#arthur is just dean if he was british

[kookiekult]

These to mfs are either gonna love each other, hate each other, or fall in love.

[castiels-undercoat]

I will never get over the fact that Dean and Ketch had more chemistry then Mary and Ketch (who actually slept together)

[diabolimeservavit666]

Ketch was just as much her victim as they were. She saw his years-locked-up pain, saw that he was dying for any form of comfort, and she used to to control him. She also managed to victim blame him to the point that he believed her. As for Mick, she played it like some sweet ol' badass mom so he wouldn't suspect what she was doing to HIS BEST FRIEND. Now, Toni? Sure, she tortured Sam (Sam who also has his own forms of manipulation and victim blaming, so does Dean), oh, and Dean, but, at least, she unlike Mary, put her son over everything else. She obeyed the Code because she knew what Dr. Hess would have done to her and she couldn't abandon her son. My point is, sure, Mary might have been a victim to Dr. Hess and her grand scheme but she was sure as all Hell not working for them or with them. That bitch was on her own agenda.

I find it the funniest thing how I'm heartless sometimes.

I'm watching S12 E21 and I know we were supposed to feel pity for Mary, but all I thought was that, maybe, now that she was the one suffering on the BMOL's hand, MAYBE, she would think twice the next time she decided to work (and sleep) with people that tortured her youngest son.

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (2)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader; Arthur Ketch x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, implied break-up, time jumps, strong reader, Dean being a douche (implied), unplanned pregnancy

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (1)

Three months later, London 

London in spring was less exciting than you thought. If you explored most of the well-known tourist attractions, it was a place like all the ones you lived in before.

Well, it was a little more British, and they had better tea. Okay, they had the best tea you ever drank outside of Japan. But you couldn’t feel more than resentment against London.

It wasn’t its fault. If you had come here before Dean broke your heart, you would’ve fallen in love with the non-touristic places you discovered on your walks through town.

Like the sweet little bakery called the Dusty Knuckle. You chuckled at the name and were about to call Dean to tell him about it. He would’ve laughed and you would’ve laughed…together soon enough.

That was until you realized that you forgot about reality and the situation you are in. 

Well, he would laugh getting to know you signed up for one of their bread-making classes to distract yourself from your messed up feelings.

“How do you like your new office?” Arthur brings you out of your thoughts. Over the last months, he became a confidant. He helped you find the perfect home for you and your baby and made sure that you at least forget about your heartbreak for a while.

Having a man not trying to get into your pants around was refreshing. Arthur tried to be a friend, not your boss. “It’s perfect,” you smile up at him before you turn your attention back toward the newest design. “I like the new design of the car.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Arthur chuckles. “Just like I knew you’d be perfect for this position. I wanted someone with the same passion for cars I share.”

You focus on your laptop and try not to cringe. Dean was the one waking the passion for cars deep within you. You still prefer classic cars, but you want to help build cars for the future.

“Thank you, for everything, Arthur,” you drop your eyes to your middle, wincing as you think about Dean again. He doesn’t deserve one single thought, but it isn’t easy to forget about the love of your life.

“I told you before, there is no need to thank me for hiring you,” Arthur pats your shoulder. “We work together like a well-oiled machine. I have to thank you.”

At the same time, Dean’s office, …

“Dean, I don’t get why you won’t try to find Y/N. She just upped and left that night. I heard her crying in your shared room, but she wouldn’t open the door.”

“She just upped and left, that’s right,” Dean snaps at his younger brother. “He rises from his seat to glare at Sam. “She left her ring on the bed! No note, no reason why. This told me everything I needed to know.”

“Just saying, that’s not her. Y/N would never do such a thing,” Sam interjects. “You know her better than me, but Y/N once told me that she hates unfinished business. She would’ve talked things out if you only gave her a chance!”

“Why are you so interested in my love life?” Dean snaps at his brother. “Y/N left and that’s that. Whatever we had is over.”

“Whatever you had?” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You wanted to marry her, Dean. Dean Winchester wanted to settle down and have a family. If not for your mishap at the party, you’d be happy with her.”

“Mishap?” Dean splutters. “I don’t remember much of that night. I got a little drunk to find the guts to tell Mom and Dad about my engagement. Maybe I talked a little bit too long with Lisa. That’s all!”

“You ignored your fiancé for your ex-girlfriend, Dean,” Sam makes a face. He can’t fathom that his brother believes he wasn’t in the wrong that night. “You could’ve been happy with Y/N if not for your self-manipulative behavior. We both know you did this on purpose to make Y/N leave you.”

“What?” Dean gasps.

“Y/N was the best thing ever happening to you and you got scared again. So, you allowed Lisa Braeden to be all over you. No woman will stay by your side if she feels unwanted.”

“Leave me alone,” Dean grunts. “It’s over for good. I wouldn’t know where to look for her either way.”

“I can call a friend. He’s a private investigator and could easily find Y/N,” Sam tries one last time to make his brother see that he should do anything to get you back. “Dean don’t lose her out of stubbornness. You were in the wrong.”

“She could’ve stayed and talked to me. Just give up,” Dean drops his eyes to the little black box on his desk. “I did when I woke up to an empty bed, her ring in my hand.”

“I hope Mother is happy now,” Sam snaps at his brother. “She always wanted you to settle for Lisa Braeden, the woman breaking your heart.”

“Sammy,” Dean swallows thickly. “She was my fiancé, not yours. Stay out of my business.” He says instead of asking Sam to help him. Dean is too proud to admit that he’s missing you like hell.

If only he knew why you didn’t even leave a note…

Part 3

[sicksadlit]

An author stole my book idea

What do you do when someone else publishes your book?

I was scrolling on my phone, browsing a selection of soon-to-be-released books when one in particular caught my eye.

I read the blurb and let out an audible gasp. 

The author stole my book idea. 

This man who I’ve never met, somehow managed to reach inside my brain, pluck out my story idea, write the book I am writing right now, and turn it into a fully fledged novel. He beat me to print, and now the novel I’ve been working on for the last few months is headed for the trash because how can I continue to write a story that has already been written?

It feels like my “life's work” has been stolen, cruelly whipped away from me overnight. The story that has been building and percolating inside me for years, preparing itself to arrive in my brain and out onto the page.

An accurate depiction of me discovering someone else is publishing the book I’m writing

Although, it’s possible that he didn’t actually steal my idea. It’s probable even because he couldn’t have. I don’t even know the guy. The far more likely scenario is that it is just an astonishing coincidence. He happened to have the exact same book idea at the same time as me, but the difference is: he’s a well known, successful, professional crime writer who actually managed to finish the story (and probably did a fantastic job), and I am an unpublished novice writer, who punches out a few hundred words here and there when inspiration strikes.

The best theory as to what has happened is that I have become the victim of a phenomena known as “simultaneous invention”.

Simultaneous invention is the concept that inventions and ideas are conceived independently by different creators, but at the same time.

“Rather than being the products of the individual mind, multiples (aka - simultaneous discoveries) are said to prove that creative ideas are the effects of the zeitgeist, or spirit of the times. At a specific instant in the history of a domain, the time becomes ripe for a given idea. The idea is “in the air” for anyone to pick, making its inception inevitable.” - Dean Keith Simonton, creativity researcher

There are mind-boggling cases of simultaneous invention documented throughout history. Here are some of the most famous instances:

1600s: Isaac Newton and Gottfried Leibniz both discover calculus.

1770s: Carl Wilhelm Scheele and Joseph Priestley discover oxygen.

1800s: Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace both describe natural selection.

1839: Louis Daguerre and Henry Fox Talbot invent the first photographic methods.

1869: Louis Ducos du Hauron and Charles Cros present the earliest workable methods of colour photography on the same day.

1876: Elisha Gray and Alexander Graham Bell independently, on the same day, filed patents for invention of the telephone.

1879: British physicist-chemist Joseph Swan independently developed an incandescent light bulb at the same time as American inventor Thomas Edison was independently working on his incandescent light bulb.

1950s: Jonas Salk and Albert Bruce Sabin invent the polio vaccine.

2015: Takaaki Kajita and Arthur B. McDonald are jointly awarded the Nobel prize for finding that neutrinos have mass.

It sounds like something from a Blake Crouch novel. The idea that two complete strangers, anywhere in the world could come up with the exact idea at the same time. It would be written off as pure science fiction if it weren’t so thoroughly documented. 

It came for Charles Darwin, it came for Alexander Bell, and now, it has come for me.

Since I’ve had a solid 48 hours to walk around the house moaning in despair, I figure it’s probably time to put my big girl pants on and think about what to do next.

What does one do when someone else publishes the book you were going to write?

If there’s one thing this sad experience has taught me, it’s this: Do not sleep on that creative idea.

I thought I had all the time in the world to write my story. Donna Tartt took 9 years to write The Secret History, after all. Maybe I could take 9 years to write my debut novel too. But modern life and our shared experience may lead to someone else coming to the same conclusions – or ideas – as you have, somewhere in the world. 

This doesn’t just apply to writing. It can happen in any field where creativity and imagination are at play. 

Where does this leave me and my manuscript? I think I’ll hold onto it a little longer before sending it to my computer’s trash bin forever. Even though the original premise and core of the story is no longer viable, perhaps there’s something there worth saving. Maybe a shift in perspective or narrative voice. Could it be a white collar crime thriller instead of a murder? Could I set it in a different era? Could I change the genre? Who knows. Maybe this whole saga is a good thing and will force me to pivot. Now, I’m compelled to look at how I can better improve upon what the story was set to become. 

One of the people in my writer's group said that this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If his book sells well, publishers will be frothing to produce more of the same. That said, I’m not sure how I feel about being the runner-up for the prize of cool and interesting story ideas. 

So what’s the solution to this confounding mystery of the human mind? How can you ensure your work remains true and original to you when at any point in time, some random person out in the world might be working on the exact same thing? 

Maybe the answer is to simply try and be the first to launch, and to do your best not to let perfectionism hold you back from getting started. Maybe done is better than perfect. Or, if you instead find yourself in the same boat as me, is there room to move and change your approach? Could you see it as an opportunity to pivot and find a fresh, unexpected angle?

The truth is, I was stuck in a bit of a rut anyway. I fell out of love with the story idea a few weeks back. When I started writing months ago, I kicked off with a hiss and a roar, smashing my daily word count goal and picking up steam until I hit a wall. I didn’t like the characters and writing became a slog. Instead of feeling inspired and excited by the story, I felt bored and disillusioned. It became something I thought I simply had to finish to avoid the “sunk cost fallacy”.

This uncanny coincidence has forced me to open doors to new possibilities with the story that I hadn’t allowed myself to consider before. Now that the original plan has gone out the window, the idea of returning to the old draft feels strangely exciting again. Like anything is possible and the book could go in any direction. 

But I guess you’ll just have to wait and see… Maybe I’ve already said too much.

[o-uncle-newt]

Cabin Pressure Advent Day 17: Qikiqtarjuaq

Or, if Arthur had his way, Quikiqutarjuaqu?

Q (because The Name is very annoying to type) is, as I said back in my Boston post, not one of my favorites. And I wish it were, because, like Ottery St Mary (which has its own divisive moments), it has SO many classic bits. The traveling lemon! Le bear polar! Farewell bear facts! From that perspective it's incredible.

But it has a weird tone problem, and to me, the whole thing comes back to Nancy Dean Liebhart.

Yes, yes, it's because she's American and Americans on British sitcoms are never great, fine. But I think in this case it goes beyond that, because a lot of the episode ends up circling around her and her reactions. Martin wants to impress her; Douglas seems to (though it's not explicit) want to piss her off, if it'll mean dinging Martin in the self esteem in the process; Carolyn wants to show her that she doesn't matter. (Arthur, of course, just wants to tell people bear facts. Lovely Arthur.)

To be clear- the Martin-Carolyn plotline would have happened regardless, because he's genuinely pissed about having to cancel a paying job. Their whole scene feels a little bit... almost too much? Like, Carolyn is actually pretty cruel to him in her response to his request, and Martin's rant back to her is almost too pathetic, if that makes sense. It's internally consistent from an emotional standpoint, but it feels out of sync tonally with the rest of the episode- which is one of the reasons why I felt genuine uncomfortable when Douglas wanted to continue the traveling lemon game and Carolyn was like "oh well maybe not"... because Carolyn had just had a serious come-to-Jesus moment with Martin and Douglas was still in his own stupid world about trying to be an asshole.

Because here's the thing. Douglas was SUPER unprofessional throughout. The episode knows this obviously, and acknowledges it outright in the end. There's a power struggle between Martin and Douglas about it, and we've seen that before. But the difference is... I don't think that this one was actually very funny. It just feels like Douglas being a jerk for the sake of it, and then when that ends up involving things like the Bear Polar and Captain du Creff, which are gut-bustingly hilarious, they just go together like chalk and cheese.

To get back to Nancy Dean Liebhart- it's all her fault, in my opinion. She's just not funny, and as I said about Hester Macaulay in Cremona (who I don't think was as bad as this...), she needs to either be really funny or really wrong in order for the hijinks of the plot to work, and she's neither. All of the above conflicts circling around her (entirely reasonable!) complaints, and her weirdly arbitrary decision to pick on Martin about them which of course ends up being the place where the plot starts... it's just uncomfortable because she's basically right but the episode treats her like she's ridiculous.

I'm curious if any British listeners will disagree with me on this- I'm wondering if there's just a British trope of "naggy American woman" that makes this funny in the UK. Maybe some kind of Karen trope, but where it doesn't matter what the complaint is as long as the accent is (mostly) right? I don't know. Nancy is definitely somewhat Karen-y in how she comes across and how she talks to people, but her points are largely valid (and therefore not super funny) and that's fatal for a character like her. It forces us to pay more attention to Douglas's response and how he's being deliberately spiteful specifically to screw with Martin, and to the weirdly intense Martin-Carolyn subplot, and then contrasts it with the nutty Bear Polar subplot and Arthur and his bears, which are all super silly. And it leads to it just being... strange, tonally, and not in a way that I personally like.

Without her, I think a lot of the same things COULD have happened, but they'd have happened on their own terms. We could have seen Martin be annoyed at Douglas for the Hitchcock cabin address and seen that as "Martin being a stickler" rather than "the paying customer being annoyed," and it would have been more like other similar episodes where Martin is the safe pilot and Douglas is the good one. We'd have seen Martin be annoyed about not being paid and having his paying work sabotaged, and maybe even him taking that out on Douglas a bit. And I think it would have de-intensified certain things in a way that would have helped. Nancy Dean Liebhart just fucked with the rhythms of the show and wasn't even funny enough to justify it.

This whole rant makes it seem like I hate the episode, and... I don't, really. There are too many good moments. But I have to watch it with my finger on the "skip" button.

[h0nkch0c0late]

OKAY, hii!! i just saw your arthur ketch post so here i am with a request!<33

i’d like to ask for an angst with ketch, but without any character dying?? like, i want my heart to break but not because of a death

it can be some kind of an argument or unrequited love, whatever, but i feel like crying while reading lmao

thank you so much!!<33

Thanks for the request @pinchofhoney ! Angst is my speciality <3

ALL OUTTA LOVE

Arthur ketch x Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Ketch used to be solid until one day he got up and left. Now, here you are, helping the Winchesters. Despite Ketch's rendezvous with Mary, his heart still longed for you. But you can't seem to say that you feel the same.

‐----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Meeting him like...this.

But here you are, sitting at the table in the bunker, beer in hand as you stare at the man who marched down the stairs like he wasn't hated by the Winchester brothers.

The same man who left you without a word. No goodbye, no note, nothing.

And yet, he has the audacity to stare at you with wide eyes, a surprised yet happy smile painting his lips as if he had just found his lost love.

In his eyes, he did, and he was absolutely speechless. But the furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes did not go unoticed by him as the woman before him took a swig of her beer, her eyes never leaving him.

"It's been quite a while, hasn't it?" Ketch broke the silence with a small chuckle.

You didn't laugh. Instead, you gave him a cold response, "what are you doing here, Ketch?"

His growing smile turned into a frown. He understood why you were acting so rude, considering he left you without a word, but the lack of empathy behind your eyes hurt him more than he'd like to admit.

"Just... here to talk to the brothers Winchester, is all. Are they here?" He asked, beginning to feel nervous due to your unwavering angry gaze.

Without skipping a beat, you answered him, "no, they're out right now. What'd you need them for?"

"Well, the British Men of letters-"

"No." You stated, taking another swig of your beer.

Ketch was taken aback, "I wasn't finished-"

"You want them to join you. Your whole thing is getting them to join you, just like you convinced their mother. It's not gonna happen, Ketch." You stated, suddenly uninterested in finishing the alcohol in your hand.

He felt his heart almost crack. At the moment, he didn't understand why. It was the fact that you had called him by his last name, just like everybody else. You had never done that before, and yet this was the second time that day you had.

He began to walk closer to you, and the way you slightly flinched did not go unnoticed by him.

"Look, you have to understand why I left..." He began, pulling a chair to sit in and face you.

You shook your head, "No, i understand now. You chose your work over me, Ketch. Your work was more important to you than I was."

Ketch clenched his jaw, "Love, if I had a choice, I would have never left you..."

It was true. And yes, he always tried his best not to let his emotions control him, nor have emotions at all. It's why he had started that entire thing with Mary Winchester. No feelings were involved.

But the one thing he could never rid of, was his love for the woman in front of him. But, luckily for him, nobody else knew that. You were his hidden weakness, and he would have liked it to stay that way. But now, you were working with the brothers Winchester. Any sort of chance of buttering them up enough to get them to join was now gone.

You hated him, and he knew that. You wanted him dead just as much as Sam and Dean.

But part of him hoped, WISHED, that you still felt the same as he did.

You shook your head and scoffed, "Don't call me love. You don't get that right. Not anymore. And that is such bullshit because you DID have a choice. You could have told me."

He began to reach for your hand, his eyes beginning to glisten, "if I told you, I would have put you in danger. I didn't want to do that."

You tore your hand away from him, finally breaking eye contact, "No. That's just not true."

"Love, you have to believe me. I...I..." His voice quivered, his attitude now foreign to himself.

Your body began to shake. From anger or sadness, you did not know, "You what?"

"I love you." He stated against his better judgement.

You stood up from your chair abruptly, hands tightening into fists to stop them from shaking so much, turning away from him and shaking your head furiously, "no you don't. Don't fucking say that."

He stood up as well, "it's true. I love you, and I never stopped."

"Yeah, well I did." You snapped, turning towards him, "I stopped loving you as soon as you disappeared from me. I stopped loving you the moment you decided that it was "safer," not to tell me. I stopped loving you the moment you decided to attack the Winchester boys, and then think that they'd suddenly switch to your side as if none of that ever happened." Your eyes began to water with tears. You always were a crier when you were angry or frustrated. It wasn't of your own accord. Of course, it was just your body's way of letting out those emotions.

Ketch froze in his spot. And suddenly, it was like his heart shattered into a million pieces. "Well... if the brothers aren't here, I should go."

You crossed your arms, "Yes. I think that would be best." You tried your best to hold in your tears. Not because you just admitted to your old lover that you didn't love him anymore, but because of the anger that consumed you just by looking at his face.

Ketch took a deep breath, "Well then. Goodbye." He nodded, before beginning to walk away.

Silence followed him as you watched him go, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you at least giving him a goodbye.

----------------------------------------------------------

@pinchofhoney I hope you enjoyed it! And cried! It's a little bit late, I know, but I tried my best! :)

[songliili]

2023 writing roundup

i was tagged by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @rockyroadkylers!

i feel like i've spent my whole year writing, but i also know that i've spent months without doing it so i can't say how much it was month by month. but i posted three fics this year so like. that's an achievement!

let's see what we got.

January:

the great dean court off - Supernatural, 21.8k, M (chapter update) [someday i will finish it, i promise]

Of all the things Dean expected to find when he came back from the bathroom break, a folded piece of paper with "hey, if you’re not gay, my friend thinks you’re cute. here’s her number 316-557-9608 (and if you’re gay, here’s mine 316-997-2018)" written on, was not it. - Or the one where Dean organises a dating contest because he's bi and can't decide between two options.

September:

I Had Some Time (With You) - Supernatural, 23.9k, E

It's 2005 when things go to hell. Well. They go to hell for everyone except Dean, ‘cause he was ready for it. Well. He was ready for the apocalypse, not for the gorgeous man who fell into his life, quite literally. OR A Destiel rewrite of Bill and Frank's love story as shown on HBO's The Last of Us episode 3: Long Long Time that uses elements of both universes.

November:

we all have a hunger - RWRB, 22.9k, E

Alex’s journey of self discovery started one random night five years ago, when he was scrolling his favorite porn website to relax after midterms. He chose a video with the preview of two guys in the threesome category, thinking nothing of it, and came so hard he thought he was going to pass out. The threesome didn’t happen, the girl just sat there looking at the two guys going at it, just like Alex did. After that night, saying that the tall, blond and gorgeous actor with a fucking sinful shoulder to waist ratio didn’t do it for him was a complete lie, so maybe, maybe, Alex could be excused when he freezes up when said man - even more tall, blond and gorgeous in real life - stretches a hand toward him and says “I’m Henry, Pez’s ‘best mate of honor’, as he says.” with his perfectly infuriating British accent. — OR: Henry is a porn star, Alex is a fan.

December:

Fill My Stocking - RWRB, 6k, E

Alex has spent the past fifteen minutes talking with David about his favourite treats. Not that the dog answered, but Alex was undeterred and kept going, uncaring that Henry had asked him to give him an hour and then he’d join him in hanging up fairy lights and mistletoe everywhere. Very well. If Alex wants Henry’s attention, he'll have it. It's probably not what Alex thought he’d accomplish with his little scheme, but it's a compromise between Henry's needs and Alex's wants, and that's all that can be done. OR: Alex wants some attention and Henry has to get creative.

Upcoming in 2024:

part 2 of the pornstar verse (title undecided):

picks up the day after the ending of part one, it's alex's first christmas in london

Like Father, Like Son:

alex is a horse trainer and has a crush on arthur fox. he's the trainer on set for arthur fox's new movie (a queer western). his son, henry fox, visits the set and well. alex is fucked.

I hope you don't mind. (part 3 of the pornstar verse):

henry's bad days and how alex helps him go through them

Other things I hope I manage to put out next year (or at least start writing):

Your body is the Sistine Chapel:

what if dean was as tattooed as he was supposed to be? which tattoos would he get? for whom would he get them?

untitled airbnb fic:

alex travels to london as a reward for finishing college, and henry is his airbnb host whose dog likes alex a little too much.

untitled mandalorian!alex fic:

alex is the mandalorian, david is grogu. that's all i have for now.

untitled scarlet witch!henry/sword agent!alex fic:

inspired by this tweet. i have nothing more than this to give you atm.

i posted 62.406 words this year, and written many more. i'm fairly new to writing, so this is a real accomplishment for me. my biggest goal was to post a fully finished chaptered fic, and i did! then i started a series, and wrote something shorter than 7k, and i have so many ideas for future fics that i genuinely don't know where to start. i hope i manage to post at least a couple next year!

tagging: @affectionatelyrs @firenati0n @absoluteaudacitywrites @gayrootvegetable @leojfitz @anincompletelist @ssmtskw @littlemisskittentoes @cactusdragon517 @read-and-write- and everyone else that wants to join!

[shobolanya]

my Dirk Gently Supernatural crossover thoughts

i love both dghda and spn so ofc i imagined what could happen if the characters met (note that is is just pure crack but i would love more suggestions)

✦ they would met on one of the two cases in dghda or on one of the spn cases

✦ like sam and dean are just doing their usual thing when this weird chatty british dude, his assisfriend and a gorgeous badass appear

✦ i imagine dirk, todd and farah finding the case because dirk had a hunch they needed to be there and they meet these two FBI guys (who soon turns out aren't real agents) and they team up

✦ anyway they solve the case and sometime in the process of solving it they learn about what they really do

✦ i mean sam and dean learn about dirk being a holistic detective pretty fast but when things get messy the winchesters reveal what they do

✦ now i think they could team up again on some bigger cases (i imagine this being post season 2 of dghda and around season 12-13 of spn)

✦and maybe the universe led dirk to the winchesters so they could help each other

✦ so after they work on more cases more of the characters meet each other and here's who i think would get along with who

✦dirk and rowena become besties and sip tea and gossip; also she understands more about dirk being a holistic detective than he understands himself

✦ dean has a small crush on farah (but who doesn't), he's still married to cas though

✦ tina, farah, jody and donna are the best team ever

✦ CHARLIE AND TINA FRIENDSHIP.

✦ charlie and todd would be friends and she knows mexican funeral

✦ to his shame (not really) so does dean and he would never admit it but he was a fan before the band broke up

✦ dirk would be friends with jack because they are both confused sad cinnamon rolls

✦ also mona would randomly appear around the bunker nearly giving sam a heart attack; after that she would love to stay around jack and cas

✦ rowdy 3 would adopt jack (i got the idea from an amazing fanfic and it is a great dinamic nothing can change my mind, the rowdy 3 would be kind and understanding to jack and they could give him a cool jacket too)

✦ at some point friedkin appears because i want him back he's my dear beloved

✦ priest appears too and he teams up with arthur ketch

✦ bart and dean become best friends

✦ sherlock hobbs and donna are the best sheriff team

✦ rowena could teach amanda some spells

✦ the rowdy 3 can tell apart angels, archangels, demons, crossroad demons etc just by sensing their energy

✦ mona once turned in the impala to prank dean

[aerialworms]

Please vote! I need external motivation! (I'm still posting Watching Over You, I just need to choose something to finish writing as well)

Summaries:

All of these are endgame Destiel!

Star Trek Fusion AU: I have two fics in this 'verse written but i need to do the prequel first. Castiel, a half-Vulcan Starfleet officer, is appointed as the new Captain of the USS Impala after Bobby retires, keeping Dean as First Officer. Dean does not take well to that. Enemies to FWB to lovers, spread out over at least three different fics! I also made a post rambling about this universe here

Dragon!Cas fic: Set during s9ish when Cas' grace is low - he can regenerate it by spending time in his true form and shutting down most higher brain functions. He essentially turns into a little dragon who gets real clingy around Dean, who is half-annoyed, half-endeared by it. Pretty much just fluff and shenanigans :3

Demon!Dean: Set during the demon dean arc in s10 while Cas is still stealing grace. Crowley captures him and offers him to Dean as a present, and Cas tries to convince Dean to come home while Dean pretends like he's definitely a big bad demon who could easily kill Cas if he wanted, he just. doesn't want to. Angst and smut with a hopeful ending.

Cat!Cas fic: Might end up as a comic, actually - I've got the first four pages sketched out but I don't know where i'm going with it :/ Cas gets turned into a cat by a witch and Dean comes to find him, not realising the injured cat he's been caring for and venting to about Cas *is* Cas. Pining!Dean and hurt/comfort for Cas!

Interactive time loop confession fix it: An interactive fic, made using Twine. You play as Dean, stuck in a time loop of the confession until you find a way to save Cas and break free

Cas Swap: (post-confession fix it) In two seperate universes, at the same time, two versions of Dean perform a spell to resurrect their own Cas from the Empty. Canon!Cas is brought back into a world with a Dean his counterpart has been in a relationship with since Tombstone. Canon!Dean gets that AU!Cas, who is unafraid of showing his love for Dean, but also won't put up with any of Dean's bullshit. Each set of Dean-and-Cas-es have to work together to get Cas back to his own universe, and deal with their issues along the way.

The Wrong Avalon: A BBC Merlin/SPN crossover, with endgame Destiel and Merthur! Set vaguely pre-s12 of SPN and post s5 of Merlin. The British Men of Letters have been trying to raise the mythical King Arthur from the dead for some time. When they finally succeed, however, he does not come up in the UK. Instead, he surfaces in Lake Avalon, Michigan, where two hunters and a put-upon angel discover him. Since he can only speak Old English, he becomes fast friends with Cas, which totally doesn't make Dean jealous at all, but he still mourns for his old life and family. When he discovers that Merlin may still be alive, he dedicates himself to finding him, but when the BMoL close in, intent on using Arthur for their own gain, Arthur must rely on his new friends, as well as his oldest one, to gain his freedom and his happiness.

Btw if you wanna know when I post these, you can follow me on AO3 (same username as tumblr) and/or ask to be tagged!

[nerdlifecentralsblog]

Unknown Secrets [5] - repost

Summary: Crowley and Rowena work at keeping suspicions off of the reader’s back while the Hunters get close to nowhere in their searching. Y/n discovers a possible pattern that could lead to Asmodeus’ whereabouts and even more answers relating to her lineage.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, reader, Gabriel (mentioned), Castiel (mentioned), Mick, Ketch, Rowena, and Crowley

Pairing: everyone platonic

Genre: Angst, bit of fluff

Word Count: 3,800 :O

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Merry Christmas SPN Family!!!! I wasn’t planning on finishing this chapter until after Christmas but consider it an early gift from me to you. Hope y'all enjoy it and would love to hear your feedback! <33

I wake with a start and take a few calming breaths and look around the living room. “When did I even fall asleep?” I only hope today isn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as yesterday was, I should probably call Ketch and let him know I’m with my “experts” and that they’re working on solutions as we speak. But the very thought brings back anxiety.

“Good morning, y/n. Sleep well I assume?” A deep British voice says from behind me. I sit up on the couch and see Crowley standing with his cellphone in hand. “My mother had to run some errands and test some theories she has about helping you stay hidden.”

I nod and say, “You certainly like to sneak up on people, Crowley,” the demon pockets his phone and chuckles.

“What can I say, it’s a hobby of mine.” he winks and continues, “The Winchesters are probably getting antsy, I figured it would be a good idea to go and give the boys a visit. Let them know that you’re safe and all.”

I nod, thankful I don’t have to be the one to lie on the spot. “Thank you, Crowley. What exactly are you going to tell them?”

“Nothing far from the truth, darling,” he says, smirking, “that you came to my mother for help and she asked for my help as well. If they try to push any further, I can just call them morons for suspecting you.”

I can’t help but laugh, Crowley smiles at me and he suddenly disappears. “Does he just follow the Winchesters around or something?” Though I’m grateful he went to tell them in person, I still wish I could hear what was going on.

I hear the front door click and a pair of heels walk inside, the door closing behind them.

“Hey, Rowena,” I call from my spot still on her couch, “go on any wild adventures while you were out?”

She laughs, her red curls bouncing as she unloads bags from her arms onto a side table near one of her armchairs. “No adventures this time, just calling in a few favors and catching up with some fellow witches.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. She never talks with other witches after she was practically a laughing stock after trying to create her “Mega Coven”.

“But enough about me,” she says, placing her large purse on the same table from last night. She walks into her kitchen area and continues, “how did your chat with Arthur go last night? By the time I came back to check on you, you had fallen asleep.”

“Well, I still feel horrible lying to him, but I don’t think he suspects me.” I follow her through her house and take a seat nearby where she was working in the kitchen, making even more tea and humming in acknowledgment. “But now I don’t know how to keep this up, I mean, these people have been hunting their whole lives and are famous for being paranoid. And to add to it, I have a message from Sam asking how I’m doing and to call him when I get the chance.”

She sends a quick sideways glance in my direction but doesn’t respond. I don’t have any ideas and frankly, the silence is welcomed.

Unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last long as I hear my ringtone go off from the coffee table in front of me. I pick it up and see Sam’s contact light up. Rowena immediately gets up and stands behind me as I answer with shaky hands, unprepared to talk with the Hunters again.

“Hey, Y/n?” Sam asks, although it was a little hard to hear him.

“Yes?” I respond, “it’s a little hard to hear you, Sam, are you guys on the road or somewhere with choppy wifi?”

I hear him huff a tense laugh and vaguely hear Dean on the verge of yelling. “Yeah well we got a surprise visitor and Dean and Gabe aren’t exactly thrilled with his appearance.”

I groan in frustration, I’m sure that it’s Crowley bugging the hell out of them rather than actually explaining what’s going on. Of course he had to leave all the hard lying to me. “Put me on speaker, will you? It’s gonna be a lot easier to explain what’s going on if I can just talk to everyone all at once.”

“Sure thing,” he responds, “alright, Y/n, you’re on speaker.”

“Um, hey guys, how’s the search coming?” I say, my leg bouncing with nerves.

“Hello, Y/n,” Cas responds, sounding extremely tired. Probably from dealing with everyone arguing about who knows what. “We don’t have anything yet, only the information we already knew about lightning storms and other demon signs here.”

“Okay, and what was all the shouting about?” Their end of the line went silent, “I’m assuming it has something to do with Crowley being there.”

“And how exactly did you know that?” I hear Dean say, I think he moved closer to the phone because his voice is much clearer than before. “You send him here or something?”

I roll my eyes even though the only person who can see it is Rowena. She chuckles and leans over me to speak into my phone, “You really think my son listens to anyone but himself, Dean?” She gives me a small wink and leans back indicating that’s all she wanted to say for now, placing my phone back on my lap as I hear Dean mutter something on the other line. I know Mick and Ketch have told me about Dean’s grumpiness, but it is insanely irritating to be trying to have a conversation with him while he’s in a mood.

“Wait, Rowena’s with you?” Sam asks incredulously, as someone slams the motel door. I can only assume it was Gabriel as I’m sure he wants nothing to do with demons and was already on edge with the Asmodeus situation.

I hear Crowley sigh loudly, I can just see his eyes rolling. I also hear someone’s footsteps walk toward the phone, “Helpful as ever, mother,” Crowley responds, “if you would all stop acting like morons for two minutes I could actually explain what’s going on here.” Now it’s my turn to sigh, if he’s gonna explain what’s happening then why the hell am I even here?

“No offense, Crowley, but I’d much rather hear what’s going on from y/n,” Mick speaks up, “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I am much more inclined to believe her.”

Crowley huffs and I can only imagine the eye roll Dean gave at his dramatics.

“If you insist, Mick, I would love to enlighten you, boys,” I say with a fake smile, hoping they could hear it in my tone and believe it is real. “I decided it wouldn’t be very smart to stay by myself if I really am sick or something else is going on, so I figured I should stay with some experts I know.” I pause looking up at Rowena, not really sure how I should word the rest of this. I’ve never been the best at lying so I decide to avoid a complete lie, though I know I can’t be entirely truthful without having a death wish. She nods in encouragement for me to continue. “Rowena and Crowley were kind enough to help me out and make sure I’m doing okay, I don’t know how long I’ll be with them but I’ll still be working to track any omens or look for possible patterns for you guys.”

I tentatively hold my breath, waiting for some kind of response. I hear the phone be picked up and I assume it is taken off of speaker since the connection becomes a bit clearer.

“Hey, y/n,” Mick says quietly. “I know this is scary for you, especially with Gabriel practically running you off of this case, but you know you can come to me or Ketch with anything right?”

My eyes begin tearing up hearing Mick talk so openly and kindly to me. I’ve certainly known him and Ketch the longest and I trust them both with my life. I can’t handle actively lying to them and not being able to come to them with my anxieties. Both of my boys calling me makes me realize how much harder coming clean is going to be; it’s not like I can drop off the face of the earth and disappear without anyone trying to look for me.

“Y/n? You still there, love?” Mick’s voice brings me back from my racing thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry I’m still here,” I respond, willing my voice to not crack. Turns out my willpower isn’t that strong as my voice is super quiet and breaks at the end of my sentence. I hear Mick sigh sadly on the other line as we sit in silence together for a moment.

Mick breaks the silence, empathy evident in his tone, “Are you safe? I know you are more than capable of handling yourself, but I want to make sure you’re also able to recover from this without driving yourself to a breaking point.”

I nod and respond, “Yeah, I’m safe here. I wish I could be there with you and Ketch but I know it’s best to stay away in case this is some kind of bug or something that can spread. I don’t want to get in your way.” I can tell my last comment upset him, even though I can only hear Mick I can vividly see his brows furrow in concern.

“Y/n, you don’t need to ever worry about being in the way. I can’t speak for the Winchesters or the bloody angels, but just know that both Ketch and I miss you, and he would really love a call from you when you feel up to it.”

I smile into the phone. The Brits aren’t really known for being endearing very often, but I know they are both making an effort to be available to me in their own ways.

“I’ll call him a bit later, I should really try and get some research done for you guys. Pretty sure the addition of Gabriel and my absence ruined any chance of there being brain cells left for you and Ketch to abuse.”

Mick chuckles quietly saying, “Alright, love, I won’t keep you any longer. Don’t forget to call and lend us that brain of yours.” He says teasingly.

I laugh and promise to catch up later, then I hang up on him. I didn’t even realize I had been crying until Rowena gently hands me a box of tissues and walks off to the kitchen. I hear her moving around, I realize she is making more tea as she places her tea kettle on the stovetop.

I decide I might as well start researching now so I can be sure to call Ketch later with more info on the surrounding towns. I have a feeling Asmodeus wouldn’t stray too far away from me without good reason to. From what other Hunters at my bar have been telling me over the past few months, nothing crazy or demonic has happened. Although no one around here knows what Princes of Hell are so there is always a possibility they simply weren’t seeing the signs.

Rowena walks back in and places two teacups and a kettle down on the coffee table in front of the couch and occupies the seat next to me as I grab my laptop out of my backpack. I smile as thanks to her and start up my computer.

I spend most of the day gathering as many weather reports from surrounding towns that date back to forty years ago and writing down any possible anomalies or patterns; since that is also when the lightning storms in Dubuque began. The only real breaks I take are when Rowena practically forces me to step away from my computer for some food, and most of our conversation is filled with what I’ve discovered.

Sometime in the afternoon, Crowley walks through the front door with a look of almost boredom on his face. “Hello, mother, y/n.”

Rowena waves and I respond, “Hey, Crowley, how did babysitting go?”

“Absolutely horrid. I honestly don’t understand how they can get anything done with the constant bickering.” I laugh at his exasperation. I was only with all of them for a day and it was pretty overwhelming. “I will say, the smartest thing they did was calling you.”

I shake my head trying not to laugh, “Did they make any progress on any leads?” I ask, hoping that they decided to pursue other possibilities other than the idea that I’m the nephidemon.

“Well, not really. They are still wasting time searching in Iowa for Asmodeus’s child,” oh no, they better not have done any other spellwork. Crowley softens his gaze, “don’t worry, they didn’t do anything magic-related. And anytime any of them tried to bring you up or suggest calling you again I tried to shoot down the idea.”

I sigh in relief. I know that if they tried to replicate Rowena’s previous spell it would only solidify in their minds that I’m the enemy right now. I can’t believe Crowley actively stuck up for me though, I know he said he would help but lying to that many powerful people and angels is extremely risky.

“Thank you, Crowley. I have another question though,” I really want to ask him if any demons he knows of are hanging around in the towns surrounding Dubuque.

“I am an open book, darling. What do you need to know?”

He responds. Rowena steps out gathering the teacups and kettle, giving me and Crowley the opportunity to have a little bit of privacy.

“Well,” I say, “I’ve been doing some research on the smaller cities surrounding Dubuque, and I’ve realized that every five years there have been regular lightning storms and even crop failures in the towns that grow enough crops to track that kinda thing.”

“Okay, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary, y/n. Crops fail all the time and electrical storms coming and going like that isn’t enough evidence.”

I hold my hand up at Crowley’s comment. He raises his eyebrows and moves to sit next to me on the couch, waving to continue my ideas. “That’s what I thought at first too, but here’s the thing, every five years on the same day the electrical storms and crop failures stop in one town and move to another. Five years later on the same day again they move to a third town. Wanna guess what happens five years from then?” Again I only receive an eyebrow raise and wave to continue, “It goes back to the first town. And, each of these towns are exactly four miles away from Dubuque.”

“That is very compelling, my dear, but how can you connect any of this back to Asmodeus?” Crowley asks sounding slightly impatient.

“That’s also what I was thinking, so I did some more research into Asmodeus himself, and turns out, he is the Fourth Prince of Hell.” Crowley’s eyes widen in surprise and recognition. “There’s one more thing,” I add, a bit hesitant as Crowley leans in interest sparking in his eyes. “The day Asmodeus switches towns is always on my birthday.” He leans back into the couch and lets out a puff of air.

“So what I’m hearing is that Asmodeus supposedly stayed in Dubuque for twenty years, had the nephidemon -” “You mean me.” I interrupt, but he narrows his eyes and continues, “then continued to stay in the towns exactly four miles from your town for what reason?”

I shake my head at his question. “Who knows why that demon does what he does, why bother trying to figure it out when we know the patterns of where he will be every year?” Rowena exclaims, her heels clicking against the floor as she struts into the room.

“That’s something that I’m sure Sam and Dean can overthink into creating a solution for us,” I suggest while grabbing my phone and searching for Ketch’s phone number. The phone rings twice before Ketch picks up.

“Hey, y/n! Feeling better I hope?” I can’t help but smile at Ketch’s warm greeting, though the warmth is quickly replaced with anxiety.

“Hey, Ketch. I’m feeling a little bit better, you sound a bit tired, are you okay?” I ask, partially to pass the conversation off of me but also in concern for him. It’s no secret that Hunters tend to keep emotions and worries holed up inside and the exhaustion lacing Ketch’s voice is concerning to me.

“I’m doing all right, love. Trying to ensure this town’s safety is all, plus,” he whispers, “you’re the only American I can deal with, and being practically holed up with these American Hunters is driving me a tad insane.”

I chuckle softly and he does the same. “Could you put me on speaker for a sec? I’ve been doing some research and I think I might have something.”

“You mean to say you didn’t call just to have a pleasant conversation with me?” I roll my eyes and wait for Ketch to do as I asked. “Alright, love, you’re on speaker now.”

“Okay, so as I just told Ketch I’ve been doing some digging and I think I might have found something demon-related.” I hear slight shuffling sounds coming from the phone, probably the boys grouping around the phone to hear me better. “Basically, my thought process was if we are thinking that Asmodeus stayed in Dubuque to try and throw off any suspicions that his future child would bring, he most likely isn’t still there.”

“Why do you say that?” Dean asks sounding unconvinced.

I sigh and reply, “Because it would be way too risky. A Prince of Hell and his kid hanging out in the same town for years? There’s no way Hunters around the country wouldn’t recognize the signs and go after them. Anyway, I was checking out the neighboring cities to see if any demon omens were happening and they are, in a very specific pattern too.” I paused taking a grounding breath, Crowley scoots a little closer, giving me some assurance as I continue to tell the Hunters on the phone about the cattle mutilations, electrical storms, and the small number of crop failures in three of the towns.

“How far are these towns again, y/n?” Sam asks.

“Oh yeah! Each town is exactly four miles from Dubuque.” It’s probably best to leave out what date these issues occur on, I’m trying to throw suspicion off of me and I doubt revealing my birthdate would truly do that.

“Even if it isn’t Asmodeus, I’ve been wanting to kick some demonic ass today,” Dean spoke up. I chuckle at his response, though I’m very grateful they are still willing to take care of my town while I’m not there.

“That’s not very nice of you to say. I might feel threatened.” Crowley butted in a playful smirk on his face.

“Y/n, can you take us off speaker for a second?” Mick asks, sounding a bit uncomfortable.

I look over to Crowley a bit confused, Mick never sounds like this and his tone is putting me on edge. “Um, yeah, one sec Mick.” I respond, Crowley rolls his eyes and gestures vaguely to himself as he scoots back to give me a bit of privacy.

“Y/n, love? You still there?” Mick says from the other line, I don’t know why he’s so worried and I’m also not sure if Ketch’s phone is off speaker yet.

“Hey, Mick. Um, why did you want to talk privately?” I question.

“Well, are you sure you’re safe there? I certainly trust that you can handle yourself, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that you’re working hard on this case with us, but I want to make sure you’re not in danger…” He trails off.

“If you’re asking about if I’m safe where I am geographically speaking then yes, I’m in one of the safest places I could think of. I am also with the safest experts I could think of other than you or Ketch.” I pause, hoping that Mick doesn’t worry as much about me. I want him and Ketch to focus on hunting Asmodeus and keep me completely out of their minds.

“If you say so, it’s just,” Mick pauses, a sigh leaving his lips, “you know me well, love. I don’t trust easily and I certainly don’t trust demons. So, if you’re feeling up for it, I know that I would feel better with you here. Even if you stay at your home or here at the hotel all day, simply knowing you’re nearby would greatly ease my conscience.”

I drop my head and try to come up with lies or excuses as to why I can’t go back yet, I’m not ready, and what happens if Castiel or Gabriel try to use angel powers and check up on me or something? What if they find out that I’m a monster?

“I know you might not be ready yet, but just know that I’m here if you want to talk through anything.” Mick brings me out of my panicked thoughts. I’m very grateful that he has given me some time to decide.

“Well, I’ll definitely need some time to decide, I would love to be back with you guys and work the case. But I have to be certain I won’t pass out again or cause for you guys to waste more time on me when we need to focus entirely on hunting down Asmodeus and getting some answers.”

“I understand, y/n. Just, take care of yourself and give me a call tomorrow, okay?” I nod.

“I will, Mick. I love you and Ketch for looking out for me, make sure you’re both taking care of yourselves, okay?” Like most Hunters, when the Brits are on a tough case they tend to forfeit sleep and mental health until the monster is dead and people are safe.

He huffs a laugh, “We’ll try our best, love. You keep resting and get your strength up and call us whenever you’ve decided.”

I promise to call tomorrow and hang up with one last goodbye to Mick before he hangs up. Although I am terrified of the idea of being surrounded by these relentless Hunters, I know the situation can also get so much worse if they become suspicious of me while I’m staying with Rowena. I can’t let her earn more enemies because she chose to help me, it’s time to finally face the music.

[420technoblazeit]

OH? I never thought that he was replacing Crowley and if they wrote it in that way they kinda failed from the beginning

What i liked specifically was the idea behind an international secret society of academics that complement the work done by the hunters and the idea that they never heard of it because they were wiped out before giving an opportunity to the new generation of learn about it [I am kinda iffy about John backstory being so near to the supernatural before Mary gets killed but that's more of my specific grudge with the internal lore of the series] i would have liked they explored the idea of international monster/hunter/secret society relationships more other than British

As for the dub: yes it is weird to switch languages and while some voice actor do a good job to sound similar [dean] there are others who sound really off [chuck]

Also just checked Destiel isn't canon here

-🔷️

ok tbh i dont think they were directly trying to replace crowley it just feels like arthur ketch's role in the story was at least parallel to crowley's

he's like. the british guy who's willing to do what the winchesters aren't. he thinks sam and dean are too weak and emotional, he's willing to play both sides and ally himself with corrupt people to get what he wants. it's the whole the ends justify the means kind of thing, yk? it feels like watered down crowley because he has the guts to make these big plays but not the power or resources to back it up. and he shouldn't because he hasn't been built up enough but it makes him a weaker character nonetheless

idk he wasn't a bad character imo but making him such a frequent guest star in s13 after crowley left was like. eh.

i agree that the men of letters had potential though, it was an interesting concept that wasn't really very well executed. theyre right tbh american hunters are a fucking mess lmao

[qapsiel]

                                CASTIEL IS ALONE IN THE BUNKER AFTER SAM AND DEAN LEFT FOR A HUNT, so the sound of the door so soon after their departure alerts him immediately, especially with Lucifer still out there. He did not expect to see Mick Davies on the balcony, and it shows on his face. After a second of staring at the man, Castiel disappears and instead pops up a armlength away from the former British man of letters, intently looking at him. There's nothing funny that Castiel can see — no demonic face nor that of an angel, no palpable magic right now, no funny smell of sulfur or the strange energy readings of a ghost. He seems quite ordinarily human.

                              This isn't so surprising; he personally brought Dean Winchester back from the dead, after all, and they also thought Dean had killed Arthur Ketch just to find him vitally alive a few months after that. "It's good to see you alive, Mick," he says. "Sam and Dean aren't here, though." Then he realizes that he might sound a little rude. Hospitality is an important human aspect. "Do you — want a cup of coffee?"

@qapsiel asked: “ Be still, don't move. ” from the four word sentence prompts

distrust continued to ring through his interactions with american hunters and their contacts. as far as his interactions with castiel and the winchesters, toni going off script with sam had really scuppered any chance at not needing to throughly prove their trustworthiness. while mick had tried to prove over and over that he was there to be of assistance, his eyes had been opened to the kind of organization he had dedicated his life to. upholding the code was not always the right move and his interactions with sam and dean had led him to make a different decision when renny was killed.

he knew that decision would have cost him his life so he went into hiding. when he got word that the american hunters had rallied against the men of letters, he felt safe enough to come out of hiding. the winchesters and castiel were the only ones he could begin to trust. hands in the air as a voice rang out below him, mick's wary eyes met castiel's below his current stance on the balcony at the entrance of the kansas bunker. ❝ they told you i was dead didn't they? i'm not. i have been boarded up in a bunker in montana to keep it that way. ❞

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

The Proposal

Pic found on Google | Dividers from @firefly-graphics

Summary: After some difficult time in your relationship with Dean, the British Men of Letters send the two of you on a case in Italy. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Squares: December for @winchesterandbeyondbingo // Venice, Italy for @anyfandomfluffbingo // Fluff for @j3bingo // Date Night for @spnfluffbingo // Dean Winchester for @supernatural-jackles TMAS // Warnings: fluff, marriage proposal, best friends to lovers, established relationship, break-up, reconciliation Word Count: 2.2k

The day Sam, Dean, and you found the bunker, you told Dean you wanted to search for other members of the “Men of Letters” around the world. You wanted to see if there were other people like you hunting monsters too.

Some months later, two people showed up at the bunker’s door stating that they were from the British Men of Letters, “Michael “Mick” Davies and Arthur Ketch” they introduced and you got excited. If they had found you there, you were sure there were other organizations in other parts of the world. You made this research a personal task to find more members.

The search was unsuccessful and you failed in your task, the cases started to increase thanks to Mick and Ketch. Having to deal with them on a daily basis was exhausting.

Over the following weeks, you’ve hunted a lot of monsters, driving non-stop, going from one state to another without a full night of sleep.

With your birthday a few weeks away, Dean and you decided to do a little road trip to celebrate it and to spend some quality time just the both of you. It was something you wanted to do for the past year since you’ve started your relationship.

To be honest, you should’ve seen this coming. Since the British Men of Letters appeared in your life, they made chaos. The three of you were always in a bad mood, mostly because of the lack of sleep, the worst part of this was that your relationship with Dean was worsening. That was one of the reasons why you were really eager to go on this road trip with Dean, it was something both of you really needed.

Instead, Ketch had other plans for that week. He decided to send Sam and Dean on a hunt, it was supposed to last just two days, and Dean was going to be back right in time for the trip.

You should’ve learned by now to not trust Ketch and his white lies. What was supposed to be a two days hunt became a week, making Dean miss your birthday and screw up all your plans. You could see in Ketch’s face how much he was enjoying your bad mood. You were ready to kill him with your bare hands.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Dean said when he entered the bunker, “ I’m going to compensate you. I promise” Dean promised, knowing he just ruined something you’ve planned for so long, but he wasn’t the one who needed to compensate you, but you just knew Ketch was not gonna move a finger for what he just ruined.

You hugged Dean and pecked his lips, “I’m just glad you’re here with me. Both of you” you admitted hugging Sam “but if he ever shows up, I’m gonna kill him,” you whispered so only Sam and Dean could hear you. “Not gonna stop you” Sam added with a smile.

The whole Ketch and British Men Of Letters brought a lot of disagreements between you and the Winchester brothers, to the point of dissolving your relationship with Dean, having to take some time off from each other. It broke your heart to make this decision, but it was the best before hurting more feelings because of them. You decided to leave the bunker and book a room in a crappy motel until everyone could figure out what was going on.

The time off between Dean and you only lasted two days. The love you had for the other was a lot stronger than just a simple man who wanted to take control over you and your little family.

Even though you and Dean got back together, you decided that it was best to stay apart at least until Ketch, Mick, and the rest of the Men of Letters were gone.

While being apart from Dean, both of you learned what was needed from the other, and to communicate them to the other. This time, the relationship grew stronger, you were able to communicate and let the feelings be part of the relationship. In a way, this brought you two a lot closer than you already were.

It was mid-December when Dean asked you to move in with Sam and him to the bunker again. Both claimed to miss you and your energy there. You couldn’t refuse this offer, you missed them a lot, “Ok,” you accepted gladly, “but with one condition,” you said.

Dean sighed and nodded, “I’ll move in with you, but not permanently. At least, not for now” you explained and Dean agreed. He couldn’t force you to do it, it was your decision after all.

Since you've moved out from the bunker and spending for a few months in a motel, you had rented a small room in an apartment building near the bunker, it was perfect for the time being.

You were packing some of your stuff that you were planning to move back to the bunker when you got a call from Dean, “Hi baby,” you answered, “what happened?” you asked kinda worried, “do you have your passport up to date?” he asked; you got confused, why would he ask you that?

“Yeah, why?” you answered not understanding much where he was going with all these questions. “Mitch called, they want us to take a case in Italy,” he explained and you couldn’t believe it, “You kidding, right?”

Dean chuckled, “Nope sweetheart, it sounds serious” You were very confused as to why Mitch had asked you two to check on a case in Italy? And why did Dean accept it? He hated flying. This probably was something serious they couldn’t handle on their own.

“Let me pack some stuff and I’ll meet you at the bunker” You heard some shuffling in the back, probably they were finishing packing, then Dean asked, “You have everything in there?”

“I guess so,” you said checking your surroundings, “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes and I’ll explain everything on the road,” Dean said and hung up.

Twenty minutes later, Dean and you were heading to the airport, two first-class tickets to Italy in hand and a million questions without an answer.

While on the road, Dean explained to you that an auction party was being held in a very important hotel and one of the most important pieces they were auctioning was from God’s creation and the Men of Letters wanted to recover it. The thing is that Mitch and all their minions were well known and they weren’t allowed to participate, so they needed unknown people.

“So that’s why they need us,” you said and Dean nodded. That’s where Dean and you fit in the picture.

Mitch called you before boarding and said that your room was already booked at the hotel, he also mentioned that there were outfits ready for both of you to wear at the auction and that one of the British Men of Letter’s drivers was there for you during your stay.

The flight was quiet and comfortable, while Dean hummed “Nothing Else Matters” non-stop, you did some old-fashioned research on the item you needed to recover.

Twelve hours later, finally, both of you arrived in Italy and as Mitch promised, there was a car waiting for the two of you.

To you, the trip to the hotel was marvelous, it was almost impossible for you to be able to see everything. You were in love with the place. Unfortunately, you were there for a job and not for vacation, so you needed to keep yourself focused.

“I miss my baby,” said Dean with a pout, “I know, I miss her too, but at least I have mine with me,” you said and pecked his lips making him smile.

Once in the hotel, you were taken to your room, it was the honeymoon suite. The room was twice the size of your apartment. It was enormous.

“As you can see, the room is for newlyweds, so you’ll have to portray as a married couple at the auction. I hope that’s not a problem” Mitch said through the phone “I expected you to do your work well. This is a big item. I’ll keep in touch with you two” he finished and hung up.

You set up your workplace and started to do some research on the auction, the people who were going to attend, and the items they were selling.

“Apparently, we will have to do another trip. The auction is in Venice” Dean mentioned with an envelope in his hands. Your eyes lighted up. Venice was your place on earth, the canals, the gondolas, the bridge, the structure, the history. It was your favorite place and you’ve always wanted to visit it.

The following day, you and Dean got full room service, “we ain’t paying it, so bring the pie” Dean said excitedly.

After breakfast, a maid came with two bags, one contained Dean’s suite and the other, your dress. The trip to Venice wasn’t short, so you wanted to get ready early so you could do a little sightseeing around the place where the auction was held.

Dean wore a blue suit with a white shirt and you wore a short laced black dress with simple sandals. Nothing too fancy but not too simple either.

The drive to the hotel lasted at least an hour, you were grateful for leaving early. You had at least an hour and a half until the event started, which meant you had plenty of time to walk around and see the place.

Dean seemed nervous, he didn’t look in your eyes, it seemed that he was avoiding you. You assumed he was uncomfortable; it wasn’t a common thing for him to wear a suit for a case.

“De, are you okay?”, you asked, caressing his cheek. “We can come back if you want,” you said, hugging him. He hugged you back and started to sway to the sound of the music a local shop was playing. “I’m fine. Actually,” he said “I’m great because I’m with you” he finished before kissing you deeply.

“De…” you whispered and you felt when his body relaxed, “Sweetheart, I know that I messed up on your birthday, I wanted to be with you, but Ketch…“ he sighed, frustrated at the memory, “the point is that I made you a promise that day, and…“

“What do you mean, Dean? You don’t owe me anything. A job is a job, I get it” you admitted, “I know, “he sighed again “but you deserve the world, everything,”

You pecked his lips, you knew he was mad at Ketch for what he did, but you also knew he was blaming himself for letting that happen, “and you give me all and more” you said looking directly to his eyes, “no, I haven’t,” he said and you stopped dancing, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve failed you. I made a promise and I broke it. I wanted to make it up for you, but I didn’t know how and then I realized that you deserve the world and I wasn’t giving you any” he confessed, “De… are you…” you didn’t know what to ask, he was confusing more

“Y/N, you are my world, and you deserve everything and all, and I want to give it to you, so,” he said, kneeling and you started to cry, “will you marry me?”

You couldn’t believe it, you tried to regain some strength and calm down your crying and said “Of course Dean! I love you so much” you said, kneeling with him.

He got the two of you up and put the ring on your finger. You pulled your arms around his neck and kissed him, hard and deeply. It was a dream come true.

“I wish Sammy was here,” you said in a sad tone, “I wouldn’t have missed this in the world,” Sam said from behind, you turned around and hugged him too.

You were in a bubble, your best friend and love of your life has just proposed in your favorite place on earth when you remember why you were there, “Guys, the auction!” you exclaimed and Sam and Dean laughed, “there’s no auction baby,” Dean said, “I told you I was going to make them pay for missing your birthday and we needed a plan to bring you here without suspicion and well, we had to come up with a case.” he explained.

You started to laugh, he really made them pay for what had happened, “I’ll have to thank Mitch then” you said and added, “even though they did compensate us, I still want to kill Ketch” the three of you chuckled.

“I can’t believe you overcome your fear of flying because of me,” you said while looking at the canals with your two favorite people, “for you baby, I’ll do anything.” Dean said, “now, let’s go to celebrate.” Sam added, hugging the both of you.

Sam, Dean, and you got in the car and headed back to the hotel where they were waiting for you with a special dinner organized for the British Men of Letters. You couldn’t be any happier.

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[talesmaniac89]

The Man in Apartment 43 - Part 24

Series Masterpost (Complete)

Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?

Triggers: Stalker, violence, guns, injuries, canon level violence, fear, shock, kidnapping and hostage situations, twisted thoughts and talk about life imprisonment/being kept against your will. It's a dark one. Be warned

Y/N = Your name | Y/L/N = Your last name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour | Y/H/C = Your hair colour

Start Here | Last Part | Next Part

Reader

Your mind had momentarily gone blank with relief as the police officer finally came rushing in to save Dean and you. And for the first few minutes you barely even spared the man in blue a glance. Too focused on the angry red that was staining the strong arms and hands that had kept you from falling apart time and time again during the whole hellish ordeal. Dean was injured, but help was here.

Your superhero next door would live.

And, as Dean’s green eyes found yours, already brightening along with the first rays of light at the end of your nightmarish, long tunnel, it took all you had in you to just breathe. Your body was shaking and swaying in place as the weights that had been placed on your shoulders for the last several days were finally lifted, all at once. Leaving you suffering from vertigo as gravity seemed to momentarily fail you.

It wasn’t until the officer turned the gun towards Dean that you finally took your eyes off of your neighbour to fully take in the man you’d thought was there to save you both. His empty eyes sent shivers down your spine. Not just from fear and confusion, though that was definitely part of it, no…

It was recognition.

Yet, you didn’t know where you knew him from. Hell, even his name sounded familiar. Though you’d been sure it had just been a name you’d heard at the police station, during the few hours you were there to give your statement. But no… You knew those empty, dark eyes. That leering look, burning with a barely disguised contempt for… Everything.

As if he blamed the world itself for his lot in life.

“What are you doing! Stop it!” The words tore themselves from your throat as your mind still struggled to place the officer. Where you knew him from didn’t matter. No. What mattered was that that same officer was busy wrestling an injured Dean back down to the ground and forcing his arms behind his back to cuff him.

For a split second, you froze. Simply watching the scene in front of you as your words echoed helplessly through the quiet cabin. Punctuated by the metallic click of handcuffs being placed around the wrists of your saviour and the whimpers of the man who should be in cuffs; your damn stalker.

Shaking yourself out of your momentary shellshock, you took a shaky step forward, then another. Ready to rush over to tear the police officer off of your saviour and refocus his attention to Brian. The monster he should be arresting. Yet, the ice cold, authoritative voice of Officer Ketch stopped you in your steps as he forced the air out of Dean’s lungs with a uniformed knee pushing into his back.

“Stand back (Y/L/N)!” The gruff voice of the officer’s yell betrayed an accent he’d clearly been trying to hide, as you looked from Dean’s handcuffed wrists and up to cold eyes burning with that same disinterest and disdain you swore you’d seen before. Paired with a sickening British lilt to his voice it sent shocks of nausea throughout your system. As some ancient, instinctual part of your brain recognized the man unholstering his gun once more in front of you. Though the rest of your panicked mind was still too focused on the sound of Dean’s pained grunts to place him.

Even as Arthur Ketch turned his attention away from you and Dean, your eyes stayed focused on the man from apartment 43. Icy fear sinking into the pit of your stomach as you saw nothing but helpless dread in those forest green eyes you’d taken solace in time and time again during your short stay at the Winchester cabin.

You nearly missed the officer’s exasperated question aimed towards your stalker, too lost in the forest that was your neighbour’s eyes and in the unspoken dread you were sharing with him. But as the words finally registered your head snapped back up. (Y/H/C) strands whipping around you as you refocused your attention at the man who was supposed to save you. Ready to yell at the officer that that man… No, that creature, he was currently speaking to, was the actual criminal.

Yet, your words of protest died in your throat as Brian’s whimpers reshaped themselves into a singular word. One he’d spoken multiple times, but one that now apparently had an actual recipient.

“God?”

---

“Pull yourself together, Lackland. This isn’t over just yet,” Officer Ketch’s voice still had that same exasperated edge. Though he had seemingly fully given up on disguising his English accent as he lazily walked over to the pathetic form whimpering like a child on the floor.

Taking one hand off of his gun, Ketch reached out for the bloody pile of army surplus green and waste of space on the floor. Easily lifting the alcoholic stalker up from the floor and back on his feet by the lapels of his jacket as he muttered curses under his breath. Far too quietly for you to catch over Brian’s continued whimpering.

“God… I’m sorry. The devil was too strong for me,” Brian’s sniffling, pathetic voice sent chills down your spine as he once more referred to Ketch as God. The same ‘God’ that had told the clearly unstable alcoholic that you were his soulmate. The same God that had told Brian to marry you.

“He… I should have waited for midnight like the book said. He’s too fast and strong for me. I failed you God. I wasn’t a soldier of heaven like you thought I was. And (Y/N)! He corrupted my wife. You said she was made for me. You promised...” Your stalker continued, finding his voice again now that Dean was handcuffed on the floor and his deity was by his side. The shrill, whiny pitch to his voice reminding you of that of a spoiled brat. Complaining to a parent that he didn’t get the toy he wanted.

“I got the ‘devil’ under control Lackland,” Ketch scoffed, cutting off the high pitched ravings of your stalker with a condescending undertone to his words that the mad stalker seemed to miss. The barely restrained mockery broke free from its chains as he took two lazy steps backwards before turning on his heel and driving the toe of his polished boot into Dean’s stomach. Once more knocking the air out of the man from apartment 43.

The painful gasps for air leaving Dean’s pursed lips, followed by a coughing fit as he grunted in pain and struggled against his restraints, was enough for you to find your voice again. Your eyes moved to Dean’s body where he was trying to curl in on himself to protect his body before once more refocusing on Brian and his uniformed accomplice.

“Stop it! Please,” Your voice cracked over the words as you begged the officer to stop… Everything. To let Dean go… To let you go. And put a stop to the whole nightmare. Yet, the three words you managed to force out of your breathless lungs were only met with a mocking laugh.

“I don’t think so pet,” The drawled nickname, delivered in that same British accent that was sending fresh waves of nausea through your system with every new syllable sent fresh jolts of recognition through you. You knew that man. You’d seen him before.

At the bar.

“Ah… Finally recognize me now, do you?” Officer Ketch’s words were delivered with that same condescending tone he used when speaking to Brian. As if he was talking to someone beneath him. Yet, where Brian looked at him with utter reverence, your own look was soaked through in pure disgust.

“You..” Was all you managed to grit out between clenched teeth as the revelation knocked the wind out of you and left you once more struggling to stand upright.

Arthur Ketch was one of many faces that has passed in and out of the bar. He used to go to come in, late at night, and sit with Brian. Whispering in his ear while leering at the waitstaff over a bottle of his own. Though you hadn’t seen him in several months.

He was the reason. All those times he’d set those dead eyes in you while whispering into Brian’s ear. He’d been working on this. A sick and twisted plan that involved him playing God to the disturbed drunk. With you unwillingly cast as the leading lady in Brian’s worsening delusions.

“Yes… Me. You really should remember your regulars Ms. (Y/L/N). Or… No. I guess it will be Mrs. Lackland now,” Ketch’s mocking tone sent new waves of nausea through you as you shook your head in some weak attempt to wake up from your worsening nightmare.

“Why?” The croaked one word question, though it was one on the tip of your tongue, didn’t come from you. Instead it had escaped, along with a pained gasp, from Dean’s bound form on the floor. Pulling your eyes away from the deranged pair standing over your saviour and back down to him. To the only good thing left in your nightmarish life.

“Why?” Ketch parroted with a scoff, as his boot once more connected with Dean’s solar plexus on the floor. Knocking the wind out of him again, and possibly breaking a few ribs at the same time.

“Brian, go clean yourself up…” He shot towards the pathetic, barely standing form of your stalker, more as an afterthought, instead of answering the question that was left hanging in the heavy, tense air of the cabin.

“But… God,” Brain whimpered, his pathetic cries still grating on your nerves as you forced yourself to stay silent. Biting back your sobs and blinking away your tears as you hoped against hope that Ketch’s attention would turn completely away from Dean and you, if you just stayed silent enough.

“It’s your wedding day, Brian. Go freshen up for your bride,” Ketch cut off whatever sob story the drunk wanted to give him with a sneer. The words ‘wedding day’ dripped in condescension as he lifted his chin to direct Brian towards the back of the cabin in the search of a bathroom. And though, as you lifted your eyes slightly to watch the pair that had orchestrated the hell you found yourself trapped in, your stalker seemed to want to argue, he still readily complied with the orders of his God. Eyes still wide with that same near manic reverence as he hobbled towards the door. Swaying on unsteady feet as he dragged himself towards it.

Still, even as Brian Lackland disappeared from sight, Officer Ketch didn’t speak. Leaving the unanswered question hanging in the air between you as he listened to Brian’s unsteady shuffling down the hallway. Unfocused eyes resting lazily on Dean’s bound form as he played with the gun in his hands.

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of a door opening and shutting, from further in the cabin, that he finally lifted his dead eyes again. Letting them lock with yours as he gave you a sickening toothy smile.

“Why?” He repeated, with the first hint of actual human emotion showing in his voice as he grinned at you. The undisguised glee in the single syllable word sending new waves of icy panic down your spine as you realised he wanted nothing more than to tell you exactly why.

---

Dean:

His ears were ringing, and his lungs were burning, screaming out for oxygen. Yet, even as the pain threatened to drag him under into the blissful nothingness of unconsciousness, Dean forced himself to stay awake. Blinking away the black spots in his vision as he tried to turn his head to find his beautiful girl next door. Though even the slightest movement made his brain rattle painfully in his skull, threatening to knock him out fully.

For a little while, all he heard was the pounding of his own heart in his ears. The sound was nauseating. As if his own heart was counting down the seconds to his own death. But, as the real world finally came into focus again, he found himself wishing he couldn’t hear anything other than the macabre countdown of his own heartbeat.

Somewhere above him, the corrupt police officer, Ketch, was parroting his question towards (Y/N) with nearly manic joy staining his previously emotionless tone. Like he took some sick, twisted form of pleasure out of explaining why he was so intent on destroying her life.

And though Dean had been the one to first voice the question. He realised, far too late, that he didn’t really want to know the answer. Not when the manic tinge in the officer’s voice betrayed that he had no way of talking his way out of this situation. No way of saving the girl from apartment 42. Not when he himself lay handcuffed and beaten on the hardwood floor of the lake house.

“Because I can, (Y/N)... I can. And that’s all that matters. I can get away with this. I can destroy your life. Or anyone’s life. And I can do it all without even lifting a goddamn finger,” Ketch spat from above Dean. Gloating at how easily he had destroyed the safe foundation under her feet just as his own polished boots once more prodded against Dean’s own bruised torso.

Though, as Dean gritted his teeth against the pain of another much lazier, and softer, kick to his stomach, it wasn’t the physical pain that forced the breath out of his lungs. No… It was the broken voice slipping past sunshine lips. Defeated and resigned as (Y/N) asked the actual main perpetrator of her pain the one question she’d asked herself, and Dean, a million times during the last 11 days.

“Why me?” The sobbed words rang louder than any of the earlier gunshots in Dean’s ears as he forced himself to turn his head just enough to look up at her. To see the tears staining (Y/E/C) eyes as she finally broke down. Teardrops staining her cheeks and lips like the shards of her shattered resolve. That last bit of strength, the last embers of hope, extinguished, by a man with dead eyes and mockery for a voice.

The barked laugh that left the officer cracked across the small cabin like a goddamn whip. So much louder than (Y/N)’s sobbed question and sending a fresh shot of pain through Dean’s rattled mind from its volume.

“Don’t flatter yourself pet, I didn’t choose you. Brian did. When he came to me a year ago, confiding in me about his little… Crush on you. All I had to do was prod him a bit, and the mad man thought I was fucking God,” Ketch spat back. The sadistic bastard sounded amused. Like he couldn’t even fathom why she thought she mattered at all to him. Clearly all that mattered to officer Arthur Ketch was himself. He only cared about one thing; that he got to be in charge.

Dean hadn’t even had the… Displeasure, of knowing the man for more than a few agonising minutes. And even he could tell. The man might be calling Brian Lackland mad. But the true mad man in this whole fucked up plan was Ketch. The way his voice rose in volume as he spoke about ‘prodding’ Brian hinting that he was finally getting to what he wanted.

A chance to share his whole involvement as God in Brian’s delusional world view.

A chance to rant and rave at (Y/N), about his plan… As if she was just a little cog in the wheel, and not the victim. Not the poor girl that Dean had held close as she broke apart in his arms time and time again over the last two weeks.

“It was fun actually. Whispering in his ear, fuelling his little obsession, while you were completely oblivious. Just a few steps away,” Ketch continued in a lazy drawl, telling the story as if he was recounting any other day. But, as Dean kept his eyes on (Y/N)’s slowly crumbling form, it was clearly anything but.

“You would refill our drinks with that vapid customer service smile… While I was promising him he’d get to do whatever the fuck he wanted to you… Hell, I even threw in some children. Made you a happy little family for him to obsess over. It was pathetic,” He continued, though Dean wanted nothing more than for him to just… Stop.

Every new word was pulling his sunshine girl deeper into the abyss, and this time Dean couldn’t reach out and hold the pieces of her together. He couldn’t stop her from drowning in her own pained tears or soothe her so she wouldn’t choke on her sobs. Not with his arms wrenched behind his back and locked in steel that he couldn’t break free from, no matter how hard he tugged on it.

“Shut up…” Dean gritted out, though the words were more a wheezed cough than actual words. Sticking like glass in his throat while his body still struggled from the way the air had been forced out of him over and over again.

But Ketch ignored him. Not even giving his words the time of day.

Not even bothering to shut him up with another kick to the stomach. That was how fucking ecstatic he was… To finally have a captive audience to tell his side of the story to. To break her, more than he already had.

Instead he just kept going. Grinding the girl from apartment 42 into diamond dust below his polished boots as his clipped and sadistic words kept retelling the story of how he orchestrated her personal hell. As if he was just telling a funny anecdote around the goddamn watercooler at work.

“I would have made him act sooner, but… Hell, it was bigger than some of the simple drug plants and ‘wrongful’ arrests I’ve orchestrated before. So, I needed power. I was just a beat cop last year. To pull this one off… To make sure it went right, even when dealing with a fucking failure like Brian Lackland, I needed a promotion,” He continued, savouring each word as he took his time. Pausing to…

Hell, Dean didn’t know.

With his face turned to watch his girl next door, he couldn’t see the bastard. Which, by the disgusted involuntary shivers that went through (Y/N)’s body whenever he paused, he should have been thankful for. But fuck… He’d do anything to save her the pain of having to face whatever look the dead eyed officer was sending her to make her physically react like that. Even if it meant having Ketch’s full attention on him. Beating the living hell out of him.

Yet, before he could find something, anything, that could turn Ketch off of his monologuing, and refocus his attention back on him… A quiet broken sound, broke his heart and trapped his voice behind a lump of pain in his throat.

“Stop…” This time it was her voice that called out. Breaking over the single syllable word as she pleaded for mercy. Though as Dean kept his eyes on her, blinking away more of those damned black spots that kept forming, he could see the resignation in her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t stop. Nothing could stop him… No one was coming to save her.

Dean had failed her.

And now all he could do was watch her fall apart. Hell, the only thing he could do was stay awake. To be there for her, in any way he could. Though the blood loss, mixed with what was probably at least one broken rib stopping him from breathing properly, was making it increasingly hard to not give into the darkness.

“So I told Brian to wait… That your ‘one year anniversary’ was some godly part of the plan. And of course he ate it all up,” Ketch didn’t reward (Y/N)’s pleading with anything more than a soft scoff as he continued his sadistic retelling of events. The only hint that he’d even heard her being the sick smile Dean swore he could hear in the British police officer’s lazy drawled story.

The nauseating feelings pushing down heavy on Dean’s stomach from the joy he was hearing in the officer’s voice nearly overshadowed the realisation that the bastard really was the one behind everything. Even the year of Brian stalking (Y/N), and the ‘anniversary’.

Brian was just a fucking puppet.

Nothing had been left to chance.

Well… Almost nothing, Dean thought. Barely managing a pained smile as he thought back on how he had still messed up the sadistic bastard’s plans. For a short while at least. A realisation Ketch was apparently coming to as well, as his voice went icy cold once he spoke up again.

“I had everything planned out. I was set to work that night. Would’ve been the first responder if you somehow found some intelligent thought in that pretty little head of yours and called for the cops when Brian tried to take you. But then Dean here…” Ketch’s boot connected with Dean’s gut again as he paused to take his frustrations on him. Putting the full force of his anger behind the single kick, and allowing himself a scoffed laugh as the air was once more forced out of Dean’s lungs.

The sharp pain of what was definitely a broken rib digging deeper into his chest brought fresh black spots to Dean’s eyes as he coughed from the hard kick. The burning sensation of bile in the back of his throat, mixed with the air forcefully leaving his body, stopping even the weak attempt of a pained scream from leaving him. Only letting him grunt in pain.

Yet, he gritted his teeth against the worst of it as (Y/N)’s pained and panicked eyes finally met his blurry ones. He couldn’t let her see him hurt. It would only add to her own pain. Hell, it was a miracle she was even still standing upright. Though, Dean suspected it had less to do with strength, and more to do with her small form being frozen in place from fear and the endless realisations that Ketch kept piling onto her small shoulders. Shoulders that were already carrying way too much.

“He just had to play knight in shining armour on the night it was all supposed to go down. And then Brian went and broke in anyway… Without telling me,” Ketch finally continued. The anger that had exploded out through the kick was still there. Simmering under the surface as ice cold, controlled rage. But it wasn’t going to stop the sadistic fucker from sharing his little tale.

Nothing fucking would.

“I was supposed to be the lead on the case. I was supposed to be the one enjoying the show from the front row seats as every other cop ran circles around themselves not understanding what the hell happened,” Ketch’s voice was slowly rising in volume again as he lamented the parts of his carefully orchestrated plan that Dean had destroyed.

And though he was barely conscious, from the constant onslaught of pain, Dean still allowed himself a small smile from the thought of having messed with the bastard’s plans. Though it just as quickly twisted into a pained grimace as the toe of Ketch’s polished uniform standard boot once more connected with his flesh.

“Everything. Fucking. Fell. Apart!” Ketch was screaming now. The carefully veiled persona of calm he’d portrayed was cracking as his anger seeped through the cracks. Punctuating each and every word with an erratic kick. Not caring if he missed Dean’s gut, or not. Which thankfully meant his upper thigh took the brunt of the kicks. Stopping Dean from passing out from the complete lack of oxygen.

“I’d set Brian up with a nice little safe house. Even talked that stupid waste of space into setting up a bunch of cameras… So I could… Watch. It’s more fun that way. Told Lackland I’d support him with ‘the whole wrath of heaven’. Just as long as he made you a little… Stage,” The madman continued, breathless from his earlier eruption, after taking a few seconds to compose himself. While Dean tried to not puke his guts out as he forced himself to take a few painful, shaky breaths of air through the coughing fit the one kick that had connected with his stomach left him in.

“So… We had to improvise. I had to sneak into the fucking task force that should have been mine, not that whimp Davies’, and get some… Details. Help the poor sod out. So we could get the show on the road again,” Once he fully caught his breath again, the same cocky, mocking tone was fully back in place.

Oozing with pride at the way he had been behind the scenes the whole time. Helping to make sure that (Y/N) would have to run away from her own place. Giving Brian time to terrorize her and everyone she cared about some more before finally catching up with her.

“Fuck, I’ve been running circles around those morons for days now. Though it did take some time to find out where Dean brought you. I’ll give Mick that much credit at least. He kept that one pretty damn close to his chest,”

Clearly he hadn’t meant for the sick game of cat and mouse to go on as long as it had. Not that it made Dean feel any better. Even if he had momentarily kept her safe. It didn’t matter… He couldn’t save her anymore.

Hell, he couldn’t even save himself.

By now, he knew Ketch wasn’t letting him out of this alive. No, he knew too much. Fuck, this whole little monologue would just end up being the last thing he heard before he got a bullet through his skull. At least he hoped it’d be a bullet. He wouldn’t put it past Ketch to make it last; make him really hurt for messing with his plans.

But none of that mattered. Not really.

What scared Dean, what really terrified him, was what would happen to his girl next door when he died. Fuck, if he knew that him dying could somehow save her from the two sick monsters that currently held their futures in their claws, then he’s happily, and willingly play sacrifice. But… This?

No. His death would just be an end. For her… Something much worse was in store.

“Though, it was a lucky break that Mick was out today. Meant I got to field the call from that redheaded hacker friend of yours. And your lawyer too,” Before Dean could sink into the disgusting and terrifying images of what waited in the future for the girl he once hoped could be his, Ketch spoke up again. Clearly not wanting to end the torture of his monolouge on the sour note of how his plans had almost been messed up.

“And it seems it worked out fine… After all, you guys stayed put. Like the damn sheep you are. Lambs to the slaughter. Buying me just enough time to get a temporary place set up for my fucking moron of a partner, and still get out here in time to save his ass,” Ketch barked out a laugh as he spat the words. The same condescension as earlier dripping from every word as he nudged Dean’s bound body with his foot as if to underline his point.

The slight nudge rocked his body and sent fresh shots of agony through him as he gritted his teeth against it. If nothing else, so as to not add more pain to (Y/N)’s already overflowing (Y/E/C) eyes.

“He’s easy to… Control. I’ll give him that. But the fucker nearly messed up everything. I gave the idiot a gun, and he couldn’t even finish off one fucking car salesman. Useless,” The police officer spat, taking out his frustration on Dean for his own damned choice of sick monster to partner up with.

Every new shake, every new nudge, making the edges of Dean’s vision blur as he fought against unconsciousness. Forcing himself to take steady, careful gasps of air.

“But it’ll be worth it all in the…” From somewhere above Dean, Ketch finally cut off his monologue and stopped nudging him with his uniform issue boot. Leaving the room in silence, past Dean’s own small gasps for air and (Y/N)’s quiet, strangled sobs.

For a second, Dean felt relieved, that he’d finally shut up, that he’d stopped forcing fresh shots of pain into his body as soon as the room stopped spinning. But, the relief was short lived, as another just as sickening, but much more pathetic whine of a voice spoke up to take Ketch’s place.

“God…” Brian’s high pitched voice was still cracked and slurred as the shuffling of his steps alerted Dean to him walking back into the room.

“You still look like a mess Lackland,” Ketch shot back, the same mocking tone, as if humouring a whiny child, back in full force now that Brian had returned from the bathroom. Clearly he hadn’t wanted the stalker to hear his little speech. Probably worried about breaking the illusion that he was God and risking the final steps of seeing his plan to fruition…

Though by the look of fear and disgust in (Y/N)’s eyes, he was still grinning, still gloating. Just silently... To not ruin the delusion of his pawn. Because that was all Brian was.

Fuck, it all made sense now. All the questions that had Dean lying awake every night. Wondering how Brian could have orchestrated the nightmare that had been the last 11 days. Of course, one lone, mad alcoholic couldn’t outsmart the police…

But from within? It was all that much easier to muddle the information; erase the leads.

Lackland was just a decoy. A halloween decoration, masquerading as a monster. To hide in the real monster in the shadows, pulling his strings.

And for what? So a fucking stalker could ruin the life of the strongest woman Dean ever had the pleasure of knowing? So a fucking sadist could get his rocks off watching a live feed of her being kept prisoner by a fucking madman?

That final thought left Dean swallowing heavily as he ground his teeth together, forcing himself to not get sick. From across the room, he heard the broken sound of pained coughs as the girl from apartment 42 clearly wrestled with the same nausea. Though by the fresh shots of rage and disgust in her eyes, it was most likely from whatever sick look Brian was sending her, and not the nauseating thoughts Dean was struggling with.

This was it.

The end of his life… And the end of hers.

Because what was waiting for her wasn’t life. It was worse than hell itself. No help was coming. The careful ledge they had been balancing on for 11 days had crumbled to dust, and there was no safety net. There was nothing but darkness waiting for him, and nothing but polaroids, sour alcoholic breaths and cameras waiting for the sweetest, strongest woman Dean had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

No!

He refused to give up fighting. He wouldn’t give up on her. Even if her (Y/E/C) eyes had lost all their light as she gave up on herself. He couldn’t let Brian win. He couldn’t let Ketch win.

Gritting his teeth, Dean fought through the pain and vertigo as he once more tried to pull his wrists free from the handcuffs. Accomplishing nothing but digging the metal deeper into his already raw wrists as he forced himself to violently shake his body in some vain attempt of gaining the superhuman strength to break free. Even if the only thing he achieved was aggravating the injuries he’d already sustained.

Well… That, and another pathetic whimper from Brian, as he heard the monster shuffling further away from him on the hardwood floor. Even with Dean handcuffed, bleeding and gasping for breath, the waste of space drunk was terrified of him.

How had he ever thought that Brian was behind this whole damn mess? The man was nothing. Just a marionette. A sick and willing pawn, controlled completely by the true monster; Ketch.

As if alerted by the mere thought of his name, Ketch put a stop to Dean’s final, desperate attempt at fighting with the sharp hit of the butt of his gun against his temple. The heavy weapon nearly knocked him out, as his eyes swam in fresh shots of red hot pain. But he couldn’t fall unconscious. He couldn’t leave the girl from apartment 42 alone with these mad men.

Fighting against his instinct to try and break free again, Dean kept himself still. Taking small quiet gasps of air in an attempt to just stay awake. If nothing else then just so he could be with (Y/N) just for a little while longer. Before…

Fuck.

Before he lost her, and his life, forever.

“I’m sorry God. I know I messed up. I’m not the soldier you…” Brian somehow found the courage to speak up again once he was sure his God had Dean under control. Though the pathetic sniffling that followed his words showed that he was still just as afraid.

“Yeah, well I cleaned up your mess Brian. This can still work,” Ketch cut off the snivelling before Brian could go on another ‘woe-is-me’ rant. His voice was much sharper than it had been with the pathetic stalker any of the other times. Though he quickly corrected that as he spoke, softening his tone as if appeasing a crying toddler.

“You can still have your soulmate. You can still get your wife. I even fixed you up with a new place… For you to start your family,” He added, sounding sickly sweet, at least attempting to sound sickly sweet. Though Dean could still hear the condescension lacing every syllable. Hell, only Brian, so lost to his mad delusions, would be fooled by the sadistic officer’s words.

Dean felt sick to his stomach, and it wasn’t from the concussion he was very sure he’d gotten from the heavy hit with the butt of the gun to his temple. They were both sick. And there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do, other than be an unwilling audience to whatever ‘show’ Ketch was putting on.

“But I can’t kill the devil God! I’m not strong enough. Please, I’m begging you, if I don’t…” Brian whined, clearly so deep in his delusion he couldn’t separate reality from fiction.

To him, Dean being the devil he had to kill no longer had anything to do with simply removing an obstacle in getting to (Y/N). To him, it was something he had to do, no matter the circumstances, to ‘get the girl’. Even though Dean was clearly already beaten, both literally and figuratively.

Handcuffed under the sadistic boot of Arthur Ketch.

“Get the girl… I’ll clean up here,” Once more, Ketch cut him off, no longer attempting to appease the still snivelling pathetic stalker as he sneered the words at him in obvious disgust. Though, if Brian noticed the change in tone, he didn’t let it on as he sobbed in relief.

Just as Dean had suspected… He wouldn’t be making it out of the cabin alive.

Even if Brian saw him as the devil, all he was to Ketch now was a loose end. All he could do now was hope he’d make it quick… That, and that he’d at least wait for (Y/N) to be out of sight. So she wouldn’t have to carry the burden of Dean’s death along with everything else on her fragile shoulders.

Hell, even if he tried to drag it out, Dean doubted he would last. His left arm had long ago gone numb from where the bullet hit him, and by the wetness dripping into his eyes and down the side of his face, his latest encounter with the butt of Ketch’s gun had left him bleeding from a head injury too.

“Th… Thank you God! We’ll make you proud. I promise we’ll make you proud,”

If Dean wasn’t actively fighting the need to be sick from the throbbing pain radiating through his skull, Brian’s nearly reverent prayer of thanks to the sadistic officer would have made him retch. Though he couldn’t see the pathetic creature, he was sure the stalker was crying, as he kept muttering new little thank yous. Sobbing, even as he shuffled around Dean, making sure to keep a safe distance still, to make his way towards the girl from apartment 42.

Dean opened his mouth, trying to find the breath to tell Brian to stay the fuck away from her. But no words came out. Though his cracked lips were forming the words and threats, only the copper taste of blood rested on his tongue. He couldn’t talk. Shit, he could barely even breathe through the pain. Instead, the words that did fill the silent cabin, the light dim now that the sun had fully set, only urged the disgusting stalker towards her.

“Just.. Get out of here. I’ve sent the coordinates to a cabin two states away to your new burner. Bring her there. Consummate your marriage. I’ll be in touch as soon as I finish up here,” The words left Ketch with a tired sigh, as if Dean’s own death and (Y/N)’s imprisonment was just chores for him. Even though every word sent shock waves through Dean. Especially as (Y/N)’s sobs grew louder at the mention of consummating Brian’s twisted idea of a marriage.

Forcing his eyes to focus, Dean blinked away what he guessed was blood from his vision to find his girl next door through the haze of red. Catching her eyes for no more than a split second before Brian stepped in front of her. Leaving Dean reeling as he fought two types of pain. The bearable physical torment not holding a candle to the unbearable agony that tore through his heart as he heard the gut wrenching scream leaving sunshine lips.

“No! Let go of me you sick fuck. I’m not going anywhere! Dean!” Her voice broke over the words as they tore their way past her sobs. Her body flickered in and out of focus as she fought against Brian’s shaking hands. Her small fists even got in a few good punches from what Dean could see as she fought against her stalker. Easily pulling out of his weak grasp as Brian struggled to pull her even slightly towards the still open cabin door.

Fighting tooth and nail, the strongest, fiercest woman Dean ever met kicked out at Brian. Screaming nearly incoherent curses at him as the pathetic creature flinched away from her. Once more, the weak pawn was only left with the option of hiding behind his God as he tried and failed to pull her towards the door.

“Let Dean GO! I’ll go willingly if you just let him go!” She screamed, not at Brian, but at the actual monster in the room. At Ketch. Though as soon as her eyes met his, she looked away, focusing panicked (Y/E/C) eyes at Dean instead.

“Dean, I’m so sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry. This is all my…” She started, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against Brian’s grip, though she never looked away from him. The heartbreak and pain in those beautiful eyes were tearing at the last of Dean’s sanity as he mouthed the words he was too breathless to speak out loud in her direction. Hoping she could see them, even in the dim light of the cabin.

Not your fault.

Licking chapped lips as he finished mouthing the three words, Dean tasted the copper tang of blood there. Wishing that it was the sugar and sunshine remnants of her lips on his instead.

“No! You’re coming with me! Don’t look at him! He’s the devil. He brainwashed you! God!” Brian’s high pitched screams nearly drowned out (Y/N)’s own as she continued to sob out apologies to Dean. But even in the explosive chaos, her (Y/E/C) eyes never left his.

“SHUT! UP!” Ketch’s booming voice cut through the noise as he shouted the words out into the room at no one in particular. Though the exasperated tone of his shouted words hinted at most of the anger was directed towards Brian.

The anger in his words, more than the volume, caused both Brian and (Y/N) to flinch as Dean kept his eyes fully trained on his beautiful girl next door. Even when hers flitted up to meet with Ketch’s. Getting ready to once more plead with him for Dean’s life.

But before she could speak up in his defence. Ketch cut the conversation short as he slid the gun Brian had used earlier across the floor. The same gun (Y/N) had slid across the floor to him when there was still hope. When the beautiful girl from apartment 42 still had light shining in her eyes.

The deadly weapon came to rest at the pathetic stalker’s feet as (Y/N)’s attempt at a plea died on her lips. Replaced by only a ghost of themselves, shaped like a sob as her eyes flickered to the gun with a soft flinch as the earlier gunshots probably reverberated through her body as they did Dean’s.

“Just shut your woman up and get the hell out of here so I can get to work,” For a second, Brian had only looked down at the gun quizzically. Yet, Ketch’s barked order finally unfroze the sick pawn of a man. Moving his twitchy strings as he bent down unsteadily, grasping for the gun with shaking hands.

Tearing his eyes away from the gun, Dean found (Y/N)’s eyes instead. Wide with fear, panic and guilt; she was still silently mouthing her endless apologies as she looked at him.

Though none of it was her fault, he knew she would carry the guilt on her shoulders. Even if he begged her not to. His beautiful girl, with the world on her tempered glass shoulders, would carry his death with her out of the cabin and into her new prison-like existence.

He’d failed to save her, and now all he’d ended up doing was causing her more pain. Piling new burdens onto her small back, when all he wanted to do was carry them all for her. Even though he was handcuffed, broken and bleeding. He’d take it all if he could. But he was out of options... They both were.

So instead, Dean gave her a small shaky smile, or at least he attempted to give her one, though he was sure it was more of a grimace. Before parting his lips to tell her…

Hell, he didn’t even know.

There was nothing he could say. And before he could figure out the magical words that would somehow erase her guilt, the metallic sound of a gun readying to fire trapped the words in his chest. Damn it, Ketch wouldn’t even wait for Dean to find his breath so he could form his last words to her…

So this was it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean waited for the bullet he was sure would finally put an end to his misery. Hating the fact that that bastard, Ketch, didn’t even have the courtesy to spare her from seeing him die.

Licking at chapped lips, Dean let them shape her name. If he was going to go out anyway. He wanted to do so with her name on his lips. Not the bitter taste of defeat tinged by copper blood.

Yet, instead of the explosive finality of the gunshot he was expecting, all he heard was (Y/N)’s frantic scream, forcing him to open his unfocused eyes again to find her. Though hers, and Brian’s manic beady eyes next to her, were focused on the door somewhere to the left of where Dean was sure Ketch was standing.

“Please!”

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The Man in Apartment 43 Tags: @campingmonkey @talia-ciufo @monkeymcpoopoo @deans-baby-momma @kalesrebellion @sarahpunkinator @smokinserious @cookiechipdough @winchestergirl82 @babykalika2001 @bagpussjocken @faded-blue @thefridgeismybestie @t1his-is-my-life-story @elliloumom @pinknerdpanda @zombiecupcake29 @justaparttimeauthor @that-one-gay-girl @ceisbill @starchildwild @poptart06294 @gia-25 @siospins2 @ariesbabe1993

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun @deandreamernp @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @justagirlinafandomworld

Forever tags will be added as reblog

[impala1967dwinchester]

If that's possible I'd like to do a request for Castiel x child reader, where she was his first adoptive child who had power over souls but got killed but the British men in season 12. When souless Jack appear in the Eden she is the one who helps him, they talk and she ask him to give a message to cas (something cute or hopefully)

Castiel- True Words

Pairing: Castiel x Adoptive!Daughter, Jack Kline

Pov: Reader

Warnings: Death/Murder, At peace, messenger

Summary: After years of not seeing her adoptive father the one that taught her everything she'd able to send a grateful and much needed message back to him.

A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers, This is for @gabrielasilva1510 I hope you enjoy it.

WC- 1.1k

Main Master List // Request Master List

I met Castiel when I was a teenager. He had popped out of nowhere. I could tell he wasn't one like the others. A human I mean, he was different. Something more calculated and closed off from the rest.

I was a girl that was stuck in the cycle of being adopted and then being brought back to the orphanage. A great cycle. But there was a trick that I had always had. I read a person or at least that what's the people always said about me.

Castiel told me that day, A twelve-year-old. "You, will one day save the world." Then as quickly as he was there he was gone. I just stared at the empty spot. I had never gotten a feeling like that from anyone.

He was right though ten years later. There he was standing between two larger men. They were called the Winchesters. "Dean, just give her a moment. The website said that she could help us." The taller said.

They were standing in front of the help desk. I had made a business out of my talent. For a service price of course. "This is just a spoof, Sam. A waste of money if you ask me." I heard the shorter brother say.

I stepped from behind the door. "Hello, Do you have an appointment?" I asked, smiling as I saw Castiel. My angel. "Castiel it's good to see you after so many years," I said.

"You know her?" The shorter one asked. "Is that how I found her?" The taller one asked. Castiel didn't speak, something that was common for him. I could feel the vibration from the three of them.

"Yes, I told Y/n many years ago that she'd save the world. It's been written for ages now." Castiel said matter of factly. "If you wouldn't mind coming in," I said. The boys followed behind me.

"So what do you do anyway," Dean asked. It was easy to read him, he was broken. A shattered man by the faults of his mother and father. "I read souls." He huffed and rolled his eyes. A jab from his younger brother went into his chest.

"Look now, you both know that you believe enough to know that there are things out there you don't know enough about. Dean your trust issues are a leading issue in solving anything. Sam, you can't trust yourself but trust everyone else. The two of you are the brothers that everyone fights for, yet nobody says 'thank you for saving our world'." I said

A stream of shock rolled over both of their faces. Something I don't think either was prepared to hear. Castiel butted in, "You said you can read a soul. Can you read the soul of a person from a picture?" He asked, diverting the hot attention of the boys and onto what I could gather was their reasoning for showing up.

After Castiel showed me the picture, he gave me further detail. An Arthur Ketch was who they were after, a whole party of hunters but from over the sea.

I was able to help, and the boys left. Castiel was nice enough to help and stay. Cleaning up alongside me. "You know I thought of you every day after I saw you Castiel," I said grabbing something from the table. "I know I heard your prayers every night." He said.

"I adopted you when you turned seventeen, but I wasn't prepared to thrust you into a life for which you'd have to come back to eventually," Castiel said. There was a serious tone behind his words. A kind tone as well, something that I didn't need to be able to read to control souls to understand.

He asked me if I'd like to join them, Something that I was no doubtfully confused about. The only reason not to was my own fear, and I didn't need fear in my life not with my abilities after all.

A long lifetime couldn't spare you from all the damages you were given by being near the Winchesters. My life ended not shortly after staying with them. I was caught and used as bate to lure the Winchester, and Castiel into a trap by the British men of letters I learned before my fate ended my life.

Where I was sent was a beautiful garden, one filled with the green life, and budding flowers. One at peace and tranquility. My Eden, I called it. I sat there for ages, years in the silence of my new home. Awaiting anything new and bright. Awaiting the promise of new life.

One day that was given to me. A young boy came walking into my Eden. A pair of glasses clouded me from seeing his whole face, but it never mattered. "You must be wondering where you are?" I asked.

The boy stood still, "You look similar." He said. I turned my head, "You must be confused, I have been here for years boy." I said, "My name's Jack."

"Jack Winchester." He said stripping himself of the glasses. The bright blue eyes of the ocean staring back at me. I smiled "You must know Castiel." I said. He shook his head, a goofy smile on his face.

"He talks about you a lot ya'know." Jack said. "I bet, now would you like to go back, I imagine that's why you're here to help him and the Winchester brother," I said speaking softly.

"Yes, I'm afraid they still need my help down there," Jack said. He was so gentle with the plants he started to walk around Eden. "alright Jack, whenever you're ready and I'll send you back." I said to Jack.

I thought of how I missed Castiel, nothing could be changed now, but it would be wonderful to let him know that I'm okay, at least as far as heaven is concerned.

"I'm ready." He said a flower he must have plucked was his hand. "Jack, can I ask a favor from you?" I asked. He turned his head slightly, something that Castiel did many times before...

"Would you give a message to Castiel?" I asked, he shook his head happily. "Tell Castiel, that I will do whatever I can here in Eden to protect the legacy of him and the Winchesters. Tell him that I can't thank him enough for the home he gave me when nobody else would."

I said sadly. Jack closed his eyes, "He'll be more than happy to hear from you." And with that, I snapped my fingers and send Jack Winchester back home to Castiel and the Winchester brothers.

Maybe I did save the world, but Castiel saved me when I was much younger. He saved me and truly he was the one that saved the world.

Posted on: 04/16/2022

Completed on: 04/11/2022

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