the back the seat.

Keep Reading: Chapter 3

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