#dean IS fucked up. dean IS a bit of an asshole. but they also make it clear that he’s motivated by love. he just doesn’t always make the

[sandfordsmostwanted]

No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content...  ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma. 

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out.  Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway.  And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together.  As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other.   It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned.  Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real.  It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began.  A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college.  Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated.  (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song) 

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,066

A/N: Shoutout to my hubby for helping my break through my writer's block on this chapter 🥰

“Who was that?” Benny asks despite likely knowing the answer. When you’re born and raised somewhere, it’s pretty easy to spot someone out of place. And for Dean to approach an apparent stranger pointed to one person.

“That’s the woman staying in my guest house for the next month.” Dean confirms as he retakes his seat, starting to pick up a fry but throwing back onto his plate as he thinks about your smug smile as you ate your fries in his face. 

Benny looks over Dean to where you’re seated at the counter, now enjoying a sandwich as your legs swing underneath you, too short for the stool you’re sitting on. Benny had watched the whole interaction, and when you had turned to Dean a few times, Benny got a good look at your profile.

“She’s cute” Benny notes as he takes a bite of his own meal, washing it down with a gulp of coffee and a grin. 

“Don’t even start, Ben.” Dean shoots him a pointed look. Dean had eyes, it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that himself, but he was too annoyed to care. “If you think she’s so cute, why don’t you have a go at her?” Dean jabs as he picks up his burger and takes a wide bite, sauce splashing on his cheek. 

Benny just chuckles and shakes his head.

“I got enough women in my life.” Between his ex and his daughter, his hands were full. “And I’m not looking to get washed up in your mess.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Fucking Lisa,” he grumbles before taking another bite. Couldn’t even enjoy his lunch break. It’s like Lisa knew exactly what to do to get under his skin. Which isn’t a surprise.

Back when they were happy, Dean and Lisa knew everything about each other; what they each liked, what they loved, what drove them crazy. It’s why Dean would bring home white chocolate and flowers after Lisa had a rough day at work, or why Lisa would bake a variety of pies in the early days after Dean’s father, John, had passed away, knowing Dean didn’t want to talk about it but it was a way to offer him comfort without being too touchy feely, because Dean hated that when he was younger.  

But now, Lisa was weaponizing the information she had, knowing Dean liked his routines and his personal space. She had thoroughly invaded them without even stepping foot in town. Instead she sent this woman, Y/N, to do her dirty work for her. 

He drops his burger with a sigh and glances over his shoulder; you’re scrolling through your phone as you take another bite of your sandwich. 

He briefly wonders if you’re texting Lisa, the two of you laughing about how now that you’ve taken over his guest house, you’ve also wormed your way into his lunch spot. But Dean knows better. He knows he’s been the aggressor in his run-ins with you. You’re either a great actress or truly were just an innocent pawn in Lisa’s slimy scheme, and Dean’s pretty sure it’s the latter. 

It makes him think back to this morning, how you mentioned you were out of work and couldn’t afford to go anywhere else, even if Dean refunded your stay. You’re likely going through some sort of shit if you’re willing to use whatever money you have to get away for a full month. 

He sighs through his nose. You had offered a fresh start, and he had brushed past you like an absolute asshole. 

He likes to think he wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time he would have happily shook your hand, giving you a big grin in the process hoping to maybe get to know you better, find out what you like to drink and buy you one and then see what would happen next. 

But that was youthful innocence then, back when Dean didn’t realize that when you gave your full self to someone, it gave them the power to use it against you one day.

He’s about to consider going back over to you and apologizing, taking you up on your offer, but Billie steps in his path, dropping off a check and a box for his unfinished burger. 

Dean blinks hard out of his thoughts and gives Billie a big smile before reaching into his wallet and dropping enough money to cover his meal and tip, adding it on top of Benny’s own pile. 

“See you boys again soon.” She gives them a wink before they gather their coats, Benny affixing his cap before zipping up his jacket. 

Benny lets Dean lead the way, Dean’s eyes glued to your back as he passes by before he steps back out into the wintery overcast and heads back towards the garage.

After you finished lunch, you continued your stroll down Main Street, restraining yourself to just window shopping during your inaugural visit. You would have four weeks to shop, and you didn’t wait to explore everything the town had to offer on the first day. But now you had a good idea of all the places you would be spending your days for the next month; BILLIES was the only restaurant on main, but there was also a coffee shop, and bar that opened at 2pm. There was a vinyl shop, a bookstore, a few thrift and antique shops, as well as a modern apothecary and a fifties-looking pharmacy. Overall, the town was charming. It’s one of those places that if you were to leave the city, you could envision yourself living here. There was just enough to do to keep you busy and it felt nice to be away from the constant noise and hustle that typically filled your days. You were looking forward to decompressing and maybe even getting to know some of the non-Dean locals while you were here. 

Once your in-town exploration was complete, you headed to the nearest grocery store, only five minutes off Main Street. You loaded up on food for the week, toiletries, some basic cleaning supplies to use during your stay, and a few magazines to keep you busy. You also stopped off at the liquor store to grab another bottle of wine as well as a bottle of whiskey for nights you wanted something a little stronger. 

You were settled in the living room, dusk overshadowing the forest around you, when you hear the rumble of an engine. You peek through the floor to ceiling window, catching headlights flick off as you hear a door slam. 

Honey, I’m home. You smirk to yourself, thinking about a grumpy Dean stomping up the stairs of the front porch. 

You meant what you said about a fresh start, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him to yourself. Afterall, he was an asshole, and you didn’t owe him anything at the end of the day. You had gone out of your way to be nice to him and offer an olive branch, and he shoved it back in your face. 

Your phone vibrates next to you, and you smile as you see your best friend’s face pop up on the screen. 

“Helllooooo.” You answer, your smile growing when you hear her voice.

“Hi!” Sydney chirps. “How’s the getaway?” You snort through your nose. 

“Not exactly what I was picturing.” You glance over your shoulder, back to the now-dark driveway. 

“Let me guess, the pictures of the cabin are super outdated and it actually sucks.” Sydney speculates.

“I wish.” You roll your eyes and turn back to the muted tv. “Turns out the woman who rented me this place doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“Soooo, you got scammed?” 

“Not entirely.” You sigh. “Her husband still lives here – ex husband.” You correct yourself, Dean’s voice ringing in your ears.

“I’m still confused?” You chuckle, picturing Syd’s scrunched face. 

“So was I. Turns out the renters are going through quite the bitter divorce. The husband still lives in the main house but sounds like she left. I guess she rented this place out as a way to piss him off or something. That’s why it was so cheap.”

“Shit,” Sydney hisses and you raise your brows, even though she can’t see you.

“Yeah, shit. The guy almost gave me a heart attack my first night. Came storming in with a gun while I was in the hot tub, thought I was trespassing.” 

“HE PULLED A GUN ON YOU?” Sydney screeches and you have to move the phone away from your ear.

“He didn’t point it at me or anything, he just had it.” You clarify, knowing that Sydney is about to spiral into worst-case what-ifs. 

“Still.” 

“Regardless, he hasn’t pulled it out since. But he has been a massive dick.” You recount your run-ins with Dean so far. 

“No wonder she left him, sounds like an asshole.” Sydney chimes in after you finish telling her about lunch.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s much better. I reached out to get a refund for my stay so I could get out of here and she’s refusing. And also, who does something like this?”

“A bitch and a dick, sound like a perfect match.” Syd quips and you laugh. This is why you loved Sydney. The two of you always kept each other laughing, no matter the situation. 

After another twenty minutes, you and Syd say goodbye and you settle in for the night.

Before you know it, your first week is coming to an end. You’ve thoroughly enjoyed sleeping in every day, grabbing coffee in town before deciding which shop to hit. So far you’ve spent most of your time in the bookstore, getting to know the owners, Carrie and Richard Owens. The two have been married over forty years, and this bookshop was their post-retirement dream after working in the city most of their lives. They had been here for almost ten years now and loved every single moment of it, though they missed their children who still lived in the city. Seeing them happy and living their dreams, even in their sixties, gave you hope. There were definitely nights you couldn’t sleep, wondering what you had done and thinking about what you were going to do. Your doubts outweighed your hope at times, but chatting with the Owens left you with a sense of calm and a new book recommendation with each visit. 

Now it was Sunday evening. You had cooked dinner and were trying to focus on the local evening news, but you felt antsy. You hadn’t accounted for just how lonely you would be. You would talk to your mom and Syd most days, either calling them or texting during the times they were busy with their lives, but when you found yourself “home,” there was only so much tv and books to keep you company. 

You pop yourself off the couch and head to the bedroom, trading your sweats for jeans and throwing on your cutest top. You hadn’t yet visited the local bar, Max’s on Main, and figured it could be the perfect cure to your boredom. You could enjoy a drink or two while being around actual people. And hey, you were single, maybe someone would catch your eye and you could live out a whirlwind vacation romance. 

When you get downtown, the street parking is completely full, so you take a few spins down the side streets until you finally find a spot, about three blocks down from the bar. Apparently Sunday evening was popping. 

As you step into the bar, you’re surprised at just how busy it is, but then you notice a hockey game on a few of the screens and patrons wearing matching white and blue jerseys. 

As your eyes roam the room, you notice a few spots at the bar, which was exactly what you wanted. This wasn’t the first time you were going to a bar when you were lonely. If nothing else, usually the bartenders were friendly enough to chat with you here and there and take an edge off the isolation. 

You settle on your stool, unfurling your scarf and zipping off your jacket, letting it rest against the chairback. 

A man about your age throws a coaster down in front of you and places his hands on the bar.

“What can I getcha?” He asks as the crowd roars. You peek at one of the screens behind the bar, seeing a team celebrating. 

“Any chance you have hot toddies?” The weekend had been freezing, and it was too cold for your usual cocktail. You needed something that would warm you, ideally with a splash of bourbon. 

“Sure thing.” He nods and steps away to turn on an eclectic kettle. 

You rest against the bartop, a dark wood that runs down the length of the bar. As you look around, you notice the layout is very similar to BILLIES, but flipped. There’s more high top tables, but the booths back along the opposite side of the room. But whereas BILLIES was more updated, this bar looked like it hadn’t been decorated or remodeled in a good fifteen-plus years. 

Most of the patrons are men of various ages, almost all of whom are watching the game. There is one table full of women, but they too don the same hockey jerseys and are just as invested as their peers. 

“Start a tab?” The bartender returns with your drink, placing it carefully atop your coaster. You reach into your wallet, pull out your card, and hand it to the bartender. You’re not expecting to have more than two drinks since you’re driving, but it was just easier to start a tab versus get a bill for each order.  

After the bartender walks away, you wrap your hands around the crystal, humming at the warmth as your shoulders drop. You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes as the sweet aroma of honey and bourbon steams your senses. 

“Good drink?” You open your eyes to find a man smiling down at you, and you feel the warmth of your drink spread to your cheeks. He takes the seat next to you, his smile never fading underneath his five-o-clock shadow and a swoosh of blonde hair.

“If it tastes as good as it smells, then I hope so.” You return his grin. 

“I’m Nick,” he puts his beer on the counter and raises his hand towards you. You take it, his skin a cool contrast to yours.

“Y/N.” You offer.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” His eyes almost have a twinkle under the bar lights, and his never-fading smile highlights his sharp jawline. 

“It’s my first time here.” You relax into your seat. “I’m visiting for the month.” 

“Family?” He takes a sip of his beer, and you match his movements with your drink, feeling the bourbon settle soundly in your stomach. 

“Renting. I’m from the city, taking a sabbatical.” You keep it vague. No need to spill your life story to a complete stranger in the first minute of meeting him. 

“How’s your visit so far?”

Dean pours the last of the beer into his cup, emptying the group’s pitcher. He takes a big gulp, putting back about half the pint before he stands. 

“Gonna grab another round. Anyone need anything?” Dean offers the enthralled group as he stands from the table. It wasn’t that he didn’t like hockey, but despite growing up here, the Rangers weren’t his team of choice. He grew up watching the Blues with his dad, and continues to cheer for them to this day, so he doesn’t mind stepping out during a power play to grab another drink. It likely meant there would be no wait at the bar. 

He grabs the empty pitcher and carries it with him, resting along the curve of the bar as he flags down Jacob. 

“Another pitcher?” Jacob assumes, and Dean hands over the empty container.

As he waits, he taps his fingers against the wood, taking in the crowd when he notices someone at the end of the bar and his shoulders tense. 

Nick Olszewski.

Dean went to high school with Nick. Grade A douchebag then and grade A douchebag now. He may have even broken Nick’s nose once senior year.  

He’s chatting with someone, definitely a woman.

Poor girl. Dean thinks as Jacob returns with the pitcher, and Dean thanks him. 

Dean heads back to the table, dropping the pitcher right in the middle before, for some reason, he takes a glance back towards Nick. And from this angle, he can see exactly the poor girl he’s talking to. 

Shit. 

It’s Y/N. 

Dean turns away, shaking his head. 

He should stay out of it. He and Y/N hadn’t crossed paths since their lunch run-in a few days ago, and he had planned to keep it that way. 

You’re an adult, and free to chat with whomever you want. Even if he’s a complete dickbag. 

But then he thinks back to a few days ago. How he was a total asshole to you, and he had regretted it. He was better than that. This wasn’t the guy he always was. 

Maybe this was his chance at redemption. 

“You good, brother?” Benny looks up, realizing Dean hasn’t sat back down. 

Dean licks his lips and runs a hand down his face.

“I’ll be right back.”

Nick’s hand relaxes easily on your thigh, and you’re leaning into him, your elbow resting on the bar top. 

He was telling you a work story; he’s a real estate agent in the area, and how a couple decided to get a divorce in the middle of a showing. 

“Wait, so did they actually get divorced, or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Oh big time. I reached out a few weeks later to see if they were still interested in the house and the guy told me.”

“Wow,” you take a big sip of your second drink, courtesy of Nick. 

You’re about to ask him a follow up question but you’re interrupted. 

“Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Nick.” A large hand pats Nick’s shoulder, and you both turn towards your uninvited guest, your eyes widening. “But think it’s time for you to go.” 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Keep reading

NEXT TIME:

“You’re welcome for saving you.” Dean’s voice has you turning back in your seat. He’s now next to you, literally and figuratively having taken Nick’s spot. 

“Saving me?” You sneer. “More like ruining my night.” You grab your drink and take your own big gulp, needing the bourbon to do more than just warm you now. 

“Tell me, Dean.” You narrow your eyes at him. “What have I done to you that you just think it’s okay to bother me whenever you want?” Your voice quickens as you feel the liquor settle. 

“Because I’ve stayed out of your way, like I promised. I tried to be nice to you. It’s not my fault your ex-wife dragged me into scheme of hers. So if you have a problem, take it up with her!” Your voice raises but is drowned out as the Rangers score another goal, the bar erupting in whoops and cheers as patrons high-five one another. 

Dean runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, nodding his head at your words as you stare him down. 

“I was saving you from the biggest asshole in town.” He responds once the bar settles back down, his voice calm and even. You raise your eyebrows.

“Are you sure about that?” You challenge. From where you were sitting, he seemed to be winning that award himself.

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213 @kaydallas21

#dean x reader #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #the guest house

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 1 - Sunshine

Summary

Past: You run into Raiders while looting nearby houses and meet an unwanted companion.

Present: Tommy and Joel find you in an abandoned church.

CW // mentions of loss, violence, threats of sexual assault (hinted), blood

Word count: 8,071

Before

Autumn 2019

The first time you killed someone, you hadn't waited around to watch them die. You had sunk your knife into his chest and fled quickly, unable to bear the thought of watching the life slip from their eyes. You heard their screams as they choked on their own blood, but you hadn't seen the light fade from their eyes. It was a memory you tried not to think too much about, and you were grateful that you hadn't witnessed their inevitable death.

It’s been six years and twenty-eight bodies later – a number that didn't seem real – and you had watched each one of them take their last breath. 

Six long years since your brother passed, six years filled with grief, and more than a half a decade spent on the run in order to protect his legacy and the innocent life he had created. You had thought you had lost it all, your only family, your only guide, but your niece kept you going. As you ran across the country, trying everything in your power to protect her, you couldn't help but wish that your brother could have been there beside you, watching out for the both of you as he had always done. Even if he was an asshole.

He had been the one to shoulder all of the violent realities of this world so that you could live a life untouched by the stain of blood. But he had made a mistake, and that mistake had cost him his life, leaving that burden for you to carry in his stead. With a heavy heart, you had taken it and done what you had to do to protect your niece, to keep her safe and her own hands clean of murder. 

He had trained you both to kill the infected, preparing you with the knowledge and skills you would need to survive. But he had also made it clear that he was the one who would handle the humans you encountered, making sure that the two of you wouldn't have to deal with that particular danger by yourselves.

It wasn't until you were in your early twenties that he began to teach you the basics of how to kill people quickly and quietly. He made you promise that you would never use those skills unless they were absolutely necessary, and you agreed. You had no desire to hurt people, and you hoped you would never need to break your promise to your brother, but you were prepared to do so if it meant keeping your niece safe.

"I don't care how angry someone makes you," he states flatly as he wipes the blood off his knife with a cloth, looking over at you. "You don't kill 'em. You only kill ‘em when they’re gonna kill you." His tone carries a warning as he speaks to you. "What do you do when someone makes you angry?" He looks over at you from the opposite side of the rusted dining table in the abandoned house where you decided to make camp for the night. 

You roll your eyes and glance down at Annabel, who's passed out in the corner of the room, her mouth hanging open and soft snores escaping her lips. Her peaceful slumber, despite the fact that you'd been engaged in a highly dangerous and potentially deadly situation no more than an hour ago, is a bit comical to you, and you let out a soft laugh as you turn back to face Dean.

“Tell me.” He demands as he moves to clean his next knife. 

“I walk away.” 

He looks up from his knife and nods. “Keep going.” 

You sigh and cross your arms as you lean back in your chair, and you repeat his teachings to him. "Then I grab a weapon and beat the shit out of something. Not someone, and never with my hands," you say clearly. He nods at you again, seemingly satisfied with your answer, as he continues to clean his knife and sheath it away. 

“Good. And what do you do when you feel nothing?” He asks after a moment. 

“I get the fuck away from everyone, listen to music.”

He nods. 

You shake your head in disbelief and consider your options as you spin the knife in your hand, standing in front of yet another empty cupboard. You've gone down two streets already, checking each house for any possible source of sustenance, and yet it seems like every cupboard, fridge, and dresser in the houses you've looted has already been ransacked.

You left your niece, Annabel behind at a house a few streets away while you took the burden of looting the small town you found yourselves in. She had wanted to come of course, but you wanted her safe behind locked doors while you searched for supplies.

It hadn't been easy to leave her behind, but it was the right thing to do. But the moment you were away from her side, you couldn't stop thinking about her safety. What if someone were to break in while she was alone? What if they discovered that she had been left behind there? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open, followed by a whispered curse as someone else enters the house. You still for a moment, listening for any further sound as you contemplate your next move. It's likely that another survivor had broken in and was searching for supplies, and you weren't sure how they'd react to finding you here.

"I thought I told you to be fucking quiet." A man hisses in a hushed tone, his voice full of annoyance and anger.

"Not my fault the door creaked," Another voice whispers back defensively. "The bitch probably knows we're here now, anyway," he adds, and you hear them both move further into the home.

You quickly duck behind the island in the kitchen, hiding from the two men who'd just entered the house. There’s a room between you and the invaders, the dining room, and in the silence of the house every noise can and will be heard. You try to slow your breathing, hoping that both of them will go left into the loungeroom first instead of right into the connecting dining room. The footsteps of the men echo in your ears, one set lighter and quicker than the other. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, and your eyes stay wide, your attention focused on every single noise the men make.

Your heart plummets at the realisation that one set of footsteps has entered the dining room while the other has entered the living room. Okay, one on one then. You could take one out before the other realised what was happening. You hold your breath, listening for any sign of the approaching footsteps getting any closer to your position as you take your knife from your belt. Maybe, just maybe, you could take one of them out before they knew what hit them.

The man who entered the dining room slowly enters the kitchen and rounds the island with his back to you as he inspects the walk-in pantry to your right. Perfect. You quietly leap from your crouched position, wrapping your free hand around his mouth to muffle the yell that escapes his lips as you kick the back of his knee and send him to the ground. The force of your arm has done its job, muffling the sound of his surprised yelp as you quickly stab the side of his throat and twist before pulling it out. His blood spurts out from the wound, and you close your eyes and wince as it hits your face. You let go of him, and his hand flies to his wound as he wheezes. In his final attempt, he fires the gun in his hand aimlessly to alert the other man. 

Shit.

“Josh!” The other man yells from across the house, and his boots move quickly towards the kitchen.

Fuck.

The man - Josh - drops to the floor, his blood pooling out from his wound and covering the ground below him. His partner enters the room with his gun raised as he sees the bloody scene in front of him, his expression quickly shifting from one of annoyance to shock and anger.

You stand above Josh's body, his blood dripping from both your face and your knife, as the other man finally looks you in the eyes and raises his gun to you. You hold your breath as your attention is placed entirely on his intentions, and your mind races to come up with a plan to avoid getting shot.

You freeze, staring at the man in front of you. Your mind races as you try to calculate your next move in the split second you have before he pulls the trigger. Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by the sound of the trigger being pulled back. Your eyes widen as you dive back behind the counter, the bullet grazing the side of your arm, making you drop your knife in the process. 

You fall to the ground behind the counter and scramble into a crouched position, grunting at the pain in your arm as you push yourself back up. You quickly assess your arm, noticing that the bullet had only nicked you and that the blood was only steadily oozing out of the small gash. It didn't appear to be anything too serious, but any amount of blood loss is dangerous in this world.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Who are you?” You demand, hoping they weren’t tracking you and just unfortunate to cross you. 

“Think you know already bitch.” He snaps back. 

Raiders. Fucking Raiders . 

Two weeks, you’d been running from a group of raiders. Two long weeks. You were ambushed by the group while you’d been on the train tracks with Annabel. You had managed to shoot one of them before you bolted with Annabel’s hand in yours. Luckily, they wanted you both alive otherwise, you would have been shot as you ran. Or unlucky if you think about it. 

Pretty women were hard to come by these days, they had said. 

The man, clearly impatient, rounds the counter just as his friend did. Instead of attacking him, you move around the kitchen island to keep the counters between you. When reaching the next corner of the island, you find the path clear to the dining room. With a deep breath, you bolt from your hiding spot and run hunched over into the dining room. Shots are fired as you run and your hands cover the back of your head instinctively as you move to your next cover.

The man swears as his bullets miss you. As you run from the dining room and into the entryway, you notice the men have blocked the front door with a table. Sure, you could easily move it but the boots slamming into the wood panelling underneath him, you know you don’t have the time. 

At your short stutter in movement, another bullet is shot and you duck. The bullet hits the table and you scramble into the living room, thankful he’s a shit shot. 

Quick thinking has you lifting your baseball bat from the strap on your bag as you run past the stairs leading upstairs and into a connecting room. You slam the door shut as the man shoves against it with his shoulder as you force it closed with all your body weight. You’re thankful – yet again – the door has a lock and as the door is shoved again, you lock it. 

Knowing a simple lock will not be enough to keep him out, You turn around and examine the room for anything to block the door with. Realising you have stumbled into an old nursery, you groan and shake your head.

Your brain going into overdrive, you decide to give up on blocking the door and stride over to the window. With a few tugs, you swear as you realise it’s locked. Looking around the room frantically for something to throw through the glass. But it’s a nursery, everything in here is soft and harmless. 

Your head snaps to the door as he slams into it again, the sound of wood breaking. Time is ticking. You look down at the baseball bat in your hand and sigh, wishing you hadn’t dropped your knife. Knowing you have to fight him instead of fleeing, you pick up the heaviest toy scattered on the floor. You find a decent sized wooden toy truck and toss it a few times in your hand and shrug at the weight. Not perfect, but it’ll do. 

You move towards the edge of the room besides the door. You wait with your bat in one hand and the toy raised in the other as the door creaks and groans. One last shove and the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the ground, leaving a cloud of dust in the air.   

The man stumbles through into the room, shocked and unprepared at the sudden break of the door. While his brain catches up to the new environment, you locate the gun in his hand and throw the wooden toy at his hands as he raises the gun. With a shocked grunt, the man drops the gun and you re-grip the bat with both hands as you land a hit at the back of his head. He stumbles forward and you kick the gun across the room as he falls onto the crib in the middle of the room.

The wooden crib breaks under his weight and you step over broken wood before stopping beside him. You raise your bat and land another strong hit to the back of his head. The man screams in agony as he slumps into the pile of wood. You let out a puff of air before you lift the bat over your head and swing again, and he stills on the floor. The bat cracks as you hit his skull again and you swear as the wood breaks in two. 

“Fuck,” You swear under your breath as you toss your favourite bat across the room in anger.

You nudge the man beneath you with your foot. He groans and you sigh. In this moment, you feel nothing. Your wound is there, the pain slowly creeping back into your body, but you don’t feel it. You aren’t afraid of death. You don't feel as protective towards Annabel as you should be. You are numb. Emotionless and void of feeling as you stare down at the man in front of you. His breaths come in short, panicked gasps. There is nothing you feel except the emptiness in your heart, your thoughts cold and indifferent to everything.

You are past the point of anger. You slip into nothing. 

 “And what do you do when you feel nothing?” 

“I get the fuck away from everyone, listen to music.”

You attempt to wipe the blood off your face from the man you stabbed but end up smearing it across your face. “Stay here.” You sigh emotionlessly as you turn and leave the room.         

Walking back into the kitchen, you step over the man you stabbed, picking up your knife. You kneel beside him, looting his body for anything useful. Your efforts are only rewarded with his gun and ammo. 

Upon reentering the nursery, you find the man in the same spot. Blood is splattered around him from the blunt trauma to his head and you shake your head as you step towards him, his blood tainting what is supposed to be an innocent room. 

Your expression is cold and determined as you stare down at him as he groans in pain. You lean down and grab onto his jacket as you turn him over onto his back. The wood cracks beneath him and moor blood seeps out from his head wound, staining what used to be a baby's crib. 

You take a deep breath as you move to straddle him. He squirms under you and cries, his hands covering his bloody and puffy face. You take your knife in both hands and lunge it into his chest. His hands claw at your arms as he screams again. You pull your knife from his chest before using all your strength to piece his chest again. And again. And again. 

His screams stop somewhere between the sixth and seventh time.  

You blink as you stab him again, blood all over your hands as they shake on the handle of your knife as it lodges into his chest again.

You pull your knife from his lifeless body and stand up on shaky legs. You look down at your body, the front of your clothes soaked in crimson blood, and are struck by the intensity of your actions. You put your knife back into its sheath on your belt before you can do any more damage, taking in the sight all around you.

Turning back to the man you mutilated only moments ago, you sigh as you pick up his handgun from where you kicked it. You look down at the body in front of you; his body a testament to the brutality you'd just perpetrated. The blood-covered floor was a grim reminder of the violence that had just taken place.

You shrug your backpack from your shoulders and onto a changing table across the room. You take your gun from your holster and reload it with a new magazine. You bag their two guns and put your own back in its thigh holster. 

Six years and thirty bodies now. Dean would be both proud and pissed.

After moving the table from the front door, you ran between houses and hopped fences to track back to Annabel as fast as you could, leaving bloody footprints as you went. The pain in your wounded arm is starting to become more noticeable as the adrenaline rush fades, reality sinking in, and you are beginning to wonder if you had done the right thing. But as you race back to Annabel, your mind is fixed on her well-being before anything else. You need to ensure that she is safe and unharmed, that no one has discovered her and is still alive. The thought of losing her terrifies you.

So when you open the front door of the house you were staying in and heard a man's voice, your anger rose again.

Closing the door behind you, you unholster your gun and quietly step down the hall towards the archway that leads into the lounge room. You take it slow, one step at a time, hoping the floorboards won't creak and give away your position. As you get closer and closer, the sound of laughter grows clearer and clearer in your ears. It's her. It's Annabel. And she's laughing? Just hearing her laugh lifts your heart and makes your chest clench as you step to the side of the archway.  

You slowly step into the archway, your gun drawn and ready to fire any potential threat that crosses your path. You spot your niece sitting cross-legged on the couch first and then notice the dark curls of a man sitting opposite her, facing away from you as he laughs at something she said. You feel your heart race, your mind running on pure animalistic instincts as you try to identify this man sitting so casually, laughing with Annabel as she tosses her rubber ball in the air.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of him, and your trigger finger tightens ever so slightly. You would have shot him right then and there, but she’s laughing .

Annabel's eyes widen as they fall upon you in the archway, the gun in your hand a clear warning for her not to say anything. She lets the ball drop to the ground, and it rolls across the floor to the man. 

“Get up, slowly." You bark the words at the unidentified man, your voice low and lacking any emotion. Your eyes are still fixed on him as you slowly enter the room, your gun still trained on him. 

He sighs and slowly stands from the chair when you order him to, his back to you as he raises his arms. "You must be the aunt," he says in a calm tone, not showing any signs of the fear you'd expect. You can hear the slight note of recognition in his voice, and a chill goes down your spine as you hear him speak. You still don't take your eyes off his back, waiting for him to turn to face you.

"Turn around," you say in a cold, firm tone.

"Is that your blood?" Annabel's voice cracks as she takes in your bloody appearance, and her eyes widen as she stares at you in horror and fear.

He turns slowly with his arms still raised, and once again, you study him carefully as he faces you. Now that he faces you, you can see the black eye forming on his face, and your shoulders relax slightly. At least Annabel didn't let him in willingly. He has dark, curly, shoulder-length hair and a moustache but is otherwise cleanly shaven. He wears a dark blue button-up, his toned arms visible through the fabric.

"That’s a lot of blood," the man mutters under his breath as he takes in your appearance. You can see his eyes study your blood-stained body, travelling down and back again as they stop at the gash on your arm. His eyes on you make you feel sick. "You're hurt, I can-" 

"Don't move." Your words stop him in his tracks, and it's evident from your tone that you won't tolerate him disregarding your instructions. “I’m fine.” You snap at the man and focus your gun on his head. 

"You're bleeding, pal. You look like hell," the man says, his voice showing genuine concern. "Here, let me see your arm-" he adds, moving his hand to gesture in the direction of his bag across the room beside Annabel.

“I said don’t MOVE .” You shout, and his arm freezes in response to your shouted command. Your words echo through the living room, and for a moment, you and the man just stare at each other. Your emotions are mixed, between the pain and shock from your own injuries and the strange mix of guilt and suspicion you have towards this man who seems to be genuinely trying to help you. Your gun is still raised, your finger still on the trigger, and you still haven’t decided if you can trust him. You’ve killed two men today, you can easily make that number three.

A soft hand touches your arm, and you flinch in response, caught off guard by the sudden change in your surroundings. You hadn't noticed that your niece had moved, and she whispers into your ear. "He's not a raider, and he’s not him. " Your muscles tense even more as you glare at the man before you, ready to kill him at the first sign of betrayal. But the words of Annabel leave you in a state of disbelief. How does she know he's not a raider? But the conviction in her tone gives you pause.  

You take your eyes off the man in front of you and look down at your niece beside you. Her eyes are soft and pleading with you, appealing to your sense of reason. You suck in a breath and close your eyes. You're tired, you're hurt, and you don't know what to think. But somehow, her words manage to penetrate the fog surrounding your thoughts, and for a moment, you entertain the possibility that she's right. You close your eyes and try to fight back the flashbacks of him. 

“He won’t hurt us.”

“Annabel” You sigh. “You don’t know that. I didn’t think he would hurt me either.” You open your eyes and focus back on the man in front of you. 

“He says he can help us. He’s heading to a town. A good town. Good people.” She rambles, trying to get her words out before you stop her again. 

You scoff, shaking your head. “Are you fucking stupid?”

She laughs softly beside you, and the sound sends a chill down your spine. Her laughter is dark and void of humour, and her voice seems colder than you've ever heard it before. "Maybe I am," she says quietly, as if speaking to herself. "But I'm sick of running." The change in her attitude and tone worries you, but you're too exhausted to say anything about it.

You frown at your niece's confession and grip the gun in your hands. "Fuck," you mutter as you lower the gun. The man lowers his arms, but your eyes are fixed on him as you glare at him. "You make one dodgy move, and I will put a bullet between your eyes." You snarl at him, the tension in your voice making your intentions crystal clear. "Am I clear?" You wait for his reply, your eyes never leaving him. You don't trust him yet, but you're willing to hear him out.

The man nods. “The name’s Tommy.” He smiles, and you roll your eyes. “Just – just let me take a look at your arm. Or are you just gonna bleed to death?”

“Fuck you.” You snap, taking a step forward and wincing as you move your arm. “Fine.”

Tommy guides you over to the chair he'd previously occupied and has you sit down after taking your bag from you and placing it beside the couch. Your eyes never leave him as he moves, although Annabel's presence brings you a slight sense of comfort.

Tommy drags his bag over to the couch and sits down next to you; his legs stretched out in front of him as he places the bag between his legs."How's the pain?" he asks, studying your injury as his eyes go wide at the sight of your bloodied arm. A few drops of blood trail down from your arm and pool on the chair beneath you. As he speaks, you look over at his black eye and notice a few light bruises around his cheek and neck. Annabel had definitely gotten a few good hits in.

"Don't feel anything." You mutter a short and somewhat snippy response as he lifts your arm for a better look. He seems to ignore your attitude and simply focuses on assessing the severity of your injuries. "How's the eye?" You smirk at him, and his expression changes to one of amusement as he shakes his head, the black eye on his face clearly still bothering him. You can't help but feel a small sense of pride at seeing his injury. 

The tension in the room is starting to shift, your mistrust for Tommy slowly turning to more mutual respect. Your niece had warned you that this man might not have been a raider and that he wasn't hostile. Now you're starting to believe her. He still hasn't given you enough reason to trust him fully, but your suspicions are slowly being tempered by curiosity.

"What happened out there?" Annabel asks as she rises from her chair and rounds the back of the couch to your bag, rummaging through it and pulling out your walkman and headphones. She tosses the headphones in your direction, and your tension eases ever so slightly as you catch the gesture from your niece. She knows your music calms you, a reminder of the safety and comfort you had back in your old home before everything fell apart. 

Tommy digs through his own bag, taking out a water bottle and a small med-pack and placing it on the couch beside him. You appreciate the gesture and keep a watchful eye on the pack and any movements Tommy makes as you place one of your headphones over your ear while the one closest to Tommy sits behind your ear to hear him still. You turn on your walkman, the calming sound of music filling your ears and sending a surge of relief through you. Your heart begins to beat slowly and evenly as your muscles relax and your tension subsides. 

"Ran into some raiders still tracking us," you say as you settle back onto the couch with your headphones still playing your music. Tommy takes the water bottle and pours it over your wounded arm to wash away some of the blood, and you can't help but sigh with relief as the water touches your skin. The music and the sensation of the water on your arm are enough to make you feel more at ease, and your eyes droop slightly with a sudden sense of relaxation.

"Must have been a lot of raiders, from the amount of blood on you," Tommy says while gesturing to your bloodied clothes. He tightens the lid back on the bottled water before placing it back on the ground and reaching for the med pack. You can't help but notice the needle and thread along with the bottle of alcohol rub, and your tension and suspicion heighten once again. Why does he need the needle and thread? Is he going to sew up your wound? The thought of him poking a needle into your injured arm makes your skin crawl.

"Just the two..." You start to say, but your words are cut short as your frown deepens at the sight of the needle. The man sighs in response to the expression on your face, and you wonder for a moment if he can read your thoughts. You consider objecting or fighting back, but with the pain beginning to creep into your arm and your emotions slowly coming back due to the music in your ears, you decide against it.

"Yes, I've done this before, and yes, this will hurt," the man answers your silent questions. His words are paired with an apologetic smile, which does nothing to ease the tension of the situation. 

Tommy opens the bottle of alcohol rub and pours it onto a clean cloth from the med pack, using it to wipe your wound clean gently. You bite your lip and look away from him, still refusing to look at him directly.

Once satisfied, he places the bottle back in the pack and picks up the needle and thread from his lap. He holds the needle and thread in his hands, and your body tenses up even more when he moves towards your injured arm. "You need stitches," he adds. You know he's right, but the thought of the needle touching your wound and poking through your flesh makes your stomach churn, your heart pound and your breathing quicken. Your eyes remain glued to him, your body tensing in anticipation. 

"Fine," you grit out through clenched teeth, turning away from Tommy as you refuse to watch him pierce your skin with the needle. 

The music in your ear still plays at full volume, still sending waves of comfort into your mind and body. But your grip on the gun in your hand stays tight, your entire body on edge and tense. Your other arm remains held firmly in place by Tommy’s hand as the needle and thread pieces through your skin as he begins to patch you up, preventing you from making any sudden movements. 

You focus on the music in your ears as Tommy stitches your wound, and Annabel watches from the armchair opposite you. Once he's finished stitching your wound, Tommy lightly taps your arm. You look over at him with confusion until he tilts his head down towards your arm, and you follow his gaze. Slowly and carefully, you lift your arm and inspect his work. To your surprise, Tommy has done a decent job; the stitches are small and even. You consider thanking him for sewing up your wound, but you find yourself unable to muster the words of appreciation.

"How many times have you been stitched up? You barely flinched," Tommy's voice breaks your thoughts as he finishes up and discards the remaining thread, closing up his med pack. 

You remain silent for a moment, processing his question as you look at your new scar and wondering if you should answer it. You consider explaining that the music in your ears helped keep you calm or that your pride and desire not to seem weak kept you from making a fuss, but you decide against it. Instead, you simply shrug in response to his question, leaving him to draw his own conclusions.  

"She has a weird tolerance to pain," Annabel suddenly interjects into the conversation, and both you and Tommy's heads snap towards her in surprise."I remember once when we were kids, she fell down a concrete path on a hill, and she pretty much tore all the skin from her leg," Annabel continues, and both you and Tommy share a look as you recall the memory. "There was so much blood, and she just got up and didn't care. I think I cried enough for her," Annabel adds lightly.    

Tommy watches you, his face neutral but his eyes betraying a small flash of surprise at the revelation about your high pain tolerance. 

You want to say something, anything, to deny Annabel's words, but you can't find the words to say. Instead, you simply smile slightly and shrug.

"Well then," Tommy nods in response to Annabel as he stands up from the chair. "I passed a river about an hour's walk back. How about we get you cleaned up, and then I can bandage that arm?" His smile warms his expression, and he extends a hand towards you. 

Your response is immediate and harsh, swatting his hand away and glaring at him. "I can stand by myself," you growl out, and your tone and body language make your irritation clear. You're not ready to trust him yet, and he knows it. Even so, he continues to smile and keeps his tone light.

"Alright, little miss sunshine," Tommy teases in response to your glare, and you can't help but roll your eyes in annoyance.

You remove the headphones and turn off your walkman, stowing them away in your bag before standing to face him. You reluctantly holster your gun and cross your arms, glaring in his direction.

“If you try anything-” 

"You'll shoot me, I get it, Sunshine," he responds with a smirk, unbothered by your harsh tone. He adjusts his bag on his back and begins to walk out of the room. His body language is relaxed despite the tension in the air. He doesn't seem to take any offence to your words or demeanour.  

"I like him," Annabel grins as she picks up her own bag and begins to follow him. "He doesn't put up with your bullshit," she remarks as she passes you, picking up her ball on the way out, and you grimace slightly at her words, annoyed by her attempt at humour.

It took you two weeks before you stopped keeping a hand on your holstered gun around Tommy. 

Now

Spring 2024 

You continue tossing the rubber ball against the wall, your mind fixated on the object in your hands. Your mind wanders to the lifeless bodies that litter the room, the souls you took in cold blood. The room is cold to the touch and feels devoid of life. You look around at the corpses surrounding you and feel nothing. They deserved this. Deserved worse than this.

The soft groans from the last remaining man fill the room, where he sits tied to the chair in the middle of the room. He is barely alive after what you did to him, and you left him to suffer instead of a quick death.

You have never been one to believe in religion, but as you sit in the church basement, you feel uneasy about committing acts of murder on a once sacred ground. 

You keep tossing the ball, watching it bounce off the rotting walls and floor, listening to the sound of it splashing in the blood that covers the floor. You try to focus on the ball and ignore the gruesome scene around you. But the more you try to block out the images, the clearer they become in the candle-lit room. 

Your mind is a mess of conflicting emotions as you keep tossing the ball, flashbacks of your niece fill your thoughts—her laughter, her smile and then her blood as it soaks your clothes as you hold her for the final time. You throw the ball against the wall with even more force as you try to block out the thoughts of Annabel. The blood splatters over you from the splash from the ball, covering you in more cold blood. You sink to the floor, overwhelmed by regret and guilt.

You sit on the floor, surrounded by a sea of blood, numb to everything around you. Tears should've been streaming down your face, but no tears came. The tears never came, just numbness. You feel numb to the world, like a soulless creature who has lost their humanity. You are frozen in place, unable to move or see anything beyond the red blur in front of you.

You would kill for your old walkman. To have music again. 

You listen to the footsteps and voices as they echo throughout the church, but you don't care who they belong to. You close your eyes, letting out a long, deep sigh, as you rest your head against the wall. You couldn't bring yourself to care or lift a finger to defend yourself.

You open your eyes and look up, finding Tommy staring at you, shock and relief on his face. He’s holding his rifle in his hands, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene in front of him, at the mutilated man in the chair whose soft wheezes begin to rise at the sight of Tommy. Good , he is still alive and suffering.   

Another man steps into the doorway behind him, but you don't care or pay attention to them, your mind still in a fog. You just stare back at Tommy with blank, empty eyes, not saying a word.

Tommy nods and steps over a body that blocks the doorway, followed by the man behind him.  

“You were meant to wait for me.” Tommy avoids your eyes, his voice firm and authoritative as he stalks over to the tortured man. 

“You were busy.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. 

Tommy lifts the man's head by his hair and examines the torture and blood-stained scene you had caused. He nods in approval, a small smirk forming on both your faces as he lets the man's head drop back to his chest.

The man lets out a groan, but you feel no pity or sympathy for him. You feel a surge of satisfaction at the sound of the man's pain, a sense of justice being served for what he had done to your niece. He deserves to suffer for his crimes. 

"They could have killed you, Sunshine," Tommy's southern accent drew out his words as you shook your head at his nickname for you. The nickname felt like a stab to the heart, a reminder of who you had been before your niece's death. 

Maybe he still believes in you, even after everything you have done. Maybe there was still some good left in you, some shred of humanity. But you weren't so sure anymore. You enjoyed killing them, after all.

“I think we both know they didn’t stand a chance.” You huff out a dry laugh, frowning as your stomach begins to hurt from the movement.

Tommy shakes his head as he bends down to collect your knife and gun on the floor you had dropped after you had killed everyone. 

You had become a deadly pair, hunting down and killing those responsible for your niece's death. Maybe you had lost yourself along the way to the neverending anger, but Tommy still believed in you and still saw the good in you even though you couldn't. 

"Your luck will run out one day," the other man's voice startles you, sounding low and gruff. You look up from Tommy and turn your eyes towards the man behind him, who is holding a shotgun. You narrow your eyes, trying to remember who he is. You haven’t seen him around Jackson before. But even if he lived there the whole time, you were never good with faces. Who is he ? You remain wary and on edge, not sure who to trust except for Tommy.

Tommy seems to sense your distrust, and he turns back to the man behind him, his hand outstretched. “This is Joel. Remember?” 

Joel? There was no way this was Joel, his brother, right? 

“My brother.” He continues, and you tilt your head in a nod. “He was in Jackson for a night a while back... You remember that, right?”

You stare at Joel, studying his appearance and comparing it to Tommy's. He certainly looks like him, but he is definitely older. He has the same dark hair as Tommy but scattered with a few grey hairs. You aren’t sure whether that is from the stress of the apocalypse or his age.

Your brow furrows, and you shake your head, your memory of him lost. "I was beginning to worry that your first impression of me would be one of a blood-soaked killer." You grin through drowsily-lidded eyes as the exhaustion from the bloodshed begins to weigh heavily on you.

Joel keeps darting his eyes between you and the carnage around him. You can see him taking in the scene you had created, his face showing a mix of shock and curiosity. 

“You don’ need to worry about what I think of ya, darl’” Joel mutters, his eyes not meeting yours as he nudges a corpse on the ground with his foot.

"Nice to know what you'll look like in a few years, though, old man," You chuckle with a lighthearted tone. But as you finish the sentence, you feel a pain in your stomach and begin to wince and cough. The air is tight in your lungs, and you can barely catch your breath. The adrenaline from the fight is slowly wearing off, making you more aware of your injuries. Your hand shoots to your stomach as you clutch it, trying to steady your breath through the new pain.

Shit . The anger and numbness is starting to slip, and you begin to feel your body once more. “Tommy,” You gasp as pain and panic soar through you. 

Tommy shoves his gun into Joel's chest and strides the short distance to you. He kneels before you and assesses you for any of your injuries. His voice is stern as he questions, "How much of this blood is your own?" Although his voice is unwavering, you can see the fear in his eyes as he looks down at you.

You look down at yourself and see how much blood you are covered in. It is hard to tell what is yours or your victims' blood. You try to recall the fight, but everything is a blurry mess inside your head from your mind being clouded with anger. You feel sick, the pain creeping through your body. You aren’t used to physical pain; you don’t know how to deal with the unwanted feeling. 

"I don't know," You reply. "I think most of it belongs to them..." You gesture towards the lifeless bodies that surround you.

Tommy nods and lifts up your shirt, and you let out a grunt of pain as the shirt is stuck to your skin from the blood. You wince at the sight, following his gaze to the large slash covering your stomach. Confusion washes over you, not understanding how you could have missed an injury like that. Reality begins to sink in at the state of your injury, and you feel terrified. A feeling you aren’t used to.  

You let out another pained grunt as his hand reaches out to touch the wound, instincts taking over and making you grab his wrist defensively.

"Don't," You gasp, too weak to hold it together anymore. “It hurts Tommy. Why does it hurt?” The pain begins to rise along with the nausea. Your stomach churns, and your grip on Tommy tightens as you lean over to the side and dry reach. Tommy grabs your hair and holds it back with his free hand as you finally spill your stomach’s contents on the floor beside you. Your head throbs, the overwhelming dizziness clouding your head.

“You’re okay, Sunshine. You’re going to be okay.” Tommy whispers, letting go of your hair and wiping the vomit from your mouth.   

“She good?” Joel questions from across the room. 

Tommy slowly nods. “It’s not deep, but if she’s feeling the pain, it's fucking bad.” He grimaces at the sight of your stomach. 

Tommy reaches his hand out to Joel and asks for the bandages in his brother's backpack. Joel shifts his backpack off his back and kneels on the blood-stained floor as he digs through his bag to find the supplies. 

You wheeze, the pain of vomiting with your wound overbearing.  

Tommy catches the bandages as Joel tosses them to him. He unravels the bandages and sighs an apology before applying pressure to your wound. You grit your teeth, suppressing a groan at the pain. 

Joel moves over to the man you had left alive and studies his injuries. “She really do all this by herself?” 

Tommy holds back a laugh as he tries to slow your bleeding. “What can I say? She learnt from the best.” He teases.

After managing to slow the bleeding, he begins to wrap your stomach in bandages, taking care to apply the bandage tightly. Tommy takes his time with careful hands to make sure it is done correctly and protects you from further damage. The entire process is done with care and concern, your well-being being the most important thing to him at the moment. 

You roll your head to the side and search for the rubber ball, spotting it in a pool of blood. You go to reach for it, but Tommy leans over and picks it up, shaking the blood from it and pockets it. 

Tommy swears as you cry out in pain as he slips a hand under your outstretched legs and behind your back. He grunts as he lifts you up into his arms, and you grip his jacket tightly. You press your head into his chest, trying to distract yourself from the pain that is starting to creep through your veins. The adrenaline that surges through your body in the heat of the fight begins to wane, and the full impact of the pain starts to set in. You try to remain calm and still, your breaths shallowing as you wait for the pain to pass.

Tommy turns and walks past Joel, pausing in the doorway as his brother speaks up. "We're not killing him?" Joel questions, his tone sceptical as he gestures to the man tied to the chair with his gun. He looks back at us, where you remain nestled in Tommy's arms. 

“Was gonna let him suffer,” you explain between breaths, and Tommy’s hands hold you tighter at your words. “But you can do whatever you want to him.” You mumble as you lean into Tommy’s embrace, the blood loss making you exhausted. 

Joel nods and points his shotgun at the tied man. 

You feel the warmth of Tommy's body and his heart beating against your cheek, giving you a sense of comfort. You raise your head to look at him as his voice shouts over his shoulder as he leaves the room to ascend the stairs from the basement, "And do it quick! We gotta get her back to the clinic."

Joel's voice drifts through the walls, uttering a few muffled words. But before you can decipher what he said, a gunshot stops the other man's pleas, and the walls around you shake. Time seems to stand still as you realise what has just happened. The man was dead, and that gunshot had meant one thing - Joel had done the deed. Finishing what you started. 

Chapter 2

Notes

Hey guys!! I've been writing and posting small concepts of this story and decided to start writing a more detailed story.

Thank you for all the love so far! This is my first longer fic that I've actually stuck with and I'm really glad you are all enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Divider by the beautiful saradika

Also a layout of the house mentioned in the first part!

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel tlou #tlou #tlou2 #tlou hbo #fanfiction #joel fanfic #joel x f!reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #tommy miller #tlou tommy

[silent-stories]

𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Summary: You and Dean go on a hunt together. The only problem is that he hates you and you never understood why.

Pairing: Dean × F!Reader 

Warnings: blood, a bit of angst, Dean being an asshole, swearing

Word count: 1420

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Dean hated you. You weren't sure why. You never did anything bad to him. But, as it seemed, he did everything to hurt you. When Sam announced to Dean that you were moving into the bunker he rolled his eyes and just said "really?".

From that moment you knew he didn't like you. At all. And that hurt you more every day. Because you liked him. A lot. You didn't know why he treated you like shit but you saw that it wasn't like that with others. He would die for his family and friends. Hell, he would also have died for strangers, when you hunted he did not hesitate to get hurt to save the lives of people he didn't even know. He was kind to Donna, Jody and the girls, hugging them every time he saw them and making funny jokes.

So you estabilished that the problem had to be you.

After several attempts you stopped making coffee for him in the morning and after a few days you stopped saying "good morning" too. He never thanked you or replied, you didn't see the point of continuing to be nice to him.

So when Sam found a case a few days ago, your heart almost missed a beat. Sam had his arm in a cast for a week now and he couldn't have come with you two. That meant you and Dean, alone, hunting. Together. "I can go alone" announced Dean entering the room.

"You'll get killed, you need y/n."

"Maybe she'll get me killed, Sam. I don't need her." He said before going to get his things ready.

Sam sighed. "I don't know why he behaves like this, I ..."

"It's okay, I'm going pack my things." You said before heading to your room. You had to hold back the tears. He didn't even want to fucking hunt with you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The trip took almost an hour and no one spoke. Not even once. AC/DC have filled the silence between you and Dean all the way. You took the opportunity to reread the news of the people found dead in the small town where you were heading, probably it was a vampire nest.

When you arrived at the first motel you found you almost cheered when the the lady at the reception said that the room you were assigned had two beds.

You couldn't bear to spend the night in the same bed as Dean if the man couldn't even look you in the face for two seconds straight.

About an hour later you walked around the town asking people questions and came to the conclusion that vampires were hiding in an abandoned factory not far from there. Dean always talked to you the bare minimum and you did the same to him. By now you had given up on having a conversation as a normal human being with him.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The vamps were really in the factory, there were only three and you got rid of them easily and in little time. You were walking out of that place that was starting to smell of blood when you heard a noise coming from behind you. Dean quickly pushed you behind him (Dean Winchester, the man who hated you with all his being pushed you behind him?!) and a second later a vampire pushed him against a wall and his nails had dug into the skin of his side.

You had heard the sound of tearing flesh and a scream come out of Dean's mouth. The son of a bitch was the alpha. Despite this he wasn't very smart because he didn't even look at you as he brought his face close to Dean's neck. The vampire's head rolled to the ground seconds later as his body fell on the ground. Like Dean's soon after. You dropped the knife and walked towards to him.

"Hey..." You whispered. "I'm fine." he replied immediately, standing up with one hand on the wall, without accepting your help. After a few steps, however, he fell to his knees holding his bleeding side with one hand, breathing heavily and he had to let you help him.

With his arm on your shoulders you arrived at the impala.

"You're not driving." You said.

"Of course I am." he replied, pulling you away.

"Dean, I don't give a damn if you bleed to death while driving but this time I'm in the car too and I'd rather not crash into a tree." You blurted out coldly, thinking this was probably the biggest lie you've ever told in your entire life but pushed the thought away as quickly as possible.

He threw you the keys and you drived back to your motel room without saying a word.

This time he was the first to approach and put his arm around you as you climb the stairs.

As he sat down on the bed with a grunt you went to find the things you needed to stitch him up in the bathroom.

Going back to him you found him without his t-shirt, the flannel left on the floor. You tried not to stare.

"Can I stitch you up or will you repel me like the plague?"

He just nodded.

Several minutes later you were done, wrapping the wounds with white gauze.

“Guess what? You will survive." You said with fake excitement before you took the kit back to the bathroom.

Returning to the room you sat on your bed with a sigh, before silence fell between you again.

"Thank you" he said a few minutes later.

"Why did you push me behind you?" You asked instead.

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

"Dean, I know you hate me. You don't give a shit if I get hurt or not."

"Believe me when I tell you that I don't hate you at all."

"So explain Dean, because before you act like a asshole for months and now you suddenly seem to care about me."

He sighed.

"People who get close to me die, y/n. The first time I saw you, the day we met on that hunt, I knew I was screwed. You came and saved my ass and Sam's, you were beautiful also covered in blood and full of scratches and I knew that if I let you get too close to me it would be the end. Charlie died because of me. She wasn't the first and she won't be the last. The people I love die. One after the other. I just knew I didn't want you to be next. "

You stared at him for a moment, in silence.

"You're not an awful company when you're not trying to be an asshole." you said eventually.

"I was expecting you to say something like "go fuck yourself" so it's already more than I expected. Or what I deserve" he replied with a sad laugh.

"Anyway, you don't have to forgive me or stop hating me just because ..." he continued.

"I don't hate you Dean, I've never done that. Not even when I tried hard." You said getting up from your bed to sit next to him. Your shoulders touched lightly.

"You should, I'm an awful person." he whispered looking down.

"Dean, you are one of the best people I have ever met in my entire life, you are funny, kind, you would give your life for the people you care about and ..." Suddenly his hand was on yours.

"Y/n I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole. I'm really so sorry. You don't deserve it. Hell, you made me coffee in the morning, you were always kind and ..."

You kissed him. You really did.

Thinking back at it, you would have never expected it from yourself, but Dean was there, saying he didn't hate you and maybe he liked you too. What were you supposed to do?

When he kissed you back you smiled against his mouth. Neither of you hated the other. Good to know.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You stayed on his bed, lying next to him talking most of the night. When you were getting up to go back to your bed, around 3am, he grabbed your hand, only whispering a sleepy "stay". You curled up next to him and stayed there, enjoying the heat coming from his body. You both fell asleep a few minutes later.

Eventually, even though there were two beds, you didn't even use yours, you thought with a smile the next morning, when you woke up with Dean's arm holding you against his chest.

#dean x reader #dean winchester fic #supernatural fic #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #hurt!dean #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x y/n

[westofessos]

So I just finished Gilmore Girls for the first time and boy, do I have some thoughts:

First of all, I love this show so much. More than I ever thought I would. It’s just so comforting. I totally get it now.

Now, for specifics.

Lorelai:

I love Lorelai. She does make some dumb choices, but in the end, she’s just so loveable and fun, I can’t help but adore her.

Rory:

I do not get the hate I’ve seen for Rory! Yes, like her mom, she makes stupid decisions, but she’s so wonderful. Maybe it’s just because I relate to her so closely, but I love Rory so much.

Luke:

Ughhhh I love love love Luke. He’s so unexpectedly hilarious sometimes?? I did not foresee that when I started. Scott Patterson is also strangely one of the best actors on the show, which I also did not expect. Luke is a gem, we love him.

Luke & Lorelai:

How could you not love these two together? They’re absolutely perfect for each other and the pining, especially on Luke’s part, makes for incredible television. I do think their dynamic kind of lost the really special ‘will they, won’t they’ tension after season 1/2, but I still ship them. So glad they ended up together. When she was still with Christopher near the end of season 7, I got a little worried.

Paris:

PARIS IS GAY. I will accept nothing less. She is queer in some way, whether she’s a lesbian or bi. She had absolutely no chemistry with any of her love interests but so much with Rory. Also she’s just amazing all around. I fucking love Paris. Make her queer, cowards.

Lane:

How could you not love Lane? She’s the absolute shit. Cool, supportive, loyal, and a fucking rockstar. I didn’t mind her with Zach to begin with (even though I thought it was a bit strange how they all of a sudden liked each other), but when they got married and had kids, that was a big nope for me. Lane Kim deserved to be a famous rockstar.

Emily & Richard:

I went back and forth on these two. On one hand, they’re very entertaining characters and I do believe they’re trying to do what they think is best, but on the other, I think in the end they do more harm than good. The way they dismiss Lorelai’s trauma, and completely disregard everyone else’s opinion because they assume they automatically know what’s best, just rubs me the wrong way. Not to mention the manipulation and the going behind people’s backs. I think there should’ve been an arc at the end where they finally listened to Lorelai and acknowledged what they’d done and tried to change for the better.

Sookie:

Melissa McCarthy is great in everything, and this is no exception. She’s so sweet and lovable, and such a good friend to Lorelai. I love her. Plus her relationship with Jackson is just lovely.

Michel:

He’s such a sarcastic bitch and I love him. I think that’s all there is to say.

The Townies and Side Characters:

Kirk - Kirk is maybe the funniest part of the show and such a little sweetheart, I love him so much.

Babette - aka the best neighbour ever. We deserved even more of her and Morey than we got.

Miss Patty - same goes for Patty! We need more Patty!

Taylor - annoying and obnoxious but the show wouldn’t be the same without him. Irreplaceable.

Gypsy - again, we needed more!! Gypsy was so funny and I just wanted more!

April - I love April! She’s so sweet. I don’t, however, like what her arrival did to Luke and Lorelai’s relationship, and I fucking hate Anna.

Christopher - I don’t hate him, but he’s definitely not one of my favourites. I think it would’ve been a lot better if he and Lorelai had just been really close friends, or if he had just been fully out of the picture.

And finally, the boys:

Dean:

FUCK. DEAN. Do I need to say more? He’s a toxic, possessive, asshole and I hate him. He was okay in the beginning, but the ‘50s episode really clinched my hatred for him. Huge nope from me. What a dick.

Logan:

Man, do I hate Logan. Obviously not as bad as Dean, but he’s such a douchebag!! I genuinely cannot stand him or put up with any of his bullshit. I thought he would grow on me as the show went on but no, I only hated him more.

Jess:

Best for last. My love for this man knows no bounds. Obviously the best fit for Rory, I love them together, but also his relationship with Luke is so great. Also, justice for his and Rory’s relationship while they were dating!! Why did we only get to see it when shit hit the fan? They kept mentioning how they were going to hang out, that they were meeting up later on, so why didn’t we get to see any of it? Why did we only get to see them when Jess fucked up? I hate that. I also hate that they didn’t end up together, even when Jess grew and changed and bettered himself. Anyway, I just love him. I could talk about him forever.

A Year in the Life:

They tried to fit 22 episodes worth of Gilmore Girls into 4 episodes, and it didn’t work. The first episode did an okay job, and I did kind of love the last episode (the wedding!), but the middle two were. . . yikes. No theme song/opening titles? No transitions? NO SOOKIE EXCEPT FOR ONE SCENE AT THE END? Michel thinking about leaving the inn and Lorelai being abandoned by both of her friends? No Jackson? Rory being with an engaged Logan? Basically no Jess except for a few scenes, one of which broke my heart? I could go on forever.

That being said, they should make more after the cliffhanger they left us on. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if it’s subpar.

Anyway those are just a few of my many thoughts about this show. I can’t believe I waited until now to watch it. I need someone to talk about this show with so if you see this and want to talk, DM me.

#gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #luke danes #emily gilmore #richard gilmore #paris geller #lane kim #jess mariano #literati #logan huntzberger #lauren graham #alexis bledel #scott patterson #milo ventimiglia #liza weil #keiko agena #sookie st james #melissa mccarthy

[according2thelore]

holy SHIT that excerpt was so good!!!!!! the elliott ness / hitler bit was hilarious. omg everything i ever could have dreamed and more…. inherent characteristic of dean of all ages is that he is a little shit, and also that he will kill himself for sam.

i also love that baby sam describes grownup sam as barely holding it together. i feel like hearing that would break older dean’s heart but older sam would really just take it as, like, yeah. a little bit true.

do you ever think of them interacting w other characters in this au? cas dropping by, or crowley or rowena or someone calling, lol. if this is set in an elongated season 11, lucifer would be horrific. or… hmm. I feel like claire would be funny, little dean tries to hit on her and she’s just absolutely disgusted.

omg omg omg anon i am kissing you kissing you kissing you kissing you thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!

and haha, thank you! it's so fun to see dean freak out in the moment about meeting his idols (dr. sexy, elliot ness) that i can only imagine how ES!Dean would react to the info that he would actually get to meet them one day! ES!Dean would lose his SHIT if he found out s1e1 that picking up sam from college would allow him to hit on daphne from scooby doo. could you fucking imagine??

LS!Dean would stare angstily into the distance about the "barely holding it together" comment but LS!Sam would say something equivalent to: "ha! yeah. fair enough."

in my idea of how this universe works, i think they would text all their friends a very clear do not come over!! leave us alone until we say it's okay!! we are safe!! personal business!! and everyone thinks they're having a crazy sex weekend, so they definitely do not want to come over. i think once we start adding more characters, this thing gets messy bc how the fuck are we going to explain to ES!Sam&Dean who JUST found out that vampires are real that their best friend is an angel and he also possessed his vessel's daughter claire, that's why she's here and also a hunter and also a child, say hi claire! huh? oh yeah this isn't cas's body, this is a guy named jimmy. no we don't think he's still in there. anyway. he was god for a bit but not anymore and hm? how? oh he ate a bunch of souls. because the king of hell told him to. no not the devil, the king of hell. who's the devil? well. funny story--

but hypothetically i can get down! i love the way your brain works!!! i think it's super fun to imagine all the characters interacting with these squeaky-toy versions of sam and dean who are even more insular and weird as the seasons go on. ES!Sam&Dean are so earnest! and excited! hypothetically speaking, i think it would go like this:

i have been harboring a secret little headcanon that sam and dean's souls look similar, since they're soulmates. to humans, they all just look like balls of light, but for angels or demons...

it makes me think about if cas pops by, he almost...doesn't notice? at first? it depends on the season, but if he's a full-graced angel, he sees the soul first, not the "vessel."

so he pops into the bunker, like "hello, dean. your soul is bright today. can i meet you and sam in the library?" and pops back out. and ES!Sam and LS!Dean are stood there, blinking. and LS!Dean is like. "well. fuck."

and when they all assemble in the war room, castiel looks back and forth between the four of them. for a minute and half of pure silence. "did you have kids?"

"identical kids?" LS!Sam asks, incredulous. "like spores?"

and castiel says "one second." and squints even harder and says. "oh. i see. there are four of you. why did you do that?"

and of course, LS!Sam&Dean are all, "did we do it? we thought someone--on your...ah. team. did this."

and ES!Dean's says, "who's this asshole? oh shit. is he blind? my bad."

"this is our best friend. castiel." LS!Dean says, trying not to laugh. "he has a...religious family."

"is this the friend that tried to be god?" ES!Dean asks, skeptically, and LS!Dean hits LS!Sam on the back of the head, hard.

"it's not my fault! he has big eyes!" LS!Sam says by way of explanation, like that means anything to anyone besides ES!Sam.

"it's very true." castiel agrees solemnly, and both sams trade a look about which thing cas is responding to.

ES!Dean and cas would get along like a house on fire, which is to say...the winchesters don't have a great track record with those. but ES!Sam and cas?? oh boy. best friend alert. if it slips that cas is an angel, ES!Sam is big-eyed, heart-thumping, breathless excited, which none of the other 3/4 are too jazzed about. cas is quite pleased. he preens like a peacock.

"why yes. my true form would melt your eyeballs, samuel." and ES!Sam is almost bouncing up and down in glee. cas never calls sam samuel, but he thinks it adds a biblical affect that ES!Sam clearly appreciates.

they have tea together.

read: sam spills boiling water over his hand while trying to make them tea and cas takes a great deal of satisfaction in healing it. by holding his hand.

read: LS!Dean kicks open the imaginary door of the kitchen like OKAY. THAT'S ENOUGH. HE'S A CHILD. DROP THE BABY.

~~~

crowley texts LS!Dean an ASMR video of someone reading threatening reddit comments (what fucked-up psychological warfare tactic is this??) and when ES!Dean sees the notification, he asks,

"who is the contact with the little devil picture and the...is that an egglant?"

"how did he change his name in my fucking phone? pizza hut. no one. what phone?" LS!Dean throws it across the room because he knows that without a shadow of a fucking doubt that crowley would unhinge his jaw and swallow ES!Sam&Dean whole if he got the chance. or at least desperately try to convince them into a threesome. 

there's no risk of that, but dean is NOT going to explain the 'king of hell' business, so he leaves it be.

~~~

maybe jody (that introduction actually goes smashingly) would bring claire around one day, and, yeah anon, you're right. ES!Dean is a limpet. he's pulling out all the stops. he leans seductively against the table in the war room. he winks a lot. he breaks eye contact coquettishly. claire is stuck between finding it amusing and being horrifically disgusted. she audibly gags when dean smolders.

claire starts to say, "you do know i'm--"

and ES!Dean cuts her off with a shit-eating grin, "if you're about to say your age, don't. i like plausible deniability."

and claire nods for a second before suddenly reaching out, grabbing him, and flipping him over her shoulder. she breaks a chair with his flying body. no one helps him up.

if anything, this makes her hotter, and ES!Dean sees LS!Sam get genuinely angry at him for the first time when he says so.

"back off, dean. i'm serious."

and ES!Dean gets so immediately, blindingly hard that he has to go sulk in his room for a minute or thirty or risk showing the exact shape of his dick to the room at large.

"yes sir. sammy. what the fuck? i'm gonna--" runs into the wall. "i've gotta. fuck. no-- i mean. hahahahahahahahah---" *fading into the distance as dean waddles awkwardly away*

~~~

(and hypothetically speaking, lucifer would be a fucking horror show. LS!Sam is literally covering ES!Sam with his body because didn't he get to ruin sam long enough? you don't get me any earlier. you can't touch him, i won't let you fucking touch him. ES!Dean can tell something is Not Good Bad Wrong Fucked and the sheer depth of terror, of trauma, scares the fucking shit out of him. he looks desperately to LS!Dean like a child looking at their father, can you fix this, how do we fix this? and no one has any answers. lucifer is obsessed. it's a nightmare.)

~~~

anyway, lol! i hope you liked! this one was super fun to think about! dean is always kind of a skeeze, but early seasons especially so lol. i think a lot of people would have a field day w that! and ES!Sam is so earnest and trusting!

thank you again for this ask anon! i always love hearing which part of fics/these posts are folks favourites! kissing you!

have a great day! :)

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #anon <3

[jawritter]

Carry On

Chapter 21

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2815

Warnings: Angst, kinda arguing? Some fluff there too.

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67​​​​ Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist        Series Masterlist

Sure enough, as soon as Dean rounded Baby onto the street that they now lived on, there it was, the black, very new looking Dodge Charger they had been warned of. She had known that, in comparison, Dean’s taste and Sam’s were vastly different, but she never would have thought that this was his style. 

While on the way home from the shop, Dean had filled her in on Sam’s time as a ‘soulless git’ working for their grandfather after he’d crawled his physical way out of the cage, leaving behind the sensible part of himself, becoming a robotic, unfeeling, ‘asshole’, as Dean described him. 

Y/N had not gotten to see this side of Sam, but she didn’t want to tell Dean that it wasn’t that hard to picture him as such. Basically, a total loss of that little consciousness that keeps us all in line, and just doing whatever he wanted to do. Y/N always felt Sam was nothing but one step away from doing that now, seeing as Dean had told her about the time, he’d hit a dog while Dean was in purgatory and didn’t even bother to look for him until Benny and himself had clawed their way out. 

So, if she really sat there and thought about it, Sam’s behavior was a bit of a habit of his. From leaving his family to run off to college when he was young, to the constant battle with, and blame game he played with John. While Y/N didn’t live through it, she couldn’t help but feel that John did hold most of the issue there, but she also couldn’t say that being put in the same position as Sam, she would have felt any different about their family life. What she would have done differently, seeing as he grew up in the situation that they grew up, Dean sacrificed everything for him over and over again, would have been shown his older brother the fucking respected he deserved for putting up with his bratty ass!

Dean pulled up into the driveway, passing the car and its dark tinted windows as if they were a scrub bush, and parked in his usual spot. 

“Are you ready for this?” Dean questioned as he killed the engine. “Only fuck knows what’s going to happen when they get out of that car.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she said, anger boiling like a simmer pot just under the surface, ready to explode at any moment. She’d had far enough of the way Sam was treating Dean, and she was absolutely prepared to kick his ass if she needed too. 

“Then let’s face it,” Dean said with a huff, kicking the door open with force as if he had to hype himself up for whatever was coming. 

As if on cue, as soon as Dean stepped out of the Impala, Sam’s driver side door opened. Dean didn’t move away from his car, but rather leaned against her shiny black exterior and crossed his arms, forcing Sam to walk up to him if he had anything to say that he didn’t want the whole neighborhood to hear. 

Dean’s face was hard and unreadable as he watched Sam make his way slowly up the driveway, Eileen took a little longer to get out; deciding to hang back by the door, not bothering to walk up the driveway at all, as if she was ready to run if she needed too, and that made Y/N nervous. 

“Dean,” Sam called as he approached his brother, Dean said nothing; just stared at him for a moment, as if chewing on the words he wanted to say, but unsure as to if they would start a fight. 

“What are you doing here Sam?” Dean finally spoke. 

She’d seen Dean walled up before, but she’d never seen his walls this high, it was a little bit alarming; enough to make Sam stop short of arms reach of his elder brother because even he wasn’t sure if he got close enough, if Dean wouldn’t have been able to take a swing at him. 

While Sam could probably beat Dean in a foot race, Y/N had seen him working himself up on a punching bag before, and she knew that if push came to shove, Dean could still throw a hell of a punch. Sam knew this too. 

“I ugh…” Sam paused, taking a deep breath as he kicked the loose rocks around under his feet, much like a child that new he’d done wrong, and was waiting on the bomb to drop to receive his punishment, but it didn’t make Y/N feel sorry for him, after watching Dean struggle with all of this the way he had, she felt Sam deserved it. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Sam said after a long pause. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I didn’t treat you fairly at all, and I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

“That’s it?” Dean questioned, and Sam stared at him like he was completely taken aback by his response. Apparently Dean wasn’t so eager to ‘forgive and forget’ like he used to be; that was something Y/N hadn’t seen coming either. She figured that as soon as Sam apologized, things would be back to normal between them. 

Sam blinked, stunned as Y/N was, Dean just remained unreadable as a blank slab; hard and cold. 

“Ya–Yeah, I guess so…” Sam finally managed, swallowing hard. 

“Bullshit,” Dean argued, and Sam took a step backward. “I know good and damn well there’s more to this visit than you wanting to apologize, other than you sitting out here in front of my house for almost two hours. So what is it? What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Sam insisted. “I just wanted to apologize, Dean. I mean, I am moving to Texas with Eileen and—”

“There it is,” Dean said with an unamused chuckle. “Let me guess, she’s pregnant, and that’s why she’s hanging behind the door of that car, and not walking up here right now is that right?” 

Sam’s eyes bulged momentarily, and so did Y/N’s. She literally didn’t know what to say or do. She would have never thought he would have just come on out with that. 

“Look,” Sam huffed, getting frustrated now.  “I didn’t want to leave things between us the way they were. It will probably be a while before we can come back to Kansas.”

“So she is pregnant then?” Dean questioned, lifting one perfect eyebrow, and Sam turned a few shades of red, but whether it was out of embarrassment or anger, Y/N wasn’t sure. 

“Why do you care so much that she’s pregnant Dean?! You’re the one who told me to hook up with her in the first place! Told me that ‘she understood the life’, and that it would be a smart fucking move!”

“I’m not bothered,” Dean admitted with a shrug, “Hell, I ain’t even mad; at least not about that. But you could have been upfront and honest with Y/N and me when you found out about it, instead of running off on a pretend  hunt to fuck knows where, all because you where having a tantrum, and totally freaked the fuck out like you tend to do when shit gets a little real in life.”

Sam opened his mouth, flabbergasted, in an attempt to speak, but once Dean was started, there was no stopping him, he’d held it in too long. 

“It’s always been this way with you Sam. Couldn’t get along with Dad? So what do you do, you run off to Stanford, leaving me alone with his abusive ass. Then you come back from the cage, soulless; might I add, and you let me spend all that time thinking you were dead. Don’t give me that shit about wanting me to have some apple pie life either, cause that’s a goddamn lie. Then I get sucked into fucking Pergatory, and you don’t even come look for me or try to get me out, all because you hit a fucking dog, and decided to play house?! Those are just the highlights. Honestly, the only time you ever really did look for me was when the fucking Mark turned me into a demon. So I’m impressed it took you so long to run off again after I got hurt, but I knew it was coming. Especially after I found those pregnancy test in the trashcan in the bathroom, and sure as fuck knew they weren’t Y/N’s because they where fucking positive.”

Sam rubbed his hands down his face harshly, before rounding on Dean. “You know, you haven’t exactly been a fucking joy to be around either my whole life! What? With your sick, self-righteous attitude! Always had to be ‘daddy’s little hammer’, do whatever the fuck Dad tells you to to. Sold your soul when I died and spent months in Hell. Then you go and say yes to fucking Micheal. Constantly fighting with Cas, or anyone who gave a damn about you. But sure, I’m the one with the problem.”

“I never said I was perfect,” Dean admitted, his voice calm and creepily even. “I took Dad’s shit because of you. To protect you from the same shit he did to me. I sold my soul to get you back, because I’m the one that should have died, not you. You deserved to have a life. I didn’t feel at the time like I did, because that’s what had been ground into my fucking head my whole life. I was the grunt. Nothing more. I never intended to act self-righteous. I went to Lisa’s because it’s what you wanted me to do. Not because it’s what I wanted to do. I almost got her killed for fuck’s sake! I said yes to Micheal to save the people I didn’t have the power to save myself anymore, mainly you. That’s the same reason I took the Mark. The most selfish thing I did in the lineup that you mentioned was become a demon because you know what? I was tired of the pain. I wanted you to have a normal, happy life. It’s all I ever wanted.”

Sam’s features started to soften a little, but Dean didn’t let up, instead he just pushed on. 

“But what thanks did I get for everything that I’ve done? None. I got none. When I needed my brother the most, when I was flat on my back in a hospital, unsure if I was gonna live or die. You disappeared for three days. Miracle would have been fine until I at least got out of the ICU.”

Dean stopped, shaking his head as he did so. Suddenly, he just looked tired. 

“I don’t blame you for wanting a life Sammy, I never did. It’s all I ever wanted you to have. But when I saw you were gonna do that, and that you were gonna be okay, even after I felt like you totally abandoned me. I let you go. Please, move to Texas. Start a family. Go back to school. You’re still pretty young. You’ve got time. I’m happy for you guys, I am. But an ‘I’m sorry,’ isn’t gonna fix things between us this time. It’s gonna take me some time. I’m starting a life here with Y/N, you go start your own life with Eileen. That’s the one thing I wont hold against you. It’s gonna take me a long time to forgive you for what you’ve done to me this time, and it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than one I’m sorry.”

Sam nodded, letting his eyes trail over the house that stood towering behind Y/N and Dean, and Y/N braced herself for what she was sure was to come, but it didn’t. 

“So, mom and dad’s place?” Sam questioned, and Dean nodded. 

“And the auto shop in town dad used to work at. I’m done hunting Sam. I physically can’t do it anymore, and I’ve just had enough.”

Sam cleared his throat as he looked back over his shoulder, Eileen was watching closely, trying to read their body language, which must have been a nightmare, because Dean was so tense. 

“I’m happy for you Dean,” Sam admitted after a moment. “I really am. You look great, better than I’ve ever seen you. You’ve got a home, and something you love to do. You’ve got a life now. You deserve this. You really do.”

There was a moment of doubt that crossed Dean’s face, but he didn’t vocalize it, even though he was starting to soften around the edges just a little bit; the tenseness leaving his shoulders. 

“You guys wanna come in before you go? Take one last look at the place?” Dean offered, but Sam just shook his head. 

“Nah, we need to get on the road. Believe it or not I have a job interview in the morning, so I kinda need to get to Texas before 6AM.”

“Job?” Dean questioned, eyes narrow. “You’re not hunting still are you?” 

“No, no, I think I’ve had enough of that too for a while. I’m thinking about joining the police force… maybe,working my way up to be a detective. We’ve got enough experience in digging up shit after all.”

Dean snorted in agreement. 

“We’ll be back around… maybe around Christmas time? But when Eileen has the baby, I want you guys to come down and meet him,” Sam affirmed as he slowly made a few steps towards his brother now that he was sure Dean wasn’t gonna swing at him. 

“Him?”

“Yeah, we found out it’s gonna be a boy.”

A sad look crossed Dean’s face before he could catch it, and it hurt to see, it really did. That was it. Something Dean was missing, something he’d never get to have. At least, that’s the way he was thinking and she knew it.

“Yeah, we’ll do that,” Dean agreed, and Sam reached up to hug his older brother one last time. 

“I mean it Dean, I really am happy for you guys,” Sam said again, as Dean pulled away from him. 

“Yeah, same, I’m proud of the two of you, now get on the road before this turns into a chick flick moment,” Dean said, and Sam laughed nervously. 

“Take care of him Y/N,” Sam said, turning his attention towards her for the first time, and Y/N nodded giving Sam a tight lipped smile as he made his way back down to the car. Eileen waved before slipping back into the passenger seat, and Dean and Y/N waved back as Sam put the car in reverse, and started to make his way down the street. 

Y/N slipped her hand into Dean’s as he watched the pair of tail lights in the fading light of the evening until he couldn't see them anymore. 

Things weren’t fixed between the pair of them, not by a long shot, but that could have gone a hell of a lot worse than it did. She had to admit that. Still, there was a finality, a heaviness in his leaving. Even if deep down, both of them knew it was the right thing. They’d been so codependent on one another for so long; it had become toxic, and they both needed this; a chance at a fresh start. Hopefully the start of what might eventually be a healthy brotherly relationship. 

“Dean?” Y/N questioned, catching his attention as he stared blankly off down the road; a mixture of a million and one emotions in his eyes,“you okay?”

Dean looked down at her before giving her a tired smile, and pulling her into his arms. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay sweetheart, I’ve got you here with me, and that's all I need.”

Dean dipped forward, capturing her lips with his, in a deep, passionate kiss that didn’t last near long enough, but would have possibly lasted longer if fucking Cathy’s nosy ass had not turned the porch light on, illuminating her front yard, and most of theirs. 

“Come on,” Y/N said with a chuckle at Dean’s annoyed face as he glared at the house next door. “I think I promised you food earlier.”

“Damn right you did,” Dean teased, pulling her close to him as they made their way up the driveway towards their front door. 

For the first time since they moved here, Y/N was glad to be home. It actually felt like coming home, but that might have a whole lot to do with the fact that she felt like she was floating five feet off the pavement. It had been SOOO long since Dean had kissed her. She didn’t realize just how badly she needed it, or just how deeply it would have affected her.

Forever:

@britnwinchester​​​​​​​

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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@sarahgracej​

#carry on #dean winchester #dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #hurt!dean winchester x reader #hurt!dean winchester x you #hurt!dean winchester x y/n #hurt!dean x reader #hurt!dean x you #hurt!dean x y/n #spn fanfic #spn serie #jensen ackles #jawritter

[snffbeebee]

Poison Apples Chapter 2

{ Catch up with Chapter 1 }

Word Count - 2,620

Warnings - Swearing, a little bit of sexy time...and well just the Mark of Cain doing what it does best. Enjoy, because this baby is just getting started!!!!

“Alright, it’s time to explain,” you stated as you settled onto the bed of the hotel room he selected for the night. “Who the fuck are you and why are people trying to kill you?”

“Not people,” he reminded you. “Demons.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Alright,” he sighed out as he sat down the bags on the floor. “Let’s start over. I’m Dean.”

“Not Jonathan Cash?” you snarked.

“No,” he smirked. “Not Johnny Cash.”

“Seriously?” you scoffed at his amusement to his own poor joke. 

“It’s a thing I do,” he shrugged as he sat down in a chair across from you. “And I’m a hunter. I hunt ghosts, demons, all that supernatural kind of stuff that you probably don’t believe in.”

“And now they’re after you?”

“Because of this,” he pointed to that mark on his arm again. “It’s the mark of Cain. With this, I don’t die but I become one of them.”

“A demon?” you snarked. 

“Yes,” he replied. “And he’s not as nice as me.”

“So you were a demon and now you’re not?” you raised your brow. 

“Yeah, there’s a cure to make me human again,” he replied. “But that doesn’t undue its damage.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain,” he breathed out deeply. “But fighting and killing… I like it. It’s like it wants me to do it and is always hungry.”

“Well that’s comforting,” you sarcastically stated. There was a long pause as your mind wandered back to the events of the night. “So why haven’t you just killed me?”

“You’re innocent,” he shrugged. “From what I can tell at least. You seem like a good person.”

“Thanks I guess,” you said softly. “So it’s just you?”

“There’s others like my brother,” he looked off. “We’re  not talking at the moment but he’s out there too, looking for me.”

“And you’re hiding from your brother?”

“More like, keeping my distance,” he replied, looking back at you. “He’s gone mad trying to find a cure and I can’t let him get anyone else hurt because of me.”

“I thought you said there was a cure?”

“To being a demon, yes, but to get rid of this? No.” 

“How did you even get that?”

He went on to explain the father of evil, Cain, and how he came to be the newest bearer of the mark and why. He discussed how he had died shortly after because of an asshole angel Metatron and turned demon to run around with the king of hell until his brother and their friend, who was also an angel, cured him. 

“You do know this all sounds insane right?” was all you could really muster out.

“I’m not an idiot. I know it does, but you’re just going to have to trust me.”

“And if I don't?”

“You’ll most likely end up dead,” he replied flatly. “None of them that are after me will care. You’re just another member of collateral damage.”

“Great,” you took a deep breath. “So it’s basically just a matter of time before I either die or go back and go to jail for the rest of my life?” 

“Like I said before,” his eyes met yours. “Listen to me and you’ll be alive.” 

After letting a large puff of air escape through your lips you got up from your spot. He watched you closely as you found the mini fridge. There were little bottles of alcohol inside and you were going to down each and every one of them. After twisting off the top of a vodka, you shot it back in one big gulp. 

You heard a snicker coming from him as you went to open another. You opted to ignore him as you chugged down the second one. 

“It’ll probably be at least a day before they find the bodies at your place, but it’s likely that someone from the hospital will notice your new patient is no longer there and review the cameras.”

“Most likely not until the 1st shift comes in at 8,” you replied. 

“What time does the bank open?”

“9 I think.”

“So that gives us,” he peered at the clock. “About 6 hours to sleep, and an hour to watch our backs til you can get to the bank, and to get the fuck out of town.”

“I need a shower,” you grumbled as you touched your neck. “I need to clean this up.” 

He got up from his spot and moved his hand to your chin to tilt your head back. You flinched for a second, but then allowed him to look. His hand stayed there for a while as he examined, causing a warm feeling inside you to start developing. Lust

or fear?  You did your best to ignore it as he stated that once you were showered he would help to bandage it up. You nodded as you pulled away from him, going to the bathroom to discard your clothing and enter into the shower. You weren’t in there long. You felt vulnerable with him and whatever else was now after you on the other side of the door. After getting dressed you walked out, he was now sitting on the bed with his own little bottle now empty in his hand. 

“Your turn,” you stated as you grabbed your brush out of your bag. “The water isn’t horrible.” 

He got up with a nod, but stopped himself as he approached the doorway to turn to you. 

“I’m sorry I got you involved.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t seem sorry when you had the knife in my back,” you harped back. 

“You mean this,” he pulled out a metal piece of the gurney he was on. It wasn’t a knife. You were never in danger. You felt the anger rise up.

“You asshole,” you seethed. 

“Yeah, I am,” he replied as he set it down. “I can understand if you want to run. I’m not holding you captive.”

“Not like I have a choice now,” you snapped back. 

“Yeah, well,” he sheepishly replied. “I just wanted you to know I never really meant any harm and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

With that he went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You were angry, but you understood and you hated yourself for that. You’d rather just be angry at him, but you couldn’t because you knew in that same situation, you might have done the same. 

______

His lips locked on to yours as his hands caressed your body. His fingertips tracing lines on every inch of you until they made their way down to your mound. Rubbing the lips of your entrance, you felt your wetness grow for him as his mouth moved to your neck, taking in your skin with his teeth gently. You were ready for him as he rubbed his digits on your folds before he twisted his digit inside of you, pumping you in and out slowly before he added another. It wasn’t long before he found the spot that made your thighs clench and shake as your orgasam grew. You felt it coming as his lips moved to trail down along your chest and further. You felt your knees buckle as he grew closer. One more second and you were seeing white spots. 

“Y/N,” you heard him speak. You let out a moan in anticipation. 

“Y/N!” you heard him again. “Wake up!”

You snapped your eyes open to see him standing above you all dressed and ready to go. Fuck, it was all a dream. You felt the wetness between your legs as you moved to get up, the slipperiness causing you to want to finish off the job. 

“What time is it?” you asked as you sat up. 

“About 7:45,” he replied. “You okay there? You seemed like you were having a bad dream or something.”

 “Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m good, just a little restless.”

“We’ll get dressed and all your stuff ready,” he instructed. “Be ready to move quick.”

You groaned at his directness, but eventually got up and made your way to the bathroom to get dressed, opting for simple jeans and tshirt with sneakers. You came out and everything was all packed and already looked like room service hit it. 

“Time to fly,” he stated. “How far away is the bank?” 

“Probably take about 15 minutes to get there,” you yawned. “Is there any time for food?”

“There’s coffee and donuts in the lobby,” he replied. “Where’s your phone?”

You pulled it out of your purse, no missed calls as of yet. He grabbed it from you and turned off the location services before handing it back.

“Once we hit the bank, phone is gone,” he warned. 

“Why?”

“911 can still track,” he replied. “I’ll get you a burner one.”

“No one but work calls me anyways,” you stated as you put it away. 

“ No boyfriend or anything that will miss you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m too much of a workaholic for that.”

“Well that makes this easier,” he stated with a shrug as you gave him a hard glare. “Relationships complicate things.”

“This one sure has,” you remarked with a smirk.

“Oh this will be fun,” he chuckled to himself as you both exited the room to head to the next phase. 

“This may be my best one yet.”

______

He pulled up outside of the bank, stating that he would be a block down the street waiting. You were instructed to get as much cash that they would allow and the rest on multiple money orders. You understood the assignment. 

“Hey, I’m moving and would like to make a withdrawal please,” you said to the teller. 

“How much,” she asked as she started filling out the slip. 

“All my checking and savings,” you replied.

She glared at you as her eyes shifted to the screen. 

“That’s over $700,000.”

“I know,” you stated. “I need 10 in cash, if possible and everything else on money orders. Dividends of 25k will work and some odd ones.”

“I need my manager to approve that,” she started to get up.

“Wait,” you whispered. It was enough to stop her. She looked at you with concern. 

“My boyfriend, he’s stalking me and I have to get away,” you replied, acting the best that you could before showing the mark on your neck. “He’s dangerous.”

“Call the police,” she whispered back.

“He is the police,” you replied softly as you did a glance behind you, tears forming in your eyes. “Please help me.”

She was hesitant at first, but then agreed. Domestic abuse, no one really questions and everyone knows someone that has been through it. You won her pity as she finished up the transaction and gave you a gentle ‘good luck’ as you collected the money and checks and put them into your purse. 

As you walked out you heard your phone ring. You looked at it and saw that it was work calling. You wanted to pick it up and tell them what was happening, but was it really a person on the other end or another one of those things. You chucked it into the garbage can on the sidewalk and made your way back to the car. 

“You good?” Dean asked as you entered. 

“Yeah,” you replied. “They called. It’s time to go.”

“Which way?” you raised his brow to you. 

“South,” you replied as you put your purse in the back. “As far down as we can get.”

“Not to pry,” he clicked his tongue as he started to drive. “But how much did you end up being able to get?” 

“Enough,” you chuckled for a moment, remembering that you really didn’t know the guy next to you. “$50,000.”

His eyes widened as he drove.

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, it’s not much-“

“You’re freaking rich,” he laughed. “No conning pool or cards for you.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. “We should probably find a place to get you clothes.”

“You sure?” he questioned you. “I don’t want you to specially spend your money on me or anything.”

“It will be a gift to myself to not have to smell you in the same clothes after a few days,” you smirked. 

“We will stop when we enter New York, " he stated. “Let's get out of the New England states first.” 

“Sounds good to me,” you said as you leaned back your head. The ride was nice and smooth along the highway. He had the radio on, but only at a muffle. You watched as the scenery went by and slowly, your eyes began to close again.

———

“Hey Y/N,” Dean shook you awake. “Time to get up.”

It was almost dark already when you opened your eyes. You looked around and saw that you were at a gas station. Where, you had no idea. You stretched out your legs as you got out. Your body felt like you were in the car for days. Dean started to pump the gas and asked if you would grab him water and something to snack on. You went in like a kid in a candy store, not knowing what kind of snack he liked and being hungry yourself, you opted for one of almost everything. At least the stuff you would eat if he wouldn’t. While checking out with the snacks and the gas, you heard the door open. You turned your head and saw two guys walking in, looking sketchy and their eyes roaming you. You thanked the cashier and got out of there. Dean wasn’t in sight where you sat in the car and waited patiently. The two guys came out, the one tapping his friend's arm and looking at you in the car. They started to approach you and you wished you had the keys to leave at that second. 

“Hey honey,” the skeezball stated with a grin as he leaned down to your open window. He rested his arms on the ledge causing you to not be able to roll it up. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Go away,” you replied while trying to not look at him or give him notice. 

“We’re having a party,” he continued. “Want to join us?”

You ignored him as best as you could as you noticed him inching in closer. 

“Nice car here,” he commented. “I’d love to take you for a ride in it. How much will it cost me?” 

“Go away”, you stated again. 

“Hey!” you heard Dean shout out. “We got a problem here?”

“My friend was just saying hello,” the other guy who wasn’t at your window responded back. 

“Your boyfriend?” the creepier asked you. 

“Time to say goodbye,” Dean warned.

“Why? We were just inviting her to a party. You can join us if you’d like. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the three of us taking our turns.”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say to Dean as he punched the one guy and before you knew it both were now down on the ground. The one that had approached you was turning into a bloody mess as Dean sat on top of him, endlessly punching him in the face. 

“Get off Dean!” you cried as you tried to pull him off. “We got to go before the cops come!”

He spit down on the guy as he got up and made his way into the car. You checked the guy for a pulse first before you jumped in the car as well. He was alive, barely. Dean went animalistic on him. You started to have a million more regrets about your travel companion now. What would it take for you to be next?

The Angels & Demons - @ezilyamuzed @daughterofthenight117 @redlipstickandthewinchesters @chocolateheart @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog@ain-t-bovvered @ladysparkles78@waywardbaby@nanie5 @ladywinchesterslibrary @candy-coated-misery0731 @stoneyggirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @@leigh70 @deans-baby-momma @akshi8278 @hobby27 @jaylarkson @ladywinchester1967 @sonotalice @krazykelly @drakelover78 @19agbrown @pisces-cutie @aloneanddesperate-blog @midnightsilver @dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardnerd67 @bobasheebaby

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spnfamily #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #moc dean #supernatural fandom #dean x reader

[qapsiel]

Positivity anon here! Could I ask you to shout out to your five fave blogs? Just to make someone smile today and let them know you love their blog! Maybe even say a little about why!

I'm more than happy to spread positivity and love, and I'll totally ignore the audacity to only give me 5 blogs and just do more hehe

I'm gonna start with @ruinedmyself because Kas was one of the first people to talk to me when I ventured into the spn fandom, and they've done nothing but make me feel incredibly welcomed <3 I love our silly little chats and also the pain we inflict on each other regularly. We really do share one (1) braincell, and I wouldn't want it any other way. You've got such a fantastic grip on Sam, on his badass-ery but also his softer and goofier side, and I scream excitedly whenever I see I got a reply from you!

No Sam without Dean, obviously, so I gotta yell about @bloodsalted a bit. Dixon is an extremely friendly person, and I'm still glad I managed to sweet-talk force you into joining me in hell. Or heaven, I suppose, is the better word, because our interactions are truly GREAT. Whether it's sexy times or angsty shit, every reply is magnificent and makes me giggle. You write Dean in all facets that make his character so lovable: his fears and passions and his silly times and also his anger. I love him to pieces!

Who doesn't love the king of hell? Cas, probably, but I adore every interaction with @murderdeals because it enables me to use all the pissed-off Cas icons. When you write Crowley, I can hear Mark yell into my ear. And honestly, I would have never guessed that Cas and Cain could become such good buddies, and yet they somehow ended up being the bestest bee bros, and that's largely due to your fantastic writing and your excellent grip on a character that can easily be branded the villain without second-guessing.

@singersalvaged should always be included in my rant about lovable people because she's just so chill to talk to! A truly great person who has an amazing view of Bobby Singer and writes him in a way that makes me believe the guy is standing behind me muttering idjit whenever I read a reply. And Allie! Let me gush about Allie, who's Cas' weed friend and brothel companion, and every single interaction just makes me howl with laughter. They're absolutely unhinged and dumb, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

While Crowley makes Cas want to eat glass, @eyeless-smiles makes him want to tear his own ears off because Corinth is such a fucking asshole (affectionate), a True Nightmare, and I love seeing him annoy Cas in every single paragraph. It's just hilarious, and they never hold their muse back, which is refreshing these days!

Cas loves to steal kids (just look at Jack), so it didn't take long for him to steal @innerwar 's Homelander when he was still a child with Vought. And honestly, I just adore this verse and you, friend? It's so funny and yet also sad, and I'm just so unbelievably happy that Homie gets a better life with this and that Cas gets to be a Dad again, and your writing is just SO FANTASTIC and catches Homelander's young voice brilliantly. 

I gotta yell about @nightmdic really loudly for a second because she is a FREAKING MAGNIFICENT OC and both Cas and I love her to pieces. She's kind and nice and helps Cas through his forced humanity without finding him (too) weird, and Paige just casually managed to write one of my favorite OCs here on Tumblr with her eye for detail and well-chosen words 

And last but not least, a big shoutout to @bleakfated who writes a lot of different spn muses (among others) and yet manages to hit that nail (= the voice of every single muse) square on the head every time! I hear Balthazar's funny-ironic voice when I write with him, I see Jody being Mom when I interact with her, I get the British Mick Vibes when it's his time to shine. I'm in awe of how someone manages to juggle so many muses and give everyone their own little voice. Kudos!

#( ooc ) #(LET ME SMOOCH ALL OF YOU)

[lutawolf]

Between Us Episode 3 Commentary and Review

Previous episode reviews can be found here.

We start the series with Team playing basketball. He misses. In the book, he is actually a very good basketball player.

Yup, you stink, Team. Bet we have Team second guessing if Win really meant they were in a relationship. Remember, the UWMA Team needs reassurances. Why? Well Win is perceived by many to be a fuck boy. Is anybody surprised? Bisexuals are often perceived this way. It will be interesting if that actually is being kept. Guess I'll have to continue watching to see.

This is what I mean by the dominant Team. He isn't really, but he does feel the need to puff up. He is concerned with being seen as weak.

Look at that pissy Win. I know a lot of people have made comments that they feel Win is different. Remember, you were only seeing snippets of Win with Team, whom he is soft with. Outside of Team, he is tough. These coconuts.

Too late! Win has already eaten him alive! The slow mo! Love it, but I love Win waiting on Team even more! Did that dead ass actually run. 🤣🤣🤣 Is there really a product placement for iqiyi! ☠️ Team, you are so brave when it isn't Win. These lovely bunch of coconuts.

New nickname is drama king, and I'm not talking about the actor. The nickname fits. Look at him freaking out, then raising his hand.

Oh, T-rex, you risk losing your head. Look at that stare from Win and also him going Dom Daddy. Telling his friend not to talk about his man like that again. 🤟 I mean, he used the guise of him being a member of the club, but that's for Team's sake. Dean is coming in with words of honesty and humor. T-rex, seriously, you are trying to dye. Poor Win, though.

Fucking coconuts 🥥 Pince don't ditch your education! Bee is gone 🤣🤣🤣 Is he even gonna wash his hand. Okay, Team, I'm pretty sure you know why Win is concerned about you and not Bee. He might not be your daddy, but he is your Daddy.

I am dead. The ABC gang is making fun of Team. Rightfully so cause he damn sure not as brave as he talked. Love how Win just bluntly asks Team if he was avoiding him. Guys! Win's sad face is killing me. I'm gutted. He doesn't want to wait for Team.

Staaaaap, don't hurt me like this. Okay, I can't judge alcohol therapy. I've been there and done that. Get ready to embarrass yourself. The coconut gang really wants to help Team. Poor Win.

Why did you have to call him out on calling him Hai. It's their version of Daddy. Don't ruin it for us! Hell to the fucking yeah! Flashback, baby! Yup! They making Win a perceived fuck boy.

These fucking drunk white crayons are singing the abc song. I'm so dead. You fuckers really went to attention and dropped your friend. Niiiice. You assholes left him with the person he was just talking about!!! You white crayons have better read the room and know the situation. Otherwise you deserve an ass kick.

There is no time like the present for a conversation. Oh, you lucky that finger didn't get bit. That's straight up disrespectful. Don't put a finger in my face unless you are ready to fight. Fuck! I love their openess. Win wants to know why he has to report. Win explains he worries. That's what Team wants to hear. That arm on the shoulder is a signal of a wall coming down. He is still guarded, but he is listening. Who is Win to Team to worry. Win wants to know what title would allow him to be protective over Team.

They were so close to kissing, but Team pulls back. It's alright cause Win is starting to put two and two together, and he knows Team is still interested in him.

Win putting the helmet on Team, so cute. Getting on a bike drunk, though, is a recipe for disaster. Kids, don't try this at home. Yeah, we were really lucky he didn't fall off with being this drunk. Go take a shower!?!? You want him to drown! You are a brat, Team.

Parasomnia is a bitch. It can be caused by sleep apnea. So imagine your body has fought sleep so long that it's just fucking wore out, right. Then exactly what you're afraid of happens, the nightmare, but your brain is past exhausted. It locks you into place so you can't wake up. It often does take someone else.

Sub trio! Swimming makes you so hungry. Team, don't tease your friend! Nah, it's cute. Continue!

Open house! Poor Team. This is gonna kill me. Poor tired, baby. Win buying his basket. He's so worried. Ha! Daddy, husband, wifey! Just call him special. Ha! He bought him healthy food too.

Dean, leave my baby alone. I can't handle it. ABC gang are pretty good friends. Come on, brat, you gotta talk. Ah, see, that step towards Team. He was going to cage, but Team talks before he has to.

Yessss!!!! Take him to your room. To sleep. Baby needs it. Move closer. We've done more than this. 🤣🤣🤣 That's it. He does puff up like a cat! The care, though! Team how can you not see it!

There you go. It's better not to wake them up but sooth instead. Help them to find comfort while sleeping. Which Team does. Instinctively seeking comfort. Aww, he completely wrapped himself around Win. Pay back!

He kicked him off the bed and called him a squid!! This fucking brat. Dead. Team lies. Here is this Dom that has put up with being ignored, run from, bad mouthed, and kicked, but the instant Team doesn't talk or lies he goes Dom. And goes straight to caging.

See that smile at Team gonna wear his shirt. Me too, Win, me too. Did Win really grab Team's pillow to cuddle and sleep with. Cuteness overload. 😍

How did you forget! 🤣🤣🤣 The love. Damn. That kiss was so damn cute. They are so damn cute.

Hope you guys enjoy! 💜💜💜

#between us the series #between us #between us kink #coconuts mafia #win x team #winteam

[mlobsters]

supernatural s11e7 plush (w. eric charmelo, nicole snyder)

not the most promising start. offbrand donnie darko bunny

DEAN Really? I mean, really? SAM You ever hear of privacy? DEAN Hey, you want privacy, close your door.

as ever, privacy being invaded really hurts my heart. absolutely dean has a point and sam should have closed his door, but dean also had a shitty fucking smirk on his face and that nasty tone and i'm ready to punch him. i don't pray, i've never believed in anything, and i'm horribly hurt and offended that he'd act like this. i know their history and the dumb plot shit makes prayer not the same thing as it is out here in the real world, but come fucking on. he's still being a raging asshole about sam taking the chance on believing even just a tiny bit that it's god behind the visions.

DEAN Thought we talked about this. SAM Yeah, we did, Dean. But why is it so hard to believe that God could be sending me visions about the darkness? DEAN You kidding me? He didn't feel the need to show up for the Apocalypse. Why would he give a crap now? SAM I don't know. Maybe because she's his sister? What do you wanna do? Sit back? Ignore him? Do nothing? DEAN No, that's -- that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying, don't count on God. Okay? Count on us.

count on us (so when you gonna tell sam your secret huh DEAN-O)

glad they let donna wear a uniform that vaguely fits and maybe dropping the fat jokes. maybe. (of course not)

BROCK Not much, man. I mean, I was just hammering my bi's, gettin' all swole,

please no and thank you

s11e7 rita / true colors (1990-1992) brigid brannagh as katie davis

whoa okay so i definitely know this person and i think... it's from.... true colors?? which is yet another tv show i haven't thought about since the early 90s. wild

surely couldn't let sam's clown phobia not make an appearance in a killer ghost possessed child entertainer costume episode. was it purely so they could subject sam to a clown :p it's never gonna beat this post-clown interaction though

7x14 plucky pennywhistle's magical menagerie

dean heartily laughing and sam with his arms outstretched absolutely coated in glitter (i wanna paint it some day, so sparkly) will make me smile every time

also, i love this line

from 2x02 DEAN Planes crash! SAM And apparently clowns kill!

okay anyway. rehashing the good clown phobia moments :P (he did say the clown fight in 7x14 was therapeutic, guess he needs more exposure therapy [beating])

taking another moment to appreciate how much better his hair looks this season, especially post-scuffle

she is so very cute

DONNA I don't have time for insubordination. SAM Or is it maybe that you're treating new Doug like old Doug and not even giving him a chance? DONNA You know what I think? You need to mind your own beeswax. We have a case to solve.

saw her line comin a mile away

outsiders with sibling issues are evergreen

*staring into camera*

crack treated seriously vibes

SAM I keep praying to God because if it is God -- and I know you think it isn't, but if it is -- then he's showing me something I don't know what to do with. DEAN What? SAM The cage. DEAN Lucifer's cage? SAM Yeah. What if he's telling me I have to go back? What if he's saying that's where the answer is to beating the Darkness? DEAN Sam, no. No, okay. I don't know if these visions are coming from God or PBS or what. But we've been down that road. Anything having to do with that cage is -- it -- it's suicide. And you of all people know that. So, no. Just…Not gonna happen. SAM Okay. DEAN Okay.

actually okay? they both have a habit of agreeing and doing whatever the fuck they were gonna do anyway. i mean if dean isn't gonna come clean then whatever anyway. bitterness rising again

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 11x07 #hiky #spnhiky #true colors tv show #brigid brannagh #spn and no privacy #eric charmelo #nicole snyder

[zmediaoutlet]

happy wincest wednesday! assuming djinn sam isn't as normal as he looks, what's a wincest headcanon you have for that universe?

happy wincest wednesday! (on actual wednesday for me! imagine that!)

This is one of those where I am happy to be a little bit led, bc I've read some fun fic to this effect -- in particular one I'm thinking of (can't remember title or author, sorry) where Sam's kind of... mean, and he's fucking Dean on the side and also fucks the cute El Sol girlfriend. I mean, ouch.

Tricky for me, though, because I'm of two minds about the djinn ep.

Mind 1: it's a djinnverse, which means that it is a fake world blown up from the mind of a specific person, intended to grant them one wish -- letting the dominoes fall as they may from that wish, given the information the djinn can suss from the person's brain. This means it's built by, limited by, given structure by, the wisher's imagination, the way they think about themselves, the way they imagine other people think about them, what they may wish were thought about them, shame and hope and desire and fear all swirling around together.

Mind 2: you can also just treat it as an entirely separate, wholly realized domino AU. That is -- make it a real universe unto itself, where x didn't happen and so y and z have all the room to grow they want. Not a fake world inside a wisher's head but just -- a world. This is the normal AU that would happen if Mary had lived.

Trouble for me, with Mind 2, is that... I don't believe in normal AU-with-normal-upbringing wincest. I just can't buy it. (I answered another ask on this ages ago, points for anyone who can find it bc I couldn't when I just briefly tried.) Normal AU where they're broke or John's abusive and Mary's dead, etc etc? Sure, let them fuck. But Dad with little league and Mary baking pie and Sam happily off to Stanford and it's all hunky dory? I know people like the soulmatism read where they'd get incestuous anyway, but... I just can't come with 'em. So.. Mind 2, sit down.

Mind 1, then: if the wish is still as simple as 'I wish Mom hadn't died?' And we bring canonically pining crazy-ass Dean Winchester, with all his hope and shame and hurt and need into that mess? So, it makes sense that Sam's off being normal and successful and marrying a picture perfect 2D (with double Ds) blonde. It makes sense that Dean's a wastrel who's on every shitlist. It makes sense that Sam wants nothing to do with him, because who would? Look at him. Look at the mess he is, look how lazy and meanspirited and dickish. A little bit of a mystery that he landed such a hot nurse, hm? But he's good at faking it, isn't he, because the thing is that he wanted Sam so badly that he panicked. Couldn't get too close because he couldn't ruin Sam, too. It was easier to be an asshole, to be the bad example, to screw Sam over and make Sam push him away, to do everything he could to be the person Sam would never want to be -- and it worked, Sam ran off to California and went to college and was Mr Perfect and when he'd come home for Christmas he'd look at Dean with this pained expression like, don't ruin this, too, and Dean'd grin back like -- oh, just watch me. Making sure. When Sam was good and gone Dean did get the hot girlfriend, because he knows how to use his body and he knows how to be pleasing when he needs to, and he was normal, or at least normal enough to count, and when he drunkdialed Sam on weird nights when Carmen was gone on one of those three 12s weeks he'd say -- he didn't know. He wasn't responsible for what he said then. He'd already ruined it so what did it matter, if he ruined it a little more.

Sam didn't hang up on him. Sometimes Dean'd look at his call log and there it'd be, under Outgoing -- forty minutes, an hour. Two hours. Maybe Sam just put the phone down and went to sleep. Maybe that was it. But one time, he was drunk but he wasn't as drunk as he could've been, and he called, and Sam answered even though it was one in the morning in Palo Alto, and Dean didn't quite know what to say because his filters hadn't been completely drowned yet, and Sam said, when Dean wasn't sure he'd say anything at all, you already done? and Dean said no -- no, I'm not done, and Sam said, kind of quiet so Dean couldn't tell if it was disgusted or not, if you're just going to heavy breathe at me I'll go back to studying, and Dean bit his tongue, and Sam said, well?, and Dean just -- said everything he'd ever thought, about -- about what he wanted, and what he'd dreamed. What he'd wished for. Thinking that Sam would hang up, that Sam would fly all the way back from the ocean to Kansas, would open up the apartment door and kill Dean where he sat, and Dean would've been grateful, if he did. But Sam stayed on the phone, and Dean could hear him breathing too on the other side of the line, and Sam said, quiet still when Dean paused with his mouth dry and his head ringing, he said: you get off on that? and Dean was so hard he was surprised he wasn't drilling a hole in his pants, and Sam hummed, and he said then, go on, and Dean clutched himself through his jeans and creamed his shorts and Sam stayed on the phone while he breathed through it, and then Sam said, still in that same tone, night, Dean, and Dean hung up, and he didn't call Sam again for months. Until the next time.

What I'm saying is: my hc, in Mind 1, is that djinn!Sam hates Dean exactly as much as Dean wants to be hated, and is as disgusted with him as Dean believes he deserves disgust, and when Dean can't take either of those anymore Sam will take him in hand, exactly as Dean needs to be taken in hand. He's useful, that way.

#happy wincest wednesday #wincest #answers #djinn!sam as object #for once lol #sam's distance and cruelty in that ep is fascinating #bc dean's mind tells him he entirely deserves it #what else does he deserve? #hm. hm.

[garlic-sauc3]

You made an oc list? 👀 (Unless I'm remembering incorrectly, in which case, disregard this)

ocs I made/used in a school assignment that i still love:

Francis Arson George A.K.A. Gasoline (teamed up with Gabriel Arson Young A.K.A. The Gaslighter) has fire powers(they're fire proof too), loves to gaslight people, cool fire themed outfit (not fireproof), fire mohawk

Vahm Pyre. is a vampire, also a murderer, set in the future, hes a silly guy; fun at parties

Michael Weethabee. noir detective, paranoid, has been afraid of insects his whole life, hates vampires, low key gay, also set in the future. kind of obsessed with vahm tbh

William W. Williams. dystopian steampunk past. has a prosthetic arm. kind of a loner. HATES government he is so happy living like right next to a little commune. hes kind of a snarky bitch.

AfN characters:

Hero Hart. villain, silly little guy, yet to come up with proper name or costume for him (head in hands), he does the dean winchester mugshot face in his mugshots, had strict parents, electric powers. also fun at parties. sees the good in the world once he and hunter get together, once hunter dies he goes a bit apeshit and goes after nightingale on lure vengeance

Hunter Stillwell A.K.A. Brimstone. Has brimstone canary wings. hero. fights hero. hes a bit strict but loosens up around hero. he thinks hero is really sexy with a bloody nose (he gave it to him), dies. canary in the coal mine esque

Thea S. (I forgor her last name) A.K.A. Nightingale. power is to sing and command people with her song. she likes to manipulate people. everybody hates her. god forbid women do anything. I should make her a girlfriend.

silly little ocs:

eddie :). racka sheep dude. any pronouns. loves wearing fancy clothes. does not understand gender or love but she does love clothes. he thinks ita the greatest thing humans have ever done. they're a big fucking asshole and are god.

nameless oc. head is an E-Z Sketch (etch a sketch). wears a big knit red sweater with a plaid heart sewed on. is mute, does sign language. everytime they want a different face they have to vigorously shake their head and redraw it. has glasses

#i think the afn characters could use some more development because i first created them years back #so theyre not too interesting actually. yet #vahm and michael are from a group project but i wrote a lot of the groundwork for them and i love them so i am stealing them #and francis is teamed up with my friends oc #also i have some others that i dont want to touch up on though #like cgarlic has a lot of lore but is very complicated and im not in the mood to write it down #feel free to ask me about any of them though :)

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Apocalypse

PART 13

Summary: Rick and your brothers team up against Negan and bring an army to The Sanctuary.

Warnings: Some strong language, mild violence.

A/N: So this is the final part to this series! I hope you've enjoyed it so far and I hope you enjoy this final part. Thanks for reading!

Also, I've kind of left it on a bit of a cliffhanger but I just thought it was fitting how I ended it. So I hope it's okay. :)

You couldn't quite believe what you were seeing as you stared out the window, your brothers standing beside Rick at the gates of The Sanctuary. They were here, and they'd brought an army. There was finally hope for Negan's downfall.

You quickly looked around the room, trying to figure out how to get to them, but the door was locked so the only other exit would be the window.

You spun round, grabbing a chair and launching it at the window, shattering the glass. And when you peered out the window, you could see you were pretty high up. All you could really do was jump and hope you landed right.

Stepping back, you pulled your jacket sleeves down over your hands. And then you turned around so your back was to the window, proceeding to carefully climb backwards over the glass.

You hung from the edge of the window for a few seconds before finally letting go, allowing yourself to drop to the ground. And when your feet hit the concrete, your legs buckled beneath your weight, and you collapsed onto the floor.

A searing pain shot up your leg as you laid on the ground, desperately trying to pull yourself up. When you finally got yourself to your feet, you staggered towards the gates where your brothers would be.

But your leg was screaming at you as you forced yourself onwards, desperate to make it to your brothers.

When you finally got close, you didn't even register at first that Sam had closed his arms around you, practically holding you up now as your leg burned from the pain.

"Oh my god." Sam breathed out as he hugged you. "We thought you were dead."

"Almost was."

"Well come on, we've gotta get out of here." He said, hooking an arm around your waist to help you walk back in the direction of the gates.

"Where's Dean?"

"He's with Rick. He'll come and meet us after." He assured you, continuing to help you through the gates. "But we have to get you to safety."

"You're kidding right?" You scoffed, a little insulted that they'd just assumed you'd be on the bench for this fight.

Sam just looked at you then like you'd said something stupid. "(y/n), you can barely walk. How the hell are you gonna fight?"

"Just give me a gun."

He did as he said and he handed you a gun from his jacket pocket. You took it from him and turned back in the direction Negan was, trying your hardest to ignore your leg which was clearly more severely injured than you wanted.

But then you saw him, standing in front of Dean like he was God's freakin' gift. You wanted to shoot that smug smile straight off his face.

"Hey! Asshole!" You called out, getting Negan's attention as he turned to look at you then.

"Shit, did you jump out that goddamn window?!"

You held the gun up then, your finger hovering over the trigger as you aimed it at him. But it didn't seem to faze him as he simply laughed at you.

"You're not gonna shoot me?" He mocked. "You couldn't even kill me that night I lined you all up. You're weak."

"Fuck you." You said, squeezing the trigger and sending a bullet flying into his shoulder.

He stumbled backwards, immediately pressing his hand to the wound before turning back to you. He laughed at you then. "Think you missed there darlin'."

You smirked at him, keeping your gun raised as you spoke. "No Negan, I wasn't trying to kill you. That was a warning shot. Because killing you would be too kind, so I'm gonna give you one warning to stay the hell away from us. And if you ever mess with us again...I'll kill you. I swear."

"You're a fucking bitch you know that?!" He spat.

"Stay the hell away, Negan."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

You smiled at him as you looked to your brothers. "I'm a Winchester."

[Series Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

TAG LIST: @lostinworldofdarkness @melixson @fairy-alix @faithm120601 @namelesslosers @historymemes2001 @flannellover67 @geeksareunique

#apocalypse series #twd x spn #spn x twd #winchester!reader #negan #negan x reader #negan fanfic #negan fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #rick grimes #jeffrey dean morgan #jensen ackles #jared padalecki

[magdaclaire]

you’re a modern day housewife

deanbenny domestic fic. inspired almost entirely by @transdisabledbearbenny, thank u my friend

 "Darlin', I'm sure that thing don't owe you any money," Benny says, his back leaned up against the counter beside Dean's cutting board. Dean snorts.

"I'm just dicing it, or whatever," he replies, blush coming up from his neck when he realizes that he just used one of Benny terms, like the first time he called all of his ingredients laid out mise en place and Benny gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen. Of course, he knew the word dice before he met Benny (unlike the word mise en place), but it's not like he had ever used it accurately before. Like, a slice and dice sorta film, maybe. Not in fine, small, medium or large, not in knowing it's different from chopping, not like knowing because of Benny's calm voice leaned over his shoulder to explain it. Benny talks so slow it's like syrup, a warm blanket, and it reminds Dean of home. Whatever home means.

"You're massacring it is what you're doing. You need three, right? Can I show you how it's done?" Benny coaxes, and Dean knows he's being coaxed, and it's a hard thing to argue against, if he's honest. Benny's got an unfair kind of charm on him.

"I can cut an onion, Benny," he protests anyway, part out of the obligation to be a bit of a dick, and part because he really can do this. Even if it doesn't look as pretty as when Benny does it. He's still capable of it. He kept him and Sammy and even Dad fed for years, and fed Lisa and Ben too when he had them, he knows how to use a kitchen knife! It's just... it's not untrue that it used to be said that Dean's food was better for eating than for looking at. That's what food is for!

"I know, baby. Would it be okay if I did it for you?" Benny asks, and Dean's face warms all over again. Benny gives him a sweet smile, equal parts love and teasing. Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"You're an asshole," he says, but his voice is far too fond and he hands Benny the onion anyway, backing away from his own cutting board. Benny turns and sidles up to it in that way he does, smooth and confident, and just the motion of him make Dean want to kiss him. Be kissed by him. All of it. Benny fucking Lafitte. Benny's hands are careful and sure as the fingers of his left hand take a curled position with every swipe of his knife, his knife hand wrapped steadily around the blade. There's nothing about him that isn't ten shades of sure of himself. It'd have Dean some kind of flustered if he wasn't also frustrated.

"Why's it gotta be cut like that? What was wrong with how I did it?" Dean asks, incredulous. Benny raises an eyebrow at him, first onion neutralized, and grabs the other.

"When you cut one, you take this end," Benny says, his thumb swiping over the stem end, "and you cut it off. When I was in school, we were taught that the stem keeps the onion together, and that if you cut it off, the entire onion falls apart. What I do, what I was taught, is to cut off the other end to give myself a flat surface, then turn it onto that and cut it in half. Now you got two half onions with the anchor. Peel the skin off, slice and dice to your hearts content." He does as he's saying as he explains, and so when he's done explaining, two halves of peeled onion are sitting on the board, uncut.

"You gonna finish that?" Dean asks, hopping onto the counter. If Benny is gonna take over for a bit, far be it from Dean to stop his ambitions. His favorite parts are the actual cooking and baking parts, not the knife work and prep. Benny loves both with a zealous that inspires Dean more than he would like to say. He wishes he could love anything like Benny loves a kitchen.

"Gonna get me to do all your dirty work, Winchester?" Benny asks, but he's smiling, and Dean doesn't feel the need to make himself small. Instead, he grabs one of the tomatoes from behind the cutting board.

"Are tomatoes dirty work?" he asks, and Benny laughs. It's a nice sound, rich and warm, and it always makes Dean feel good to have inspired it. Benny takes the tomato out of his hand. It looks like an apple in his hand, almost small, round and ripe and able to be eaten plain. Dean pushes himself back onto the counter further.

"Tomatoes are fine work. Want me to take care of your peppers too?" Benny asks, and Dean just nods. He always puts the peppers last now; Benny taught him about oils in peppers and knife contamination (though peppers are not nearly so bad as meat, and the oil can just be wiped away if you're strapped for time; knives have to be washed after cutting meat, apparently), so Dean always puts his peppers last now, meat after that, to keep the same knife the whole time and keep it safe. Benny'll leave the meat for him to cut without asking, because Benny knows that he likes it. And of course Benny knows. They've probably done this three or four dozen times, this song and dance in where his vampire best friend/boyfriend teaches him how to cook and takes over to cook for him regardless, too in love with the kitchen for Dean to even want to stop him. Being a live in is making him go sappy. He feels like a shitty, old-timey housewife, his 1950s husband taking over when he doesn't know what's what.

Except, they're both men, and Benny is older than the 1950s, and Dean actually loves Benny. Wait a fucking second.

He actually loves Benny.

"Fuck," he says aloud, and Benny looks him over.

"I'm holding the knife, how'd you manage to cut yourself?" the vampire asks, and it's only just then that Dean realizes he's bitten through his lip. Benny's smelling his blood, and all he looks is worried. A soft feeling blooms unbidden in Dean's chest.

"I didn't cut myself, I just- I'm in love with you. I think. That's crazy, right?" he asks, laughter spilling out of him like he's a sieve holding water. Benny puts down his knife and grabs a paper towel, wiping off his hands before they come up to hold Dean's face, Benny stepping between his knees.

"Maybe it's a bit crazy. But we've never really been quite right, have we?" Benny asks in a whisper, kissing Dean slow and careful like he's something precious. Dean holds onto Benny's forearms for all he's worth, giving Benny back all the love he gives, and his lip is bleeding still, and it should hurt, but it doesn't. He doesn't realize he's leaning back until his head hits gently against the upper cabinets, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock them apart. Benny is halfway pulled up into his lap by now. Dean grins.

"Like it, then?" he asks, because Benny doesn't have to say it back, but it's nice to be wanted. To be desired. For somebody to just like that he's around. Benny kisses him again, quick and brief.

"Like you, baby. In love with you. Want you to stay," Benny says, his voice going quiet and raspy, and it sends shivers through Dean. With Benny nuzzling up into his throat, nosing and licking but never biting, everything is fuzzy when it comes to Dean's mind. To stay? To be wanted to stay? To be with Benny in their little world away from the world, Benny working at one of the local restaurants and Dean getting familiar with the local mechanics shop, just how they've been doing, to be able to keep doing this.

"Jesus, Ben, you're gonna get me used to this," he says quietly, his fingers curled up in Benny's hair. The vampire pauses at his eager pursuit of Dean's windpipe, pulling back a bit. Dean holds back his reflexive whine.

"That's kinda the point, sweetheart. Want you to get used to this, used to me, want you to wake up everyday happy and safe. Doesn't that sound nice? Sleeping and I'll keep watch, make sure nothing ever comes after us again. We could be safe,"

"I can take care of myself, you know," he reminds Benny, lips firmly pressed together. Benny chuckles.

"Darlin', I know you're more than capable. Is it so hard to believe that I don't want you to have to?" Benny asks, and Dean can't help the answer that follows.

"Yes," he says, plain and simple and right to the point. How's he supposed to think that he's not supposed to take care of himself? He's been doing that since he was four years old, it's been the bare minimum expectation the whole time. He doesn't realize how hard he's clinging onto Benny's arms until the other man dislodges his fingernails, which had dug a bit into his skin, wordlessly to put his palms to Dean's face. It's always so embarrassing how careful Benny is with him, fine handed like Dean is made of glass, like he's worth something. His fingers twist into Benny's shirt.

"Oh, sweetheart. Somebody's expected far too much outta you for far too long, huh? Why don't we put a pause on dinner, if you're not too hungry. We can go lay down for a while and I'll come back and make it in a bit?" Benny asks, that coaxing note back in his voice, and laying down sounds pretty fucking nice, as long as Benny is there.

"We'll come back and make it?" Dean offers as a compromise, not wanting to let off that he doesn't really want them in different rooms right now, but that's so goddamn clingy. Benny smooths his thumbs over Dean's cheekbones even when he doesn't say it, wide fingers catching on his stubble. Benny leans forward to rest their foreheads against each other.

"Sure," he says, smile soft. "Alright if I carry you to bed?"

"I can walk," Dean protests, but it's token at best. He was never really carried as a kid, after a certain point, one which is easily sorted out if one thinks about it. It's nice to be picked up now, even when it's not in a sexy way. Even when it's just Benny taking care of him. Whatever that means.

"Let me carry you anyway?" Benny asks, and Dean gives in, nodding. There's nobody else here. It's just him and Benny in their hideout house kitchen in North Carolina, the location a compromise they came to because Dean wasn't willing to go to Louisiana. He won't live somewhere it's always hot. North Carolina sure isn't cold, but it isn't Louisiana either. "Alright, sugar, hold on," Benny says, and as soon as Dean's arms are settled around his shoulders, he lifts Dean as if he doesn't weigh a thing.

They leave mise en place out on the counter. It's their house to leave it in.

#deanbenny #denny #dean winchester #benny lafitte #enjoy the evidence of my self indulgence #contentnatural #mine #spn

[diabolimeservavit666]

Prejudice in Hell: Asmodeus (Pt. 1)

{Warning: The following passage is pro only and implies sympathy for a well hated character. If you have a problem with this, you can bring it up with my nonexistent lawyer. Thank you.}

Okay, this needs to be said because no one in this damn Fandom seems to want to acknowledge it. Do you have any idea how hard it would have been to be a non-caucasion borderline-gay man in Hell when all of the fucked up assholes (e.g. racists, homophobes, etc.) were being sent in that same direction? Imagine yourself being literal Demon royalty and yet all of your lesser subjects are harassing you; objectifying you all because you like dick a little bit more than pussy. Mind you, this is the same place where they will make an example of you if you show too much heart or too much decency and call you weak. Asmodeus is a man who showed respect to his previous predecessor who mocked him and spit down on him; Asmodeus was willing to raise the son of his archnemesis; Asmodeus tried to reason with a man that could've just as easily killed him because he loved him; Asmodeus convinced Dean Winchester of all people to not give up on Jack. I could keep on going but I think I've made my point clear. We have a Prince of Hell, literal royalty, one of Hell's oldest and most powerful, who had spent nearly his entire existence as a Demon being shunned and shot down for being a not-white-not-straight white-collar-cowboy with a funny sounding accent and a general sense of common courtesy and proper etiquette. Can you truly blame him for developing a villain complex, running away from his Kingdom, and being afraid to return once his birthright was finally available to him? If you answered yes, very kindly fucketty off.

{Author's Note: None of this has to do with any crimes committed to by the individual mentioned above so it will go greatly appreciated if it isn't brought up. Apologies for having specified this. I have grown used to a lot of stuck-up a-holes who can't shut the fuck up when they should.}

[Also, in case this wasn't clear, a borderline-gay person refers to someone who is primarily drawn to their own gender/sex but will on the rarest occasion be drawn to someone who is of the oposite. So, basically a bi/pan that is nearly straight out gay/les but not quite.]

#cant help but to simp for the guy #you can bite me #supenatural #semi-canon #hell politics #princes of hell #team free will #archangels #asmodeus #jeffrey vincent parise #season 13 #dean winchester #lucifer #jack kline #arthur ketch #hell's true royal family