#i was ready to go pass out after binging spn but now i have to deal with this shit and i dont have enough meds and i know im gonna wake up

[newobsessionweekly]

The pain she left behind

Title: The pain she left behind

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader, Sam x Platonic!Reader, Castiel x Platonic!Reader, Jack x Platonic!Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: language, character death, grieveing, Dean crying, angst, death, a little bit of explicit content,  violence, fluff, spoilers s14

Prompt 1: Loving me is a death sentence.

Prompt 2: We found each other. That’s all that matters.

A/N: This is my enterance for SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge. I don’t usually write and all that, but I wanted to try something new and I don’t know... I tried my best, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag: @supernatural-jackles

Something Dean has told himself and everyone around when they asked, is that he doesn’t need that in his life. He doesn’t need love, he doesn’t need to find a girl; he tried that before and it didn’t work out. But what he needs is to have his mind clear, focused on cleaning America from monsters, he needs to keep his family safe. But he failed, he met you and all his life was turned upside down. And sometimes he regrets the day they met you, because now, you are just too hard to forget.

Laying on the kitchen floor, heavily breathing from the enormous weight that’s pressing on his chest, Dean’s playing with a bottle of beer, switching it annoyingly from one hand to another over and over again, just as you’re switching in his head, from one memory to one another. He locked himself in his room for the past 3 days, binge watching some random horror movies wanting to wash away the need to cry, to scream, and beg God to bring you back to him, but it was pointless, he still cried himself to sleep. So he decided it’s time for something stronger; he needs to be back in tracks as soon as possible and be ready to fight the monster that took you away, there’s no time to grieve.

“Dean!” Sam yelled his name again while descending the stairs to the kitchen, abruptly snapping him from his memories of you.

He refuses to answer, he refuses to talk to anyone and Sam understands it, because he feels the empty space you left in their lives too, but he’s maybe more afraid than Dean to show it. Sam wants to be strong for his brother, he wants to be there for him, especially these days. Only the third time after hearing his name, Dean bothered to look up at his younger brother and allow him to see all the broken pieces of his heart spread all over the place.    

“Sammy, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Dean’s voice is rough and shaky, tears threatening to burst in any moment and Dean’s aware that he’s going to lose it soon, but still hoping that Sam will not be around.    

“Dean, you have to – “

“I don’t have to do anything today.” He raised his index finger and stopped Sam, then he pointed to the fridge: “Now pass me another beer and leave.”

Sam did so and Dean thanked him with just a movement of his head, before turning his attention to the abandoned metallic box full of memories from his lap. A bunch of photos with Sammy, some with his mom and dad, few with his friends that soon became family, and even fewer with you. Dean doesn’t like photos that much, he’s not that kind of guy who’d let himself be photographed everywhere and every time, but now he wishes he was that kind and wishes he’d have done a lot more photos beside you. There are only six instant photos of you, with a red ribbon wrapped around them; six, one for every anniversary and one from the first proper Christmas the Winchesters ever had.

He’d have wanted to be that stupid kind of men and take photos of you everywhere: in your favourite pyjamas, curled up in a chair from the library with a leg under you, so deeply focused in research, trying so hard to fit in with his life; standing in front of a pan in the mornings when Sam would be out of town, only in your beautiful underwear, moving your hips while making breakfast for him; curled up in a soft, warm blanket on a chair, sound asleep far too many hours before Sam and Dean would come home after so many weeks of being away.

“Dean!”  

“Dean!”

You jumped from one of the chairs on the war room at the sound of the bunker’s door loudly opening. You almost caught roots on that place waiting for Dean and Sam to show up. You woke up alone this morning, no sight of any of the brothers or your angelic friend so you waited and waited before panic started to grow inside of you. You prayed to Cas and asked him if something happened, you started to pace around the war room when no answer was coming and then you sat on that chair and wondered what the hell happened with everyone. Bad scenarios running through that beautiful mind of yours and you were preparing for the worst.

But you were never prepared for what entered that door; Sam, Dean and Cas were fighting over heels to carry a giant fir tree, you could bet it is even taller than Sam. Your jaw dropped at the sight of Dean, all covered in snow and sweat beads painting his forehead, trying his best not to drop the lower part of the tree.

“What happened? Are you ok? How hard did Sam hit you in the head?” You tried to hide the fact that you were scared as hell with a sarcastic tone, and thankfully Dean bite it, but Cas not so much, because he was throwing you Cas-type of awkward glances.

Dean always rejected the idea of having a proper and normal holiday celebration so as you skipped Halloween, again, you pleaded and pleaded, every night and every day to celebrate at least Christmas, your favourite holiday. But a week or two ago, you gave up when you saw you were getting not even a negative response to your question.

Library was transformed and instead of two big and cold tables with some uncomfortable chairs around, there was a long table decorated with two beautiful candlesticks and little angels and snowflakes. The dish was prepared by Dean with a little help from you, and all around the bunker were hanged beautiful lights, some Santa figurines and angels. Christmas tree was decorated by you and Dean who got involved in this holiday celebration thing more than you even expected.

Sitting around the Christmas tree, after everybody praised the food, you were smiling proudly to have these special people around you. Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Patience and Kaia are your second family, and every time Sam and Dean would leave for a serious case, they’d prefer you to stay with the girls. Not because they don’t trust you, just because they’d be more peacefully than knowing you home alone so many days in the bunker. You and Alex became very good friends especially because none of you is hunting. Your boyfriend wants to keep you out of this life as much as possible and is trying to make everything as normal as he can.

Dean ripped you from your thoughts when he wrapped his hand around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. You smiled at him excitedly and then exchanged presents with the girls. Then you gave Jack his present, a blue sweater to match yours, and he sadly looked at you. You panicked a little when you saw his face and your body strained, catching Dean’s attention.

“Why are you sad? You don’t like it?” you asked Jack.

“No,no! I love it!” he immediately said, stopping you from making films inside your head. “But I didn’t know we were buying each other gifts. I thought only Dean was supposed to buy you a present, because he’s your boyfriend.”

“Oh, so Dean bought me a present, huh?” you turned to look at your boyfriend and showed him your most beautiful and mischievous smile. “Sam, you really should tell me with what you hit him in the head because it may use me too in the future.”

Everyone laughed at your joke and Dean could swear he had never seen you so happy in his life. He knows Christmas is your favourite holiday and he and Sam were always preoccupied with hunting and saving the world to even think about these holidays, but you understood and never complained. You anyway got to celebrate it at Jody’s place, so you never said anything to Dean, mostly because it was pointless; you loved Dean so much and you accepted him as he is, you accepted his life and embraced it, though he kept you at a secure distance from his life, especially to protect you, and offered you a life as normal as possible, but it was impossible after a certain point ...

Sam watched Dean from distance as he flipped through the Polaroids, with tears cascading on his cheeks, knotting under his chin and loud sobs shaking his body in pain. It breaks Sam’s heart, but he needs it, he needs to cry, to express his feelings, to get it over his chest, even for a moment.

Jack accompanied Sam and Cas and watched over Dean, but they stopped themselves to intervene when a bottle of beer loudly crashed on the floor and wetted everything around. All three of them startled when the sound reached their ears, but they stood still.

It was odd for Dean to break like that in a place where anyone could enter any moment, but nothing was normal anymore, it wasn’t normal for him to lose like that the love of his life, so he allowed himself to do all sorts of strange things in order to calm down even for a second.

“Deano!” you giggled happily in his ear as your body embraced him from behind, your naked body combined with his, just as clothless as yours. It is barely eight and he would probably curse for the rest of the morning if your plan on waking him up will work. It is your fifth anniversary and after long and deep talks with Sam, you decided it’s time to do a little more today.

After you prepared your special breakfast while Sam was leaning on the kitchen counter giving you small advices here and there, he decided to leave you two alone, teasing you, saying you can be as noisy as you please.  

You leaned over him and pressed your lips on his back, chaotically tracing kissed all over his shoulders and going up to his neck and cheeks and then right back from the beginning. Leaving wet spots all over his body, Dean rolled on his back, making you to fall on top of him, your breasts pressing firmly on his chest.

“Well, that is a very interesting way to wake me up, sweetheart.” Dean yawned and looked at you first only with his right eye, then with his left one, finding it very hard to keep them both open.  

You are a simple couple, but more like an old married couple who just puzzle up one another like you’ve known each other for your whole lives. Dean and you as well are not the kind to celebrate and do big stuff about it, just cooking together a breakfast, finally making time for you in such a long time and mostly spending the day together, talking and fixing the problems that you encountered on the way. You are just communicating, that’s your celebration. And this is all you need. But this morning, Dean felt it’s going be a little different. He can smell the breakfast already cooked and he frowned at the smell of fresh, hot coffee.

He kissed you with love, cupping your cheek and rubbing his finger over it, as he always does when he wants to melt your heart, because he knows your weaknesses so well. You cuddle in a little more before you decided to get out of bed and eat your breakfast, stalling a bit to telling one more time – or ten more times – how much you love each other.

“I wanted to spoil you today.” You told him as you put your underwear on and wrapped the red satin robe, the one Dean loves, around your body.

“You know what –“ Dean begins, chewing loudly his bacon. “I’ve been thinking –“ he stops again, sipping his coffee, giving you appreciative sounds as in he’s enjoying very much the coffee you made.

“Oh, no! Always ends bad when you’re thinking.” You teased him and laughed so hard when he gives you the Winchester bitch face. “Ok, we are serious this morning. I’m listening.”

“I was thinking... maybe we should get married.” He says.

Your heart stops at the sound of his words and you almost choke with coffee, slightly coughing to get lost the lump that formed in your throat. You dreamed of marrying Dean from the first moments when you met him. He’s exactly what you’re looking for in a man, he is smart, funny and you can feel his love for you, though he doesn’t show it that much. You love him terribly much and never crossed your mind that this day would come, despite the fact you wanted it so bad. You understand that his life is dangerous, complicated and he doesn’t have time for this kind of things in the first place. You never thought about changing a thing about him or his life and never said anything, because nothing bothered you in the first place. Dean loves you, Dean treats you so right and protects you that you never needed anything and accepted him with his good and a little less good things without questioning, because it is a part of loving.

You adore him with every inch of your being, and the fact that he thought about marring you shocked you, that for the first time, you couldn’t get the words find your mouth. He looked at you, still chewing his food, but he had more of a worried look.

“Ar-are you sure?” you asked and he grabbed your hand over the table and caressed your soft skin.

“Yes, I am a hundred percent sure.” He frowned a little before he continued: “You?”

“Yes!” you immediately responded, leaving no place for any other thoughts. “Yes, I want to marry you, Dean Winchester.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” He chuckled and pressed his lips over yours, and then over your forehead. “I discussed with my mom about it, when she was around... She gave me her ring.”

He excitedly bit his bottom lip and then he told you to wait for him, just rising his index finger and then hurried over your bedroom. You smiled like a fool and your stomach flipped almost painfully just at the thought that he discussed this with his mother, especially knowing how important his mother was.  

He came back too soon and ripped out of your thoughts and he shyly asked for your hand. Dean placed the ring on your ring finger and you kissed him so many times, as he dragged you on his lap.

You planned your wedding to be something simple, just a dinner with some friends at the bunker, but soon enough, it turned out to be a dinner with all of your friends at the bunker. You are wearing a simple white casual dress and Dean is wearing his FBI costume, nothing fancy, because fancy was never the Winchester style.

“I am not good at words, especially not at speeches.” He paused a little and everyone laughed. “But I need to say that I love you to death, Y/n Winchester! And I am so grateful that we found each other, that’s all that matters. “

“I love you to death, Dean Winchester!”

And you indeed loved him to death.

In Dean’s head was repeating over and over again the way your body collapsed into the ground, as the last tears fell onto your cheeks when your eyes shut closed. Dean could imagine only a quarter of the pain you left the world with, but he never understood your enormous love for him, not even in your last moments when you looked at him and told him how much you love him.

As Chuck paced the grass and waited, you stand still as you had the gun He gave to you pointed at Jack. The nephilim is dangerous, he is a monster and must be stopped.

“Y/n!” Sam and Dean shouted as they came running towards you. “Y/n, no!”

“I understand...” Jack said, looking up to you from where he stayed on his knees, Sam and Dean calling your name in the background. “I know what I’ve done.”

“No, no, no, no! Y/n!” your husband came running to you, but he stopped as he heared your voice:

“Stay back, Dean!” you said, looking at Jack.

“And you were right, all along. I am a monster.” Jack said.

“Do something!” Dean told Chuck, but he frowned when He shushed him. “Are you enjoying this?”

You took the safety off as you overheard their conversation and looked at Jack one more time; he was standing in his knees in front of you, with his hands folded on his lap, looking innocently at you. He is just a kid, he’s no monster. You frowned; all of this is just Chuck’s plan. You put the safety back on and lowered the gun, throwing it away on the grass.  

“No,no! Pick it up!” Chuck said and approached the two of you and Jack looked at him with a frowning painted on his face. “Pick it up! This isn’t how the story is suppose to end!”

“The story?” Castiel asked.

“Look at the Gathering Storm, the gun... this is epic!”

“Wait what are you saying?” Dean asked Chuck, moving his sight from you to Him.

“He’s saying that he’s been playing us...” Sam responded and Chuck sighs “...this whole time.”

“Come on – “ Chuck started but he’s been interrupted by Sam:

“Our entire lives... mom, dad, everything. This is all you, because... you wrote it all, right? Because... because, what? Because we’re your favourite show? Because we’re part of your story?”

“Y/n, no offense, but your brother-in-law is stupid and crazy. This kid is still dangerous. So pick up the gun.” You looked at the gun but didn’t make any move. “Pick is up. Pull the trigger. And I’ll bring her back. I’ll bring Mary back.”

Everyone’s faces fell contemplatively, and you really thought about it as a possibility. Jack moved his looking to you and tried to understand what were you thinking.

“No!” Dean responded immediately.

“I’m not talking to you, Dean. I know how much you want this for Dean, because you love him so much and you want him to be happy and all crap. So pull the trigger and I’ll bring her back.”

“No.” You said and Chuck frowned.

“My mom was my hero, and I miss her, and I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this, she would not want this for Y/n. She wouldn’t want for her to have her hands stained with innocent blood and live with the thought of killing someone innocent, someone she loves so much, for the rest of her life. And it’s not like you even really care, ‘cause Sam’s right. The Apocalypse, Lucifer and Michael, you knew everything that was going on. So why the games, Chuck? Huh? Why don’t you just snap your fingers and end it?”

”Look...” Chuck started, but he was again stopped by Sam.

“And every other bad thing we’ve been killing, or dying over...” he scoffed. “Where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer? So we can do this over and over and over again? Fighting, losing people we love? When does it end? Tell me!”

“Y/n, don’t do this – “ Chuck said, but no one let Him finish one sentence.

“No, we’re done talking. ’Cause this... this isn’t just a story... it’s our lives! Leave my wife alone. So God or no God, go to hell!” Dean said, both of the Winchesters having their serious faces put on, while chuck smiled mischievously in the corner of the lips.

“Have it your way!” He said, then snapping his fingers.

Everybody watched as your body collapsed lifelessly into the ground, and Dean shouted your name, but the pain was too deafening. Everyone was shocked, and Sam reacted as adrenaline was pumping in his body. He picked up the gun and drunken in pain, he shot Chuck in order to kill, for you, for his best friend. Unfortunately, he shot God in shoulder, and Sam as well felt a killing pain in his shoulder.

Dean cried his pain out of his body, his soul and he tried to cry you out of his mind too, but it was too hard. He tried to erase that hurtful memory of you, but it just wouldn’t get off, it would play over and over again, just to kill him slowly and slowly every second. He broke down one more time, loudly sobbing and frantically shaking his body.

Sam ran towards him and crashed beside him, Sam as well having tears staining his cheeks at the sight of his big brother broken like this. There were too many bottles of beer drunk and Dean was not feeling alright at all. Sam’s arms moved around Dean’s body and embraced him, trying not to let him broke into pieces.  

“It’s alright, Dean! I’m here. I’m here, Dean!” Sam shushed him and tried to keep him from shaking.

“Everyone around me is getting hurt and they are dying, Sammy. Loving me is a death sentence, Sammy.”

“Dean... listen to me!” Sam cupped his cheeks and moved his head from his shoulder so that he can look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, look at me. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, alright? Y/n loves you from a better place, alright? I bet you’re gonna get into the same heaven someday, alright?” Dean slowly nodded his head and looked at Sam between the eyelashes, finally he stopped crying. “Let’s go get your strength back and we’re going to kill that son of a bitch, alright?” Dean nodded again and let Sam put him to bed, hoping maybe it will hurt less tomorrow.

[jawritter]

Broken Me...

Ch. 3

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatly have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Online bulling, language, insecurities, mean girls. I think that’s about it..

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1779

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Jensen's POV:

"I can't believe I lost it like that man! What the hell!!" Jensen yelled, throwing his hat across the room, watching as it hit the wall with a limp thump before falling to the floor.

He’d never been so pissed off at himself in his life, the way he ran off stage like that, Y/n probably thinks she did something wrong. 

He knew she saw him upset…

He knew she saw him try to hide the fact that I was up there crying like a little bitch... 

Maybe that many shots before he got on stage wasn't such a great idea after all... 

He was just trying to get numb enough to get through this damn concert without feeling anything. That turned out well didn’t it...

"Dude stop!! You're doing a hell of a lot better than I would be doing. I would have left the convention by now, and would be a blubbering mess somewhere. As far as y/n goes. I think she's fine. I saw her taking selfies with some other fans after the concert was over. Now Richard on the other hand, he saw, he's asking questions. I know you're not ready to talk about all this to everyone, but if you're going to stay at the convention. You're going to have to tell the rest of the cast and crew what the hell is going on with you." 

Jensen knew Jared was right, but he couldn’t help the stone face that he gave him as he watched the overly tall man take a swig of his beer. 

Even though Jared has the mental maturity of a ten year old, when stuff is going down he usually is right. 

As far as Jensen was concerned he was nowhere near ready to talk about what happened between Danneel and himself, everything was still so fresh, so raw, hell it had just happened today! 

He knew he couldn’t get into telling people without breaking down, and that was NOT something he was going to do in front of everyone. 

It just isn't going to happen... 

"I know you're right, but I’m not ready to talk about this with everyone, man it all this just happened less than 12 hours ago! I haven't even had time to process it yet. I'll try, and talk to everyone in the morning if people are asking too many questions. I just can't do it tonight. I'm still a little drunk, I'm exhausted. Probably too damn exhausted to sleep, which means I’ll probably drink myself to sleep…. Don’t look at me like that Jared, I just ….need tonight okay......Put Richard and everyone else off till in the morning if they ask you any questions."

Jared fought the urge to shake his head and roll his eyes, but this was Jensen’s battle, not his, and he had to deal with all of this how he saw best. No matter how much Jared didn’t agree with it..

"Okay I can do that. I told Richard tonight that you would probably tell everyone in the morning what was going on anyway, It was the only way he would let it go. They're worried about you man."

Jensen pushed his hands through his already completely messed up hair, and stood there with his eyes closed, trying his damndest to get a hold of himself. He was tired of crying about this already, and had just happened today, hell it’s not like they were together every day of their marriage, he was practically single anyway… They never even fucking saw each other.. Why did this bother him so much?  

"Ugh Jen?" Jared said, sounding almost like a little kid afraid to tell their parents something bad.... 

"What?" 

White hot fear licked at Jensen right up his backbone, it was never good in this industry for someone to use that tone while looking at social media... 

"Uh, looks like the video of you and y/n tonight has gone almost viral." 

Video of him singing at cons did that all the time so it was no surprise to him that one of him signing with a fan had gotten a lot of attention. So Jensen knew that was just the warm up for the let down, and braced himself…

"Okay, So." 

"Well Danneel saw it and, well......" 

Jared handed Jensen the phone, and what he saw there made him nauseous, and like he’d been shot in the chest with a 12 gage full of buckshot all at once….

“That bitch..”

............................................................

Your POV:

Walking back through the door of your hotel room you fall face first on the bed. 

Exhaustion was a very real thing, but you still had a lot of adrenaline pumping through you, way too much to sleep right now. Your mind racing a thousand miles a second. Analyzing everything that had happened tonight almost to a fault. 

Did I dream that or did it really happen? 

What's going on with Jensen? 

Why was he so upset? 

Were Richard and I the only ones that noticed? 

Jared obviously saw? 

Every time you think about it  your skin would tingle where Jensen had touched you. Hell by the time the two of you hand ended the song he was seriously so close for just a moment you thought he was going to kiss you. 

Thank God he didn't... 

Cause you probably would have passed out in his arms... 

Which probably wouldn't have been a bad thing, if you were alone, and not on a stage in front of hundreds of people with cameras and smartphones. 

Not cool...

With that thought you picked up your phone, and saw literally hundreds of twitter, facebook, and Instagram notifications on your phone. 

Your eyes bulging out of your head as you scrolled through twitter, the video of Jensen and yourself had gone almost viral. 

Your head started spinning and you honestly felt like you were going to throw up. Everyone seemed to like it, that wasn't the thing. The SPN fandom was seriously awesome that way, and for the most part everyone supported each other in one way or another... 

It was the post from Danneel that shook you from your head to your toes... 

"Y/f/n!! Get your ass over here!!" You yelled toward the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth. The room was spinning slightly as you read the tweet over and over again, as if you could make it disappear from the world wide web by sheer willpower...

"What?" She yelled back, running toward the bed, a look of concern on her face. 

She knew your tone had changed from joking in the elevator to almost sheer panic. 

"What is it?" She asked, taking the phone out of your hand. 

"Dang...Poor Jensen!!" She said, staring stocked at the phone. She was staring at the phone in slack jaw shock probably like the rest of the fandom at the moment.. You knew this was just the calm before the storm though, and you were about to be under fire form some of the more hardcore fans in the fandom...

"Well he was having a harder time than what it looks like on the video." You said, she looked at you completely lost. Apparently the audience didn't catch it. A moment ago you would have been relieved, now though you wished they would have just seen him.. 

Then man was a damn good actor...   

"That part in the video that looks like he's kissing my neck….. He wasn't. He had started to cry, and was wiping his face." You mummer, guilt rocking you to your core for agreeing to sing that song with him now that you knew what was going on with him... 

"Bullshit!" She yelled. "Why didn't you tell me he was that upset!" 

“I thought it wasn't any of our business! What was going on with him was obviously not intended to be a public thing. So I kept my mouth shut out of respect." You shot back. 

Looking down at the tweet you still couldn’t believe what you were seeing was really happening..

The tweet was a repost of the video of Jensen and yourself singing. That wasn’t the problem. It was the comment above that  made you nauseous. 

Well since Jensen seems to have ALREADY moved on to basically screwing fans on a live stage!! Looks like I OWE my fans the explanation! Jensen and I are getting a DIVORCE!!! WE ARE NO LONGER TOGETHER!!  I don't know who this girl is, but baby girl RUN!! I PROMISE YOU DON'T WANT THAT!!!

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

A few hours later you found yourself still awake and staring at the ceiling. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight no matter how you sliced it.. 

You couldn’t believe she did that.. 

She doesn't even know you!!! 

Some fans jumped to your immediate defense, telling her to go screw herself, and that didn’t happen the way the video was making it look, that it was a lot more innocent in person. 

Then there were some ‘Jensen always deserved better than you anyways’. 

That It was just a performance... Meaning nothing and she needed to get over her high and mighty act... 

Jensen was a sweetheart. He was probably totally heartbroken, and she was a bitch... 

Then there were some that were attacking you... 

"She's just a whore. He'll come crawling back." 

"He's a jackass you deserve better." 

"She wont even last with him a week." 

"She's just a side bitch."

 "She's ugly, he downgraded." 

"OMG I didn't know Jensen was into fat girls!"

They cut deeper than a stranger's opinion of you probably should have. Especially that last one. You weren't fat by any means, but you also weren't hide stretched over the bones. 

You had curves. 

Your stomach wasn't perfectly fat. 

Your thighs touched together when you walked. 

You didn't have a model body, but hell Marline Monroe was fatter than you are!! 

You and Jensen we're NOT together in any sense of the word, and by no means was he practically “Screwing you” on stage tonight..

A slight knock on the door disturbed your thoughts, and you looked over to y/f/n. 

She was still knocked out. 

So you quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen down your face, dragging yourself out of bed. You got up and looked through the peephole in the door, but all you could see was a white t-shirt. 

You unlock the door, and peck through the crack to see who was standing there at this hour in the night, and who you saw nearly knocked you on your ass for the second time tonight..

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Binge Tag: @sarahbaker2010​

[the-stressmushroom]

My Adventure Time Feelings:

I cant believe that adventure times over. I’ve watched the show from the first episode. I was 10. Now I’m 18. 

I’m not sad its over. I’m more reminiscent about what the show meant to me. It was a constant in my life for a really long time, and I want to share some of the important memories the show is tied to for me. 

Read these if you want, or don’t. Comment on them if you want, or don’t. This is more for me. I need to get my thoughts and memories out somewhere. I just need to share. 

Basically, I can tie the show back to just some really important memories. Memories I forgot existed until this moment. Some of these are triggering so be warned.

The summer before ninth grade, I was sitting in our beach house rental in Coronado, California with my best friend Quentin watching the new episode of Adventure Time. We were so happy and light. His mom died three weeks later and the Tuesday after her funeral we got together to watch the new episode of adventure time in silence. His mom was like my second mom. I was at their house constantly. At least three times a week. After his mom died, he stopped talking to me. He said I reminded him too much of her.

Thanksgiving my freshman year, I binge watched half a season for fun, while telling myself not to eat because I had already lost thirty pounds and I wasn’t going to let the holiday ruin my unhealthy behavior. I was posting pictures of myself online for validation. My self-esteem was so low it didn’t exist. I had gone from 150 pounds to 120 in three weeks. I told myself I didn’t have an eating disorder, I just wasn’t hungry. It took until I reached 98 pounds to figure out I had a problem.

The second week of seventh grade, when I was at my best friend Grace’s house and we were studying vocabulary for our first ever english quiz while packing and moving boxes. She was moving out of of her childhood home. A house I practically grew up in. A house that held so many memories from permanently denting the wall and breaking two of my fingers due to indoor skateboarding, or holding her in my arms as she sobbed after her dog was hit by a car.

Meeting the second boy I ever fell in love with. My nails were painted as adventure time characters, and he, a sophomore, came up to me, a freshman, and got so excited by how cool my nails were. He was my first kiss. 

Coming home every Tuesday from middle school, ready to burst into tears. I was bullied relentlessly and hated school. But I would find solace in the new episode of Adventure Time waiting for me. For a few months, it was on my List of Things to Look Forward To. A list my therapist told me to refer to whenever I felt suicidal.

Standing with my friend in Gym during eighth grade singing Adventure Time songs and talking about the newest episode to pass the time. She was a pretty cool person, and one of the few people who didn’t bully me. It’s a shame that I didn’t hang out with her more. I haven’t seen or heard from her in 5 years.

More recently, watching Adventure Time: Islands while prepping for my SATs and ACTs. For some reason, the episodes really calmed me before my exam and I went in feeling confident. I scored a 33 on my ACT because my nerves were practically non-existant.

Flame Princess was my first ever attempt at fan art and is what made me love fan art so much in the first place. I always loved the adventure time art style and I realized that it was so much fun to draw, not just look at. Without that realization, I would have never discovered my love of art.

When I got my tumblr, the first account I followed was an adventure time account and the first ever post I reblogged was of Marceline. I still can’t believe I that when I first got tumblr, the only three fandoms I was a part of were Percy Jackson, Doctor Who, and Adventure Time. Without Adventure Time inspiring me to get a Tumblr, I would have never discovered Sherlock, Merlin, Voltron, Gravity Falls or (my favorite show of all time) Supernatural.

Feeling like such a badass when I discovered Bravest Warriors. Like it was my little secret that no one else knew about. I felt so adult because it had bad words in it. I remember coming home from exploring an open house with my parents one Sunday in Eighth grade, sitting down at my windows tablet, and watching bravest warriors and the SPN episode “Its The Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester” when I was supposed to be doing homework. 

I remember showing up for PJ day in 6th grade wearing my finn and jake slippers and feeling so fucking cool. Everyone made fun of me, but for once, i didn’t care. I loved what I was wearing and no one could make me feel bad about it. I remember wearing those same slippers as a part of my Chuck cosplay at SPN con, and Rob Benedict being so excited by them, he lept off the stage, ran to me, and gave me a giant hug.

I remember the first time I watched the show. Sitting on the ground in my family room, waiting so excitedly for the new show Cartoon Network had been advertising. It looked really weird and it made me really curious. The first time I heard the theme song, I remember the smile that spread across my face. 

I watched Adventure Time rain or sun, happy or sad. It was always their for me, and it always will be. The first time I watched the show, I was ten years old, a ruthlessly bullied fifth grader who needed an escape from the real world. Now I sit here in my college dorm after my first day of classes, fighting off tears. This show was an anchor to my childhood. And now it is gone. And I am an adult. 

And I don’t know what to do.

And that’s ok.

[stardusttkachuk-main]

Always Be Ready

Title: Always Be Ready

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1657

Warnings: fluff, minor swearing (i think)

Prompt: Snowball Fight

Summary: Y/N hasn’t seen Dean in sixteen years, so when she spots him at a cafe while working a case, she doesn’t hesitate to say hi and invite him home, where he can’t help but reenact his favorite memory.

This is Day Nine of 25 Days of Christmas. Check out the masterlist here!

“Dean!!” You shrieked, ducking as another snowball went flying. “I’m not ready!”

“Rule number one: Always be ready,” he teased and hurled another snowball in your direction. You were ready this time and ducked, it just barely missing your head. You rolled your own ball quickly, throwing it at Dean and hitting him in the chest, snickering after.

Dean wasted no time in getting you back and soon you were dodging and chucking snowballs right and left, all the while laughing and joking with him. Your last snowball hit Dean in the back of the head, and he when he turned around, he charged right for you.

“You’re gonna get it!” He yelled as he tackled you into the pile of snow in the ground. He had your arms pinned, and his knees on both sides of your body. “You little jerk,” he laughed, trying to brush his cold cheeks against yours.

You smile, staring at the polaroid Bobby had given you from that day. You had a snowball in your hand, and Dean was on his knees packing one together. Both of you just sixteen at the time and having had a break from hunting for that one week in winter.

It had been ten years since the Winchester’s had stopped by during winter. Come to think of it, it had been years since you had seen them in general. You had seen Sam once when he turned 18 and was telling you about how he got into Stanford. Dean wasn’t with him and you wondered why he had come all by himself.

You hadn’t heard from or seen Dean since that winter. From what Sam had said, he took up hunting with their dad, too busy ganking monsters to come see his Uncle Bobby. You’d kill to see how that flirtatious ladies man had grown up.

Bobby let you choose what life you wanted. He hunted but not as much as John Winchester had. Bobby promised you a good life, no matter what path you took. He was shocked when you chose to hunt, but offered nothing but support, even if the thought of you being out by yourself hunting scared him half to death.

It wasn’t odd for Bobby to ask you to accompany hunters when their cases got too rough. He knew what an amazing hunter you were, and paired with these other macho guys, you couldn’t lose. Usually, it was with Garth, and for a while, you were sure your dad was trying to set you up with the guy, but you learned quickly that Garth simply just needed a lot of help.

“There’s a case in Duluth, Minnesota. Think you can handle it?” Bobby asks, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Sure! What do we got?”

“Pair of shifters.”

“A milk run,” you laugh. “I think I can handle it.”

“Call if you need backup.” He reminds you, just like he does before you leave for every hunt. “And be careful. It’s snowing.”

You grab your duffle, already packed and ready. You always keep one packed for emergencies when someone needed you asap. “Love you, dad. I’ll call when I get there.” You say, placing a kiss to Bobby’s cheek and sprinting for the door.

You’re glad Duluth isn’t too far, but what should be just over six hours becomes nearly eight with the snowfall. It’s late when you get in, so you stop at the nearest motel and get yourself a room for the night.

You’re up bright and early the next morning, deciding to stop at the local coffee shop and chat up with the community. It’s not busy, and you figure that since it’s a weekday, most people are at work. Some tables are occupied but for the most part, it’s vacant.

When you get up to the counter, you order a regular coffee and an extra shot of espresso on the side. The barista eyes you. “I just got in from an eight-hour drive,” you tell her, and she nods.

“Where ya from?”

“Sioux Falls.”

“You come to Duluth often?”

You shake your head, pocketing the change she hands you. “I’m just checking out the area.”

“Well, you be careful out there!” She warns, and you pause, now eyeing her.

“What for?”

She looks around, leaning across the counter and ushering you to lean too. “Between you and me, sweetie, people been reporting the walking dead. This one gal came in and ordered nothin’ but pure espressos for three hours. Said her husband killed her current boyfriend, but her husband passed away years back.”

“Did she ever come back?” You ask, again making sure nobody was listening.

“Haven’t heard from her since. Nobody has.”

You nod, grabbing your coffee and espresso shot. “Hey, if anything comes up, let me know,” you say, pulling a small card out of your wallet and scratching your number down on the back. “I’ve got a friend who deals with the crazy.”

She laughs and pockets the cards. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Y/N,” you smile, eyeing her name tag. “Catherine?”

“That’s me,” she grins. “Enjoy your coffee.”

You pick a window seat, keeping your eye on your car and watching the snow fall down. You’re about to call your dad when you hear the chatter behind you. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, and what he says only makes you realize it really is him.

“Why can’t monsters be like bears and just hibernate in winter,” he grumbles.  The chuckle that comes after is unmistakably his brothers. Your heart soars at the memory of the two boys, and you turn around to see Sam, his hair grown out again from when he was 18 and cut it short. God he’d have to be 22 by now, you realize.

“‘Scuse me sir, but did you say monsters?” You ask, grinning widely when Dean turns around.

“No frickin’ way!” Sam blurts, up on his feet before you can respond. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he laughs. You stand to hug him, just now realizing that the boy had sprouted up a good few inches since the last time you’d seen him.

“You too shy to say somethin’?” you ask Dean, noticing he’s just sitting there, unmoved.

“I’m trying to process it all,” he admits before he frowns. “It’s been far too long.” You think he may cry with how sentimental it sounded, instead, he embraces you in a tight hug, one that says everything from those ten years you’d gone without hearing from him. He buries his head in your neck, his grip tightening. “How you been?” He asks, pulling back but not letting go.

“Good. Keeping busy. What about you guys?” You turn to look up at Sam. “Did you graduate early or somethin’? I thought you were for sure set on college and law school.”

Sam rubs the back of his neck. “Couple months ago, Dad went missing. I took a case with Dean and then when I got back, something happened. I couldn’t stay.”

You know he’s being vague about this something, but you can see it’s a touchy subject so you don’t push. “And you?” You turn back to Dean who’s still got both arms around your waist.

“Hunting. Never stopped.”

“And you never thought to call?”

“Bobby didn’t want me to have any input on what you chose to do with your life. And that meant staying as far away as possible.”

“But he never told you I chose to hunt?”

Dean shook his head sadly. “I thought you’d given it up and he wanted us to stay away for good. After a while, John stopped calling for help. Haven’t heard from Bobby in a couple years.”

“You should see him. He’s doing well, for the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” Sam asks.

“He doesn’t hunt anymore unless it’s to help me. He kinda just runs a phone business for hunters now; connects them with others when backup is needed, pretends to be their managers and such.”

“He still own the junkyard?” Dean questions.

“He’ll never get rid of that place,” you laugh.

Dean invites you to sit with them, and you get to chatting and catching up before you remember the real reason you’re here. “Are you guys hunting the shifter?” You ask after things have calmed down.

Sam nods, “You too?”

“Yep. And if I’m any help… my bet is on the barista.”

You were right. Shifter turned out to be the barista and with one single shot, Dean killed her. It was nothing but a milk run, but you weren’t quite ready to leave the Winchester’s so soon.

“You should come see Bobby. You don’t have to stick around long, but I know he’ll be the first one to know about a new case,” you suggest. “Plus, I’m sure he’d love to see Baby. Bobby loved that car just as much as John did.”

“We could pay him a visit,” Sam shrugs.

Dean nods. “Lead the way.”

The house is no different than Dean remembers. All the rooms are just the same, the salvage yard is still collecting cars, and Bobby really hasn’t changed. Only thing that changed in this house was you, and Dean couldn’t help but notice it every few seconds.

His eyes catch on one picture in your room. He hadn’t meant to peak but he was exploring, and he remembers all the countless nights you two spent in this room. He smiles when he sees it, his mind going back to that day.

He sets the whole thing up, pretending to look again at all the cars, but really he’s just waiting for you to come outside. It doesn’t take long. You’re wrapped in a big blanket, not nearly warm enough for this weather. He launches the snowball, it landing directly on your side.

“Dean!” You shriek, ducking down. “You jerk! I wasn’t ready for that!”

“Rule number one, sweetheart: Always be ready.”

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @smoothdogsgirl @jayankles @faegal04 @feelmyroarrrr @27bmm @maddieburcham1 @melonshino @sayukoi @impalaimagining @riversong-sam @atc74 @goldenolaf25 @plaidstiel-wormstache @thegrouchiestunicorn @thebitterbookeater @growningupgeek @sandle44 @rda1989 @weasleywinchester @fightmenegan @itsmyeffingstory @angelblazon @mrswhozeewhatsis @meeshw777 @jotink78 @poukothenerd @mogaruke @devilgirlsarah @queencflair @hexparker @ruprecht0420 @summer-binging-spn @holychuckitsthewinchesters @super100012 @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @supernatural-jackles @taste-of-dean @casownsmyass @danradislife @holyfuckloueh @hsjolie @winchester-negan @emoryhemsworth @i-am-enough-always @samisimportant @brooke-supernatural16 @there-must-be-a-lock @greys-anatomy839 @babytheimpalaimagines @obsessivecompulsivespn @superapplepie

Dean Tags: @wildfirewinchester @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @akshi8278 @boxywrites @bambinovak @lavieenlex @legend-o-zelda @lipstickandwhiskey @bemyqueenofdarkness @holychuckitsthewinchesters @salvachester @elise1930 @xinyourdreamsx @shouldikeepwatchingorkeepreading

25 Days of Christmas Tags: @alex-zeppelin @imagineplotfulcharacters @alwaysbummedout

My tag list is still open! Add yourself here!

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[thewhiterabbit42]

A Place to Start

Part 1 of Home for the Holidays (Masterlist)

Summary: Your world becomes upended when Gabriel returns, and you do your best to find your footing with the former archangel.

Pairings: (eventual) Gabriel x Reader

Warnings/tags: Human Gabriel, slow burn, a touch of angst, a hint of fluff 

Word Count: 1342

Author’s Note: Set after S12 and because I haven’t watched a single episode of S13 yet, we’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist yet.

Special thanks to my wonderful beta @sumara62 for her suggestions and ongoing encouragement <3

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

A Place To Start     Next Chapter>>

Your hands gripped the steering wheel, your palms still sweaty, though most of your nervousness had worn off by now.  It had been over twelve hours with hundreds of miles behind you, but you still couldn’t believe who was sitting in your passenger seat.  

You never thought you’d see that shade of gold again.  It was Gabriel’s and his alone: the color of late autumn sun hanging low on the horizon, washing across warm, tawny fields.  You’d given up hope he’d just appear one day, flashing that devastating smirk of his, confidence overflowing as he prepared to regale you with how he pulled off his greatest trick yet.  

Now that he was back, you had yet to see him crack a smile.

You didn’t know what to make of it.  The abrupt phone call. The way he was all but dumped in your lap.  The fact that you were now traveling cross country with a very sought after individual. What Hell even wanted with him was beyond you, considering Lucifer was sealed up tight in a completely different dimension, and Crowley was dead according to the Winchesters.

You couldn’t even begin think about the other bombs they’d tried to drop on you in the five minutes they’d dared to show their faces.

“One cluster at a time, thanks,” you said, putting up a hand to silence Dean.  You didn’t care what they had stepped into anymore. You just wanted to be as far from them as possible.  You were still recovering from their last family debacle where their mother had tried to kill you and very nearly succeeded.  

The aches that returned whenever it stormed weren’t the only things about that night that made you doubt whether you would ever be the same.  

“Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” came a bitter reply from somewhere behind the two towering figures.  

You hadn’t seen him sitting there, still half-in the backseat, with just his legs out the door.  You weren’t sure what he’d been waiting for. Before, you would have assumed it was to make some grand entrance, but when he reluctantly stepped into view, the air around him deflated instead of filling with that large, self-satisfied persona of his, and you immediately realized you weren’t dealing with the same Gabriel.  

You imagined you wouldn’t be yourself, either, if you in his shoes.  

“We going to talk about this?”  By this you meant any of it.  His resurrection.  The fact he hadn’t come back as an angel, but human.  The handful of demons that had nearly taken him back out of existence before anyone even knew he’d returned.  

The fact it was a Winchester responsible for you knowing any of that.  

You had so many questions, but you were hesitant to ask any of them directly.  You knew what it was like to lose people, to have them turn their back on you and betray you.  You didn’t want to push him, but you also liked to think that you had been more than just an amusement to pass the time; that you had actually been friends.

At least what passed for it with someone like him.  

“What’s there to talk about?”  He snapped.

It wasn’t his tone that bothered you as much as his refusal to acknowledge your company.  He had barely glanced in your direction since you’d gotten him. He mostly stared out the window, taking in a whole lot of nothing as you made your way across the midwest.   

You released a silent breath.  “Why don’t we start with are you ok?”  

The indelicate snort he gave was a resounding not happening, sweet cheeks.

“Ok.  How about I’m sorry?”  You began. “Thanks for helping save the world?  Sorry, but death does not get you out of that side bet we had going -- which you lost, by the way.”

This time, the sound he made was gentler; the slightest puff of air released through his nose.  Whether it was patience or slight amusement, it didn’t matter. It was the least disgruntled thing you’d heard from him.  

“I get it,” you continued.  “You don’t want to talk. That’s fine. But, we’re going to have to figure out something to do other than ignore each other.”

“Says who?”  He rounded, ready for a fight.  You supposed that was better than nothing, but considering the only stipulation you had been given was keep driving, you were going to need to conserve your energy if you were going to make it all the way to New England without putting yourself in a cornfield.

“Gabriel, I drove non-stop from Phoenix to get you,” you informed him, though you left out the part where you’d made record time and likely broken every traffic law in existence.  “And there’s no way we’re getting to where we’re headed by dawn.”

He looked over, but you couldn’t tell exactly where his glance fell.  The console. The shifter. Possibly your cupholders. All you knew was it was somewhere between you two.

“I thought you didn’t like Phoenix...”  

You really wanted to believe that was not suspicion coloring his tone, though it was outweighed by the fact that he was right.  You hated the place, and you couldn’t believe he actually remembered, considering you despised it so much you only ever mentioned it in passing.  

You almost smiled, until you realized the reason you had had to go in the first place.

“There was no one else to take the case.”  Your tone remained neutral, hiding the way your throat and chest constricted as you pushed against memories that included so many funerals that the details of each simply blurred together.   

This time there was no mistaking where his eyes landed, and for someone with newly blunted senses, there was certainly nothing wrong with his instincts.  One second passed. Then another. A familiar stare slowly overtook him as amber became appraising, and for the first time since he’d returned, he saw you.  Really saw you.  

“Like I said,” you began, pre-empting whatever was making its way to his tongue.  “I get it.  We don’t have to talk about anything specific.  I just don’t want to fall asleep.”

“So let me take over,” he said after a few moments.  There might have been a suggestion in there somewhere, but it was clear he’d made up his mind, though the edge from before was gone, his entire demeanor softening.

Your brow crept up.  “Do you even know how to drive?”

The only time you’d actually seen him at the wheel of a vehicle had, ironically enough, been when you’d fallen asleep at it.  You’d woken hours later on the passenger side, only to find him lounging, his feet up on the dash, the car magically guiding itself along the highway toward your destination.

“... I’m a fast learner.”  

And just like that, his hackles were raised again.  

Considering the whole point of you mentioning anything was to prevent you both from ending up in a ditch, you were going to have to pass on the offer.  

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him.  “Just humor me once the sun goes down.”  

You had a few more hours before you needed to worry.  It was when night came, when you found yourself in between pockets of civilization with nothing other than darkness staring back at you and an empty road, that you tended to slip away without realizing it.  

There was a pregnant pause that bordered on awkward, before he finally replied, “Oh, I got plenty of ideas on how to keep you up at night, sweetheart.”  

His tone was flat, but slowly, that smirk of his appeared.  It may have been more weighted than mischievous, but you could see a glimmer of his former self somewhere beneath the surface.  

You’d take it.  You’d take anything after what he’d done for you, for everyone, as long as it gave you a place to start, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a part of yourself you thought you’d lost spark back to life.

Next Chapter>>

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes @sumara62 @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @jannalionheart @baritonechick, @deaths-maiden @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met   @the-moose-of-baskerville @summer-binging-spn  @blondecoffeecake  @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll @tistai @christinalibertymikaelson @room-with-a-cat @authoressskr @revwinchester @flufy07 @greieba

Gabe Squad:

@theblackenedsky @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @pepperwoodatnight @lacqueluster @samikitten @ludwigs-a-monster @a-vast-african-plain @onlyanothersocialcasualty @kazosa @carryon-wayward-winchester @nobodys-baby-now @yes-this-is-doggo @dlb1999

Home for the Holidays: @unleashthemidnight @archangelgabriellives @4evergeek

[katymacsupernatural]

Hotel California Chapter 9: Planning Time

Dean Winchester x Reader

1200 Words

Story Summary: After an unfortunate incident at work, you take a couple of days for yourself, planning on staying at the nice restaurant at the edge of town. There you meet a handsome green eyed man who comes to your rescue when you’re visited by a ghost.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

After Sam had come back into the room, you separated yourself from Dean. Not because you wanted to, but because you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself around him. All you wanted to do right now was run your hand up and down his arm, or reach over and grab his hand. But you held it in, listening to the brother's conversation instead.

"Sam, I'm not sure I like using her as bait." Dean argued.

"It's not like we're doing it on purpose. We are pretty sure he's going to go after her anyways. We just need to be ready for it." Sam replied back, while you sat there, glancing back and forth between the brothers, wondering if they would ever let you in on the conversation. Because it was mainly about you, and you figured you should at least have a say in the final outcome.

"True, but I still don't have to like it!" Dean argued, just as you cleared your throat. Both men looked your way, seeming to have forgotten that you were still in the room with them.

"Guys, I know you're the experienced hunters here, but it's my life on the line right now. And I would like to have some sort of say in what happens. I think I should have at least a little bit of say in what happens.  And I want to be the bait. I know that he will probably come for me, and I want to help stop him so he can't hurt anyone else. I know you'll work hard to keep me safe, and I have complete faith in you." You spoke with authority as you stared straight into Dean's mesmerizing eyes.

Sam gave Dean a pointed look, before turning back to you. "Thank you. You're very brave, and I want you to know we will do everything we can to keep you safe."

Seeming jealous of his brother, Dean grabbed your hands, forcing your attention away from Sam, turning it back on him. His voice was a hushed whisper when he spoke, and you wondered if he didn't want his brother to hear what he was saying. "Listen, I know we haven't known each other very long. And that we are moving kind of fast. But I can't imagine anything happening to you, and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

You blushed under his intense gaze. "Thank you Dean, that means a lot. But now, what do I need to do? And how long do you think before he comes after me?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I'm really not sure. This vengeful spirit hasn't really had any sort of schedule, so it could be anytime. We need to be prepared."

Dean was running his hand along his mouth as he thought. "Most couples were freshly in love, right?" He asked, and Sam confirmed it with a nod. "But then, they got into a little spat, and the guy left, leaving the woman alone in their room?"

"That's what each eye witness had said." Sam agreed.

Dean turned to look at you, a curious expression on his face. "So, what I'm thinking is we need Sam to leave, try to find what he's still attached to here. You and I will set up an argument, then I will leave, going into your room. When he arrives, you will knock on the wall, and I will come over, and hopefully we can trap him until Sam can salt and burn the item."

"But we don't even know what the item is?" You replied, a little frustrated.

Sam had a huge smile on his face, like he was the cat that caught the bird. "But while you guys were doing whatever it was, and please don't tell me, while I was gone, I found out something very important."

"And?" Both you and Dean said at the same time.

"And, he has his own person cigarette case that is part of the mini museum here." Sam answered, all smug with his new found knowledge.

"What the hell?" Dean yelled. "Why didn't you tell us that earlier?"

Sam just shrugged. "So, we have our plan. Now when should we act on it?"

You just listened in, knowing they had much more experience with this. Instead, you stared Dean's way, enjoying the way his muscle in his jaw clenched as he argued with his brother, or the way he licked his plump bottom lip before he spoke.

"Y/N? Are you listening to anything we are saying?" Dean asked, catching you staring his way.

Blushing hard, you ducked your head, letting your hair cover your flaming face. "Sorry, I wasn't."

You could hear the throaty chuckle of Dean, before he leaned forward, and tucked your hair behind your ear. "We were just saying we were going to get some dinner, hang out here for a couple of hours before we start with our plan."

"Oh, okay." You answered, your blush finally going away.

Sam stood up, and Dean followed suit. "What would you like?" Dean asked you, and you stared at them in confusion.

"I'm staying here?" You asked them, and they both nodded.

Dean was the one who explained to you. "We wanted you to have a chance to relax. We won't be gone very long, and he won't attack you yet. And we don't think he will attack in this room. But you have your knife and your salt to keep you safe."

You nodded, not sure you were happy with being left behind. But Dean gave you a confident wink before leaving the room, and you could only watch as they left the room. Grabbing the salt, you sat on the bed, waiting for the signs that a ghost might come. You knew you were being paranoid, but you couldn't help yourself. You hated being this nervous, but finding out you were the next victim had kind of freaked you out.

Minutes passed, and nothing happened. Calming down a little, you turned the TV on, settling on some sort of comedy. The sound lulling you, you closed your eyes, leaning against the headboard. With everything that had happened recently, you hadn't had the greatest night's sleep, and you were more than exhausted.

As you drifted to sleep, you felt the room slowly grow colder, and soon you were shivering, reaching for the blanket. It was then you came to with a start, knowing you were no longer alone.

Dean/Jensen Tags: 

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[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Where You’ve Been Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 

               The drive to the drug store took longer than you thought it would. First there was road work, which made you turn around and go another direction. Then as you got halfway there, there had been a traffic accident. Slowly driving upon the accident, you saw something. A young woman, who looked like you. Her hair and eye color were the exact same as yours. She was just standing there, she wore a black dress that was covered in flowers with a light pink sweater over it. The wind moved the bottom of her dress, as the breeze passed.

               She wasn’t crying, or upset even; she just stared at you. You looked around to see if officers or paramedics were going over to her but no one seemed to notice her. As you looked back in her direction you couldn’t see her anymore. Glancing around to see if she’d gotten any help, you were finally able to see the accident. A truck was smashed up and lying on its side, and a little red car was flipped over about five feet from it. There was a body laying half out of the small car, it was the girl. In the floral dress.

               An older woman was screaming from the side of the road, trying to get to the car, but officers held her back as two paramedics covered the girl with a bright white sheet. She’d been cut up from the broken glass and you could see how broken her body was before they covered her.

               Your hands shook as you drove to the drug store; you’d just saw a dead body. That could have been you. Would Sam cry for you like that when your body is found? Will he even notice your gone? You grabbed your purse and climbed out of the car.

               As you walked around inside you found the isle you needed and began your search. But there were no sleeping pills anywhere. You sighed and walked over to the pharmacy and smiled softly at the associate. “I’m looking for some sleeping pills. Do you happen to any in stock in the back? The shelves out here are empty.” You said glancing back toward the isle. “We had this big sale yesterday and sold out. We won’t have any more in for about two weeks, I’m sorry.” You quietly thanked her and walked out to your car.

               As you walked, you felt the tears coming back. You were so pathetic you couldn’t even kill yourself right. Just as you got in your car, you saw Ryan pull into the parking lot. You realized you’d never be able to escape him. He would always know where to find you, how to corner you somewhere. You locked your doors as the tears rolled down your cheeks; starting your car you backed out and sped off before he could reach your car. As you drove you dialed Cas’s number, your tears dripped onto your shirt causing small wet circles.

               If you couldn’t go through with your plan right now, then you’d do something that could make your time left a bit more bearable. “Castiel Novak’s-,” “I’m ready to start therapy,” You broke in as he spoke. “Y/N? Are you okay? You don’t sound-,” “I’ll come by tomorrow. Goodbye.” You hung up before he could say anything else.

               Cas leaned back in his chair as he set his phone down. There had to be something going on with you, and not just deep, psychological issues. These problems seemed like old wounds being ripped fresh open. He pulled up the school website and began looking into the staff there since the trouble seemed to begin at the beginning of the year.

               For the next few weeks you sat numbly through life. Sam barely looked at you and you never talked anymore. Sam yelled at you again when word got out that you had quit your job. “I can’t believe you!! I got you that job! What are you going to do now? Lay around on your lazy ass and cheat on me some more?!” Sam yelled before he swung his arm out and threw a vase of flowers off the table in the dinner, shattering them against the floor. You jumped slightly as he turned and walked out the door slamming it shut behind him.

               Sam had picked up a habit of having some drinks at lunch, his own special way to deal with the pain you were causing him. When he came home that night after having a few more drinks and the feeling of Jess’s body still lingering on his, he smelt dinner cooking and found you on your hands and knees scrubbing the floor where the broken glass had been. As he watched you, he stepped closer, but the sound of his footsteps getting closer only prompted you to get up and go into the kitchen, a few moments later you reappeared with his plate and a fresh cold beer.

               You set them on the table and turned back to the bucket to continue cleaning the floors when a gruff voice stopped you. “Eat dinner with me?” Sam asked you gently. You looked at him and could only nod your head before going into the kitchen to get a small bowl of food. You ate for the first time in days and it made your stomach turn. All you wanted to do was throw up. There wasn’t a word spoken between the two of you the entire dinner.

               The next day at therapy Cas decided to take a different approach to breaking down your mental wall you’d built up again. “Will you come join me over here?” Cas asked you as he walked over and sat down on the floor by the book shelf. You stared at him as he took his shoes off and tucked his knees up under his chin. You got up off the couch slowly after a couple of minutes and walked over sitting beside him.

               “When I was a little boy, my mom was abused by my dad. He never hurt me or my brother. Just my mom when he would get mad. There was this bookshelf in our hallway. I would sit beside it when he would start hurting her.” Cas said staring at his hands. “I know what must be going through your head and I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to start opening up about it.” He said softly.

               You stared at your hands, chewing softly on your lip, as Cas shifted beside you. “I want to talk to you about the phone call I got a few months ago. Why haven’t you told Sam?” his voice was soft and quiet beside you. “You just let him think you’re cheating on him. Ryan is raping you, isn’t he?” Cas whispered. You stopped playing with your hands. That was the first time you’d heard it out loud. For the first time in months you looked up and made eye contact with anyone. There was this feeling in your chest, a heaviness being lifted when you looked at him. It was like he could see right into your mind; without thinking you swallowed back a sob as tears filled your eyes. “Yes”

Forever Tag List:

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[today-only-happens-once]

Own Kind of Paradise

Title: Own Kind of Paradise

Word Count: 2816

Characters/Pairings: Dean x Reader, Sam, Cesar and Jesse from 11x19, brief mention of Jody. Cesar and Jesse have 2 daughters because I can.

Warnings: Drowning, mouth-to-mouth, allusions to a previous argument, lil bit of angst, fluff, Dean sings.

Author’s Note: Okay, so forever ago I entered @wildfirewinchester’s b-day challenge. My song was “Knee Deep” by the Zac Brown Band. I tried to start this fic three diferent times and couldn’t make anything work. Then I went and wrote this all in one go. Yikes. Also, it’s 3AM-ish here so… apologies. Hah. I hope you like it!! I’ll stop rambling now.

Tags: @illshakeyouallnightlong-dean, @mamaimpala, @winchestersnco, @squirels-angels-and-moose, @summer-binging-spn

The very process of drowning makes it harder and harder not to drown.

You’d read that once, from a book that Sam had left on the coffee table one morning. From that same book, you knew that you had about 87 seconds before you’d reach the “break point”: when survival instinct would override common sense and your body would force you to breathe in. Not that you’re really keeping track of the seconds when you feel it wrap around your waist and submerge you under.

What almost startles you more than the water are the sounds. One minute you think you hear birds and water lapping at the bank and a vaguely familiar deep voice yell something—maybe your name? You’re not sure—and the next minute is muffled silence as you feel a squeeze around your rib-cage that is hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to force air out of your lungs.

It is trying to drown you.

It is succeeding.

And in the split second before your instinctual fight response kicks in, you can’t quite believe that your last words to the man you loved so deeply are going to be ‘You know what? I don’t need you, Dean Winchester.’

You’re grateful that you’d managed to grab the angel blade before it pulled you under and that you’d had enough sense to not let go. You slash out, but you can’t see it, and that’s a problem. It doesn’t let go, it just squeezes harder. You don’t know how many seconds you have left but in the back of your mind, you know you’re not going to get 87 of them.

It doesn’t take long before you lose sense of direction. You don’t know which way is towards the surface and which way is towards the bottom of the lake but it doesn’t matter at the moment. All that matters is getting this thing to let go of you so you can figure it out and get to the surface before you drown. So you slash out with the blade again, and again, and again, kicking and swinging and putting up as much of a fight as you can because there’s no way in hell you’re going down without one.

But the other problem with water is that it slows down every movement. Unless, apparently, you’re a nøkk.

It doesn’t let go of you but you can’t seem to be able to land a blow, and then two very bad things happen at the same time. You feel something constrict your chest but this time you don’t think it’s the nøkk. It’s just raw, unchecked terror. This is the same moment that you run out of seconds, and you try to breathe even though your mind is shrieking at you not to.

The water is cold against your skin but it burns you from the inside as it floods your lungs.

The edges of your vision begin to darken. Or… at least you think it does. The water is dark, and you distantly remember that the sun is setting.

You wonder how long you lasted. How close to 87 seconds you were.

And your last thought is of a pair of bright green eyes, chapped lips, and blue flannel. You can’t remember who they belong to.

“Sam!” Dean shouts as soon as he breaks the surface of the water, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. “I need help. I don’t think she’s breathing.” His voice is raw and panicked. Hoarse from the way your name had ripped up through his throat when he saw you be pulled under.

You hadn’t come back after your fight the previous night. He’d gone looking for you, and saw you from across the lake only seconds before you disappeared beneath the surface.

Sam’s eyes are wide, but he wordlessly helps Dean pull you up on the bank, out of the water. Dean brushes the wet, tangled mess of hair over your face out of the way and leans down. His ear is by your nose, his eyes trained on your chest and hoping to see movement even though he’s pretty sure he knows. Sam has his fingers to your wrist. Counting.

“I’ve got a pulse, Dean,” Sam says, relieved despite himself.

“No breathing,” Dean immediately responds. He positions your jaw and checks for a blocked airway like Jody had taught him for CPR. He’d tried to deny needing Jody to tell him about how to do it by saying that he probably wasn’t going to die by anything that could be fixed with CPR. Jody shut him down by pointing out that CPR isn’t for when he might die, and did he really want to run the risk anyway?

He pinches your nose and seals his mouth over yours, blowing. In the back of his mind, he can’t help but realize that he’s wanted to kiss you for so damn long, but not like this. This doesn’t really count anyway.

“Dammit, Y/N,” Dean growls in a low voice. “You can’t do this to me. Not you. Not now.” He repeats the process. He does it again. And again.

“Sammy?” Dean asks.

“I’ve still got a pulse,” Sam says, sounding almost as desperate as Dean feels. “She’s not gone. She’s not gone.”

Dean keeps going. His last words to you echo in his mind. You don’t need me? Then fine. Get out. He can’t let that be the last thing you hear him say. He can’t.

He loses track of how many times he breathes into you, but he doesn’t care. Dean memorizes the way his mouth fits over yours as he tries again and again to fill your lungs with his air. Willing you to breathe. He abruptly and fiercely misses the particular way that air passes through your lungs. The way it makes your chest rise and fall, the smile that stretches across your face when that breath leaves you in the form of a laugh, the arc of your voice when the breath that leaves your lungs is in the shape of his name.

But a few moments later, when your eyes open and you hit your head against his because he was just about to lean down again to breathe into you, he hears his breath leave your lungs.

And if he’s being honest—as he sits back on the heels of his feet and gives you space, his wet and calloused hand holding your hair back as you throw up the lake water in your stomach—he can’t help but think that your cough may be the most beautiful sound in the entire world.

You offer a meek, grateful smile when Sam drapes a thin blanket around your shoulders before taking a seat beside his brother. Dean hadn’t left your side since you’d come to on the bank of the lake. That was a few hours ago. Now, you’re sitting in front of a small bonfire feeling more than a little grateful for the warmth it was giving off.

The bonfire is, technically speaking, Cesar and Jesse’s. When they found out that you and the Winchesters would be hunting a water spirit at the same lake that they’d decided to vacation at, they were more than welcoming to let you and the brothers stay with them at a lake house they were renting for the week. All three of you resisted—they’d gotten out of the life, and none of you wanted to bring it knocking on their front door—but they wouldn’t hear of it. It was… more than generous of them, really. Especially because they’d recently adopted two little girls. The adoption was why they were stateside to begin with.

You can see the moonlight reflecting and shimmering off the lake water, and you figure it would probably be beautiful if it weren’t for the fact that you can still feel a ghost of the nøkk’s grip around your ribcage. You shiver.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asks, keeping his voice low as Cesar laughs at something Sam had said. You hadn’t been listening.

You nod, and try to smile, but the truth is you’re still pretty shaken up and one look into his eyes tells you that Dean knows it. He doesn’t push it; for that, you’re grateful. It’s not that you’re unwilling to open up to the eldest Winchester, but it’s all still a little too fresh. It doesn’t help that you’re not quite sure where you stand with Dean at the moment.

Before you’d woken up from nearly drowning to death, he’d told you to get out. And you figured it probably wasn’t fair to assume he felt any differently just because you’d gotten caught by a nøkk and he happened to save your life.

“Daddy! Papá!” Two little girls in matching nightgowns come running down the porch steps. You smile at the way both Cesar and Jesse’s faces light up. As if a choreographed dance, they both sweep one of their daughters up onto their hips.

“Ready for bed, Maddie?” Jesse asks the one in his arms. Maddie nods, giggling when he bounces her on his hip a little.

The girl in Cesar’s arms looks at Sam with wide eyes before shyly hiding her face in her dad’s neck. You catch the teasing wink Cesar sends Sam before he says to his daughter, “did you want to say goodnight to Sam?”

“G’night, Sam,” she mumbles. Her skin is too dark to tell, but you’d swear she’s blushing.

Sam chuckles, smiling at her. “Good night, Bella.”

“We’ll be right back, guys. Gotta put the girls to bed,” Jesse says before the four of them head up to the house together. As they leave, you see Dean nudge his brother’s leg with his knee.

“Sammy, go get me another beer, will ya?”

Sam rolls his eyes but pushes himself to his feet. He brushes the moss and dirt off his jeans before sending a soft, concerned smile your way. “Need anything, Y/N?”

“Water would be great,” you tell him, aware of the irony. You were still trying to get the taste of wet dirt and fish pee out of your mouth. You’d spent twenty minutes brushing your teeth, but it hadn’t seemed to do much yet. Sam nods, looking like he actually understands, and squeezes your shoulder before he leaves too.

And then it’s just you and Dean.

The two of you don’t say anything at first, even though you know that the amount of time you have to talk before people return is fairly limited. The soft crackling of the bonfire and symphony of crickets fills the silence. You fiddle with the hem of the blanket.

“I didn’t mean it, you know,” Dean says, his voice low like he doesn’t want it to disrupt the world around him. “What I said last night.”

“Me neither,” you reply, your voice just as soft. You still don’t feel like you can look him in the eyes. “I … Dean, I--”

“We want you around,” Dean presses on, and you’re not entirely sure he heard you. “I want you around.”

The distinction surprises you. When you glance up, you can see his eyes are boring into yours with an earnestness that catches you off guard for a moment. “You… want me to stay?”

“Yes,” Dean answers immediately. Without hesitation. “I should never have told you to leave in the first place.” He glances at your hands. You’re not sure why.

“And I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Dean shakes his head in response but you grab his hand instinctively. You need him to hear it. Everything you’re saying. Maybe even some things you aren’t.

Dean looks at your hand on top of his and then back up into your eyes. It’s only then that you realize just how close he’s sitting. You can feel the fabric of the waistband of his jeans brush against the thin cotton shorts hanging off your own hips. A few inches closer, and your noses would brush against each other. You can see the freckles spread across his more clearly, even though the only light was coming from a campfire.

His scent is stronger when he’s close like this. Gunpowder, whiskey, and Old Spice.

You don’t remember closing your eyes, but you feel your nose brushing against his, and then his lips pressing softly against yours. His lips are chapped from the wind and the water but everything about the kiss is soft and gentle, almost like he doesn’t want to hurt you and he doesn’t want to scare you but he so badly wanted to kiss you.

The kiss doesn’t last long, because the sound of the patio door ricocheting shut startles both of you enough to pull away. “How’d you guys feel about some music?” Cesar calls as he and his husband make their back down the stairs.

A quick glance would tell you that he’s got a guitar case in his hands, but you can’t take your eyes off the eldest Winchester yet. The feeling of his lips against yours lingers, and you try to bite back a smile.

“Sounds great,” you call back. The sound of the door opening and closing again cuts through the air. Sam.

Your hand is still on Dean’s, and you squeeze it and shift a little closer. Dean wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into his side. His thumb brushes up and down your arm against the fabric of the blanket. Sam notices, raising his eyebrows at the two of you. He cocks his head as he hands you a glass of water, but he doesn’t ask anything.

“Been a while since I’ve played,” Jesse says as Cesar hands the guitar to him. He strums a chord, adjusts a few strings, and tries again. “But something about being here just makes me think country. Texas roots.”

“Jesse, we’re in Tennessee,” Cesar says.

“Ah, same thing. Dean, you’re gonna have to help me sing,” Jesse announces as he finishes tuning.

You laugh as Dean starts shaking his head. “Nah, Jesse, I’m really not—“

“Oh, come on, Dean,” Sam interrupts as he hands his brother a bottle of Corona Light. “You sing in the car all the time.”

“That’s classic rock, Sam. Country music? I…”

Teasingly, you nudge him with your elbow. “I seem to recall a certain guy secretly jamming out to Taylor Swift once upon a time.”

“Then it’s settled,” Jesse says, smiling. “You guys know Zac Brown Band?”

“Yeah, alright,” Dean relents. When you glance up at him, you notice the fire catches the lighter shades of green in his eyes. It gives them a certain spark that you hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe it has nothing at all to do with lighting.

Jesse starts playing a song, he and Cesar singing. “Gonna put the world away for a minute, pretend I don’t live in it. Sunshine gonna wash my blues away.”

Dean downs a long swallow of his beer before he joins in. “Had sweet love but I lost her. She got too close so I fought her, now I’m lost in the world tryna find me a better way.”

You lean your head against his shoulder and take a long swallow of water as the three of them sing. “Wishin’ I was knee deep in the water somewhere. Got a blue sky, breeze, and it don’t seem fair. Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair.”

You smile to yourself as you listen to them sing. Sitting here, surrounded by friends and next to the man you loved… you can feel the ghost of the nøkk’s grip fading as Dean’s grip on your hand tightens. For now? That’s enough. This moment, these people here with you… it’s all enough. It’s all that has to matter.

Early today you had thought you were probably going to die. And now? Well, for this one moment, it was like the song they were singing around you.

“Never been so happy, never felt so high. And I think I mighta found me my own kind of paradise.”

[nyxelestia]

1 My interpretation/headcanon on 6x1 if you are interested (sorry for my english). First, they're in the parking lot bc of the boy who said strange things and boy's memory, and we can see Scott is worried what going on as well after he see it. Nothing says they're here bc Stiles asked them to come. Malia and Lydia used their senses and not interested enough to look for more,but Stiles' intuition tells him boy's story is too weird so he stays longer, and he and Scott see smth strange in the end.

2 Next day Stiles is ready to go solve a new mystery and Scott would have gone to an abandoned house with Stiles after school even without him showing a blue glass bc why not, he is curious too, just worried about school. So nothing in this particular case in 6x1 tells me that Stiles is paranoid and his friends are patiently listening to his worries, it's just Stiles' intuition and his enthusiasm, and Scott and Stiles are being normal friends like it always was.

3 Now, about what Lydia said. I'm not sure what she meant by dragging out of bed, maybe Stiles calls her in the morning before school and asks if she's feeling someone's death, but likely Stiles asks her to go at the crime scenes with him since he knows about all accidents (he chooses most suspicious and ignores boring ones). So I think Stiles is not right or wrong these times 3 months simply bc he didn't really thought these were all supernatural threats in the first place,

4he just wants to check IF they are (as if he made it his job) with Lydia's help, like she's "supernatural metal detector".And Lydia agrees bс she can help and she loves solve cases just like Stiles and she likes spend time with him,just 3 months maybe a bit too much bc nothing happens and she seem like doesn't want supernatural anyway(unlike Stiles).And Stiles wants to check it bс his father "can't help if it's supernatural"(Stiles wants to tell him it's not his department right from the start)

5 and he wants to help the police and he likes to solve cases and it not bc he sees threats everywhere,more like he wants to know if threat is spn so they can solve it. And also possible the sheriff asks him to check crime scene/evidence, as we see that he calls Stiles once smth strange happens, and Stiles' reaction to his call "They need us" like he knows what is about. And we know by the end of S5 their relationship has grown and the sheriff welcomed him in law enforcement. Sorry this is long)

Hey, nonnie - no worries! I love long meta. ^_^ Sorry for taking so long to respond, I hope you still see this!

Anyway, in all this discussion about the first episode of Season 6A, I think a lot of people forget what happens in the last episode - Scott and Stiles realizing that this town will always need protecting, even if it's not from them.

This goes all the way back to 3B, when Derek told Scott that Beacon Hills had always had someone around to protect it - that it used to be his mother, but now it was on them. Derek was passing on the metaphorical baseball bat torch to Scott - which in turn he shared with Liam, who had his own pseudo-alpha narrative in 6A. Liam also learned to step up, take initiative, and make/accept sacrifices to become a protector and leader in his own right - which is why Stiles passed on the literal baseball bat to him and Mason.

Lydia accuses Stiles of wanting something supernatural to be happening, because then that's something he can deal with. I don't think it's fair to say that it's that something, that Stiles just wants to be needed by the down and wants it to be a supernatural problem so that he is needed. But she does have a point about him seeing supernatural problems anywhere and everywhere.

Stiles' arc is being fed into by three factors:

1.) Paranoia - he's always been an at least slightly anxious, and always been suspicious of everyone. Seasons 5 and 6 basically turn this up to eleven, largely because of...

2.) Trauma - all these kids have been through hell and back (that was literally the tagline of Season 5B). They are all traumatized, but that trauma manifests in different ways, and in Stiles, that way is paranoia, anxiety, and universal suspicion. This is in large part because of...

3.) Law Enforcement Background - Stiles is a cop's kid, and getting ready to become a cop, himself. It's in Stiles' nature to get his interest piqued by something, and then go careening down that path to learn more. In the early seasons, we saw this parlayed with humor surrounding his ADHD - i.e. writing an essay on the history of circumcision instead of answering his econ test, or his research binges. It's this same process that drives his paranoia in Seasons 5 and 6 - he sees something, and he follows it. But now, instead of seeing an interest and following it by research, he's seeing something suspicious and follows it to look for something wrong.

A lot of fandom has fallen into this dichotomy that either Stiles is always right, or always wrong. The thing is, he is neither of them, and neither is anyone else.

Statistically speaking, it's stated that Stiles is wrong about these more often than he is right - there are several months in between supernatural problems, months during which Stiles is still paranoid, anxious, and suspicious, yet nothing happens. However, we only ever see him, as the audience, when he's right about something.

Let's reverse the argument, though. Statistically speaking, more of the times than not when something doesn't look right, it turns out to not be a supernatural problem. Imagine, though, how ridiculous the argument would be if someone posited that this means Scott is right, always right, and no one should ever be suspicious or anyone or anything because of it?

It's about as stupid as assuming Stiles is always right, so his friends should always be suspicious of everyone and everything, and should be happy about getting dragged out of bed every week to investigate his latest suspicions.

Reality is a bit of both.

Supernatural problems happen often enough, and severely enough, that despite all the times Stiles has been wrong before (several months of being wrong, over a dozen instances of being wrong vs a handful of times being right), they still come check out whatever it is that he's suspicious of. But, they are also right to not pursue his suspicions of they don't see any evidence.

This, by the way, is how policework, well, works. Cops get suspicious of all sorts of things, all the time. But they're only supposed to pursue or investigate it if there is a reason for it. Most issues with police brutality and police abuse of authority trace back to cops crossing this line too far or one too many times, and being suspicious even when there is no need to be (and then acting on that suspicion even when there is no evidence or reason for it).

Stiles knows this, so he investigates, and Scott tries to keep him from going too far or getting too caught up in his paranoia...but also listens to Stiles, and pays attention, and when there is evidence of something weird, he joins Stiles in trying to figure it out. He's the one who first realized that there was something weird about the attacked car and the broken windshield. He's the one who took a piece of glass to an expert (chemistry teacher) to ask what they can tell him about it, to try and gather more information.

And something else to remember is that all of this is coming on the heels of one of the boys' attempts to help ultimately doing more harm than good (re: the guy trying to steal all those helium tanks). They have very good reason to want to be careful about how much they "do" - but despite this, they still investigate what might very well be a supernatural problem.

After all, this town needs protection - and it always will, whether it's them, their next generation of werewolves, or someone else altogether.

This is how police work, too - they're around to protect a town, even when it's not in danger.

tl;dr - Stiles has been both right and wrong before. He's right to investigate things that cause him suspicion, but his friends are also right in not wanting to go further unless there is evidence for it. It's a system, and it was working.

[stardusttkachuk-main]

The Perfect Movie

Title: The Perfect Movie

Pairing: Rob Benedict x Reader

Word Count: 836

Warnings: fluff

Prompt: The Polar Express

Summary: Continuation of Little Drummer Boy. After everyone has left, Rob and Y/N settle in for a movie, a favorite of both of theirs.

A/N: Sequel to Little Drummer Boy.

This is Day Eleven of 25 Days of Christmas. Check out the masterlist here!

“The perfect movie?” Rob challenged, his elbows leaning on the countertop.

“Yes. The perfect movie.” You smiled as you began setting up the tv, connecting it to Rob’s laptop so you could project the movie on the bigger screen. “We need hot chocolate first.”

“We all just drank a whole bunch of coffee,” he laughed.

“You can’t watch this movie unless you have hot chocolate. It’s like, against the rules,” you pointed out. This movie had an entire song dedicated to hot chocolate, there was no way you were passing up on the delicious beverage, even if you just had coffee. Besides, the coffee was Rob’s fault. He gathered you all there so early, practically hours before the stream started just so everyone could rehearse and get set up.

Rob rolled his eyes, heading to the cupboard to pull out the box of hot chocolate he had stored up there. He grabbed two of the individual packets, turning towards you. “Milk or water?”

“Milk, duh. Makes it richer,” you grinned, keeping the movie off the title screen until Rob had finished with the hot chocolate. You knew it was going to take longer than a few minutes, so you joined him by the stove, watching as he stirred the milk to keep it from boiling.

“Will you grab two mugs?” He asked, pointing to another cabinet that he kept all his drinking ware in. You grabbed two, the last two in there. You made a mental note to help Rob put the dishes away once the movie was over.

The milk was steaming and at the perfect temperature. Rob poured it into the two cups, then added the powdered chocolate packets, grabbing a spoon for your cup and his. “Marshmallows or whipped cream?” He grabbed a bag of mini marshmallows from his pantry, then took the Reddi Wip can out of the fridge. You nodded eagerly, holding your cup out. He sprinkled a few marshmallows in the first layer, topping that with the whipped cream, then added more marshmallows to the top, repeating the same process with his cup.

“Now, we are ready,” you smiled. You suck your cup out, waiting for him to clink his against yours and when he did, the two of you made your way back to the couch. You pressed play on the black screen, watching as the intro began.

Rob guessed the movie right away when the opening scene began. “No wonder you wanted hot chocolate,” he said as he took a drink from his mug. You leaned in a little closer to him, full of giddiness as the movie played.

Somewhere between the hot chocolate scene and when the hero-girl loses her ticket, Rob draped his arm around the couch. Right before the scene where the caribou block the tracks, Rob’s arm moved from the couch to your shoulders. You couldn’t help but lean into his side, your cup of now cooling cocoa tucked in both hands.

Just before the train could make it to the North Pole, Rob had placed your empty cups onto the coffee table, now holding one of your hands while the other drew small shapes over your shoulder and arm. You were no longer paying attention to the movie, rather to the fact that Rob was so close to you. This had only happened one other time, so close to almost kissing him, but damn Richard walked into the green room to request Robbie’s presence on stage for Saturday Night Special rehearsal.

Rob cleared his throat, nervous now because he had been here and he was so close to kissing you the last time. You two never had a chance to get that close again, and never brought it up either because it was just a spur of the moment thing and maybe it was the bit of alcohol you both had running through you.

You turned your head to look at him, making sure he was okay. When you turned, Rob was already looking at you and wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. While it caught you by surprise, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, practically waiting for this moment since you became friends with the guy.

Rob pulled away first, but you lingered onto the taste of his lips: like chocolate and a hint of coffee still. You opened your eyes, looking up at him, a nervous smile filling both of your faces. His cheeks had reddened and you’re sure yours were the same. You didn’t say anything, rather just snuggled back into his arms.

“Boy, am I really glad Rich isn’t here this time,” Rob finally spoke, causing you to burst out laughing.

“He really did ruin the moment, didn’t he?”

“He never heard the end of it.”

You smiled and settled into him again, his arm draped around your shoulder, his free hand holding yours. There wasn’t much left of the movie, but you were going to enjoy spending the rest of it in his arms.

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[katymacsupernatural]

An Arranged Marriage Chapter 14

Dean Winchester x Reader

1150 Words

Story Summary: An AU of sorts. Where hunter’s have communities, and arrange marriages for their young. Y/N is from the Northwest region, arranged to marry Dean, from the midwest region.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“So, you’re telling me that hunters have their own communities? With their own beliefs and schools? And they still arrange marriages? That is crazy!” Lucifer exclaimed, bouncing on his spot on the couch as soon as you finished with your explanation. You hadn’t expected Lucifer to be such an eager listener, but he had hung on to your every word, his eyes sparkling as you told him everything.

“Yeah, I guess.” You muttered. Truthfully, as time passed away from the compound, you began to see how crazy, how ridiculous life inside them truly was. No one should be forced to live like that. Forced to marry someone just to keep a strong hunting line going. Sure, you had gotten lucky. Marrying Dean, who didn’t care for the hunting communities. Giving you a chance to see that life outside the communities wasn’t nearly as bad as people told you.

“See.” He literally yelled, his finger inches from your face. “You don’t really like the communities, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t…” You started stuttering, but with a wave of his hand, you couldn’t speak.

“I can see it. You like being away from them. Of having the freedom they never gave you.” He answered for you. “I think we need to visit one.”

Wildly shaking your head, you tried to argue with him, but your voice was still gone. “This is a must. We will go visit, and I will see exactly what is running through their minds before I burn it to the ground, along with everyone inside. I can’t believe they made it so easy. Shoving all these hunters into one spot. It’s like Christmas, if I celebrated that horrid holiday.” He ended on a mutter, standing up and pacing the room.

Unable to say anything, you finally smacked your hand on the end table, finally getting his attention. Sighing, he waved his hand, and you could talk once again. “I really don’t think this is a good idea…” You started to say, but as the words slipped from your lips his eyes shown red, his lips peeling back in a snarl.

“I am Lucifer, and I make the calls. You’re just a pathetic, little human who lets people control her destiny. Now shut up while I finish planning this out.” He growled low in his throat. Effectively stopping you from arguing anymore.

Dean’s POV

Running my hand through my hair for the millionth time, I couldn’t stop pacing the room. Sure, pacing didn’t get Y/N back, but I couldn’t just sit there. She was gone, and it was all my fault. I should have insisted that the room had been marked in sigils. I shouldn’t have let her stay behind. But that was in the past, and all I cared about was making sure that she was safe. That she was brought back to me safely.

“Dean.” Sam sighed. “Pacing isn’t going to bring her back. We need to come up with a plan.”

Stopping, I turned to stare at my brother in frustration. “I know we need to come up with a plan!” I exclaimed. “But I’m just a little baffled on how to get her back from Lucifer!”

“Dean, do you know why Lucifer would take Y/N?” Cas asked from his spot off to the side. He had stayed quiet, lost in thought and I had almost forgotten he was even still in the room.

“I have no clue!” I yelled at him, watching as he frowned at me. Making me realize how grumpy I was being with both men. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for getting Y/N back.

“I think it’s a way to distract us. We’re too close, and he’s using Y/N to take us off his trail.” Sam suggested.

“But if he has Y/N then we will be following him to the ends of the Earth.” I argued, not seeing Sam’s point at all.

“But we will be searching for her, not paying attention to what he already has in place.” Sam continued, not even noticing the frown on my face. “We need to think hard about what we’re going to do. We just can forget about what he was putting together.”

“We don’t even know what he was up to!” I muttered. “We wanted to put him back in the cage, and now you’re saying that he’s been creating this elaborate plan.”

“Dean, while you guys were traveling here, I did some research, and I do believe that Lucifer is planning something huge. Which is why he needs to be stopped immediately.”

“But after we get Y/N back.” I insisted, watching as both Sam and Cas glanced at each other. “I don’t like that look.” I muttered.

“Dean, I think it’s better if we split up. You can focus on getting Y/N back. With Sam’s help of course. I will continue to learn about Lucifer and his plan, stopping it as quickly as possible. I can call on Crowley and Rowena for help.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “But I still have no idea where to start looking for Y/N.” I mumbled sadly, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed. “She trusted me, and I’ve let her down.”

Cas came to stand next to me, laying his hand heavily on my shoulder. “I know of a place. A place where Lucifer’s grace has been the strongest. It might not be the right place, but it is a start.”

“It’s better than nothing. Thanks Cas.” I said, taking a deep breath. “Sam, you ready?”

Sam glanced between Cas and me, no doubt still wanting to stop Lucifer, but wanting to help me with Y/N as well. “Hey, think of it this way. We find Y/N, we find Lucifer. And we can finally stop him once and for all.”

“If we can figure out how to stop him.” Sam grumbled. “We’ve stopped him once before, but we don’t have the keys, or any way to lock him back in the cage. Rowena might, but it depends on her mood.”

“We will figure out a way. We have to. Because he has Y/N, and we can’t have him running around turning this into another apocalypse.” I muttered, standing up and heading over to my weapon bag. Not wanting to waste any more time, I took a deep breath, ready to face the devil himself to get back the wife I had never wanted. But couldn’t imagine life without.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acreativelydifferentlove @anokhi07 @love-charmer-sketch @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @colette2537 @lenaabs @a-girl-who-loves-disney  @riversong-sam @its-not-a-tulpa @duckieburns @sortaathief @queen--glitch  @sukawaii317 @bish-its-me @superseejay721517 @brindz30

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[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Where You’ve Been Part 5

(This piece hasn’t been edited sorry! I just wanted to get it out) (This is full of Pain and Angst...but what else did you expect?)

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               Cas was pacing the living room two hours later as you curled up on the couch. “Y/N you have to talk to me. I can help you.” Cas said as you stared at the wall. Sam had been sitting there watching the whole exchange when it hit him. You weren’t going to say anything because then your secret would be out. “Why fucking bother Cas? She doesn’t care what we are trying to do to help her. She doesn’t need our help. She’s just being her old self. It’s fucking pathetic!” Sam yelled standing up.

               You sunk back into the back of the couch as Sam yelled. “You think that you’re some entitled princess! You’re not! You have to work for your shit! Oh, boo hoo! Your daddy hit you! Maybe you deserved it! Did you ever think of that?!” he shouted. “Sam.” Cas said sternly. “With her not being herself maybe she needs to start therapy again. It could help her.” Sam glared at you, anger radiating off of him. “Oh, she will start therapy, tomorrow.” He stormed off running upstairs.

               You did deserve to be beaten, that was true, or at least in your mind frame it was. You slowly stood from the couch and looked at Cas with sad empty eyes. “I’m going to head to bed. Goodnight Castiel, please let yourself out and lock the doorknob as you leave.” You mumbled walking away from him. Cas watched you walk upstairs slowly, hearing Sam slamming doors and throwing things.

               As you got upstairs, you stopped in the doorway of your and Sam’s room, watching as he threw your jewelry box across the room, the box busting and the jewelry scattering all over the floor. Your engagement ring was laying there in a heap of broken necklaces and bracelets. Sam’s chest heaved as you entered the room and sat down picking everything up slowly. “You don’t even look at me anymore, how can you expect me to show you love and attention when you’ve pushed me away for so long?” he growled. You sat there silently, if there was ever a time in the world to tell him what was happening. It was now, now would be the perfect time to tell him. But nothing would come out of your mouth. 

               “What’s he got that I don’t? Huh? Is he gentle with you? Does he love you?” he shouted. You swallowed thickly tears brimming your eyes as you stared at your ring. “Do you love him?” he asked. You grabbed the broken pieces of wood and things and threw them away. Grabbing your pajamas, you laid the engagement ring on the dresser as you walked into the bathroom and closing the door as he walked toward you. “YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he yelled smacking the door hard. You cried into your hands sliding down the door. You knew Sam could never ever find out what was going on now. No one could.

               You changed into your pajamas and stared at your reflection again. The dark circles under your eyes, the darkness and lifelessness in your hair, the paleness to you. You saw all the scratches, the broken blood vessels and knew that there was no coming back from this, this time. You turned off the light and walked out quietly. Sam was passed out on the bed, snoring with his shirt off and his jeans half way off. You walked over and carefully finished getting him ready for bed. You pulled him up, feeling throbbing pain in your body from the lack of movement and the abuse it had taken over the last few months. “I don’t know why you stay,” he mumbled. “I just love you,” he groaned as you laid him down in his spot on the bed and covered him up brushing the hair from his face.

               You left the room and headed down the hallway to the spare bedroom, crawling into bed, you let what small little tears you had left in your body fall down your cheeks softly. You shook softly, this isn’t how you thought your life would end. Maybe taking your own life would be easier on Sam. Ryan wouldn’t be able to put you through any more pain. So, as you laid there that night you decided to do it, just take your own life and end it all. You’d be protecting Sam from the horrors of what Ryan had done to you and Ryan would never be able to hurt you ever again.

               You knew how to do it too, make it quick, take some sleeping pills, drive your car into the lake outside of town, it’ll look like you were driving and just fell asleep. It was decided, nothing would stop you from doing this, the only person in the whole world who you’d fought to protect, now hated you. So, what was the point of living, when the one person who you were living for, didn’t care if you were even alive.

               When the sun started to rise, you quietly got out of bed, grabbed some soft yoga pants with a t-shirt and left for work. You drove straight to work, not grabbing the normal cup of coffee that you’d usually take or even stopping for breakfast like you did some mornings. Instead you went straight to work, and ignored everyone and shut your office door. You typed for about 10 minutes on your computer before grabbing a box and gathering the items scattered on your desk. You grabbed the letter off the printer, grabbed your box of stuff and walked out, laying the letter of resignation on Gabes desk before leaving the office.

                     Ryan stood in his classroom doorway as you walked down the hallway, keeping your eyes down, you could feel your skin crawl everywhere his eyes looked on you. “Y/N,” he growled as you walked past him. He watched you leave, anger bubbling in his chest. He walked into his classroom and grabbed his coat with his keys and headed out after you.

Forever Tags: 

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