#i feel like five monkeys in a trenchcoat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twistednuns · 5 years ago

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December 2019

Maxim calling out of the blue, inviting me to the Mine concert later that month.

Stumbling upon great inspiration for plant-based buddha bowls.

@shitgothssay memes.

Zotter salted caramel chocolate.

Finding out about the fact that you can just add the letter A to some words to transform them into adjectives. Like aglitter or aglow and aglisten.

Ayurvedic Kapha tea with some black tea, honey and milk. Sonnentor Gute Laune tea. Green tea with toasted coconut.

Isana shower oil. Works wonders for dry skin. Such a smooth and creamy texture. Great for shaving, too.

Winning the pub quiz - again! I played with Maggie, Dennis, Daniel and Steffen (Team name: Three geese in a trenchcoat) and we won 178€. However, the best thing about this was when I finally solved the anagram after thinking about it for 10 minutes. It was Greta Thunberg! Winning is lovely, of course, but solving the anagram is already a personal win for me each time.

Tuesdays. Coming home early, sleeping it off.

Being super rested after a nap, cooking a huge pot of veggie stew and my ratatouille signature recipe, even preparing a batch of butter bean hummus and salad dressing. Listening to folk music, singing along, even dancing at some point. Standing there, peeling the potatos… Happy moment.

Signature manicure. Always. This time: bluish iridescent lilac with the obligatory black dot.

A personal realisation. I’ve been massively out of touch with myself. I’ve stopped journaling, stopped doing things for myself because they’re beneficial and not because they’re convenient and numb everything. And why is that a good thing? Well, only being at this point and realising what’s wrong with me makes it possible to do something against it. To come up a self-care plan. To make myself feel better.

Semi-deleting Facebook.

Spending time with Manu for the first time in three months. Watching a documentary about black holes and a cheesy Christmas movie. Ordering south Indian food, cuddling up in bed. Sometimes I don’t know why I keep isolation myself. Being around people can be really lovely and soothing if you can be yourself around them. It’s just that I often feel the presence of other living beings drains my energy.

The best massage I ever had. From now on I’ll always request Yaya as my massage therapist. She is SICK. Strong, merciless, forces me into weird poses and makes my back crack.

Also: the chocolate-filled mint hard candy they hand out at the massage studio. I used to hate mint-infused chocolate but somehow I think these are delicious. Perfect after-torture-treat.

Persimmons. Obsessed.

My eye colour in artificial light. A dark moss green with caramel-coloured speckles and a dark rim.

The National playing a 2-hour-long concert and including some of my favourite songs from the High Violet album. Fangirling with Anika.

The smell of cold. You know, that whiff of cool air you get when you’re sniffing a jacket that’s been hanging on the balcony for a few hours to air out.

Learning more about Claire Saffitz from this article - she likes arts and crafts, is a homebody and has degrees in history and literature! She basically enrolled in culinary school because she was bored after graduation. She’s an enigma of a quirky kind. Not brilliant and scattered, but determined and aimless. Not brave and rebellious, but anxious and creative. She hates change yet pursues it, wants order but trades in chaos. She’s loved because she hates stuff; performs well because she can’t perform. And above all, she’s aggressively regular—and something about this makes the crowd go wild.

Fresh laundry smell on my blankets and pillows. And my new gravity blanket. It weighs 11kg which feels crazy heavy when you carry it but the weight evenly distributes over the body when you’re lying down. Apparently the pressure triggers the release of stress hormones. So far I’m sleeping like a baby and I don’t seem to wake up or move much at night.

Stephanie Madewell. I love everything she writes, her blog is such a godsend of beautiful, important, eclectic ideas. One thing I especially like are her imaginary outfits.

Princess Margaret’s limerick contest with President Lyndon B. Johnson in The Crown. Pure comedy. “There was a young lady from Dallas / who used a dynamite stick as a phallus / they found her vagina in North Carolina / and her asshole in Buckingham Palace.”

Little pieces of string in the corners of a duvet cover. It’s the first time I’ve seen those. So practical for big blankets!

Mental health days. I needed this. So much. Mornings in bed, reading for hours. Drinking a whole pot of tea.

Partner yoga. Chanting the closing mantra together.

Making vegan energy balls for my brother. I adapted the recipe and made my own versions so I ended up with a batch of pistachio/cherry and mango/sesame.

Freaking out whenever I see a cute cat. Damn, I really need to spend more time with animals. My highlight: breakfast in bed, watching a video of an adorable cat giving birth. I cried. Yup.

Going swimming for the first time in, man, I don’t even know. Forever. I didn’t swim for a long time, maybe half an hour, but muscle memory kicked in immediately. Water is totally my element. And, as if it had been destiny: I chose the day they cut the hanging plants in the main hall and the guy gave me a variety of five different cuttings to take home!! He made me a very happy girl.

The ink blue sky right after sunset. / The morning after the full moon in Gemini (the moon still bright and huge, visible in the bluish-grey Western sky). / When the sun suddenly comes out after a very dark and gloomy morning.

Buying a new phone. The old one was broken beyond repair. I even got a nice cork protective case. How could I ever live without an uncracked screen? The battery now actually lasts for more than a day. Nice.

Odd bits of knowledge: A galanthophile is an enthusiastic collector and identifier of snowdrop (Galanthus) species and cultivars. (Wikipedia) // Scientists theorize the Universe might have cracks in it: long thin boundaries that formed as space cooled after the Big Bang. 95 billion lightyears long and a few femtometers thin, these wrinkles in space-time would hold enough energy to bend light and destroy entire planets. (PHD comics) // the word to bloviate (German meaning: schwafeln, langatmig vortragen) // In Japan we have three rituals: HANAMI, TSUKIMI, and YUKIMI. HANAMI is watching the flowers. TSUKIMI is watching the moon, YUKIMI is watching the snow. It’s a beautiful tradition when you invite people to watch with you. I remember them all. (Yoko Ono) // In linguistics, prosody is concerned with those elements of speech that are not individual phonetic segments (vowels and consonants) but are properties of syllables and larger units of speech, including linguistic functions such as intonation, tone, stress, and rhythm. Such elements are known as suprasegmentals. Prosody may reflect various features of the speaker or the utterance: the emotional state of the speaker; the form of the utterance (statement, question, or command); the presence of irony or sarcasm; emphasis, contrast, and focus. It may otherwise reflect other elements of language that may not be encoded by grammar or by choice of vocabulary. (Wikipedia) //

I know I mention this a lot but the first olfactory whiff of a freshly cut open passion fruit is one of the best smells I know.

When my breakfast tastes like a candy bar. Which it immediately does whenever I add almond butter and cocoa nibs to porridge.

Yoga at home on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I’m often too lazy to get out my yoga mat but whenever I do afterwards I’m always so glad I practiced. Also: going to yoga class despite being extremely stressed out. It actually helped me silence some of these tormenting thoughts in my head.

Cutting my own hair. It’s kinda ridiculous and layered but I love the new bounce.

Michael Nyman - Musique à grande vitesse x // feels like it makes my pulse quicker, it’s urging and forceful.

My adventures in psychedelia - an article about the therapeutic effect of psychoactive drugs. I’m going to get Michael Pollan’s book about the topic from the library next week. So interesting.

People who are still writing letters.

My pupils. I realised that some of them have become very fine people. Open, compassionate, motivated, interested, bright, polite. Like the students who attended our first school magazine meeting in their spare time - on the last school day before the Christmas holidays - and had all these amazing ideas. Victor, being able to hold a conversation like an adult. Marks cuddling that dog in front of the supermarket. My tenth-graders being really reasonable, managable, easy to talk to.

Liza Weil’s role as Shy Baldwin’s bass player in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. It took me three episodes to recognize her.

A little embroidery set. I love keeping my hands busy when I’m watching movies.

Making vegan walnut lebkuchen and a very good batch of crisp bread in one go.

Roast apples with candied almonds and marzipan for Christmas dinner. Some buckwheat chocolate cookies. Actually helping out my mum in the kitchen.

Sitting at the piano with my brother, singing tunes from our childhood series, Disney songs, pop songs… We both had sore throats afterwards.

Visiting Sash’s parents over Christmas. Her mum cooked a pretty great lunch and we played board games.

Learning how to make a monkey fist knot.

Finding a new spot I like in my apartment. The chair right next to the window at the kitchen table. It’s nice and warm because you can sit beside the heater and while you have breakfast or browse through a cookbook you can see what’s going on outside.

Seeing the incredible gobelins at Kunsthalle / Fäden der Moderne exhibition. I loved the Le Corbusier ones.

Visiting Manu at his parents' place. Playing board games together, his mum feeding me with parsley potatoes and a weird _bird's milk_ dessert. Lying on the sofa, watching old movies. It's weirdly nice to be part of a normal family dynamic once in a while.

Andre saving my New Year’s Eve at the very last minute. Out of the blue he suggested a trip to Czech Republic right after midnight the day before. I was like… okay, let’s do this! So I met up with him and three people I had never met before in Regensburg and we drove to Český Krumlov, checked into our fancy hotel and walked down to the city centre. Czech food for dinner, a band playing at the city square. We climbed up to the castle for the turn of the year. This must have been the first year that started out with a proper New Year’s kiss. Afterwards we went to a weird music bar and - apparently - one of the best clubs in the country. I had a lot of fun. Even though getting Andre home was quite a challenge.

#things i love #personal #present perfect #december #2019 #december 2019

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atc74 · 7 years ago

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Streets of Fire

Chapter 1 - Henrietta Prescott

Word Count: 1613

Pairing: Dean x OC Rory (yeah I know)

Series Warnings: Canon level case,violence, harm to loved one, implied smut

Summary: Dean meets a local girl on a case and as luck would have it, the evils of the world know she got involved with a Winchester. Will Dean sacrifice his chance at happiness to keep her safe or will her simply being alive put her in danger?

A/N: Thank you to @luci-in-trenchcoats for taking her time to beta this.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean grumbled, the heel of his hand hitting the steering wheel with such force it caused the car to swerve slightly. “Sam, you said this would be a milk run. Now here we are, two days later and we have exactly squat!”

“It’s bad intel, Dean. What else can I say? I will hit the police and coroners reports again tonight; try to find whatever it is we are missing,” Sam apologized, but really it wasn’t his fault. Another hunter had called them in for help on this case, then skipped town. The Winchesters had plans for him, but that would have to wait. The residents of Grand Island, Nebraska were in danger.

They knew they were dealing with a ghost of some kind. The body of the woman formerly known as Henrietta Prescott had been cremated upon her death over a half century ago. They had reasonably deduced they had a cursed object on their hands. The only problem with that was that Miss Prescott had owned an antique shop filled with all of her own belongings. Some were family heirlooms, some she had collected and held on to for quite some time, giving all of them meaning to her in one way or another.

When Ol’ Henrietta died, her estate, including the shop and all of its contents had been auctioned off, as she had never married and had no children or next of kin. The county, thankfully, had kept meticulous records, so the boys had in their possession catalogs of every item that had been sold, both in her house and the shop. There were five ledgers total, each over a hundred pages.

Dean let out an exasperated sigh as he pulled into the motel lot and up to their door. He shut off the car and turned his head to look at his brother. He knew it wasn’t Sam’s fault, but he was still frustrated.

“Sammy, let’s change out of these monkey suits and head to the bar, find some local talent and blow off some steam, maybe make a quick buck while we’re at it, huh?” Dean smirked in the dimly lit car.

“Ahhh, wouldn’t that be nice? You go, have some fun. I’ll hit these books again and try to find the object. Dean, there are hundreds, probably thousands of items there. We might be here a while,” Sam sighed in resignation and unfolded himself from the car.

~*~

“You sure you don’t want to join me, Sam?” Dean prodded his brother, one hand already on the doorknob.

“Yeah, you go ahead. I’ll be fine. Just, uh, don’t wake me up, okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, okay. I got it. You’re never gonna let me live that one down, are ya?” Dean laughed a little.

“Dean, you tried to bang the waitress...on my bed... with me in it! So, no!” Sam chided his older brother.

“Whatever, don’t wait up,” Dean rolled his eyes, then left the room. Sam listened for the rumble of the Impala to fade away before he cracked a beer and the first ledger.

Sam decided to dismiss furniture items; sofas, chairs, beds and anything of the sort. He tried to concentrate on anything that may have had real meaning; jewelry, mirrors, specialty clothing. He was midway through the second ledger when he caught something he’d missed before. There was a wedding dress on the ledger, along with pearls and a pair of nineteenth century shoes. There were several items that Sam thought held promise, but he kept coming back to the dress. Henrietta had never been married, so why did she have a wedding dress in her belongings?

Sam pulled up the county records, looking for any record of the person who had purchased the dress. Luckily all three items had been sold to the same person; Carolyn DeWitt. Sam was relieved to discover she only lived about forty minutes away. He grabbed his coat and his phone to call Dean, then noticed it was already eleven o’clock. A little too late for a house call, he decided, so he replaced his jacket on the chair and changed into his lounge pants and retrieved his original copy of The Wizard of Oz. Sam settled into his bed and cracked open the book. He didn’t get very far though, and it slipped from his hands as he drifted to sleep.

~*~

The shrill ringing of his phone woke Sam the next morning when Dean called to tell him to get dressed for breakfast. It was already nine; Sam never usually slept that late, and Dean was never up this early. Ten minutes later, Sam was dressed and leaning up against the side of the motel when his brother pulled up. There was a woman in Sam’s seat. He grumbled about not fitting in the back but opened the door and got it.

“Heya, Sammy! This is Rory; Rory, this is my brother Sam,” Dean smiled wide at his passengers, pulling back out onto the main road.

“Nice to meet you Rory,” Sam reached over the seat to shake her hand.

“Sam, I am so happy to finally meet you! Dean has told me so much about you, I feel like I have known you forever,” Rory gushed with excitement.

Sam hoped that years of lying to people about the evils of the world have honed his ability to hide the bitch face he wanted to sport. They had only been in town for going on three days now; when did Dean meet this chick?

Dean pulled into the only restaurant open this time of day and the three piled out of the car. The restaurant wasn’t busy, given it was a Tuesday and they found a table in the corner.

“Well, good morning, Rory, Dean,” the petite and plump server dragged out Dean’s name like she knew him. “What can I get you two this morning? Oh! Who is this handsome gentleman you brought with you today?”

“Hey, Gladys, this is my brother Sam. Sammy, this is Gladys,” Dean introduced them, placing his arm around Rory’s shoulders, pulling her close to him and nuzzling his nose in her hair. She giggled and looked at Sam, like they were sharing some secret at his expense.

“Hi Gladys, may I get a coffee and water, an egg white omelet with spinach, mushrooms and feta, please, with a side of fruit?” Sam politely gave her his order, flashing her his best smile.

“Anything you want, handsome,” Gladys fanned herself a little with her order book.

“I’ll take the pancakes, today Gladys, side of pig and coffee,” Dean winked at the older woman.

“Hey, G, can I please get the eggs benedict, coffee and an orange juice,” Rory placed her order and Gladys gave a salute and headed back to the kitchen.

“So, Dean, come here often?” Sam looked quizzically at his brother, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, let’s see; breakfast yesterday, lunch yesterday, breakfast today, three times, Sammy. Gladys likes me,” Dean bragged.

“Sam, Gladys is my aunt, so I come here everyday for breakfast and lunch. I have been bringing Dean with me the last couple of days. She takes very quickly to attractive men. By the time you guys wrap up your investigation, she’ll probably convince you to give her your number!” Rory exaggerated.

“Rory, how did you meet my brother?” Sam couldn’t wait to hear this.

“He let me beat him at a game of pool the other night and I just can’t seem to get rid of him,” she replied easily, bumping Dean’s side with her shoulder.

“Her bed is better than mine, Sam. I have two words for you: tempur-pedic,” Dean whistled and Rory stared at him with doe eyes, her chin resting in her hands, like he was the funniest person she had ever met.

“Aurora Mae! You know better than to put your elbows on the table, child,” Gladys scolded her when she returned to the table with their beverages.

“Sorry, G,” Rory said softly, returning her hands to her lap.

“Aurora Mae?” Dean questioned her after Gladys retreated.

“Yeah, kind of a family name. All of the woman in my mother’s family were given the middle name Mae,” Rory admitted. “I didn’t care for it as a child, but it is part of who I am.”

“I like it, it suits you,” Dean commented, causing a blush, as it ran from her neck all the way up her cheeks.

The three chatted all through breakfast like they had known each other for years. Sam watched the most normal thing in Dean’s life since he can remember. With the exception of lying to her about who they really are and what they do, Dean seemed to have let this woman with the auburn hair, steel gray eyes and sparkling smile into his walled fortress. Sam sat back and witnessed the miracle.

Rory revealed she was a journalist for the small newspaper in town, but she was also a freelance writer for a few national papers as well. Sam knew he was going to like this woman and her naturally curious nature the moment she brought up the deaths they were in town investigating.

“Sam, Dean told me a little about the case you are working on. I have some research you might be interested in. I was just telling Dean on our way here this morning that my grandfather originally covered the auction for the paper in 1961. I still have all of his notes and the original print. I thought it might come in handy, since all the dead people bought something of Miss Prescott’s,” Rory added perceptively.

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @chelsea072498 @paintrider13-blog @d-s-winchester @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @winchesterprincessbride @waywardjoy @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @mamaredd123 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @sis-tafics @katymacsupernatural @tankcupcakes @wonderange @meeshw777 @tmccarney @ruprecht0420 @theoriginalvicki @hexparker @nanie5 @docharleythegeekqueen @megansescape @notnaturalanahi @impalaimagining @mrswhozeewhatsis @blacktithe7 @emoryhemsworth @dracotomanddeansprincess23 @bringmesomepie56 @devilgirlsarah @spnbaby-67 @emilycollins11 @myoutletforfanfiction @deansangelgirl @mizzzpink @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @kayteonline @rockhoochie @percussiongirl2017 @fanfreak07 @tattooedmomster13 @sandlee44 @moonstar86 @uttertrash--butlikecutetrash @squirrel-moose-winchester @growningupgeek @charliebradbury1104 @evansrogerskitten @feelmyroarrrr @itseverythingilike @smoothdogsgirl @evyiione @ashstrom87 @supernatural-jackles @ryantherandomhero @love-kittykat21 @kathaswings @crispychrissy

Dean tags: @akshi8278 @iamabeautifulperson18 @suzannebeaketa @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deandoesthingstome @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @boxywrites @sparklesuperwholock88 @ericaprice2008 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels

#Streets of Fire #SOF #Dean Winchester #Dean x OFC #OC Appreciation Day 2018 #Dean #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic

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samwinlover-blog · 8 years ago

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Penny For a Cup- Part 7

Masterlist Here! Part One Here Part Two Here Part Three Here Part Four Here Part Five Here Part Six Here

Pairing: Sam x Reader Characters: Sam, Reader, Dean Warnings: fluff, light swearing, businessman!Sam, barista!reader, coffee shop AU, carnival AU Summary: The reader owns a little coffee shop in New York city called, The Manhattan Mocha, and Sam Winchester is a frequent costumer of hers. She’s always had a slight crush on the sharp business man who comes in for coffee everyday, and has even memorized his order: black coffee, double shot of expresso- intriguing and mysterious just as he is. A/N: Feedback is appreciated:) Tag List: @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter @spnfanficpond @27bmm @craving-cas @spectaculicious @bambinovak @writingthingsisdifficult @padackles2010@mamaredd123 @milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean @zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat@spntrista @d-s-winchester @just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride @waywardjoy @supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44 @fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage@evyiione@winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke@therewillbeblood@megansescape@taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester@notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137

*Leave Feedback HERE*

When the two of you approached the booth, a sign that read Ring Toss! started flashing in bright red. Looking down at the game itself, you saw that it was pretty simple- all you had to do was get a ring around a bottleneck to win the grand prize.

“Hi there! I’m Kailee, wanna play? 20 rings are 5$ and 40 rings are 8!” A blonde haired girl that looked to be around your age perked up from inside the booth.

Sam smiled and handed her a 5, “20 please,” Before turning to you and whispering, “This looks easy enough,”

“Getting cocky?” You joked and wiggled your brow at him, earning an equally as goofy look from Sam in return.

The first 10 or so rings he threw were duds, even though some of them got pretty close. They would rattle around the top of the bottles, look like they were about to go in, and then go flying in the opposite direction at the last minute. Neither of you were idiots, you knew the game was probably rigged, but it was still pretty fun to watch Sam try to win it.

“Okay so maybe this is harder than it looks,” Sam turned to you and laughed as he held up his second to last ring, “Wanna help me?”

“I was waiting for you to ask!” You took the plastic ring from his hand and started eyeing the bottles lined up in front of you.

“On three?” He asked, tossing the ring up and down in his hand as you nodded in response.

“Okay, one... two.... three!” Both of you threw the rings into the sea of bottles below and watched as they bounced from top to top. You kept your eyes trained on your own as it missed and clattered to the ground. Letting out a defeated sigh, you turned to look at Sam’s, and found that it had actually made it.

“Sam!!” You gasped, pointing to the far end of the game where his ring hung around the neck of a bottle.

“Congratulations!” Kailee appeared from some corner of the booth, “You’ve won the grande prize!”

She pointed to a row of hanging stuffed animals which all looked bigger than you, “You can pick from any of these six! We have a monkey, panda, giraffe, elephant, bear, or unicorn!”

Sam turned to you, “Which one?”

“Hmmm,” You looked up from prize to prize, deciding between the monkey or the unicorn. After another few seconds you’d made up your mind, and turned to Sam with a grin, “I’m thinking monkey!”

“Alright then!” Kailee reached up and plucked the monkey from the air, before handing it to you from across the booth.

Turns out your first assessment was right, it was almost bigger than you were. When you took it with open arms, you actually had trouble seeing over the thing’s head- that’s how huge it was.

Peeking over the monkey’s enormous ears, you said to Sam, “This is the biggest prize I’ve ever gotten, oh my god!”

“I know,” He laughed and rose his brow, “It’s like bigger than you,”

“As much as I’d love to parade this thing around the carnival, wanna go put it in my car?” You asked and saw him nod yes before the two of you started walking in the direction of the parking lot.

When you got back, and your arms were free of that enormous monkey, you turned to Sam and asked, “Want to do some more rides?”

“Hell yeah,” He responded, grabbing your hand and walking back into the rollercoaster section of the fair, “I saw a few that I wanted to do- how do you feel about Zero Gravity??”

“Yes let’s do it!” You grabbed his hand back and picked up the pace, to which he only laughed and started jogging along with you.

You’d only been on Zero Gravity once before, but you’d loved it the first time around. It was this enormous wheel that spun, in fact it whirled around so fast that you stuck to your seat from the motion. Normally you would have been worried about getting sick on the ride, but you’d eaten a while ago so you put the thought out of your head.

When you got to the ride, it was even more glorious than you first remembered. Pink, purple and neon blue lights flashed just about everywhere you looked, and you found yourself entranced as you got into place for the ride to begin.

There weren’t actual seats on the ride, just smaller pockets where you stood that were roped off. A small chain that wasn’t even touching you was all that was holding you back from going flying, and to be honest it exhilarated you.

Looking to your left, you saw Sam through a chain linked fence that was separating the two of you, “Excited?”

“Definitely, I’ve never been on one of these rides before,” He responded and linked his hand through the fence, to which you did the same.

“I’ve only been once, but it’s super fun!” You assured him.

When the ride started to spin, it was slow at first. Slow, bluesy carnival music played over speakers, and you felt really relaxed. Not until about a minute into the ride, did everything pick up. It spun faster, the music switched from blues to rock, and you felt yourself being pressed back into the wall- the sheer force of how fast you were spinning actually pinning you in place.

You wanted to turn your head to Sam, but you were so stuck in place you couldn’t even do that, so you settled on staring at the flashing lights above. Pink, purple and blue shone brightly in the late afternoon light, and looking around the ride you saw that most other people were staring at them as well.

About 5 minutes later, the ride slowed and then eventually came to a stop. The music turned off and you felt yourself free from the wall, so you turned to Sam with a laugh, “What’d you think!?”

“I liked it!” He responded, “Gotta say I liked The Thriller a lot better though,”

“I kind of did too,” You agreed, “Let’s do something more like that next, yeah?”

He nodded and you continued, “Actually I saw a few near here,”

“You’ve been paying attention, huh?” He let out a small chuckle and smiled as the two of you exited the ride.

“Haven’t you?” You reached for his hand and then pointed your other in the direction you wanted to go.

But in response he just smirked and turned to you, “I’ve been a little distracted,”

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deanssweetheart23 · 8 years ago

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The Promise

Title: The Promise (Mechanic!Dean x Reader, Best Friends AU). Part 1.

Summary: When Dean Winchester was a little kid, he met a girl that would change his life. So, he stood by her through thick and thin and every time people asked him what home was to him all he could think of was her beautiful smile and her big, bright eyes and the sound of her laughter. Because, like Melville used to say, his home was not down in any map. True places never are.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Mary and John Winchester (mentioned), Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Leslie (OFC, only mentioned), Lisa Braeden

Word count: 7217 (I know, I know, it’s a monster fic but I hope it’s worth it)

Warnings: Language. Lots of fluff. Angst. Divorche, mentions of an almost-fatal car accident and drunk driving, death of a parent. Kid Dean (trust me that should be a warning). Lots of feels.

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @luci-in-trenchcoats ‘s 2K Follower Challenge. Michelle, congratulations on your milestone, you deserve it so much! Thank you for organizing this and for letting me participate. I had tons of fun writing this.

Now into the fic, my prompt was “ We’ll figure it out. We always do.” and it is included in the text below in bold. (This is an AU, written entirely from Dean’s POV and hopefully they’ll be more parts.)

Enjoy everyone!

Dean was five years old when he met the girl that would change his life. Of course, he was too young to know it then, but that didn’t stop Lady Luck from working her magic.

Everything started at the playground just a few blocks away from his house. The little Y/H/C girl was there again that morning, just like the last two times, jumping off the swing like she could fly, but Dean didn’t want to leave his mum and his brother alone to go talk to her. So, he stayed away, stealing glances every now and then, until another boy, older than him and plainly mean, shoved her off the swing and made her fall flat on her butt.

The girl gasped in surprise, her bottom lip wobbling and Dean knew he had to do something about it because he hated seeing girls cry; it reminded him of that time his parents spent the entire night fighting, and of the next morning, when his mother’s eyes were red and puffy and he had to hug her and tell her that joke about the stick being brown and sticky to make her laugh.

So, the green-eyed boy walked to that annoying kid, told him to leave her alone and when he didn’t listen and made fun of her again, Dean punched him so hard that his stupid Pokemon hat flew off and his whole face turned red.

A few seconds later, Stupid Hat was leaving with his tail between his legs and Dean was turning towards the girl that looked like a scared little bird, her big Y/E/C eyes wide open.

“Are you okay?” he implored, taking a step forward.

She nodded solemnly and looked down on the ground.

“Are you going to be mean to me like he was?” she asked.

Dean shook his head.

“No. He was an idiot. Here, give me your hand.” He said and she obeyed, smiled shyly at him.

She was kind of cute.

“I’m Dean.”

“Y/N.” She said, smoothing down her shirt like a lady. “Thank you for helping me. But I could have handled myself.” She grinned, more confident now, and he smiled.

He knew then that she would never go easy on him.

“Yeah, well-”

“Wanna play Monster Truck with me?”

“You play Monster Truck?”

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t have fun, silly.”

Dean looked at her, dumbfounded, and ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“Okay. Yeah, I guess.”

“Great! C’mon, I’ll let you pick your team first. And when we’re done we can share my cherry pie.”

“You have pie?”

She grinned mischievously.

“My mum baked one this morning. We weren’t supposed to eat it until lunch but I hid one slice in my bag. We can share.” she paused, then turned to him, titling her head. “You do like pie. Right?”

Dean smiled widely.

He liked her.

Dean was six years old when he realized he’d do anything to protect her. They were in his bedroom, way past their bedtime, quietly talking about monsters and fairy-tales and his ambition to become the new Indiana Jones. It was one of their arranged sleepovers and she was laying in a sleeping bag on the floor, the sound of thunders booming outside filling the room.

She was afraid of thunders. She’d never told him, surely -Y/N never admitted anything that would make her look like a child because she was, as her father liked to point out regularly, a big girl. But he knew. He could see it in the way she balled her hands into fists and winced every time the lighting stroke.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” she hummed, turning restlessly in her sleeping bag.

“Wanna come sleep in my bed?” he asked, rustling his Batman sheets. The little girl shoot up and looked at him, head titled to the left, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“I’m, um… It’s a big bed. And better than the sleeping bag.”

“But miss Mary said I can only sleep here.”

“I know. We can wake up early tomorrow morning and get you back in the sleeping bag. Mum won’t even notice and I won’t say a word if you don’t.” He explained, shrugging. “You don’t have to come. I just thought you’d sleep better. I can protect you from all the thunders.”

She silently gazed at him, eyes narrowed, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to slap the back of his head and tell him he was an idiot because she was not afraid of anything.

But then-

“Okay.”

Dean chuckled breathlessly, almost unable to believe that for once that girl hadn’t given him a hard time, and watched as she grabbed her pillow, climbed into bed and laid on her side, facing him.

“Better?” he asked, scooting as close to her as he could.

She nodded and looked at him through her lashes, a smile gracing her cute little face.

“Thanks, D.” she whispered, squeezing his hand. The tips of his ears turned pink and his throat suddenly went dry like it did every time he was sick for days and his mum made him drink tea, all because he was the one that had made her smile.

She never used that sleeping bag again.

Dean was ten years old when he promised her they would be friends forever. The sun was burning hot above them and they were walking home from school, side by side, exhausted from a day of double algebra and Miss Monkey Face’s scolding because, instead of paying attention to her, they had been talking to each other.

“What if your dad takes you and Sammy away?” she asked out of the blue, handing him a Hershey bar.

“My dad won’t take me away, Y/N. That’s stupid.” He told her, his tone a little harsher than he intended to.

Offended, she scrunched up her nose and stomped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And why is that stupid?”

“Because he is not leaving Lawrence.”

He’s just leaving Mum, he thought.

The little girl in front of him shook her head and huffed.

“But Frizzy Lizzy told me that when her uncle left her aunt he moved into Lebanon and took her cousins with him.”

Dean clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists.

“Yeah, well, Frizzy Lizzy is an idiot and so are you.” he hissed, rolling his eyes as he fastened his step to get away from her.

“Hey, that’s mean.” She whined, chasing after him.

“You’re mean.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! You’re mean and stupid and I don’t like you anymore.” He told her, throwing the Hershey bar she’d given him to the ground.

“You’re lying!” she yelled from somewhere behind him.

“Am not.”

“You’re lying, you’re lying, you’re lying!” she screeched, voice louder than before.

Dean huffed in exasperation and turned around to face her.

“I’m not- hey, what -are you crying?”

Y/N shook her head in negative, cheeks red.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked, all the anger he had felt earlier now evaporating.

“Leave me alone!” she yelled, pushing past him. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore! I hate you!”

Dean’s jaw dropped as he stared at her in shock, so open-mouthed that he could have caught flies. He tried to say something but she just ignored him, turning around and beginning to walk away.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” he chanted, trying to reach her. “Hey, wait! I’m sorry!”

Groaning, the little girl stopped, shuffling a little on her feet. By the time he was next to her, her eyes were watery and her nose runny and his stomach was heavy with guilt because he knew that it was his fault; he shouldn’t have gotten so mad at her.

But then again, Dean was mad all the time lately because his parents’ breakup was so unfair and no one could understand that. Not even Y/N. Because even though she was his best friend, her parents were still living together and they were happy and they were going to celebrate stupid Valentine’s day while his father had spent the last two weeks packing.

“I’m not mean.” She sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I just don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not going to leave. And you’re right. You’re not mean. Or an idiot.” He mumbled, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry I called you those things.”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry I said mister John is going to take you away. I like your dad. I like him a lot. I was just worried because you’re my best friend.” She whispered. “And I want us to stay friends forever.”

Dean stared at her, eyes flickering over every feature of her face, and realized that he couldn’t imagine not being friends with her.

“We will. I promise.” He said, reaching for her pinky and linking it with his. “We’ll be best friends forever.”

She smiled, eyes sparkling, and Dean thought that he’d never seen anything prettier.

“And ever?” she asked.

Dean grinned.

“And ever.”

She giggled, her cheeks turning a light pink, and, somehow, although he was only ten at that time, he could feel it, he could feel it in his bones that making that promise was the best decision he’d ever make.

Dean was thirteen years old when he thought about kissing her for the first time. He was chasing after her in the back yard of the Y/L/N’s house, the sound of her giggles, merry and hearty, filling the air.

“Take it back.” he yelled, watching as her hair flew out behind her.

“Never.”

“I said take it back.”

“Nope. From now on you’ll always be my Deanie Beanie.” She snickered as she turned around to face him, mischief coating her features.

Oh. It was so on.

“You little brat.” He spat as he started towards her again, an evil laugh escaping his lips. Because, sure, she was fast, but his legs were longer and before she even knew it his hands were around her waist and both of them were falling into the grass.

“Dean. Let go.” She managed to huff out, squirming to crawl out from under him but having no such luck.

“Nope. Not until you take it back.”

“Get your meaty butt off me, Winchester.” She cried, punching his chest, but he only laughed.

“Oh, so we’re being mean now. I can be mean.” He grinned, his hands sliding at her ribcage.

“No. Dean, don’t-”

The rest of her words were lost as she began to wail with laughter, wriggling.

“D-dean. S-stop!” she begged, shoving him in a desperate attempt to get him off of her. Still, he only chuckled and continued his assault, happy to be taking revenge.

“You-re g-going to k-kill me.”

“Take it back.”

“D-dean.”

Dean shook his head.

“Just take it back, cherry pie.” he grumbled out, smirking.

“F-fine. Fine. You win! I can’t b-breathe.” She pleaded, throwing her hands up in surrender.

He smiled cheekily and stopped, tucking a sweaty stray of hair behind her ear, taking in flushed cheeks and happy, kind eyes as they locked onto his. She whispered something that sounded awfully like a curse and he chortled, gaze traveling to her lips. He hadn’t noticed until that moment but they looked so soft and alive and even though he was thirteen and believed that kissing was gross he wondered what it would feel like to kiss her. Wondered whether she would taste like the pie they had shared earlier or something spicier, like black coffee.

So, he ducked in, leaning a little closer and sighed in relief when instead of pushing him away or punching him in the face, she beamed and bit her bottom lip and then-

“Kids, the food’s ready.”

Dean cleared his throat quietly and pulled away.

“Um. We should... I mean, there’s food.”

She let out a breathy laugh and nodded.

“Yeah.” She agreed, getting up. “But we can… D’you want to go to the strawberry field later?” she asked, bumping her shoulder with his. “We can play baseball.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, Y/N. Anything you want.”

Dean was seventeen years old when he realized he couldn’t live without her. He was sitting on one of those stiff hospital chairs, watching her sleep, her hand cradled into his and what had almost happened sprung to his mind. She’d gotten into a car accident and almost didn’t make it. He’d almost lost her.

The mere thought made him want to crawl out of his skin; he’d lost too much already but she’d always been there to pick up the pieces. Her leaving him though, he’d never be able to live through that.

The sound of rustling sheets pulled him out of his thoughts and her hand squeezed his.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Deanie Beanie.” She muttered, her voice raspy. “Hey.”

He rolled his eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”

“Doesn’t matter. I never will. You’re my Deanie Beanie.” She smiled at his bitch-face, sitting up. “Where are mum and dad?”

“Home. I told them I’d stay with you for the night.”

“Thanks.” She whispered and he nodded and helped her sip some water. When she sat back, she winced.

“You in pain? Should I call the nurse?”

“No. Honestly, I have so much morphine pumping through my veins right now, I’m surprised I’m not high.” She muttered, running her fingers through her hair. “How is the other driver doing?”

Dean’s jaw clenched painfully.

“Son of a bitch’s dandy.”

“Dean-”

“He was drunk off his ass, Y/N.” he cut her off, his voiced laced with fury. “He was lucky they didn’t let me near him or so help me God-”

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m right here.” She reassured him soothingly, bringing their joined hands to her dry lips and tenderly kissing his knuckles. The gesture was intimate and innocent and it made Dean’s heart spiral out of control; it always amazed him how a girl like her could see something in him.

“I’m good, I promise.” She added. “You, on the other hand, look like complete and total crap.”

Dean laughed gruffly, shaking his hand.

“Wow, sweetheart. Tell us what you really think.”

She chuckled, the sound making Dean’s heart swell. Day by day, she sounded more like herself. Looked more like herself. Her face was no longer the color of crispy clean sheets and the gauze that covered her head was long gone. Yesterday, she’d even teased Sam about his height, said they’d never find a hospital bed big enough to fit his huge legs. The bickering that followed her comment had made him smile. He’d missed it. He’d missed her.

“You know what I mean, D. When was the last time you slept?”

“Couple of days ago, I guess.” He shrugged, as if it was nothing, his fingers running soothing circles on her palm.

“My God, Winchester. You should go home. Get some sleep. Come back tomorrow. It’s not like I’m gonna go anywhere.”

Dean pursed his lips.

“Snowball’s chance, princess.”

“You need to. D, you look exhausted.” She protested, eyes filled with worry. The thought warmed his heart. It was a selfish thought, but he liked to know that she worried about him. Very few people in his world did.

“Not happening. I promised your parents I’d keep an eye on you.”

“So? Call my sister. She’ll be here in zero time.”

“I don’t want to call Leslie. Do you want me to leave?” he asked, licking his lips.

Instead of replying, Y/N arched her eyebrow in the same adorable way she always did when something surprised her and shook her head.

“Of course not. You’re…. You’re the only one I would want here. But-”

“No buts. I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

She looked at him for a few seconds, eyes locked on his, appraising him. He didn’t dare avert his gaze.

“Fine.” She huffed at last, trying to feign annoyance. “But, at least come sleep here with me. I hate seeing you sitting on that horrible chair.”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

She sighed.

“D., you’re not supposed to say no to the girl that almost died. You’re supposed to be, like, my bitch now.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her the size of half-dollars, completely unamused. He admired her for the way she joked about the car accident like it was nothing, but it made his heart ache all the same.

“That’s not funny.”

She chuckled.

“It is. But it’s too soon so you get a free pass for not laughing.” She declared, biting her bottom lip. “Will you please come here now?”

“No.”

“Stubborn asshole.” She muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Another pause and-

“C’mon, D.” she begged again, titling her head to the left, eyes wide and pleading, that half-pout she pouted every time she wanted to sweet-talk him into something, gracing her perfect lips.

Well, shit.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“For me?” she asked, a toothy grin on her face.

Shit.

It was a matter of time before he caved and they both knew it.

“Ugh. You got me wrapped around your little finger, you know that?” he asked, trying to suppress his smile.

She grinned in mischief, her gorgeous eyes twinkling.

“I do. It’s kind of cute, really.”

“You’re such a brat.” He accused, kicking off his boots.

“I know. ‘S one of the things that make me adorable. Like your bowlegs.”

Dean arched an eyebrow and chuckled wryly.

“Oh, so we’re pointing out flaws now, aren’t we, Shorty?” he asked as he climbed into the bed.

“Shut up, you ass. ‘M not short. You and your brother are just abnormally huge.”

“I would so make an inappropriate comment about this if you weren’t laying on a hospital bed right now.” he laughed, throwing the hospital sheet over them.

“Perv.”

“Cherry pie.” He retorted.

His eyes locked on hers, bright and intense, taking in the different specks and hues of Y/E/C there, the twinkle that seemed to shine through every time she glanced his way, the way they were bright and wide in the dim light of the hospital room, storing every detail into memory.

“What?” she asked, chuckling nervously. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

Dean smiled softly at her and tucked a stray of hair behind her ear.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Her face turned a lovely bright pink color and his heart fluttered. He could feel the words dancing on his lips, almost pushing their way out, words they’d never told each other before, even though they both knew the sentiment was there. Sometimes they danced at the back of his mind when she did something silly just to make him smile or when she stole fries from his plate or when they stargazed on the hood of his dad’s car, but he’d been too afraid to acknowledge them.

Now though… Now there was no fear.

If anything, he was a lost cause already.

“What is it, D.?”

Her voice was soft like silk and those three words almost jumped off his lips without his consent. But he needed to tell her and he needed it with a need that was maddeningly beyond him.

“I love you.”

It came out as a whisper, breathy and low and fast, almost too fast, but she smiled her most beautiful smile and reached for his hand, manipulating their fingers together until they were intertwined.

“I love you too.” she grinned, stretching up to kiss his jaw.

He sighed in relief, heart swelling, and promised himself that he would hold on to that feeling, that warmth that had nestled into his chest after those four little words had caressed his ears.

Yeah.

He was never going to let it go.

He was never going to let her go.

Dean was twenty-six when he realized she was going to break him in two. They were laying on his bed, her head on his chest, right arm placed just above his heart, legs tangled together as she traced imaginary patterns on his clothed pec. One of his arms were draped over her hip, holding her as if she was his lifeline.

Maybe she was.

“Sammy called this afternoon. He’s flying out tomorrow morning.” She whispered out of the blue, clutching at his shirt.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“I know. He texted me.”

“We could have breakfast with him before he goes. I can even call Les so we can get together like we did in the good ol’ days.”

He sighed deeply.

“I don’t think I can…” he trailed off and she pressed a kiss to his collar-bone and squeezed his middle reassuringly, prompting him to go on. “He wants us to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She said tentitavely, cocking an eyebrow in question, and he knew she had absolutely no intention of making this easy for him.

“Well, I don’t do that, okay? I don’t talk about it or whatever. I just bottle shit up.”

She let out a small, breathless chuckle and perched herself on her elbow to look at him.

“How healthy.”

She was being a smartass now and he licked his lips and narrowed his eyes in a warning that would have terrified anyone else, but not her.

“Y/N-”

“He’s your brother.”

He gave a half-smile to that.

“I’m aware.”

Y/N sighed and glanced at the ceiling above them as if she was looking for guidance. When she looked at him again she was wearing her I-want-to-tell-you-you’re-an-ass-but-that’s-not-what-you-need-to-hear look.

“You both lost her.”

“You think I don’t know that? But I…” he ate the rest of the words, averting his gaze from hers. It was terrifying, how easily her eyes could get him to tell her everything. “Fuck, Y/N.” he cursed, scratching the back of his neck.

He didn’t expect her to reach out, but she did, cupping his face with her hands.

“Hey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to do. I’ve been trying to keep it together for Sammy but I can’t. Mum was…” he paused, trying to keep his emotions in check but when he spoke again it was strained and broken. “She was always so amazing. To everyone. And what happened… I don’t…”

“Ssssh.” She soothed, crawling closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her proximity reassuring and comforting, familiar and needed. “I know.”

He took a shaky breath and squeezed her hip, pulling her closer.

“I miss her.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment and he closed his eyes and waited for some pitiful comment to leave her lips, but instead, she pulled away to look at him and gave him a smile, fragile but genuine.

“I know that too. But, we’ll figure it out. We always do, D.” she promised, running her fingers through his short hair gently, almost like his mother would have done. He smiled, soft but sad, and reached for her hand, pulling her on top of him again, letting her be his anchor for the night.

She sighed, nuzzling his chest in content and he couldn’t help but laugh and kiss the top of her head, his lips lingering longer than necessary.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he mumbled against her hair.

She laughed, a laugh that was airy but genuine, then pecked his chest.

“Crush and burn, I guess.”

Despite himself, he smirked and cupped her chin, forcing her to face him.

“I’m serious, princess.”

“Yeah, I’m not.” She confessed, smiling. “You’d be okay, D.” she added, kissing his forehead. She pulled away and, suddenly, a Cheshire smile was playing at the corners of her lips, eyes sparkling in mischief.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… Wait right here.” She replied and untangled herself from him, getting out of bed. He wanted to complain at the sudden loss of warmth and contact but the sight of her wandering around in his room, in his old Zeppelin shirt, her legs and feet bare, and her hair in a messy ponytail, rendered him speechless.

God, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.

He cleared his throat quietly.

“Um. What exactly are you doing?”

She looked up from the record player and grinned.

“I am tired of your pouty face.”

“I do not have-”

“Yes, you do. You have a pouty face. And I am tired of it. So, I’m going to cheer you up a bit. Since I’m, you know, such an amazing friend and all…” she argued and a few seconds later a familiar tune filled the room and she was waltzing towards him, head bobbing to the rhythm.

“C’mon, Winchester.” She chanted, reaching for his hand. “Dance with me.”

Despite himself, Dean chuckled.

“To Bob Seger?”

“Please. You love that dude.”

“You’re crazy.” He declared, getting up, but she only smiled her most beautiful smile and let her arms clamp around his neck, her body flush against his.

“I’m your kind of crazy, D.” she deadpanned and he smirked and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting her warmth sip into his skin and her intoxicating scent, vanilla and coconuts, fill his senses.

He dropped a kiss on her hair.

“Yes.” He whispered, so low that she might have missed it. “Yes, you are.”

Dean was twenty-seven years old when he realized he would never have her. She was sitting at a bar stool a few feet away from him, deep into conversation with a blonde, blue-eyed douchebag and his heart clutched into his chest because she was smiling at him. Not with her I’m-just-trying-to-be-nice smile. No. She was smiling at him with her genuine smile -sly, loving, slightly cheeky, seductive- that smile she shot his way every time he did something to make her happy. She was smiling at Blue Eyes with his smile and it pissed him off.

Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on the glass of whiskey and sighed.

“Are you ever going to tell her?”

The gruff voice took him by surprise and he turned around to find his younger brother looking at him with a brow raised in question, a bottle of beer in hand.

“No idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.” He replied flatly, his voice carefully ridden of all emotion, then brought the glass to his lips and drank, letting the alcohol burn down his throat.

“Right. Cause you so don’t have the hots for Y/N.” the hazel-eyed man scoffed and Dean almost choked on the amber liquid

“Have the hots? Seriously, dude? That’s… That’s just wrong…”

“Okay, chief. I’ll level with ya. All your kid brother’s saying is that instead of looking at that poor guy like you want to put him six feet under, you could just tell Butter Cup you’re in love with her.”

The green-eyed man ran a hand over his mouth, blinking in uncertainty.

“I’m not…” he stopped, mid-sentence, because of Sam’s bitch-face and Benny’s sarcastic smirk, then shook his head and scrunched up his nose, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “There’s no point.” He grumbled out at last.

“No poi- What do you mean there is no point?”

“I mean that she doesn’t feel the same way, Sammy. So, let’s just stow the touchy-feely, self-yoga crap and talk about something else. Okay?”

“No, man. Let’s talk about this. Because Y/N’s so in love with you she can’t even see straight.”

That caused Dean to laugh because the mere thought was just… laughable.

“No.” he mumbled, swallowing thickly. “She’s not.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean. That girl has been holding a torch for you her entire life. I mean, think about it. You were the only person ever allowed anywhere near her favorite teddy bear when you were kids. And she told her parents that she was the one that stole Leslie’s diary so that you wouldn’t get into trouble. And she’s the reason you became a mechanic because she said she wouldn’t-”

“Follow her dreams if I didn’t follow mine.” Dean cut him off, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I know, Sam. I know that for some messed up reason I’ll never be able to understand, she loves me. But not in the way I love her.”

And even if she does, she deserves better.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Whatever. Can we drop it now?”

“But-”

“I said drop it, Sam.” Dean growled, louder than he intended to.

“Chief. Your brother’s just trying to help.”

“Well, I don’t want your help. I’m fine.” He snapped, draining his drink.

The blue-eyed man took a deep breath, shoving his hands inside his pockets.

“No, brother. You’re not. Letting a girl like Y/N walk away doesn’t qualify as fine. It qualifies as batshit crazy.”

Benny’s words caught Dean off guard and for a moment, he just stared at him, his expression blank, mouth half open.

“Do you…” A pause, then a deep, yet shaky breath. “Are you in love with her?”

His friend laughed, amusement coating his features.

“No, chief. But I know great love when I see it and what you and Y/N have… That’s a one-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“Wow, Benny. Didn’t know you were into Nicholas Sparks novels.”

His friend chuckled breathlessly, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just saying… Fight for her.” A shrug. “If anything, you got nothing to lose.”

Dean shook his head and turned to look at the girl that, through the years had become his entire world, only to find her laughing at something a co-worker had said, head thrown back and cheeks flushed, her smudged lipstick merely adding to his constant urge to kiss her.

“Except her.”

“That’s never gonna happen, Dean.” Sam interjected but his intervention was quickly interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Soon enough, an attractive young woman with brown hair and beautiful brown eyes was standing in front of him, eyeing him expectantly.

“Hi.”

Dean smiled, acknowledging her with a nod of his head and a waggle of his fingers.

“Hi.” He repeated gruffly. “And you are?”

“Lisa. My name’s Lisa.” She said, voice a little unsteady, her cheeks pink.

“Well, Lisa. What can I do for you?”

“I… I know this sound ridiculous but I made a bet with my friends and I lost so would you… Would it be okay if I bought you a drink?” she asked, leaning closer while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

The gesture reminded him of Y/N because it had always been a tell-tale sign of her nervousness and his eyes instinctively searched for her. She was still there, sitting next to Blue Eyes, but now his hand was on her arm, tracing random patterns and she was grinning, eyes radiant with happiness.

His heart dropped.

He took a deep breath and smirked at the woman in front of him, all charm and swagger now.

“How about I buy you a drink instead?”

She nodded and blushed but her cheeks didn’t turn that lovely color Y/N’s cheeks did and her smile wasn’t as bright.

He sighed and reached for his glass again.

Dean was twenty-eight years old when he realized he would give up anything for her. He was speeding down the all too familiar country lanes, heading back home with her for a high-school reunion when she’d sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

“What?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. “What was that for?”

“Nothing… I just… I missed this.” She admitted, pulling away from him, eyes focused on the dash in front of her.

“Missed what?”

“Us. The way we used to be, you know?” she asked, shrugging. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re still my best friend and heaven knows I’m incredibly thankful for that, but it’s different now… Back then, it used to be you and me against the world. No work, no drama, no boyfriends, no girlfriends. Just the two of us. And I just… I miss it sometimes.”

He sighed. He knew what she meant. He’d felt it too. They were not drifting apart per se, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Sure, he still saw her every day and they still laughed and did stupid things together but, at the same time, some things had changed completely. They no longer had sleepovers. She didn’t borrow his clothes anymore because Lisa didn’t like it. She stopped calling at the wee hours of the morning just to tell him she’d had a weird dream or that she’d remembered that one time they’d almost burnt down his house trying to make cookies.

And he hated that. God, he despised it. It was like she was letting go, slowly but surely, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it because he was the one who had chosen it. He’d chosen to be with Lisa. He’d chosen to put the distance between them because he needed to get over her.

And look how great this is working out for you, the voice in the back of his head said. Because no matter what had happened, he knew that he would give it all up, Lisa, his life in New York, his job, everything, just to be with her.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out for her hand and laced their fingers together.

“I know what you mean, sweetheart. I feel it too sometimes. And I… Look, I want to apologize for being so focused on Lisa lately.”

“What? Hey, no, that’s okay…” she muttered, smiling softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I get it, D. I’m not saying I like it, because sometimes I don’t, but I get it. You two are together, she’s your priority now. Your girl.”

Dean felt his stomach churn. Her words hurt him more than any flesh-cutting knife ever would.

“That’s not true. She might be a priority but that doesn’t mean you’re not. You’re… Cherry pie, you’re everything to me. And my girl? You are my girl. Have been since that day we met at that terrible playground.” He explained, tightening his grip around her wrist.

She laughed at the memory, her laugh sweet and warm and exactly what he needed at that moment.

“Gee, I still remember your puzzled face when I told you we could meet again.” She chuckled. “Like on a date? I don’t know!” she mimicked him, throwing her head back. “As if I’d ever want to date your juvenile ass!”

“Hey, I was quite the heartbreaker back then. I thought you were hitting on me.”

“We were five, Dean.”

“I was hot for a five-year-old, alright?” he deadpanned, causing her to laugh even harder, the sound better than all those classic rock songs he loved so much.

“Whatever you say, dumbass.”

“I still came to our playdate though, didn’t I?”

“You came on Tuesday. We had agreed to meet on Wednesday.”

“Details. You were there anyway.” He declared, winking at her.

“Because I knew you’d mix the days up! I missed an episode of Scooby Doo for you.”

“Aw, you poor thing.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her amusement but he could still see the smile trying to break through.

“Jerk.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” he beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her shoulder, laughing genuinely as she pushed him away. “Love you too…” he repeated, lower this time, eyes focused on the road in front of him.

If only you knew how much...

Dean was almost twenty-nine years old when she finally broke his heart. He was standing in an empty room, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, ready to take one of the biggest steps in his life and all he could think about was her.

He was worried because she was running late but didn’t dare admit it. He knew everyone would make fun of him for being so overprotective. If anything, she wasn’t such a big fan of his plan.

He wasn’t either.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Sammy popped his head inside, smiling charmingly at him.

“Ready, man?”

Dean sighed, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair.

“As I’ll ever be.”

His little brother nodded, something heavy settling over his features.

“She here yet?”

“Nope. But Benny called her. Said she’s stuck in traffic.” A pause. “She’ll be here, Dean. She wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Go. I’ll be out in a minute.”

The hazel-eyed man looked at him for a minute, seemingly thinking about something, then agreed with a nod of his head.

“Almost forgot. This…” he said, pulling out a blue envelope from his suit jacket “…came for you.”

Dean eyed the colored paper curiously, raising his eyebrows. And then he saw her letters in the middle of the folded paper.

“Give me a minute, Sammy.”

“Sure thing. Just don’t be late.”

Dean hummed in agreement and when his younger brother was gone, he unfolded the paper gingerly. A necklace fell from the envelope.

He recognized it immediately. It was a locket he’d bought for her twenty-sixth birthday, with a picture of them in graduation night. She’s smiled and tore up when he’d given it to her, then jumped on him, hugging him like she was trying to put all his broken pieces back together. She had been wearing it ever since.

His fingers caressed the chain for several minutes, and then, with slightly shaking hands, he reached for the letter.

My dearest Dean,

Do you remember those afternoons we used to spend under a tree during primary school, wondering what our life would be like when we grow up? I do, and not a day goes by that I don’t laugh at how naïve we were back then, when our early thirties seemed like something that would probably never happen, something impossible to conceive.

We were always together growing up, Dean, and you have been the best best-friend I could ever ask for. When we started primary school and our classmates made fun of me because I was smart, you stood by me and threatened to punch the next person that would even dare look at me sideways. And nobody ever dared bothering me again because, God, Dean, you can be so intimidating when you want to. When I sixteen and my dad had a heart attack and almost didn’t make it you held me in your arms while I sobbed and promised me that everything was going to be alright. I didn’t know it then, but it was everything I needed to hear.

And when I got into that car accident almost a year later, you were there for me in a way that made my heart ache with love and affection. You can’t even begin to fathom what a relief it was to open my eyes and see you next to me that day, Dean. I was so scared, so worried that I would never be okay again but somehow you turned that around for me. I could never thank you enough for what you did for me back then. You took care of me, you made me feel safe again and you spent every single afternoon at my room for two whole months, even though I am sure you had far more interesting things to do and way more attractive girls to keep company to.

You have stood by me, Dean, through thick and thin, and that’s why what I’m about to do is the most difficult thing I have ever done. But I have to do it.

For I am not as great as you believe, my friend, and I have never been. In fact, I have never been entirely honest with you. I do love you, Dean, with every single beat of my heart, but I do not love you as a brother or a friend. I do not love you in the same way I love Leslie or Sam. I love you with a kind of love that makes me feel alive every time you even look at me. And I can’t remember a moment in my life when that wasn’t the case.

It’s impossible for someone to meet you and not fall in love with you, D. You are everything a man should be. Loving. Righteous. Caring. Smart. Loyal. Kind. Brave. Strong. Selfless. And yes, you I know you’re about to say you’re not perfect but nobody is, D.

I’m sorry I can’t be there for your marriage, I’m sorry I can’t be the best friend you deserve, I’m sorry I can’t be your best woman like I promised I would. I did try, Dean, God knows I tried but some things are beyond us.

I’m not sure whether this is a “goodbye” or a “see you later”. I guess this is entirely up to you now. If you don’t want to see me again, then I understand. I won’t try to contact you, albeit I will think about you every single day and hope that you’ll be doing just fine.

If you ever think you can forgive me though and are willing to put all of this behind us and give our friendship another chance, then I am willing to do that as well. I won’t be a stranger if you don’t want me to be.

I know I’ve messed up, Dean, and what happens to us from now on is on me. I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that one day you’ll be able to forgive me and we’ll be reunited again, if only just to talk about the good old days, when it used to be just the two of us against the world.

Either way I will always be a friend to you, D. Always. No matter where in the world we might be or who we will be with, you will be in my heart’s core forever and I will always wholly and stupidly love you.

Stay safe and take care of yourself. And be happy, Dean. That’s all I want for you. That’s what I’ve always wanted. Be happy with Lisa and have children and live the white picket fence life you have always wanted, but never dared to admit out loud. And when you go back to Lawrence and gaze upon the stars from the hood of the Impala like we used to do as kids, please know that your best friend, even if she is in the other side of the world, thinks about you and thanks you for everything you have done for her.

Forever and ever,

Y/N.

The paper fell from his hands as his heart broke into millions of pieces.

Y/N had always been his.

And he had let her slip right through his fingers.

A/N: Read part two here

The Promise Tags: @pickupthatamulet @tiny-friggin-human

Forever Tags: @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @ravengirl94 @impala-dreamer @wordstothewisereaders @becs-bunker @imagining-supernatural @sgarrett49

If you’re like this for some reason I couldn’t tag you, I’m really sorry.

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