#They kept comparing me to bon jovi

[ntriani]

Fever dreams: the nearly man of Euro 2016 For the past month, Nick Triani has lived every moment of Euro 2016 in a fever dream of football nirvana. For the past month, Nick Triani has lived every moment of Euro 2016 in a fever dream of football nirvana. 

The Fan  I have to resign myself to defeat. Not a personal defeat you understand. This is far more primitive than that. More tribal. Over the last four weeks of rollercoaster rides, I’ve used my Facebook feed as a journal to document my match day concerns, predictions and general comments on Euro 2016. My rarely seen bravado is often found in all its brazen arrogance on this feed. My confidence oozes forth until the crash comes – and yes this year it did come – a double implosion. One was a ‘caught with your pants down’ realization that football may never again reign over the Queen‘s closest domain, at least not at an international level. The other exit was more respectable, and due to low expectation, almost taken as a victory in defeat. Supporting two teams at a major football event such as this is not so good for the old fingernails.

What I do notice when something like the Euros is on, is a new level of stereotyping – and not just within the broader media. Friends via social media suggest Italiansare all cheats. Some other proclaim that Italy are also so defensive and anti-football. They don’t recognize the art of a Bonucci or a Chiellini. These defenders even have Renaissance names for crying out loud. Of course, all English fans are beered up hooligans, and so this goes on. But the casual stereotyping doesn’t just affect me. Control is slightly lost and people choose their sides. In a country like Finland this means the approach tends to be from a neutral perspective. But still, temperatures rise.

The Italian coach Antonio Conte was the star of this competition. Animated to extremes, you’d want some of what he’s on. Often more interesting than the football on display (Italy vs Sweden?), Conte supplied the box office off camera too, with a series of interviews that showed his way with words could only be described as poetic and philosophical. Compare this to earnest Roy Hodgson, a laymen on the highest salary, trying to convince us that his lieutenant Wayne Rooney is the new Andrea Pirlo (surely Pirlo has never been more insulted). Hodgson’s ordinary, resigned demeanor offers enough reason why a team of talented players, let alone a nation, could never entertain the notion of England winning the bloody competition.

But since Conte (and Italy) left the competition, it all fell a bit flat for me (of course, I’m biased). The Icelandic defeat by France just confirmed it. Yes, Wales kept me dreaming of the underdog for a bit longer. On a managerial level, Didier Deschamps anyone? The everyman Chris Coleman? Or how about Joachim Löwand his amazing scratch and sniff testicles? Conte is in a class of his own in the personality stakes. With his perma-tanned sidekick, brother Gianluca, you could easily imagine these two fronting an Italian Bon Jovi tribute act. There was something of the spandex variety going on. The Football  I’ve watched a lot of the games – perhaps 80%. That’s a lot of football. What differentiates the experience is how my own mind and body behave when watching say England and Italy, compared to anyone else. When ‘my’ teams are playing, I become tense, unavailable, rude, a coil ready to unleash a stream of expletive bile into this known universe. There is confidence of course, but that threat of the ultimate disappointment, that crushing inevitability of knowing this unreasonable feeling, this taking part and being a part of, could end any moment – it’s actually impossible to put into words.

The England team were half of the Tottenham team this year (the club team I’ve supported all my life), so I had extra interest in how England got on. Eric Dierbecame my new god. After his no-nonsense season with Spurs, a man-crush ensued. Falling ill against Iceland was his only serious blot on a very blotchy English landscape. Harry Kane was a disaster. As were all England’s strikers if we’re honest. Kane got the brunt of the striker hate, once England got eliminated. Hodgson couldn’t accommodate a system that could release the considerable goal threat Kane, Daniel Sturridge and James Vardy posses. Raheem Sterling, along with Jack Wilshere (and to a lesser degree Jordan Henderson) should have stayed in England, so out of form and unfit these players proved to be. Hodgson stuck by his talisman Wayne Rooney, who often looked off the pace. The English media fawned at Rooney’s early midfield exploits, but he was average at best, as were England. Hodgson displayed much loyalty at this tournament, it was misplaced and cost him his job. The new, incoming England coach has the bones of a good squad. Some tactics of any form should bring better form and signs of progress.

But Euro 2016 didn’t only involve England’s self-subscribed��Brexit. Zlatan said farewell: vulnerable, slow and humbled. Cristiano Ronaldo was strangely stiff (till Hungary) and then finally firing against Wales. Gareth Bale was a giant at times, but then uninvolved. Paul Pogba showed flashes. Thomas Muller was there in bodily form but in reality he was a real life ghost of his former self. Wayne Rooney played in midfield (ahem). Andrés Iniesta, still a class act, found himself surrounded by average, non motivated servants. The galactico football superstar has generally had a bad Euros, exemplified by Ronaldo’s injury in the final. None of these super footballers capturing the imagination like the Iceland team or even the showmanship of Conte. Of course there were exceptions: early tournament it was Dimitri Payet, then Antoine Griezmann came to life and has been the player at this Euros. Griezmann, like a dynamo whose duracell battery spluttered into life mid-tournament, has simply wanted it more than anyone else. France to me have not quite seemed the real deal. Their run to the final has in reality meant the French overturned Albania, Romania, Iceland, Republic Of Ireland, drew with Switzerland and then rather fortuitously beat their first real test – Germany. It was an enthralling semi-final, where the French were outplayed for large parts. But in this new football landscape, the French understood the new rules perfectly despite an overall lack of conviction. On the other hand, any team that can make the ‘looks like he’s treading water’ Olivier Giroud come across as an amazing, speedy goal scorer deserves some respect. The Euros has prescribed a new form of football entertainment that surely reflects the worldwide game at these times. This has been a tournament dominated by teamwork and pragmatic application. Very few goal fests or easy wins were clocked up – instead we viewed many tight and tense affairs, where the overall standard and technique on display has been more than competent. From Albania to Hungary, Poland to Iceland and Wales, these teams all played a very disciplined game. Tactically versed. Play deep, counter attack with genuine speed. Possession was for the ancients. This made most games close. Moments of explosiveness – Ronaldo’s in air backheel, Luka Modric‘s bullet voley, Emanuele Giaccherini‘s amazing first touch against Belgium, Griezmann in general. Then there was England and Russia, two teams without a plan A or B. Slovakia came close to matching their depths. Note to the English media: there are no easy games anymore in international football. The defeat to Iceland was not humiliating. It was just the natural order of things.

Mothman Prophecies  Someone left the lights on all night and the moths came to roost. There was a ‘day of the locusts’ type of dread surrounding the final. Ronaldo, felled by Payet rather innocuously, left the field injured after 20 odd minutes. There were tears. If the football didn’t quite ignite, surreal qualities certainly did. France, after a positive opening 10 minutes, stuttered and spluttered. Portugal lost their star, but their formation looked more solid. Ronaldo’s injury left the contest pretty redundant for 90 minutes. But Portugal came alive in extra-time whilst France floundered in a tired heap. Again, Portugal recalled the virtue of patience, whilst Pepe, much to a general annoyance, was excellent here. Eder, the player unable to score for and unwanted by Swansea, struck a glorious winner. The final was a disappointment. But this tournament did much for France after a dark period of national history. In the end, the tears turned to smiles as Ronaldo got one over on his biggest rival by lifting an international trophy.

Highs  Highlights were many: Zaza memes lead the way. Ronaldo’s preening self-love and over the top poses, mic throwing, Iceland blasting behaviour was fun. Conte’s expression. Pogba’s confidence and a pretty good standard of no-fuss refereeing – apart from that penalty! Hodgson resigns. That Robson-Kanu goal. Pelle’s hair. The self-obsessed tika-taka fanboys retreating further into their caves. The Icelandic chant ringing round stadiums. The great atmosphere that even translated to jubilance through my laptop headset. The fans, as always.

Lows Gianluigi Buffon‘s tears and Joe Hart‘s tunnel swearing and slow dives. The camera angles for offside decisions – plus the overhead camera shot for a third of the Germany vs Italy match. The reemergence of hooliganism, English and Russian fans running amok in France. There was much comment suggesting England fans were blameless. The taunting of refugee children by some of those English fans will stay with me for a long time. And despite not having those expectations, Italy getting such a tough route to the final despite topping their group: Spain, Germany and it would have been France. FFS, how did that happen? England disappointing again, the promise of youthful exuberance wasted. Harry Kane’s soul was lost at the Euros. And somewhere, with that loss, my own mortality swings into the frame. At fifty years of age, how many of these tournaments do I have in me? Five or six with some luck maybe? It’s too little. That makes me sad.

Team Of the Tournament Lloris Chester Bonucci Chiellini Bale Ramsey Modric Kante Payet Ronaldo Griezmann

Subs: Buffon, Walker, Dier, Pepe, Di Rossi, Williams, Pogba, Lukaku, Konchinsky, Iniesta, Renato Sanches

Games of the Tournament: Italy 2-0 Belgium, Czech Republic 2-2 Croatia, Croatia 2-1 Spain, Hungary 3-3 Portugal, Switzerland 1-1 Poland, Italy 2-0 Spain, England 1-2 Iceland, Poland 1-1 Portugal (first half), Wales 2-1 Belgium, Germany 1-1 Italy (penalty shoot out only), Germany 0-2 France.

Goal of the TournamentRonaldo back heel vs Hungary

Player of the Tournament: Antoine Griezmann.

[mother-snake]

More of a self question tbh- no need to read-

I am still debating on weather or not to wear eyeshadow again. (like virgils but with colour... Like black to green gradient. Along those lines).

I did it a while ago for a week during lock down and rather liked it. Unfortunately one comment too many made me stop. (you most likely know who) but I Rly wanna continue doing it....

Should I?

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

What I Need

Summary: “And now this boy’s addicted ‘cause your kiss is the drug...”

WC: 500 [On. the. nose. BOOM.]

Warnings: mutual pining, fluffy feels, smidge of sexiness?

A/N: My prompt for @deanwanddamons​ Rock SPN Challenge was Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine.” Gif credit to original publisher.​ I’m SO SORRY this is a little late!! I had a whole draft written, but this new idea hit me today and I ran with it. Drabbles are hard lol. It turned out much different than I had planned, but I hope you enjoy it!

Dean clenched his fists, blunt nails digging into his palms. His body was rigid with tension, and beads of sweat collected along his brow. He flexed his wrists, testing the restraints once more, but they didn’t budge. Squeezing his eyes closed, he took a deep breath, knowing he was on the verge of losing control. 

He swallowed when he felt her hands kneading his shoulders. Resisted the urge to give in when her fingers dipped beneath the collar of his shirt to caress his broad chest. Although she was planning to tease the truth out of him, he refused to give her the satisfaction.

“Say it.” 

“Bite me.”

“If you insist…”

Her warm breath sent chills across his skin as she playfully nipped his earlobe. He groaned and licked his lips involuntarily, realizing his body had already betrayed him. The click of her low heels echoed through the room and he held his breath, peering out of the corner of his eye until she sauntered into his line of sight. Dean’s will had been tested on many occasions, but he’d never felt more desperate or powerless than he did with Y/N straddling his lap. 

The bond he had shared with Amara paled in comparison to the spellbinding effect Y/N had on him. The “ghost sickness” that almost stopped his heart? Nothing compared to the way her smile could send his heart into a frenzy or make it skip a beat. She could take his breath away and leave him speechless, but somehow her presence also brought a sense of peace to his life he’d never experienced before. 

Maybe he was being dramatic—truthfully, he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be the first to admit it, but he’d do just about anything she asked him to. 

He yearned for her soft whimpers and breathless moans, but his hunger ran deeper than ravenous lust. He craved her touch—the satisfying sting of her nails clawing his back when he hit that sweet spot, and the way she absentmindedly carded her fingers through his hair during a movie. He loved the way their tongues danced, teeth crashing together during a heated makeout session, just as much as he cherished each tender goodnight kiss. 

Dean had always considered himself a burden, poisonous to anyone he let himself get close to. But Y/N? She was the remedy he’d spent his whole life searching for. She gradually healed the guilt and self-loathing that plagued him, patiently showing him he was worthy of being loved. Eventually, that unconditional love she’d been pouring into him began to soothe even the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind and soul.

“Say it…” she murmured.

His apprehension faded, and he no longer wanted to drag out their battle of wills. He needed her in a way he couldn’t quite describe, but he promised himself he’d spend the rest of his life trying. 

Pressing his lips to hers, Dean breathed three small words he’d kept hidden for far too long.

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[the--blackdahlia]

The Poker Game

Title: The Poker Game

Summary:  Vince Neil, Axl Rose, Bret Michaels, Sebastian Bach, Jani Lane, and Jon Bon Jovi are sitting down for a poker game. Vince is a little low to make the bet, but he knows that his hand is the winner. He just knows it.

Warnings: Language mainly

AN: Tommy x Nikki, Slash x Axl. Just a random crack fic that I came up with because I was bored af.

Smoke filled the room as Axl puffed on his cigarette while Jon dealt out the cars. Vince poured himself and Jani another glass of whiskey, Bret was just sticking to water, and Sebastian was all about his vodka. The six frontmen had gotten together for a poker game, since they were all in the same area for a big festival and honestly, being away from the rest of their bands was a nice little break.

“So, your drummer and your bassist are screwing,” Axl laughed. “I figured it’d be you and the bassist.” He gave Vince a smirk.

“Oh, fuck you,” Vince rolled his eyes. “You’re just jealous that you can’t get in on that.”

“Why would I when I got Slash?” Axl shrugged. “You can keep your nasty band to yourself.”

“Are these two always like this?” Jon asked as he dealt out the cards.

“Yeah. Every poker game they argue like this,” Sebastian sighed.

“Just fuck already,” Bret and Jani said as one. Axl and Vince both glared at the blondes.

“Or not,” Jani raised his hands. “Fuck, you two have a mean glare.”

“Can we just play cards already?” Sebastian asked as he picked up his hand. There was a murmur among the group before they started playing and placing their bets. They played a couple hands, just some light jabbing and jokes, telling stupid stories about their bands and all that good shit.

“And then CC,” Bret looked at his cards. “I fold. Anyway, CC went running off naked down the street just because he didn’t want to eat the fucking peppers that Rikki was going to make him eat.”

“That’s some terror twins shit right there,” Jon laughed. “I don’t know how Vince and Mick put up with it. My band is so tame compared to Nikki and Tommy.”

“They’re hilarious man,” Sebastian laughed. “Those two come up with some of the stupidest shit and I love watching them try to do it while hiding from Doc.”

“Okay, I fold too,” Jani laid his cards down as Axl raised the bet. Vince looked in his wallet, and saw that he didn’t have enough to cover the bet, but he looked at his cards and saw he had a straight flush, 2 through 5, all hearts. He knew he was going to win.

“Let’s make this interesting,” Vince grabbed a card from his wallet for a bar that he went to and just never got rid of, and a pen from the table. He wrote on the back of the card and placed it in the middle. Axl picked it up.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Axl laughed. “Nikki’s gonna kill you.”

“Not if I win,” Vince smiled. The other four looked at the card, which was Vince’s bet. He had bet Tommy Lee.

“I’m out,” Jon laid his cards down.

“Me too,” Sebastian added. It was just Vince and Axl now.

“Okay, show me your cards,” Axl laughed. Vince smiled and laid down his straight flush.

“I think I’ll just be taking my goods…” Vince went to reach for the pile, but Axl stopped him.

“Wow, if you’re this premature in bed, no wonder you can’t keep anyone,” Axl laughed. “Gotta see my cards first, don’t you?” He laid his cards out then.

A royal flush.

“Oh my god,” Jani looked over at Vince, who was staring in horror at the offending cards.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Bret asked.

“Oh god, Nikki is going to kill you,” Sebastian added. “Jon, we might as well order the flowers now.”

“Flowers?” Jon asked, looking confused.

“For Vince’s funeral,” Sebastian laughed a little. Axl just smirked.

“I’ll be getting my new drummer soon,” Axl laughed. “I’m sure Steven wouldn’t mind a vacation.” Axl got up with his winnings. “Night guys. I’ll see you later.” He winked at Vince before leaving. Jani, Bret, Sebastian, and Jon all looked at Vince before excusing themselves too.

Vince dreaded telling Nikki and Tommy what he had done. He decided to head back to his room and sleep it off. He’d figure something out in the morning.

****

Nikki was awoke the next morning by knocking on his hotel door. Tommy groaned and moved closer to the bassist, keeping him in bed.

“Just pretend you don’t hear it and they’ll go away,” Tommy whispered, laying his head on Nikki’s chest. Nikki was about to go back to sleep when the knocking started again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Nikki pulled on a pair of pants and shirt. Tommy groaned and did the same. He flopped back on the bed as Nikki opened the door. There stood Duff, looking slightly annoyed.

“Duff? What the fuck?” Nikki asked. Duff sighed.

“Nikki, all I can say is I’m really sorry about this,” Duff told him.

“What are you talking about?” Nikki asked. Duff sighed and motioned for Izzy and Slash, who held Nikki against the wall while Duff walked in. “What the fuck are you doing? Let me go!”

“Sorry man. We gotta do this or face the wrath of Axl,” Slash sighed. “Go ahead Duff.” Duff reached out and grabbed Tommy, throwing him over his shoulder. He was glad that Tommy was still half asleep, but he was still wiggling like crazy.

“See ya man,” Duff waved by, carrying Tommy out of the room, followed by Slash and Izzy.

****

Vince was asleep, until he heard yelling in the hallway. His eyes snapped open and he sat up to listen.

“Put me down Duff!” Tommy yelled. “Put me down!”

“Sorry, I can’t. Axl won you fair and square. And I’d rather not fight with him,” Duff’s voice flowed through the door.

“What do you mean Axl won him? What the fuck is going on?” Was Nikki’s voice next.

“Dude, Vince bet him in the poker game last night,” Slash explained. “Axl sent us to collect.”

“Oh no,” Vince whispered. He went to lock his door, but it was too late. Nikki threw it open and glared the frontman down. “Nikki, I can explain…”

“You bet Tommy?!” Nikki yelled.

“I thought I was going to win…” Vince told him, backing up until his legs hit his bed.

“So you bet Tommy!” Nikki was fuming. Mick came in then, staring at the two of them.

“What’s going on?” Mick asked. Nikki kept his eyes trained on Vince.

“Our singer decided to bet my boyfriend in his poker game!” Nikki explained. “And he lost!”

“You did what?” Mick asked.

“I had a straight flush!” Vince defended. “What is the likelihood that Axl fucking Rose would have a royal flush?”     

“Oh my god, you lost the drummer to Guns n’ Roses?” Mick groaned. “That’s just great.”

“How was I supposed to know he had a royal flush?” Vince asked. “That’s like, damn near impossible!”

“But he did. And now you have to get Tommy back,” Nikki growled. “Or I will personally end you.”

“You’re joking, right?” Vince asked. “He’s joking…” He looked over at Mick, who shook his head no. “How am I supposed to get him back?”

“Figure it out,” Nikki growled. “And fast.” With that, he stormed out, leaving Vince and Mick in Vince’s hotel room.

****

“You can’t just kidnap people!” Tommy yelled at he was carried to the area Guns n’ Roses was staying at.

“Vince placed the bet. I’m just claiming it.” Axl told him as he smiled at the drummer, who was placed in a chair. “I just plan on keeping you like a day or something. Just to make Vince stew.”

“Am I being replaced?” Steven asked, looking at Tommy.

“No Steven. Just wanted a little fun at Vince’s expense,” Axl patted his back. “Anyway, welcome to Guns n’ Roses, temporary drummer Tommy Lee.”

“Oh god, this is going to be in a book somewhere, isn’t it?” Tommy asked.

“That would be hilarious. Someone write this down so we don’t forget this when we’re doing drugs,” Izzy told them.

“On it,” Slash told him, already writing everything down. “Well find some random song to credit you or something just to piss off Vince even more.”

“God, I love that we’re all thinking the same thing,” Axl laughed. “Okay, who’s hungry?”

****

“How am I supposed to get Tommy back?” Vince asked Jon, Jani, Bret, and Sebastian. He had gotten the four frontmen together for coffee and needed their help to undo what he had done.

“Another poker game?” Jon suggested.

“Yeah because that worked out so great for him last time,” Sebastian added. 

“You guys are super helpful,” Vince groaned, laying his head on the table.

“Maybe kidnap him back?” Jani suggested. “Not like Axl has armed guards keeping him against his will or something.”

“Are we staging a robbery?” Bret asked. “Because I’m game if you guys are.”

“Okay, let’s go steal Tommy back before Nikki fucking kills me,” Vince sighed, downing the rest of his coffee. He stood up, giving Jon, Jani, Bret, and Sebastian a look that told them if they didn’t help him, he would let Nikki tear them apart too. They all stood up and followed him.

****

“Draw four Izzy,” Tommy laughed as he threw down a change of color card. “And I’m feeling very yellow right now.”

“Fuck you Lee,” Izzy grumbled. “That’s the third fucking draw card you’ve used on me. I’m switching spots with Steven.”

“Nah. Us drummers gotta stick together,” Tommy laughed, giving Steven a high five. Duff just shook his head and laid out a yellow card. “Where’s Slash and Axl?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Duff grumbled. “Bad enough we have to hear it.”

“Yeah, let’s just have fun playing Uno,” Steven added.

“At least you guys are having fun!” Izzy held up his large hand of cards. “This fucking blows!”

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested Uno,” Duff told him. “Not our fault you suck at it.”

“First off…” Izzy started, only to be cut off by the door opening up and five frontmen coming in.

“Vince? What are you doing?” Tommy asked, standing up.

“Uh, this is a rescue Leia. Let’s go,” Vince grabbed Tommy’s arm and pulled him.

“A rescue? I’m not in distress,” Tommy tried to pull free from Vince. He wanted to finish his card game. “Vince, let go!”

“Can’t. Your boyfriend is going to literally kill me if I don’t bring you back. So we have to go now.” Vince told him, the other frontmen stopping the rest of Guns n’ Roses from following them.

“I mean, you’re the one that used me as a bet…” Tommy pointed out.

“I had a straight flush!” Vince defended. He tugged Tommy back to where Motley Crue was staying. Nikki and Vince were watching TV when Vince appeared with Tommy. “There! I got him back!”

“I was having fun, we were playing Uno,” Tommy sighed. He looked at Nikki and smiled. “Hey Nik.”

“Next time you run out of money Vince, bet yourself,” Nikki growled, wrapping Tommy up in a hug.

“You know, Axl’s not gonna be happy his winnings just walked off, right?” Mick told them. “And we’re still here with them for two more days.”

“Neil!” Axl’s screech came from the hallway. Axl burst into the room with the rest of his band right behind him. “I was going to give him back like tomorrow before your set! You can’t just take him!”

“He’s our drummer, I’ll take him back,” Vince crossed his arms over his chest.

“You bet him in the first place!” Axl screamed.

“You shouldn’t have put the stakes so high!” Vince called back. Tommy, Nikki, Mick, Izzy, Steven, Duff, and Slash all looked at each other as the two frontmen yelled at each other. Nikki motioned for them to all leave, and Duff nodded. The two bands made their way out of the room, leaving Axl and Vince to yell at each other.

“Where’d they go?” Vince asked.

“Damn it! You lost them!”

“How did I lose them! This is your fault!”

“Oh fuck you Neil!”

“You wish!”

****

“Draw four Mick,” Izzy said, about to lay down the card, but one look at the other guitarist had him changing his mind. “On second thought, I think I’ll just play this seven on that seven…”

“Good choice,” Slash laughed.

“Why are we playing Uno again?” Duff asked.

“Because it’s fun,” Tommy told him. “Right Nik?”

“Right,” Nikki nodded, peeking over Steven’s shoulder at his cards.

“Maybe we should make Vince and Axl play this game instead,” Steven pulled his hand to his chest so Nikki couldn’t see. The bassist gave him a sheepish smile.

“They’d still find a way to screw it up,” Slash told them, laying down his card. Two left and…

“Uno!” Tommy called out, jumping up and smiling.

“I hate this game,” Izzy sighed.

“You’re just jealous you never win,” Mick laughed. “Come on drummer, win already so we can play Slapjack.”

The End

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[blushingjared]

Cherry Flavored Whiskey

We Get What We Deserve CH. 1: Cherry Flavored Whiskey (Rockstar! Dean Winchester x Reporter! Reader) 

Square(s) Filled: Tattoos for @spnkinkbingo , Lust for @spndeanbingo , and Growling/Whining for @spnabobingo Ship: Rockstar! Alpha! Dean x Reporter! Omega! Reader Characters: Lead Singer! Dean, Reporter! Reader, OMC, Manager! Crowley, Bass Player! Sam (mentioned), Drummer! Castiel (mentioned) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Tattoo Kink, A/B/O Dynamics, drinking, drugs, Oral (male receiving), Dom! Dean, Also Bon Jovi (in case you don’t like the music) Word Count: 7.7k words (oof I know...) Beta’d by: @impandagrl

Summary: Dean Winchester has been compared to the Rock Gods of old. He’s rebellious, gorgeous as hell, and an amazing musician. Times have become tough for his band though and with no one else to turn to, he decides to go solo. His manager wants to spread the word, so he offers Common Measure, the magazine you work at, an exclusive interview with Dean. Knowing you need to prove yourself, you offer to perform it. 

We Get What We Deserve Masterlist

A/N: This is heavily inspired by the movie Rock of Ages and Tom Cruise’s character (I save heavily when really most of this is lifted straight from it). I absolutely love the tattoos from it (reference in the upper right hand corner of the banner) and so this Fic was born. I am in love with the song Wanted Dead or Alive and I hope y’all enjoy my longest fic to date. Let me Know if you want to be tagged in this series!

“Y/N! Get in here!” A voice screamed out for you as you picked your head up. You’d had your nose buried in your work, but being yelled at seemed to refocus you to the present. You quickly collected the few stacks of paper on your desk and rushed towards your boss's office.

Your boss, Thomas Gallagher, ran Common Measure, a pop culture and music industry magazine centered in the hub of it all, LA. Being his assistant wasn’t easy, he was constantly looking over your shoulder, making you scramble to reach the deadlines he set and  had you attempting to get exclusive interviews for the good of the magazine. All the while, you were trying to learn how to be a better reporter.

It was your dream after all. Working for a publication like Common Measure. You’d ached to be in the center of gossip and learn what was really going on behind the people that everyone always looked up to. Most would call what you wanted to do harmful. All you wanted to do was get to the bottom of a story. That’s what mattered, the story.

“Yes, sir?” You squeaked as the man swiveled around to face you in the giant chair behind his desk. The weight of the paper stacks that you had grabbed making your arms ache with exertion. This job was harder than you had initially expected and you half wished you had listened to your mother’s warnings more closely.

She hated that you wanted to escape the boring life that was planned for you as an Omega. You needed more, you needed to be able to choose your own path, and right now, that didn’t include an Alpha.

Thomas reached forwards and opened his desk drawer to slide a CD towards you. You recognized the artist, Dean Winchester;rockstar, playboy, and public rebel. “I need you to get an interview for me.” Your eyes went wide as he spoke. “Dean’s decided to go solo.” The news shocked you.

Team Free Will, a band made up of Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and Castiel Novak had been formed almost a decade ago. While the group wasn’t nearly as popular as it had been in recent years, the more pressing issue was the fact that your boss was asking you to handle such an important assignment on your own- and as your first interview for the company.

“Sir? Are-are you sure? I mean this-“ Thomas’s voice cut you off.

“If I had any other option besides you, I’d be sending them in there, but none of my other reporters will go. He’s got a reputation for uh…sleeping around with the press.” He cleared his throat and looked up at you. “And the other half complain he’s too hard to work with, which is why I’m sending you.” He smirked, standing up and stepping towards you.

“I understand, sir, but still…I’d need time to research and- and..” You trailed off as your boss sat on the edge of his desk. Never in your life would you have dreamed of giving up a story. This was the opportunity of a lifetime

“You’ll have time. Team Free Will is performing at The Roadhouse next week as the start of the band’s farewell tour. You’ll go then. If you can get a good interview out of him, I’ll promote you to a real journalist Y/N..”

Words formed in your mouth but none left. It’s impossible. He was dangling the golden apple right in your face; giving you everything you wanted. All you have to do is complete an impossible task.

“Okay sir. I’ll do it.”

After a week of research on Dean Winchester, you’d come to the conclusion that the man had to be going insane. Despite having sold out shows, none of his current work had been doing any chart topping. And to make matters worse, the band hadn’t released a full album in at least two years. You could only assume it was because Dean had been growing ever increasingly harder to work with. Story after story came up with how Dean would show up to sessions drunk, high, or with the random guy or girl of the day. He would spend thousands of dollars a day on his life philosophy about “knowing yourself” as he would say it.

Born and raised in Kansas, he had a rough home life growing up. An absent mother and a more than likely abusive father, Dean seemed to have only one family member that he still kept in touch with, his baby brother. He had left home when Sam turned 18 and brought along his high school sweetheart, Lisa Braden.

Dean began playing covers of classic rock bands with Sam in his mid 20’s before adding Castiel Novak to the group four years later. Not only was Dean able to play the guitar, but he also played piano, drums, bass and sang (although when the group performed he stuck to guitar and vocals). Sam played bass and back up vocals, while Castiel rounded them out with drums.

At some point after the band’s first original album, that high school sweetheart seemed to disappear, only to be replaced by an endless string of lovers that couldn’t resist a Rock God Alpha, alcohol and drugs. While there was a period of 5 good years, the other half of the band’s decade had been filled with mediocre hit after mediocre hit.

It was obvious Dean had grown out of favor with the public, but Dean couldn’t let that stand, even to the point of going solo and picking fights with his bandmates, Sam included. He needed to be in the spotlight, otherwise he’d have to actually think about what he’d done in his life. While you’d known some of those details already, no one had put them together in a way you had.

Now, standing in line outside the Roadhouse, you felt fully prepared for this interview. You'd had your concerns that being here, where Team Free Will had played their first concert would be daunting. Instead, you had a focused drive to rip the man's life story from him.

What had to be thousands of fans had lined up around the outside of the small bar. Bulky security guards stood around them, holding back hoards of screaming fans. Mostly Omegas by the smell. You crinkled your nose at the scents of sweat and slick. It almost made you want to vomit.

A large security guard opened the door and asked to see your pass. You raised the Press Pass that was dangling around your neck and tilted it towards him. He grunted and nodded his head, indicating she could enter. A second guard walked up to you soon after. “I’m here to take you to the green room, Miss Y/L/N.” You gave the man a soft nod before falling behind him.

Crowley MacLeod stood outside the double doors that must have been the entrance to the greenroom. He offered you a smile, though it felt ice cold. You knew the man was Dean’s Manager. A harsh and ruthless individual and though he was always ahead of the curve on what the music industry was looking for, never really cared about what it actually meant to be a musician.

“Miss Y/L/N I presume.” He extended his hand towards you and after a moment, you took his hand in a firm grasp and shook.  While most accents seemed to put people at ease, Crowley’s only made you shiver. “It’s always a pleasure to work with Common Measure.” The man held your hand a little too long for your liking, but eventually he let go. Turning around, he pushed open the doors and walked into the room.

A wave of sex hit you, the smell was so bad that it physically made you stumble. Once you’d straightened up, you tugged your bag closer to your chest, hoping it would ground you. Not long after that, the tell tale odor of weed hit you next. Your eyes lingered on the  pool table in the center of the room, where Dean Winchester lay.

An omega woman up on the table with him, lying legs extended, legs extended for Dean to place his head on, a  cowboy hat placed over his face. Four Omegas, two women and two men, stood by the bar, huddled around another man making them all drinks. It took every last cell in your body not to roll your eyes, but you manage to control yourself for the moment. Bottles of empty booze, food trash and a comical amount of drugs litter the room as well. It feels so damn cliche for Dean to really be as bad as what you’d been reading.

Crowley ushered you closer,  and you’re able to get a better look at his body. He’s wearing what had to be the tightest leather pants that you’d seen on a man, a matching leather jacket lays fanned out so that anyone can see his chest- seeing as he was bare underneath.

While you’d seen what his looked like before, seeing them in person was a whole other ordeal.

They were enough to make you swoon. You had to quickly check yourself before unconsciously tugging the pencil skirt you wore further down your legs. An indisputable sense of connection hit you out of nowhere. You could smell his scent from here and while the weed and smell of sex is definitely there, underneath there’s a layer of whiskey and something sweet, cherries if you had to pick something.

The most eye catching of his tattoos were the dual pistols drawn over his v-line. To onlookers, it seemed like the guns were being holstered around his belt. Over his left pec an intricate heart was drawn, the word Mary written in cursive. The first thoughts that popped into your head were something to the affect of, sexy.

You averted your eyes, while Crowley leaned forward and spoke into Dean’s ear. “Hey Dean, there’s someone here to meet you.” He turned around to look back at you, making you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. The information didn’t seem to be too important to the Rock God as he continued to lounge on the table. Crowley gave you an awkward laugh before turning back to Dean.

“It’s Y/N Y/L/N from Common Measure. She’s got a couple questions for you to answer.” You held back a laugh as Dean continued to lay there. Of course. One of the male Omega’s behind you giggled, the other three of the pack leaned in and whispered to each other as they stared at you. You forced yourself to remember that you didn’t care what they thought, you were here to do a job.

Crowley must have finally said something that got Dean’s attention as he began to sit up. “Common Measure...” He trailed off as he moved the hat off of his face and set it aside. Dean dropped his feet to the floor and looked around before turning to face you, the sunglasses on his face, hiding his eyes. “Where’s Thomas?” His voice was gruff and full of sleep, he looked around again before looking back at Crowley.

“Thomas is a little busy, so he sent his newest reporter, Y/N. She’s here to do a report on your new solo career, Dean.” A groan fell through Dean’s lips as he turned away from you both, Crowley gripped his arm, whispering something once more that convinced Dean to do what Crowley wanted. 

After a pause, Dean slowly turned back to you; that cold, heartless smile spread across Crowley’s face. He stepped back from and clapped his hands together. “You know what? I’m gonna leave you two alone.” He began to back out from the room. “Gotta return some phone calls.” With one last wink he was gone. “Play nice!” He called out behind him.

Finally alone, well sort of, Dean gave you a proper once over. The attention made you once again lower your gaze the floor. Your tongue peeked out and ran over your bottom lip. Seconds ticked by before you  extended your hand to Dean. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Something about you must have bored him, because he didn’t even look at you. Your hand still stuck out, waiting for a hand shake. Before you could say something else, a high pitched scream rang out and made your head turn.

A blonde haired girl ran past the still-open doors, past the distracted security guards and right up to Dean. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I love you Dean!” The guards finally reacted to the runaway fan, but stilled as she opened up her shirt and proudly showed off the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. 

Your eyes widened as you watched the small omega unashamedly show off her tits. Dean held up a hand to hold her off from coming any closer. Once more he looked towards you and stepped in close. He grinned as he slid his hand along your waist and into the bag hanging at your side. An almost inaudible gasp left your lips as he touched you. Warmth began to blossom through your body as he did. Dean must have found what he was looking for as he pulled out your sharpie and bit down on the cap to pull it off.

The girl began to pant heavily as Dean reached down and began to sign his name on the girl’s chest. You and the fan made eye contact for a split second, but she didn’t seem to mind the fact that another woman was watching this happen.

When you turned away, you noticed Dean’s face was turned towards you. Though you couldn’t actually tell, you were certain he had been staring right back at you the whole time. Once his name was proudly written on the womans tits, he leaned forwards and kissed the girls cheek, making the omega moan and release a distinct scent of slick. Only then did the two security guards decide to pick her up and drag her back out.

She continued to call out for Dean, though. “I love you. Love you...” Her voice echoed out. Dean spitting the cap from his mouth brought your attention back to him. You offered your hand out for the sharpie and he moved to hand it back. At the last second, he dropped it to the floor on purpose and brushed past you to sit down on one of the couches provided for him.

Wrinkling your nose in disgust, you picked up both the pen and cap, wiping away the saliva from the later before setting the /used/ item back into your bag. “Okay...you get five minutes.” Dean slumped back, arms stretched out. A sense of panic flooded your systems.

Though it wasn’t nearly enough time to get what you needed, it was the best you were going to get from him. You scrambled to pull out your voice recorder to set  on the table then grabbed a pen and your notebook filled with the list of questions you had prepared. Once sitting, you shouldered your jacket off and looked back at Dean.

“Five minutes.” He slurred as he looked at his watch. “Anndddddddddddddd…” He trailed off for a second as you waited eagerly for your time to start. “Go.”

“Okay, Dean Winchester, back at the Road-“ Dean cut you off with his voice, still looking at his watch. Confused, you waited.

“No, no, no.” He paused yet again as he looked at his watch. “Now go.” Dean gave you a soft smirk before settling back into the couch.

“A-at the Road House where it all started.” The pause had made you stumble for a moment, but you were eager to get back on track. “Your first album gave birth to some of rock’s greatest anthems and now a solo career. Why now?” You tilted your head as you waited for a response.

Dean’s eyes lingered on your voice recorder, leaning forwards to pick it up and bring it closer to his mouth. He looked relatively serious as he answered. “Well, due to the changing nature of the music industry. The changing uh...” he stuck his hand out and gave a small wave as he thought. “Cultural trends. And uh… when you think of blah, blah, blah..”

Unable to contain his smile, Dean grinned at you and started laughing as he continued. “Especially once you take in blah, blah, blah.” You sighed and sat back, unamused by his joke. Dean laughed so hard that he even let out a snort, although it was much more likely that he simply didn’t care about this interview. You’d have to push back and not be afraid to be mean to him. While daunting, yes, he was still just a man…

“Four Minutes.” Dean still laughed every so often, but extend the recorder to you, holding on to it. Giving your question list a once over, you leaned forwards to ask him your next question.

“You know,” you started, eyes narrowing at him. “Some people say that you’ve become quite difficult to work with. That you’re constantly late, reclusive, sometimes even nonsensical.” Dean pulled the recorder back towards his mouth and tilted his head as he looked at you.

“And I ask you this, have these /people/ even met themselves?” Yet, again he extended the recorder back to you. A part of you wondered if he’s doing this to try and keep control of the interview and that he’s afraid to let go of his control of every situation.

Pursing your lips together, you decided to hit him with the answer. “Well, I’m talking about your band.” A silence fell between you  before he scooted closer and looked over at you. He seemed to not believe you, perhaps because his own brother is included in that. Perhaps he couldn’t believe his brother would say that about him.

Dean pulled the recorder away and whispered. “Let me tell you something. I know me better than anyone else.” To you, he sounded more than a little defensive. “Because I live in here.” He pointed to his head, before reaching down to grab one of the bottles of scotch on the table.

He used the top of it to push the sides of his sunglasses up. Tipping his bottle to you, he looked back down at his watch. “Eight minutes.” He spoke into the recorder. It throws you because even the man's own timeline is being fucked up. Is he so drunk that he can’t keep five minutes straight in his head?

“You just said four.” You leaned forward, your anger so great it seeps into your words; the need to call him out is so overwhelming, you don't even consider taking advantage of his slip up. You had gotten absolutely nowhere with him.. You needed something about Dean Winchester to bring back.

Realizing his mistake, Dean brought the recorder back to his mouth. “Three.”

“But you..” Dean dropped the thing back down onto the table, making a loud THUD noise.

“Do you think that it’s possible that you shut out and alienated so many people in your life that you had no other option, but to go solo?” Of course, Dean wasn’t paying attention. Instead his focus is on the bottle of booze in his hand. He has it completely tipped over and poured the last drop into his mouth, giving it a little shake even, to make sure that nothing else would come out. He held it above his head for a couple more seconds before swallowing and bringing it back down.

“Gotta stay true to the music. Hey dude! Can I get some more Scotch?” He leaned to the side to catch eyes with the bartender. The man smirked and pushed a small trolley towards the both of  you, filled with what must be the most expensive alcohol you’ve ever seen.

It sits closer to you, so that Dean had to walk towards you to get it. His crotch now eye level with you and the tight leather left nothing to imagination. You could clearly see the outline of his cock and that made your face burn red. It’s more than a little hard to focus on asking him another question. He leaned forward to reach out for a bottle planting his hips squarely in front of your face and pressing forward. You had to lean away for his body not to mash into your face. Dean didn’t even seem to notice what he’s done. 

“Who is you're mu-muse?” You stumbled again as Dean popped open the top of the bottle and resumed drinking. When Dean didn’t answer, you cursed under your breath and resituated yourself in the chair. You needed to glance down at your notes to figure out where you left off in your list of questions.

“One Dean Winchester, raised in Lebanon Kansas, raised by a Mother who died when you were four and your Father who died almost 12 years ago now. You dropped out of High School in 11th grade. Your first concert was Aerosmith. And you were 22 when you hitchhiked with your little brother all the way to L.A., along with your High School Sweetheart.” All of this was information you already knew but there was a point you were trying to make. “Remember her?”

Dean’s face grew somber, his eyes focused on the bottle of scotch in his hand and he didn’t answer. “No comment?” You let a teasing tone bleed through, it was enjoyable to watch him have nothing to say. He inhaled and glanced at his watch.

“Two minutes.” His voice was soft, his teasing smile from earlier completely gone.

“Did I hit a nerve?” You smiled and sat back, enjoying the look on his face. He was close to cracking, you could tell. “Was it Aerosmith? Lebanon?” You paused as you leaned forwards to whisper to him. “High School Sweetheart?”

Dean continued to say nothing as he dropped his head, matching your gaze. You kept pushing. “Lisa Braden. Your first love. And your last hit single, it was written about her.”

His jaw clenches as the anger in him  builds before sadness hits him instead. “Record sold a hundred million copies.” He mumbles, before brings the now empty bottle to his lip. He’d sipped through it all during your talk and his eyes focused on it instead of you.

“And that record was released about eight years ago. Some people say you’ve sold out since then.” Dean growled in anger. It caught you off guard and you had to fight back the natural instinct to whine, submit to his anger and shut up. You find a way to suppress it.

“I’ve sold out, alright; every seat, every stadium I ever played.” Behind the anger, his previous untold sadness still lingered. You felt desperate to be real with him. Nothing he’d said to you so far has been true.

“And yet, creatively you’ve come to a stand still. You’ve been in and out of the studio for the past two years? And no results. Nothing.”

The two of you locked in a harsh gaze as you wondered what his eyes looked like. What color they were, what emotion he’s truly feeling behind all the makeup, leather and tattoos. You had grown to genuinely enjoy the man’s early music. A part of you could feel something you had never felt when listening to other bands music. You desperately wished that Dean would stop acting so surface deep.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and set the bottle on the table. After a glance at his watch, he stood up. “Time’s up.”

“You know, you’re not so special. You’re just a lonely man with a lot of regrets.” You fired back. Dean, instead of replying,  reached down to the recorder on the table and pressed the Stop recording button.

“I said time.” Dean sighed as he moved away from you and over to the bar. Huffing in frustration, you began to pack up your things, sliding the notebook and pen into the bag. You stared at the tape recorder for a second before standing up and pressing the record button.

“Final question. What happens when you realize you can’t get rid of Dean Winchester?” He stilled for a moment, back to you, before turning around and narrowing his eyes at you.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be me.” A calloused hand came up to his face and rubbed at his jaw. You stepped purposefully towards him.

“Well now’s your chance to tell me. What’s it like to be /the/ Dean Winchester.” Finally, as if the words resonated with him, Dean slid his sunglasses off to reveal deep forest green eyes. They’re weary and older but a hint of playfulness was still in them. A determined look filled them too, as he stepped in front of you and crooked his finger.

“I’ll show you.” He leaned in to whisper, his beard scratching along your jaw. The small pain made you jump a bit and he stepped back and motioned towards his security guards. Each man took one of your arms and carried you out to the stage where he would be performing later that night. It seemed the Technicians needed Dean for a mic check.

You are forcibly plopped into a seat near the edge. It irked you that you’d been manhandled, but if Dean was willing to talk about himself truthfully, then you were there to listen. He stepped up on the stage and narrowed his eyes as he began to sing.

“It’s all the same, only the names will change. Everyday, it seems we're wastin' away. Another place where the faces are so cold. I drive all night just to get back home.” You recognized the song. One that Dean had always been fond of and had even recorded a cover for one of their more recent albums. “I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.”

Even though Dean was looking at you, one of the omegas from the green room moved to the stage and began to touch across his chest, even going so far as to kiss along his chest. Soon a second and third one joined in. One of the male omegas dropped to his knees and kissed the inside of Dean’s leather clad thighs.

“Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days. The people I meet always go their separate ways. Sometimes you tell the day. By the bottle that you drink, and times when you're all alone all you do is think.” Dean grabbed a bottle of scotch from the floor of the stage and took a shot of whatever was in it. He grinned as one of the girls tugged him by his belt over to her instead.

“I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.” Four pairs of hands yanked off Dean’s jacket, revealing his torso completely to you. A surprised gasp left your lips as he turned around- only to reveal more of his tattoos. Shit. You groaned as you let your mind wander for a split second, imagining yourself on your knees for him, dragging your tongue along the pattern of each and every one of his tattoos.

You brought your thoughts back though, knowing you had to stay focused. No matter how desperately your omega side wanted to give in and let him really show you what it’s like to be a cowboy.

“I walk these streets, a loaded six-string on my back.I play for keeps 'cause I might not make it back. I been everywhere, still, I'm standing tall. I’ve seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all.” Dean finally seemed to get lost in the song. His eyes were wide as he picked up his guitar and strummed the lead guitar portion of the song. He seemed to have transported his mind somewhere else. He no longer looked in your direction, but at an undetermined spot in the distance, like he was imagining a sea of people there watching him.

In that moment, he’s relaxed. Despite the sweat gathering on his body, he seemed completely calm. Once more, you could practically feel the energy from him, but in your own skin. Pain hit you deep in your core, followed by a unmistakable sense of longing.

“I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive. I’m a cowboy, I got the night on my side. I’m wanted dead or alive, and I ride, dead or alive. I still drive. Dead or alive. Dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive.” But then, just as Dean’s concentration and beautiful form is created. It’s broken by something. He’s snapped out of it and looked around as the song finished. He swallowed thickly and set down the guitar.

Dean stepped down and headed towards you once again. “Does that answer your question?” He asked and headed off, shouldering his jacket back onto his body. The security guards picked you up once more and dragged you into the green room again. You managed to shove them off and follow behind Dean on your own, feet stomping loudly as you did.

Once there, you found Dean back on the couch, beer in hand. Only this time, Crowley was there. He raised his hand and frowned when he sees how pissed off you are. “A great interview, love. Hope you got everything.”

You ignored him , stepping up right in front of Dean, anger building inside you. Where was the passion that he had on stage? Dean was nothing more than a blob of sex, drugs, and booze now. He was lifeless, dull. No wonder his albums stunk. None of his albums in recent years had come anything close to the level of passion that you had seen on that stage.

“You’re not cowboy. You’re a man child, stuck in a rut.” Dean only laughed and closed his eyes, He tipped his head back.

“Love it when you talk dirty.” Crowley stepped towards you, not liking the comments you were hurling at his star.

“You know Dean, you were great, but whatever made you that way is gone.” You don’t even have the anger to yell at him. Instead you spoke with a broken whisper.

“That’s right, just give it to me.” You realized his sunglasses aren’t there to hide the emotions that he’s really feeling at the moment. He was vulnerable to you but he doesn’t hide. He knew you’re right too.

“Now you’re just another rocker asleep at the wheel, singing the same songs you wrote ten years ago.” Crowley let out a tense laugh as you spoke.

“Okay lady. Why don’t-” But you’re not about to start caring what some dick in a suit thought about you.

“And as long as you’ve got this manager keeping you on the road and doping you up with girls and booze and-and..” You point to the bar, where the omegas have come back and are huddled against it. They all smile over at Dean.  “And million dollar record deals. He’s gonna keep you asleep and drive your career right off a cliff.”

As soon as you said it, you know you’ve gone too far. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve become personally invested now that you know what Dean used to perform like. Something inside of you needed it to come out, even if it meant having to  bruise Dean and his manager’s ego.

“Alright, lined crossed. Let’s go.” Crowley reached forwards for your arm, but you force it out of his grip and snarl at the Beta.

“Don’t touch me.” Crowley only scoffs, but Dean looked to actually be listening to you now. No jokes, just listening. Maybe what you’d said was getting to him. “You used to write great music. Where are they now?” You plead with him for an answer. For something. This has become so much more than your editorial piece now. No, now it’s about you, asking Dean where he went. “Where’s the real Dean?”

“You know what? I’m gonna have to get your editor on the phone. You’re out of here.” Crowley pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number. “Thomas Gallagher’s office please.”

“Get out.” Dean whispered. Your heart ached as he says that and you nodded as you backed away

“My feelings exactly. This interview is over.” With a snap of his fingers, the guards moved in and began to surround you. Dean raised a finger and moved it from you over to Crowley.

“Not her. You.” Dean’s eyes stayed locked with yours, a small squeak of happiness left your lips. It made a soft smirk fall on the rock stars lips. “Everyone but her.” He replied. A confused Crowley hangs up the phone and sighed as he left, along with the omegas, bartender, and guards. Once the door’s shut, you realized. You two are alone, more than you were comfortable with at the moment.

“You know, I think you have this sense of entitlement. Due to the fact that you’re a rock god.” It takes a second to register the fact that Dean has started to move towards you. Once he’s close enough to break your personal space bubble, you began to step back. “But it’s not real. It’s not…love.”

Dean shook his head. “It isn’t love.” He repeated. The two of you continued the dance, when Dean took one step forward, you took one step back.

“Off the record?” He breathed. Warmth from his words fanned across your face and your steps faltered before you regain yourself. You nodded yes, sparing a look down to his lips. “Sex,” he drawled the word out and you slipped down onto the couch after the back of your thighs hit against it. “And other people’s projections of what they want me to be."

You clear your throat, having to scoot away as Dean began to slide down beside you. Heat made its way through your lower belly. He purposefully tried to get close to you and while your head screamed Don’t let him. He just wanted into your pants. Another part, the omega in you, said that Dean thought you were special. You understood him like no one else had. “Of what you want me to be.”

Every part of you ached to turn your head and look at him. You stole a glance, but forced yourself to turn  away from Dean, having to further shift away from him on the couch.

“Sex. It keeps me from going out and getting the one thing that could save me.” Dean grinned as you once again half turn to face him, but will yourself to face forward. “But I can’t have that now. I’m a slave to rock and roll.” Again and again, Dean crawled towards you but again and again you slid away. “Like I said, I know me better than anyone, because I live in here and no one else can.”

It got you, the pain that Dean had. The anger was all because of the burden he was carrying. He once had someone to love but she left and then Dean was on his own. He didn’t know how to share himself with another person.

“I can.” You whispered and turned your head to face Dean. Eyes wide as he looked at you with a primal need you’ve never seen in someone’s eyes before. It’s because he believed that. He needed that.

And yet, he’s slow and gentle as he leant forward and pressed your lips together. One hand moved up to cup your cheek and bring you closer to him. A soft sigh left your lips as you tried and pull back for a second, only to dive in deeper the moment his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. “Open for me Omega.” He growled into your lips and you answered back with a high and needy whine.

You do as he asked and you let your lips part in the kiss. His hand moved down and began to press you further into the couch. One of his hands moved up to your face to pull your glasses off. You decided to reach up and pull your hair out of the tight ponytail that you had it in.

Dean moved up to really look at you, a hand moving through your hair and fanned it out. “Is this really what you want, omega?” He asked as a hand moved up to squeeze at your breast. His large hands gripped onto you tightly and pulled at the soft flesh under his grasp. A soft breath fanned over your neck as he drug his lips across your skin.

You jumped at the way his beard brushed against the skin of your neck, you let out a desperate whine for more. “Dean.” You breathed his name out in pleasure and tried your best not to sound too desperate. A breathless chuckle left the man’s lips as he spread apart your thighs.

“You..you’re different, aren’t you Y/N?” Dean tilted his head and you’re a bit surprised he remembered your name. “You don’t expect something from me. Do you?” You shook your head at his question. Part of you wondered if he’s guessing what you want, his truth. You expect nothing, but honesty from him.

“I’ve been looking for you ‘mega.” Dean sat up on his knees and looked down at you. He shouldered off the jacket that hid those beautiful tattoo’s of his.

“I’ve been look for you, Alpha.” Heat begins to rise to your cheeks. Now tinged pink due to the fact that you’ve never called someone alpha before. It felt perfect. Dean’s eyes rolled back a bit and he let out a low growl.

“Say it again.” Dean placed his hand over your throat. He forced  your head back to look him in the eyes. “Tell me what I am.” He demanded.

“My alpha.” You whined as he looked down at you with lust blown eyes. He looked down at his hand on your throat and pulled it away only to push up the pencil skirt you wore. The itchy fabric dragged along the smooth skin of your thighs. Dean's eyes zeroed in on your panties, but you snapped your thighs shut.

You placed the tip of your index finger on Dean’s skin to draw a shudder  from him. The touch shocked you and the both of you sat in silence as you traced the pattern of the pistol along Dean’s adonis line.

“Mmmm, you like them?” He questioned and brushed his thumb along your lower lip, pulling it down for a split second. Eagerly, you nod your head yes for him. It’s hard to deny the look Dean’s replicated. An eighties rock god was definitely befitting of Dean Winchester.

“I love them. Can I..?” You start to question, but you don’t even have to finish. Dean moved off the couch and stood on his feet in front of you. The Alpha’s right hand moved through your hair as he guided you forward, letting you do whatever you want.

You purse your lips and kissed his hip bone before you dragged your tongue over to where Deans tattoo was.  You outlined the design with your tongue. Not wanting to leave the other one unattended, you moved over to the matching design and gave it the same amount of attention as the other one. You brought your hand up and started to unbuckle his belt. The leather pants he wore, pushed far enough down his body to get to his cock. It came  as a bit of surprise as his cock sprung right into your face.

Dean didn’t order you to do anything. Once you pressed your mouth to the side of his cock, you could feel his grip tighten on your hair. Every time he let out a growl, your body reacted before you can. Slick began to collect inside your folds, but you pushed past it. Eager to please Dean and get him off.

A few gentle kisses and kitten licks have the Alpha’s cock hard and aching for the attention that you planned to give. “You ever suck a cock before sweetheart?” While it wasn’t your first, you wouldn’t say you were an expert. So, you gave him a tentative nod.

“Relax okay? You’ll get used to it.” Dean offered you a reassuring smile as he let you take the first part of his cock into your mouth. A few movements and you realized that his whole cock wasn’t going to fit inside your mouth, not like this anyway.

Dean bucks his hips into your mouth and the tip of his dick rams past your gag reflexes and makes your eyes widen. It burns your throat but you can handle it. So, you pull away, a small string of saliva connect dick and lips, how romantic.

“Use me Alpha. Wanna..” You struggle to catch your breath as you speak. “Wanna make you feel good.” It’s all he needs to hear as he really grips onto your hair with one hand, the other on the back of your head.

“Tap out if you gotta.” He whispered before he moved his cock back into your mouth. His dick slipped past every barrier and slipped into the back of your throat. It stung and you’re certain your throat will be sore tomorrow. Only when he sees you handle the depth he’s reaching does he pull out and slam your face against his pelvis. Your nose squished against his skin.

You didn’t notice it at first but you feel tears stream down your cheeks. Dean’s head is tipped back and his eyes closed, full lips parted in pleasure. Even though your face is being fucked, you realized that you enjoy the way Dean looked in this moment more than anything. The concentration that he had on stage is back and you love the way he looked in this moment.

Just as you think you can’t last much longer, Dean stilled, his cock completely buried in your mouth and comes. You don’t know if you should swallow or not. So you let instinct guide you as you swallow what he gave you. There’s a moment of silence as you lingered on the floor.

Dean stepped back and eased his cock back into his leather pants and guided you back up onto your feet. He tilted his head before he smashed your lips together in a bruising kiss. Teeth banged each other as he held onto you.

Once you feel the need for air, you pulled away and looked up at Dean, wondering what he’ll do next. “I..I think I’m ready to give you that story you were looking for.” He breathed out and pressed his forehead to yours.

Dean’s eyes opened up to gaze at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom in the bunker. Moments tick by and he turned his head to glance at the cheap clock on the opposite side of the room. It displayed the time- 3:16 am. 

Despite the time, Dean felt wide awake. He hissed as he tried to move around, feeling a sick pain/pleasure course from his cock. The seasoned Hunter was unbearably hard, to the point where it was a struggle to get out of his bed.

He’d had the dream the night before and last night when he’d woken up, Dean had to fight with himself to jack off to it. Sure, dreaming about getting sucked off was always nice, but the other stuff weirded him out. He didn’t understand what Alpha’s and Omega’s were, but he didn’t think he wanted to know. Everything worked a bit too much like a bad romance novel.

Now, he laid in bed and tried his best not to think about his dick or the way Y/N had the prettiest mouth he'd ever seen. Dean had wracked his brain, unable to figure out why he dreamt of this you in particular. Dean grabbed his laptop and looked up your name. Unable to find any in any database that matched your description, Dean set his laptop back down. 

Dean hesitated before he grabbed the laptop again. His eyes lingered on the search bar as he typed in Alpha and Omega. God. I'm already regretting this.

Tags: @tarot--thot @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @timeless-crow @musiclovinchic93

[makistar2018]

Inside Taylor Swift's Personal Diary Entries: Read All of the Biggest Revelations

By Tomás Mier August 24, 2019

Photo: DIA DIPASUPIL/GETTY

Lover of Diaries

Fans got an inside look at some of Taylor Swift’s most personal thoughts when they bought the deluxe version of her new album, Lover.

Along with some behind-the-scenes recordings, each album featured a 30-page booklet with excerpts from her personal diaries — some even from she was just 13!

“I’ve written about pretty much everything that’s happened to me. I’ve written my original lyrics in those diaries, just feelings,” she said on an Instagram Live announcing the booklets. “It’s everything from pictures drawn, photos of that time in my life, I used to like tape stuff in my diaries.”

Here are the top 10 takeaways from her personal diary entries.

Photo: CHRISTOPHER POLK/GETTY 

Swift the Lyricist

If the diary entries are filled with anything, it’s a deep dive into her song lyrics.

“Red” was born on a long flight — and everyone she played it for loved it.

“Its [sic] so different than anything we’ve done,” she wrote in 2011. “I can’t even tell you how alive and worthwhile I feel when I’m writing a new song and I finish it and people like it. It’s the most fulfilling feeling, like getting an A+ on your report card.”

The diaries also share early versions of “All Too Well” and songs like “Long Live,” “White Horse,” “Holy Ground” and “This Love.”

In a 2014 entry, she writes about the creation of her ultra-hit “Shake It Off.”

“The best way I know how to describe it is that the chorus just fell out of the sky,” she wrote in 2014.

“We all went home and I wrote the first and second verses and brought them in the next day. We wrote this chanty cheer leader bridge that I absolutely LOVE,” she continued.

As for the album cover that would accompany “Shake It Off,” she wrote that she “saw it within 10 seconds.”

“The craziest moment came when something caught my eye. The cover photo is photo 13. I kid you not,” she wrote about the polaroid cover to 1989, which she accompanied with a sketch.

Photo:  HENRY LAMB/BEI/REX/SHUTTERSTOCK

A Glamorous Gala

In a diary entry, Swift writes about being invited to “this event called ‘The Met Gala.’”

To an 18-year-old Swift, that day was “THE party of the year.”

“The paps started SCREAMING for me. It was crazy,” she wrote in May 2008. “We made our way up the red carpet, posing for everyone. All of the women looked so glamorous in their gowns.”

Along with meeting Anna Wintour, George Clooney, Julia Roberts and Giorgio Armani at the event, she wrote that “models stood as decorations, standing still and wearing gorgeous gowns.”

Once inside, she lists “every celebrity ever created” at the event, including Scarlett Johansson, Tom Brady, Beyoncé, Victoria Beckham, Tom Cruise and Jon Bon Jovi “who called me over to talk to him.”

Photo: LARRY BUSACCA/GETTY 

Borchetta's Beginnings

Weeks before the release of Lover, a public feud involving Swift and her old label Big Machine made headlines when the label’s founder Scott Borchetta sold the label (and ownership of her masters) to Scooter Braun.

But years before, Swift had nothing but kind things to say about the label founder who signed her.

After meeting with Capitol Records and not being offered “the deal I would want,” she met with Borchetta — and left with feelings of excitement.

“I really loved all the stuff he said in the meeting, and he stayed for the whole Bluebird show,” she wrote in November 2014. “And he’s SO passionate about this project. I think that’s the way we’re gonna go, I want to surround myself with passionate people.”

A meeting with Borchetta also made “Sparks Fly” as she came up with the name of her second album.

“We were talking about the record and I had this epiphany,” she wrote in April 2010. “I didn’t talk in interviews about how I felt about much of what has happened in the last two years. I’ve been silent about so much that I’m saying on this album. It’s time to Speak Now.”

“Scott freaked out. He loved it,” she wrote in April 2010. “We have a title, ladies and gentlemen!”

Photo: SPLASH 

"The Hunters Will Always Outnumber Me"

Swift also opens up about the lack of privacy that comes with being a celebrity — and how she’ll never get used to seeing “a group of people staring, amassed outside my house, pointing, camera phones up…”

“They could never imagine how much that feels like being hunted,” she wrote.

Swift compares her “mostly perfect life” to “being a tiger in a wildlife enclosure.”

“It’s pretty in there, but you can’t get out,” she described in the August 2013 note.

“No matter how big my house is or how many albums I sell, I’m still going to be the rabbit,” she added. “Because the hunters will always outnumber me. The spectators will stand by, shaking their heads, going ‘that poor girl.’ But the point is, they’re still watching. Everyone loves a good hunt.”

But her feelings about being “hunted” also translated into worrying about her generation’s obsession with taking photos “so that they can spend all day checking the comments underneath.”

“They will never truly experience a moment without attempting to capture it and own it,” she wrote, comparing pulling a flower from the ground to take photos. “Nevermind that picking a flower kills it, the same way taking a picture of a moment can ruin it altogether.”

Swift has notably kept comments off of her post to improve her mental health.

“I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me that I look 🔥🔥🔥,” she wrote in Elle. “I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to ‘go die in a hole ho’ while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning.”

Photo: AL MESSERSCHMIDT/GETTY

From Fearful to "Fearless"

Though Swift is now known for her jaw-dropping stage presence, as a young singer she wrote that she would “get stage fright every time I walk onto a stage.”

“I wish it wasn’t so, but I can’t blame my mind for freaking out about performances,” she wrote in 2010, days before releasing Speak Now. “Criticism of my performances has been the biggest source of pain in my life.”

“I sometimes feel like my college degree is in acting like I’m ok when I’m not,” wrote a 20-year-old Swift.

But even as a burgeoning singer at just 13, she would get hate while on stage. During one performance, her guitar pick broke in half and fell while she was playing.

“There was this huge silence! It was awful! I had to bend over and pick it up in front of everyone!” she wrote next to the broken pick. “And while I was singing, this guy was shouting stuff like, ‘Go on, b*#@! Sing that country bulls#*%! Go on motherf—!.’ It was awful.”

Photo: SCOTT GRIES/GETTY IMAGES

Done with Dieting

In her diaries, she also candidly writes about sticking to a diet as a teen.

Soon after Thanksgiving 2006, she returned to Nashville to her “own comfy bed” and planned to go out to eat with her best friend Abigail Anderson during a day off.  

“Oh and I’m dieting again,” she wrote right after.

“Over the holidays I didn’t watch what I ate and man its [sic] so weird how fast I can gain or lose weight… It’s crazy,” she ended the note. “So I’m going to lose some now.”

Earlier this year, she wrote about finally being okay with gaining weight.

“I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body,” she wrote in Elle. “I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy.”

The “Daylight” singer also said that she’s constantly working on her body image.

“I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix,” she said. “I work on accepting my body every day.”

Photo: CHRISTOPHER POLK/GETTY IMAGES

"I'ma Let You Finish, But..."

“Ahh… the things that can change in a week…” wrote Swift in a Sept. 18, 2009 journal entry.

Five days had passed since Kanye West crashed Swift’s Video of the Year acceptance speech at the MTV Video Music Awards, but the whole ordeal was all she — and everyone else — could think about.

“If you had told me that one of the biggest stars in music was going to jump up onstage and announce that he thought I shouldn’t have won on live television, I would’ve said ‘That stuff doesn’t really happen in real life,’” she wrote.

“Well… apparently…. It does,” she ended the note.

Little did 19-year-old Swift know that West would cause more tumult in her life seven years later. In an August 2016 note, she simply wrote, “This summer is the apocalypse.”

The “apocalyptic” summer came when West referred to the singer as “that bitch”in his track “Famous” and featured a nude version of the “Shake It Off” singer in its accompanying video.

Then, Swift said she never approved of the lyric after his wife Kim Kardashianleaked a phone call conversation between the two singers.

“Being falsely painted as a liar when I was never given the full story or played any part of the song is character assassination,” she wrote then. That “Cruel Summer” ordeal would go on to inspire her sixth album, reputation.

Photo:  SPLASH NEWS

A Joe Alwyn “Love Story”

Like in Lover’s lyrics, Swift doesn’t hold back about her deep feelings for boyfriend Joe Alwyn in her personal diary.

Clearly writing about Alwyn, the singer confessed about wanting to keep their relationship under wraps as much as possible.

“I’m essentially based in London, hiding out trying to protect us from the nasty world that just wants to ruin things,” she wrote in a January 2017 note. “We have been together and no one has found out for 3 months now. I want it to stay that way because I don’t want anything about this to change or become too complicated or intruded upon.”

“But it’s senseless to worry about someday not being happy when I am happy now,” she concluded. “OK. Breathe.”

But Swift wasn’t always so sure about love being real — especially when it came to Valentine’s Day.

“I somehow feel like it’s my destiny to roll my eyes at happy couples and resent Valentine’s Day. I also feel like I’m the girl before ‘the one.’ I’m not ‘the one,’” she wrote at 19. “I’m the girl you think is the one for you, and when it doesn’t work out with me, you meet the next girl and realize she IS the one.”

And as a mere 13 year old, she imagined the first time she’d have her first kiss — and about being “such a romantic.”

“I just dream about looking into someone’s eyes and feeling something I’ve never felt before, you know?” she wrote. “I just never was able to put a face to my fantacy [sic]. But something tells me that my first kiss is really far away from happening!”

Photo:  LARRY BUSACCA/WIREIMAGE

The Night Before...

Before the 2014 Grammy Awards, Swift was confident her album Red would take home the biggest award of the night.

“It’s the middle of the night and I was at the Clive Davis party tonight which means… the Grammys are tomorrow,” she wrote. “Never have I felt so good about our chances. Never have I wanted something so badly as I want to hear them say ‘Red’ is the Album of the Year.”

Though she was up for four awards that year, Swift would head home empty handed.

Though she had won that award two years prior with Fearless, it wouldn’t be until her 2014 album 1989 that she’d take home the coveted prize again. In her 13-year career, Swift has won 10 Grammys from 32 nominations.

Photo:  MICHAEL LOCCISANO/FILMMAGIC

“This Might Be Worth Money Someday”

Though her diary entries are filled with some insight into the more complicated times in her life, the entries also feature some cute memories of her youth — including her middle school class schedule, some song lyrics and memories about listening to Sugarland for the first time.

Accompanied by drawings and the number 13, in her first journal entry, she signs her name and writes “(That could be worth money someday!! Just kidding hehe).”

Under “Journal #1,” a 13-year-old Swift writes a poem: “The world is as big as you make it / Never be shameful to fly / When a chance comes you should take it / May you never be scared of goodbye…”

After performing at a school talent show, Swift wrote: “I ❤ SCHOOL!”

Reminiscing on the grand day, Swift wrote, “I got a standing ovation and everything.”

People

[wwe-writings]

Seth Rollins- Don't Leave

I ask myself what did I do? Truly, I don't know if I will ever know the real reason why unless for some miracle you come back to me.

Just hours ago I walked in on you sitting in the bath. Not your usual bath with a bath bomb fizzing causing colorful bubbles to form in the warm water. Your normal wine glass wasn't full sitting on the bathroom floor this time.

This time it was an empty pill bottle laying on the floor where your glass would have been.

The bottle was next to your phone which was lit up as my name was marked on there with 6 missed calls next to it.

I questioned why you weren't answering especially on your day off. It wasn't like you. You were one to pick up on the second ring with a smile on your face even though I couldn't see it myself.

You wore old clothes ones you wear when you dance around the house cleaning to some old Bon Jovi song.

God your love for those songs.

Just thinking about it I can hear your voice distant but there singing the chorus to Livin' On A Prayer.

You said the music helped keep you motivated but I know the true reason was because you and your dad used to travel the country listening to them.

I read your journals as if they were books. Pictures of you next to state signs holding up your famous peace sign as you wore your sunglasses over your eyes.

You said you felt cool wearing them in pictures because it reminded you of your mom.

I never met the woman you talked so highly of nor your father but it felt like I met them time and time again. I met them through your diary entries.

The way you talked about them I know barely scraped the surface but the details you wrote made me feel as if they were there sitting next to me reliving the moments themselves.

The way you wrote made me feel as if I was in your shoes. I think my favorite journal you wrote was your time you spent in Arizona.

You said it was the summer you lost yourself and found yourself in just a couple months.

The way your face was lit up in the pictures was nothing compared to the face I came home too.

Your face was so pale, lifeless even. Your eyes were struggling to stay open as your breathing was shallow.

I was so excited to come home today and see you. I had the whole night planned out. Dinner, a massage, and even a movie before bed. I wanted to make it special since our two year anniversary was coming up in a matter of weeks.

Now here we are with you sitting on a hospital wrapped up in blankets as cords stuck out of your arms.

You are still as pale as when I found you. Your eyes are shut and i wish you would open them just for a second so I could see the color of the sunset before the sky dips under the horizon.

I know that's a lot to ask but if you would you would make me the happiest man alive.

The monitors beeping is what kept my nerves from going insane. It kept me steady till the time comes at least.

The doctors say you probably won't make it through the night.

I have hopes you will prove them wrong and come back from this.

I know your stronger than this. I have proof.

The proof of you beating me in arm wrestling when we were backstage with Dean and Roman after my match.

You'd always say that my muscles were just for show and that you could beat me with your thin, slim arms.

We would square up for an arm wrestle and I'd always start out tough then let you slam my fist on the table.

I loved the way your face lit up after you won or the way you would rub it in my face.

The boys would laugh at me but it was all worth seeing a smile come from you.

I held your hand as I sat in a chair next to your bedside.

My worst fear is not losing you but losing you and myself.

I remember the day you came home and told me you were diagnosed with your cancer.

It ran in the family you said. I just didnt know it would come so soon.

I just didnt want to say goodbye. Not yet, not ever.

As the line ran dead through the monitors it felt as if my own lifeline stopped and never restarted either.

My chest hurt watching them trying to tell me it was over.

I came back the next to day to come and get your things.

I don't think it was the fact you passed away in the room that scared me the most but how fast the room was cleaned up and put back together as if the night before I didn't sleep in the chair next to your bedside.

You came into my life at the airport back in Minnesota the summer of '03.

We were young and dumb. You said you liked to live life on the edge yet we were only 17 years old.

You left to soon.

You were so young, so innocent.

I'm never going to be able to listen to another Bon Jovi album without hearing your voice as you sung around the house in your pajamas.

I just know the next time I see you we will be hopeless romantics trying to spend as much time together as possible even though it will be endless. You won't be in pain this time which makes me more ready to see you. I know you'll have a bigger smile on your face knowing you wont be in pain.

I know that this feeling won't ever go away, but there will be a day when I don't feel like every minute, the anger and sadness won't be so hard and I will be left with only love.

I miss you and hope wherever you go next you feel peace. Wherever you go next I hope you know that I love you.

Forever and always my darling.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Déjà vu

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel, Gabriel (once), I think that’s it. 

Word Count: 5,936(my longest fic yet!)

Warnings: Major character death, If you haven’t seen Before I Fall or the supernatural episode “Mystery Spot” then this will be a little confusing but I hope it won’t be, angst and a touch of fluff. 

Summary: You keep reliving the same day over and over again. Why is this happening to you and can you save Dean in the end? 

Author’s Note: This one is a little on the longer side but I based this off if the new movie that just came out, Before I Fall. Then a couple of days ago, I realized it was like “Mystery Spot” on Supernatural and I guess it could be like that but the reader instead of Sam. I hope you all enjoy it and please, leave requests for me to do! Also if you want to be tagged in my future fics and my Series Rewrite series (which will be coming soon) and I will tag you. 

@jensen-jarpad @supernatural-jackles 

“Get up, Y/N, we need to hit the road!” You heard the oldest Winchester yell. You groaned and opened one eye to see his ass wiggle out of your sight. Damn, was that man a sight to see but right now, you couldn’t be happier now that he was out of your sight.

With a grunt, you got off the bed and headed straight to the bathroom to get ready. When Dean Winchester says it’s time to go, it is time to go. No need for a shower when you took one last night so you grabbed a comfy pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

You and the Winchesters would be on the road for about 3 hours and even though it may not seem like a long time, 3 hours with the Winchesters would go by slowly. You pulled your hair into a bun and quickly packed last minute things into your bag since you packed it last night. When you were ready, you walked out to the car where both Sam and Dean were waiting.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart.” Dean said as you got into the backseat.

“Oh be quiet.” You playfully glared at Dean before he backed out of the garage and took off down the road. Immediately, the car was filled with You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi and you sighed and slumped against the back seat of the car.

“Dean, please, can we listen to anything but rock?” You put your fingers to your temple and rubbed it slowly.

“Sorry sweetheart, you know the rules.” Dean said over the loud volume. You scoffed and looked over at Sam, hoping you could persuade one Winchester. It wasn’t like you hated rock music, but when Dean played the same 15 songs repeatedly, it got pretty annoying.

Sam shook his head and gave you an apologetic look before turning back to face the front. With a huff, you sat back. It took three hours to drive to Omaha, Nebraska and you were already in need of a detoxification from both men.

“I’ll go get us a room. Do you want a room for yourself this time?” Sam turned to you when Dean parked in the motel he liked.

“Please and thank you.” You smiled and got out as well, grabbing the bag you brought. Dean got out, walked to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk to get his and Sam’s bag.

“Y/N, listen to me,” You turned to Dean and stared at his beautiful emerald eyes. “No matter what happens on this hunt, you keep fighting. You kill every single one of those sons of bitches.”

“Dean, you’re scaring me. You made it sound like you’re dying and not coming back.” Your brows furrowed together in confusion and worry.

“I’m not going anywhere but these demons we’re hunting are dangerous. Sam and I fought them before and we needed the help of many people to get one down.”

“So isn’t it foolish if we go in there, guns blazing? You said it yourself, it took a lot of hunters to take down one. There’s only three of us here.”

“I called Cas. He said he would help and I’m grateful for that but I can’t go in there if I’m worrying about you.” He sighed softly.

“Dean, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about everyone you meet.” You said and walked away from him. That wasn’t the reason he was worried about you but he could never tell you how he feels. If you reacted the way you treated him now, then he would rather stay friends as he drowned in himself every day.

Sam came back with two keycards in his hand and handed one to you and kept the other.

“I have a few people I wanted to talk to in regards of the hideout the demons have. I was thinking Sam and I go check that out and you and Cas can try researching them?” You asked Dean.

“Or how about me and you Fed up and Sammy here can research? How does that sound?” Dean looked at his brother. You saw them both have the silent communication that they did with their eyes before Sam nodded.

“Sure, I’ll have Cas help me. You guys should get going.” Sam walked into his own room without another word.

“You know, I’ll never understand the mental communication between you two.” You chuckled.

“Just get dressed.” Dean said playfully. You walked into your room and quickly put on the stockings, tight skirt, tight shirt and blazer. You searched for your shoes but couldn’t find them anywhere. You huffed when you realized they were probably in the trunk.

You walked over to Dean’s room and knocked on the door.

“Dean! I need your keys!” When the door opened, Sam was the one to hand you the keys to the Impala.

“Dean isn’t available right now.” Sam smirked but said nothing else. With a confused look, you nodded slowly and walked to the car, going to the trunk. You opened it and leaned in, bending over to dig through the mess that the boys have acquired over the years. You finally saw the grey pumps you always wore when you Fed up.

"Damn Y/N, where have you been hiding that ass?" You heard Dean say from behind you. You jumped at the unexpectedly presence and bumped your head on the trunk and glared playfully at Dean. He always flirted with you and you him so this comment was nothing new to you.

"You would look at my ass when I'm not looking." You chuckled and turned around with your pumps in your hands.

"How can I not?" He winked at you and that caused a small blush to form on your cheeks.

"Give me 5 minutes and I'll be ready." You walked back to your room, putting a little sway to your walk, knowing Dean was watching you. You thought it was flattering that he noticed you but it made you sad when that's all it ever will be. Dean was just a flirtatious man by nature so it never meant anything.

You put on the shoes and fixed your hair since it got ruined when you bumped your head. You grabbed your phone, FBI badge, your keycard, and money and walked out to the car where Dean was waiting for you. You got in and turned to him.

"So the first person who might have some idea where the demons might be is a woman named Patricia Sky." You told him her address and you two were off.  An hour or two goes by and your time has been wasted.

"Well that was a bust." You sighed as you exited the woman's house.

"Tell me about it. Do you have another address?" Dean said from behind you.

"Yeah, I do and it's not far from here." You and Dean got in the car and you told him the next address.

--

"Please tell me that you found something." Sam said as he looked at Cas. He's been researching and nothing was popping up.

"I am sorry to say that I haven't," Sam was about to protest when his phone rang.

"Please tell me you found something." Sam answered when he saw it was Dean.

"Yeah. We're at a warehouse on Marketstreet. It's kind of desolate."

"Okay we'll be there," Sam hung up and got up, grabbing his jacket from the bed. "Cas they're at a warehouse." Castiel nodded and got up, putting a hand on his shoulder and used his powers to teleport them there.

"Here." Dean handed Sam the demon knife.

"I thought you two went all Fed." Sam noticed that Dean and you were dressed like a Hunter rather than an FBI agent.

"We bought some clothes. It was faster than coming back to the motel when the mall was so much closer." You explained.

"Right, let's do this." Sam nodded and all four of you walked carefully into the warehouse. It was eerily quiet but that didn't teeter you at all. You advanced through the warehouse with a gun in hand, demon bullets in it, and looked around. You covered the first floor of the building and nothing has seemed out of place.

"Dean where are they?" You whispered to Dean. He was about to answer but there was a crash coming from above you. Sam led the way as you all walked up the stairs, all senses on alert. Right from the bat, demons started pouncing on you and the men.

Castiel was quick to smite two of them but another threw him into a wall. Sam tried to fend off two and Dean another two but it wasn't enough to keep them at bay. You tried your hardest to fight, shooting at them but you missed every time. It was becoming harder and harder to fight them and you couldn't see a win for you and the men.

Three demons had Sam and Castiel pinned to the wall. Two demons held Dean by the arms so he was stable and not going anywhere. Another demon held you in place right in front of Dean so you could see what was happening to him. The final demon, probably the leader, walked over to Dean and smirked.

"Well well well, what do we have here? The Winchesters? Man, this is exciting. I'll be the demon that finally ends them."

"Why don't you go back to hell?" You sneered at him. Provoking the demon that could potentially kill you all wasn't a good idea but he had Dean and you would do anything to get him to torture you rather than him. Dean had enough torture happen to him to last him 2 lifetimes.

"Oh I was but I prefer it up here," He chuckled and took out a knife but he wasn't targeting you, he was targeting Dean. "I heard you were a good torturer in hell, Dean. 40 years in hell is nothing compared to the lifetime I'm going to spend with you down there." He smirked and pressed the tip of the knife to Dean's neck and applied pressure.

"No! Leave him alone!" You said suddenly. You realized after you said it that you might have sounded vulnerable but you didn't care now.

"Oh protective, are we?" The demon turned to you and grinned sadistically. You looked over at Sam and Castiel who seemed like they couldn't speak. Those demons were doing something to them but your main focus was Dean right now.

"Leave him alone and take me." You offered.

"You see, I would take you if Dean wasn't so valuable. But you get the pleasure of watching him die." He turned back to Dean and your eyes widened when he raised the knife.

"No!!!" You struggled against the demon holding you but it was no use; you weren't going anywhere. The demon swung his arm down and buried the knife in Dean's chest. Dean gave you a look as blood came pouring out of his mouth. You screamed in pain and tears were silently pouring down your cheeks.

--

"Get up Y/N! We need to hit the road!!" You gasped awake and you were breathing heavily. Did you dream that whole thing last night? You just witnessed Dean getting killed by a demon but that couldn't be because he was speaking to you right now. What the hell happened last night?

"Are you okay?" Dean sounded concerned from the door.

"Yeah, no, I just had a nightmare. That's all, I'll be ready in a minute." You said. Dean nodded and left your room, leaving you in complete silence. But it wasn't silent to you, thanks to your screaming thoughts.

You got up slowly and tried to replay what you saw in your nightmare on your way to the bathroom. You splashed some water on your face and stared at yourself in the mirror. That nightmare looked and felt so real. It doesn't every dream feel like that?

With shaky hands, you brushed your teeth and got back to your room where you put on your baggy sweats and shirt. Because you packed last night, you put the remaining stuff into your duffel bag and walked out to the Winchesters who were waiting in the car.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart.” Dean said as you got into the backseat.

"What? Oh, sorry." This sounded familiar. Dean pulled out of the garage and took off down the road. Immediately, the car was filled with You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi and you stared at Dean. Why did this look familiar? You could have sworn you already went through this.

"Hey, turn it down, would you?" You said to Sam and he did as he was told. "What happened last night?"

"I know we drank a lot last night but, come on. You really are a light weight." Dean teased you but you weren't in the mood for joking around.

"Dean I'm serious. There wasn't any demon hunting?"

"That's tonight. Are you sure you're okay?" Dean said and looked at you through the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You sighed to yourself and sat back in your seat. It took three hours to drive to Omaha, Nebraska and you were ready to be separated from the boys.

“I’ll go get us a room. Do you want a room for yourself this time?” Sam turned to you when Dean parked in the motel he liked.

"Yeah sure, thanks." You said distantly. You could have sworn that this already happened. You watched as Sam got out and walked to the office. You grabbed your bag and got out of the car. Dean got out and walked back to the trunk to get his and Sam's bag.

“Y/N, listen to me,” You turned to Dean with caution. You had a feeling of what he was about to say. “No matter what happens on this hunt, you keep fighting. You kill every single one of those sons of bitches.”

"Dean haven't you said that to me before?" You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"What? No, I haven't. But I mean it, these demons we’re hunting are dangerous. Sam and I fought them before and we needed the help of many people to get one down.”

"So it's just going to be us and Cas?"

"How did you," Dean looked at you and he shook his head. "Never mind that, but yes, I called him. He said that he would help but I can't go in there if I'm worried about you." He sighed softly.

"Dean, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about everyone you meet.” You said the same exact thing you said in your dream. You turned around and walked away from him when you saw Sam come over. Sam came back with two keycards in his hand and handed one to you and kept the other.

"I have a few people on my list that I can talk to. When Cas gets here, I can go with him and you and Sam can research?" You knew what Dean would say next.

“Or how about me and you Fed up and Sammy here can research? How does that sound?” Dean looked at his brother. You saw them both have the silent communication that they did with their eyes before Sam nodded.

“Sure, I’ll have Cas help me. You guys should get going.” Sam walked into his own room without another word.

“Your mental conversations never cease to amaze me.” You said.

“Just get dressed.” Dean said playfully. You walked into your room and quickly put on the stockings, tight skirt, tight shirt and blazer. You searched for your shoes but couldn’t find them anywhere. You huffed when you realized they were probably in the trunk.

This happened just like in the dream. You were thinking that that might not have been a dream after all. Everything was happening exactly the same, it was scary. You sighed and you needed to go over to Dean's to get his keys. You walked over to Dean’s room and knocked on the door.

“Dean! I need your keys!” When the door opened, Sam was the one to hand you the keys to the Impala.

“Dean isn’t available right now.” Sam smirked but said nothing else.

"Of course he isn’t." You turned around and walked to the trunk where you knew the shoes would be. You opened it and leaned in, bending over to dig through the mess and smiled when you saw them.

"Damn Y/N, where have you been hiding that ass?" You heard Dean say from behind you. Even though this happened before, you didn't expect it and jumped, once again hitting your head on the trunk of the car.

"Oh it's always been here; you've just been too busy to notice." You chuckled and turned around with your pumps in your hands.

"You think it don't notice but I do." He winked at you and that caused a small blush to form on your cheeks. Anything this man does is more than likely to cause a blush.

"Give me 5 minutes and I'll be ready." You walked back to your room, putting a little sway to your walk, knowing Dean was watching you. You put on the shoes and fixed your hair since it got ruined when you bumped your head. You grabbed your phone, FBI badge, your keycard, and money and walked out to the car where Dean was waiting for you. You got in and turned to him.

"So the first person who might have some idea where the demons might be is a woman named Patricia Sky." You told him her address and you two were off. If your "dream" was accurate, then Patricia Sky would be a dead end but you wanted to be sure.

Just like you predicted, Ms. Sky had no idea what she was talking about and you and Dean wasted two hours of your lives.

"Well that was a bust." You sighed as you exited the woman's house.

"Tell me about it. Do you have another address?" Dean said from behind you.

"Yeah, I do and it's not far from here." You and Dean got in the car and you told him the next address.

--

"Please tell me that you found something." Sam said as he looked at Cas. He's been researching and nothing was popping up.

"I am sorry to say that I haven't." Sam was about to protest when his phone rang.

"Please tell me you found something." Sam answered when he saw it was Dean.

"Yeah. We're at a warehouse on Marketstreet. It's kind of desolate."

"Okay we'll be there," Sam hung up and got up, grabbing his jacket from the bed. "Cas they're at a warehouse." Castiel nodded and got up, outing a hand on his shoulder and used his powers to teleport them there.

"Here." Dean handed Sam the demon knife.

"I thought you two went all Fed." Sam noticed that Dean and Y/N were dressed like a Hunter rather than an FBI agent.

"We bought some clothes; it was faster." You simply put it.

"Right, let's do this." Sam nodded and all four of you walked carefully into the warehouse. It was eerily quiet, just like in your dream but that didn’t stop you from being cautious. Just like in the dream, you didn’t find anything out of place on the first floor.  

"Dean, I think they’re upstairs.” You whispered to Dean. He was about to answer but there was a crash coming from above you. Sam led the way as you all walked up the stairs, all senses on alert. Right from the bat, demons started pouncing on you and the men.

Castiel killed two of them but another threw him into a wall. Fought off two and Dean fought one of them. You tried your hardest to fight, shooting at them but you missed every time. It was scary how similar it was to what you now thought wasn’t a dream.

You saw demons pin Sam and Cas to a wall and two demons holding Dean stable. You were being held back by another. The leader then came out of hiding and smiled.

"Well well well, what do we have here? The Winchesters? Man, this is exciting. I'll be the demon that finally ends them."

"Go to hell." You sneered at him.

"Oh I was but I prefer it up here," He chuckled and took out a knife but he wasn't targeting you, he was targeting Dean. "I heard you were a good torturer in hell, Dean. 40 years in hell is nothing compared to the lifetime I'm going to spend with you down there." He smirked and pressed the tip of the knife to Dean's neck and applied pressure.

"No! Leave him alone!" If what happened in your dream was going to happen now, you couldn’t bear to watch it again.

"Oh protective, are we?" The demon turned to you and grinned sadistically. You looked over at Sam and Castiel who seemed like they couldn't speak. Those demons were doing something to them but your main focus was Dean right now.

"Leave him alone and take me." You offered.

"You see, I would take you if Dean wasn't so valuable. But you get the pleasure of watching him die." He turned back to Dean and your eyes widened when he raised the knife.

"No!!!" You struggled against the demon holding you but it was no use; you weren't going anywhere. You couldn’t watch this again. The demon swung his arm down and buried the knife in Dean's chest. Dean gave you a look as blood came pouring out of his mouth. You screamed in pain and tears were silently pouring down your cheeks.

--

"Get up Y/N! We need to hit the road!!" You shot out of bed with a gasp and you looked around to find yourself in your room again. What the hell was happening? You looked at Dean with scared eyes and you were breathing heavily.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He walked inside your room and sat on the bed.

“Dean, something bad is happening and you’re going to die today.” You blurted out.

“What?” He laughed, thinking what you were saying is a joke.

“I’m serious Dean. I’ve lived this day twice now and I don’t know what’s going on.” You bit your lip in worry.

“Wait, you’re saying you’ve lived this day twice?”

“Well I think I have. I had a nightmare of you dying. I think it was a nightmare.” You trailed off.

“Sweetheart, that is all it was; a nightmare. I’m fine. Nothing is going to happen to me.” He put a hand on yours and that seemed to calm you down.

“Right, yeah you’re right. Sorry about that.” You laughed without humor. You were scared the same thing was going to happen again.

“It’s okay. Sam and I are ready so get dressed and we’ll head out.” He got up and gave you one last look before leaving the room. You took in a deep breath and got up. Getting ready. You got to the car and slid in the back seat.

“Please, Dean, I can’t listen to Bon Jovi right now.” You knew what was going to come on in the car.

“What? He isn’t playing right now.” Dean turned on the car and turned on a station and well and behold, You Give Love A Bad Name was on the radio. You groaned but Dean turned it off immediately.

“That was good, sweetheart. How did you know that this would be playing?”

“Intuition.” You simply said. Dean gave a look to his brother and Sam shrugged. Dean shook that off and pulled out of the garage and headed down the road. It took 3 hours to drive to Omaha.

“I’ll go get us a room. Do you want a room for yourself this time?” Sam turned to you when Dean parked in the motel he liked.

"Yeah sure, thanks." You stated. You watched as Sam got out and walked to the office. You grabbed your bag and got out of the car. Dean got out and walked back to the trunk to get his and Sam's bag.

“Y/N, listen to me,” You turned to Dean, already knowing what he was going to say. “No matter what happens on this hunt, you keep fighting. You kill every single one of those sons of bitches.”

"Dean, you listen to me. I don’t think you should go on this hunt.”

“What? Why?” He looked at you like you were crazy.

“I have a bad feeling.” You couldn’t tell him that he was going to die because of how he reacted earlier.

“Y/N, is this about the dream you had? Because that is all it was; a dream. Nothing is going to happen to me.” He grabbed his and Sam’s bag.

“Right.” You looked down but you couldn’t look at him. You turned away and was going to walk away but he stopped you.

“I was going to tell you something.”

“I know. You want me to keep fighting because these demons are dangerous. You’ll call Cas down and all four of us are going to fight. I can take care of myself.” Sam came back with two keycards in his hand and handed one to you and kept the other.

"I have a few people on my list that I can talk to. When Cas gets here, I can go with Sam and you and Cas can research." You told them what was going to happen. You couldn’t be with Dean if you knew what was going to happen to him. Maybe if you were distant enough, he wouldn’t get hurt.  

“Or how about me and you Fed up and Sammy here can research? How does that sound?” Dean looked at his brother. You saw them both have the silent communication that they did with their eyes before Sam nodded.

“Sure, I’ll have Cas help me.” Sam was going to say more but you cut him off.

“No, I want to go with Sam. Okay?” You looked at both boys before leaving to your own room. You bit your lip, hating the way you were treating Dean but it had to be done and maybe things would turn out differently this time.  You got out your clothes but realized that your shoes were missing. You sighed and needed the keys.

“Dean! I need your keys!” When the door opened, Sam was the one to hand you the keys to the Impala.

“Dean isn’t available right now.” Sam smirked but said nothing else.

"Yeah I know, thanks.” You turned around and walked to the trunk where you knew the shoes would be. You opened it and leaned in, bending over to dig through the mess and grabbed them with ease.

“Are you okay?” You heard not Dean’s voice but his brothers. Because it wasn’t Dean’s, it surprised you and you hit your head yet again on the damn trunk.

“I’m fine, Sammy. Okay? I’ll be ready in 5 minutes.” You straightened out your clothes and walked back to your room. You put on the shoes and fixed your hair since it got ruined when you bumped your head. You grabbed your phone, FBI badge, your keycard, and money and walked out to the car where Sam was waiting for you. You got in and turned to him.

"Okay I only have one person on my list and I think she might be able to help.” You said. Forget Patricia Sky.

“Okay, lead the way.” You told Sam where to go and you got the information on one try. You were about to go to the mall to get clothes when Sam stopped you.

“Please talk to me.” He gave you his infamous puppy dog eyes and you sighed.

“You’ll think I’m crazy just like Dean.” You looked down.

“No I won’t. If it’s bothering you, it can’t be that crazy.”

“Sam, I’ve lived this day before and both times I have, Dean dies by the demons we track. I know it sounds crazy but it’s like Groundhog Day. I can’t escape and I don’t know what’s happening.” You knew he would understand because he went through something similar years before.

“Okay, that doesn’t sound crazy at all. Why don’t we let Dean stay there and me, you and Cas will go check it out? Will that make you feel better?” You nodded and he pulled out his phone to call Cas.

--

“Did I do something wrong? I don’t know why she was icing me out like that.” Dean sighed and vented to his best friend.

“I’m sorry, Dean. Maybe I can talk to her and see what’s going on.” Castiel was going to say more when his phone rang. He saw Sam pop up and answered it.

“Cas, hey, we need you to keep Dean at the motel. It’s only going to be you, me and Y/N for this hunt. Can you do that for me?” Sam said over the phone.

“Certainly but may I ask why?” Castiel said in confusion.

“I’ll explain when you get here. We are at a warehouse on Marketstreet.”

“Okay, thank you,” Castiel hung up and got up from his seat. “I’m terribly sorry, Dean.” Before Dean could protest, Castiel knocked him out with his grace and teleported to where you and Sam were.

“We should be extra careful because we don’t have Dean here.” Sam said as he looked at you. You bit your lip and held the gun in your hands.

“Lead the way.” Sam nodded and started to walk towards the door.

“Why can’t Dean come along?” Cas looked over at you.

“He’s going to die if he does. I have a feeling he will.” You left it at that and walked in behind Sam. As predicted, nothing was happening on the ground floor. You waited for the crash to come above you but nothing happened. This wasn’t part of the plan. You slowly walked upstairs but no demon attack happened. Because this didn’t happen the last two times, you thought the weird loop was over.

“No one is here, Sam.” You looked over at your best friend and shrugged.

“Okay, we should head back and do some more research.” Sam and Cas both walked downstairs and to the Impala with you on their tail.

This isn’t supposed to happen. What is going on?

When you got back to the motel, you frowned when you saw the door to Dean’s room opened a little. You quickly got out of the car with your gun in hand. You rushed inside but what you saw was heartbreaking.

“Dean!!” You immediately got tears when you saw Dean, on the floor, dead as a doornail. You rushed to him and got on your knees, not caring if they were in his blood.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” You let the tears fall as you stared into his green, lifeless eyes.

--

"Get up Y/N! We need to hit the road!!" You opened your eyes and just stared at the ceiling. Something weird was going on but you didn’t know what. You didn’t know what to do anymore. You thought keeping Dean home would prevent his death but you were wrong. What were you missing?

The day went by just like the other times. Bon Jovi blasting through the speakers, Sam getting you your own room, Dean checking out your ass, you going all Fed with Dean and then the huge fight that ended it all. You didn’t know how many days had passed but it was a lot.

You tried keeping Dean home in the Bunker, Dean out in the car, being his wingman so he could hookup with another girl while you hunted, and many more options but they all ended the same; with Dean dying.

You didn’t know how much heartbreak you could stand. Each and every day that passed, a bit of your heart died when Dean died. You loved the man so much but you didn’t know if you could watch another day go by with Dean dying. You needed to change what you were doing but you didn’t know what needed to be changed. Well there is always another try to get it right.

--

"Get up Y/N! We need to hit the road!!" You jumped out of bed and ran to Dean, pulling him into your room and shutting the door.

“Whoa, sweetheart, where’s the fire?” He chuckled and stared at you. It was now or never. The day would start again so you didn’t have anything to lose. You pulled him down to you and pressed your lips against his. You wished it could have been different but the kiss was just how you imagined it.

You felt him put his hands to your waist and pulled you in closer, kissing you back. His lips were velvety soft and you never wanted to let him go. But oxygen called for you and you pulled away, looking up into his eyes.

“What w-was that for?” He licked his lips, like he wanted to remember you being there, savoring the taste of you.

“I love you, so much. I can’t watch you die again,” You whispered to yourself. Dean didn’t say a word and you thought that this was a mistake so you pulled away, hugging yourself.  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Hey, no, that kiss was perfect,” He lifted your chin up and made you look at him. “I didn’t think that you would ever feel the same about me. That’s why I never said anything to you. I love you too.” He said softly. You smiled, pressing your lips to his once more.

“As much as I want this, we have a case to solve.” He pulled away. You were brought back to reality and you knew that he would die again. The whole day was like how it usually was but when it came time to go in, guns blazing, you stopped Dean before he followed his brother and Cas inside.

“Just remember that I love you.” You bit your lip and left, following the younger Winchester inside. What you saw made you gasped. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this happened before so why was it happening now?

All the demons that you were supposed to kill were already dead. Someone must have come here first and did the job. But who?

“What the hell? That’s all the demons that we were hunting? Who did this?”

“I can go to Heaven and check with anyone there to see if they know anything.” With that, Castiel was gone.

“This never happened…” You said to yourself. What were you supposed to do now? The demon that killed Dean repeatedly was dead so does that mean you are free? You and the boys went back to Baby and packed up, heading back to the motel.

“That was weird. Who would have done that? Another hunter?” Sam asked you and Dean. You were about to answer but you saw a man come into view when you were at a stop light.

“Gabriel.” You whispered. Gabriel smirked and waved at you, disappearing when the light turned green. Damn that trickster.  

[ashlegko-blog]

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[suzie81blog]

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After a lovely weekend it’s back down to earth – The Bloke is now back at work for a while before we go on the honeymoon and I have returned to the the online world. It’s been more strange than I expected in the fact that it hasn’t been strange at all – I was told by numerous people that I would feel different, but I don’t at all, apart from the fact that I greet him with ‘hello, husband!’ every time he walks through the door…

The wedding was lovely. I was told to expect something to go wrong, but absolutely nothing did – our duty manager for the day, Derek, kept things running like clockwork (he’s ex-military so that helped) and everyone seemed to have a great time.

The wedding was held at Highbury Hall, a Grade II listed mansion in Moseley and former Birmingham residence of Joseph Chamberlain (British statesman and father of PM Neville Chamberlain). The whole event took place there – we had the civil ceremony with the registrars in one room and then the wedding breakfast in the main hall. We did the decor ourselves – collecting tons of glass jars and creating floral displays and centrepieces, and we added in little touches with a mini photo booth, the biggest Instagram frame ever and a full dessert table complete with a cupcake tower (that my friend Gemma made for us as a wedding present), baklava (that my friend Marika made) and a whole selection of sweets in different sized jars. I had also made seating cards using keys and using faux-calligraphy to write everyone’s names. It was simple and looked beautiful.

The Bloke and I spent the day before setting up at the venue and we were joined by my mum, middle sister and her partner, who suddenly discovered a talent for flower arranging. It got competitive, reaching its peak as I was busy putting the napkins with flowers out, and at one point I heard some yelling about how fluffy one set of Baby’s Breath (Gypsophila) was compared to the other. Once we finished we went home to finalise a few last-minute things, and then spent the night at home together.

On the morning of the wedding I had my hair done, did my make-up and then The Bloke and I drove to the venue, where I went upstairs to the main bedroom that was set up for the bridal party, and he went into another room to get ready. All of my family then arrived, including my niece – Squidge – and we had a lot of fun getting ready and having pictures taken while I was secretly trying not pass out with excitement.

To be fair – it’s difficult to get too stressed when you have a Squidge playing with Peppa Pig and occasionally squeaking at you…

My mum, who looked extremely glam in her fabulous hat, walked me down the aisle to ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ by Journey, and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to run up and hug The Bloke (who looked incredibly handsome in his suit) when I saw him or slow down so we could all appreciate the awesomeness of the song, but I remember smiling so much that my face hurt.

The registrar was a hilarious guy – making little jokes throughout and at one point when Squidge made a noise he announced that this was a sign of triplets and then everyone promptly wet themselves laughing at the apparent look of horror on my face. Two of our friends – Marika and Ness – very kindly agreed to do some readings for us, and read beautifully. I couldn’t look at them while they were doing it – I would have cried…

There was also some slight confusion amongst my friends as to who I was marrying as The Bloke is known by his middle name, so when we were saying our vows a few of them confessed to me later that they were wondering who on earth the registrar was talking about. At least I said the right name…

The weather, despite the fact that it was a little cold, was glorious – the sun came out just as the ceremony started even though the reports had said all week that it was going to be cloudy – so we immediately went outside to get some group photographs in front of the building before everyone went to the bar. We were lucky to have a brilliant photographer, Andy Vokes, (who is a blogger himself) and I barked out a quick succession of who we wanted in the pictures one by one, which we got through really quickly without any hassle. It helps to have a teacher voice sometimes…

The food was a hot knife and fork buffet with a traditional seating plan, and I have to admit that when I first saw it I was mortified – it looked like a 1970’s school dinner – but thankfully each dish was gorgeous and everybody got up for second (and in some cases, third) helpings, which I was really pleased with, and as an added bonus I managed to eat without spilling food on my dress or my gorgeous bouquet without needing to put a bib on.

Winner.

The speeches were lovely too. They weren’t too long, all very heartfelt and my only annoyance was that I’d left my own speech upstairs (yes, I made sure that I spoke too… of course) so I had to wing it and ended up not only missing out half of the stuff I’d prepared, but was then kicking myself afterwards because I didn’t actually say ‘I love you’ during any of it. I did one thing right though – I didn’t cry and snot everywhere as I expected to… It was touch and go on a few occasions though…

As the cupcake tower was used instead of a traditional wedding cake we bought a single tier sponge just for the purpose of cutting, and on the top instead of having a traditional bride and groom cake topper we had a Wonder Woman and Batman set of figurines – a tribute to The Bloke’s love of all things superhero.

After it got dark we went outside to take advantage of the clear evening and the sparklers that we had bought to get more photographs. We spent ages attempting to get a lovely heart shape, but it ended up looking more like a ‘peach’ as Andy discretely described it. In actuality, it looked like a large bottom – and I loved it so much that I’ve asked for a copy. I plan on framing it and putting it on the wall…

While we were doing that some people were making full use of the Instagram frame…

And then, we put on the music, turned on the disco lights and had a dance! The first dance, done to a non-sweary version of Halestorm’s ‘Here’s To Us’ was awkward as, well, something really awkward… but I love the song, so I think in between swaying from side to side I was singing – how romantic! I then went and got my phone and took some pictures of the day myself… The dance floor was quiet at times – the venue was huge so there were people in all of the different rooms, but the minute I blasted Bon Jovi from the speakers everyone suddenly appeared…

Image by Andrew Vokes

It was perfect, a room full of my favourite people – my family, The Bloke’s family, our friends, all dancing and singing, eating hog roast and cupcakes. There were friends from my sixth-form and university days, work colleagues and even bloggers – it was awesome. The only regret that I have from the day was that I hadn’t invited at least 20 more people that I wanted to but thought that the budget wouldn’t allow for it with the evening food, but the guests ate so much during that wedding breakfast that a lot of them were still full a few hours later, so there would have been plenty to go round. (Click on the images for the full view)

And now, I have headspace and a honeymoon to look forward to in a few weeks. No more jars, no more lists, just a lovely husband to annoy!

My photographer has been very gracious in getting some photos to me really quickly, and I already have a favourite one:

Image by Andrew Vokes

Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours.

The Wedding! After a lovely weekend it's back down to earth - The Bloke is now back at work for a while before we go on the honeymoon and I have returned to the the online world.

[tune-collective]

Lea Michele Emerges Reborn With 'Places' Album: 'F--- It If People Don't Like It' (Exclusive)

Lea Michele Emerges Reborn With 'Places' Album: 'F--- It If People Don't Like It' (Exclusive)

After splitting time between ‘Glee’ and recording her first album, Michele says of her follow-up, “This record deserves all of my time and care.”

How do you come up with a title for for your album if your record label says that it’s due tomorrow, and absolutely nothing is coming to mind? If you’re Lea Michele, you hold a wine-fueled seance at home, of course.

Well, not a seance, exactly — the 30-year-old pop singer and former Glee star was not trying to channel the deceased, but the spirit of Stevie Nicks. “I poured myself the biggest glass of red wine, I put Fleetwood Mac on my vinyl, I lit candles, and I legit started praying and looking for a sign,” Michele tells Billboard. “I have this incredible book that Stevie Nicks gave me in 2013 when my boyfriend [Glee co-star Cory Monteith] died. She gave me this art book of hers that she put notes in over the years and song lyrics, and then she rewrote personal notes for me that say things like, ‘Keep singing, and have faith.’

“I was looking through this book and praying that there was an answer in it, somewhere. And there was something in there that said, ‘The only thing that matters is you, and who you are.’ That’s what I’ve been trying to do with this whole record — just connect to me and where I’m from.”

The message led Michele to frantically call her best friend, fellow Broadway star Jonathan Groff. “I was like, ‘What’s something from our time in New York — a word, or a phrase, or something that is from theater, or from us?’ And he said, ‘What about “Places?”’ When you’re on Broadway, you get your 30-minute call, then your 15-minute call. You hear ‘Places everyone!’ And that means it’s showtime.”

For Michele, sophomore album Places, due out later this year, is the rising curtain that she’s been awaiting for her entire solo career. From 2009 to 2015, the New York starred as Rachel Berry on Glee, a cultural phenomenon that produced smash soundtracks and required countless hours of studio sessions from its regular cast. In the penultimate year of its run, Michele released her long-awaited debut album, Louder, on Columbia Records; the 2014 full-length was recorded simultaneously with her Glee covers, and has sold 110,000 copies to date, according to Nielsen Music.

In hindsight, Michele says that balancing her pop debut with the rigors of Glee — as well as the untimely death of Monteith from an overdose in July 2013 — overwhelmed her first album. “It was a lot,” she admits. “I was singing 10 songs a week for Glee in the studio, from Salt N Pepa to Kelly Clarkson to Celine Dion [covers]. When it came time for me to make my own album, I think it was a little clouded for me in terms of wanting to figure out what my own sound was. And it was also clouded by a big tragedy that had happened to me, in the midst of making that album. And you hear that in that album — you hear the darkness of what was going on in my life. I don’t think there is a consistency to the record that I was hoping for, but that’s life.”

Michele says that the process of creating Places was “so much more personal than the last one,” and that she kept her inner circle small. She holed up in Harmony Studios in West Hollywood with Amanda Berman-Hill, her A&R rep at Sony, and Alexandra Tamposi, a songwriting who worked on Louder. “I didn’t sing with anyone other than those two girls, which created a consistency,” Michele explains. She also used a smaller list of producers compared to Louder, relying heavily on veterans like John Shanks (Van Halen, Bon Jovi) and Toby Gad (Beyonce, Demi Lovato).

Whereas Louder also leaned into Top 40 songwriting — Sia co-wrote lead single “Cannonball,” and Michele says that she was listening to a lot of Katy Perry and Kelly Clarkson at the time — Places will cater more to Michele’s powerhouse voice, which was featured in Les Miserables and Spring Awakening on Broadway. Songs like “Love Is Alive,” “Run To You” and “Getaway Car” are designed to be raised-fist sources of inspiration, with Michele not shying away from personal revelations or elongated melismas. Meanwhile, “Hey You” will appear at the end of the album, and although Michele won’t confirm what specifically the song is about, “extremely special and personal” is how she describes it.

“We have two songs that veer a little bit more in the pop direction, but for the most part, I sat back and listened to all of the songs that I grew up listening to, and most of them were Celine Dion, four-minute-long vocal Olympics,” she says. “This is a vocal album, and there are definitely love songs in there, but there’s also a sense of freedom. I went back and listened to all of the divas that I loved, and tried to find how that music resonates for me, in 2017.”

For Michele, the most crucial part of the Places rollout depends on something she could not do enough of for Louder: perform live. She’s “hoping” for an extended tour in support of her sophomore LP, but guarantees that, whatever happens, fans will get to see these songs performed live in some fashion.

“I’m a live singer, I come from Broadway, that’s what I do!” she exclaims. “I didn’t really have the opportunity to perform [the Louder] songs for people and get on a stage. Now, I’ve had the time to sit back and go, ‘Who am I? What is my voice? I don’t want to sound like anyone else but me.’

“Fuck it if people don’t like it,” she continues. “This record deserves all of my time and care, and that’s what I plan on doing this year.”

Source: Billboard

http://tunecollective.com/2017/01/29/lea-michele-emerges-reborn-with-places-album-f-it-if-people-dont-like-it-exclusive/