#isn’t that what you do with your own suffering dean

[ataraxiaspainting]

Animal Cannibal.

Yan Dottore x F Reader.

Synopsis: Violent individuals were frequently drawn to you, including your dear friend Willow, who shares your affinity for this destructive behavior. Your stalker, too, possesses a similar infatuation with you. The bond between the three of you lies in the intertwined emotions of violence and love.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence/gore, stalking, cannibalism, minor character death, implied future kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of not SFW, and non-consensual human experimentation. 

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Goo Goo Muck by The Cramps

Killer Queen by Queen

Psycho Killer - 2005 Remaster by Talking Heads

I Want To Break Free by Queen

Tip Toe Thru’ the Tulips with Me by Tiny Tim

Exploration by Bruno Coulais 

Take on Me by a-ha

You Are My Sunshine by Charles McDonald

Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin

Dream A Little Dream Of Me - Single Version by Ella Fitgerald (feat. Louis Armstrong)

“But love shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg!” – Possibly in Michigan (1983)

*~*~*~*

i. “My own experiments have given me a deep understanding of the true nature of suffering… and I’m keen to share it with a willing guinea pig, hm?”

You found a strange man outside of your house.

He was taller than you–with hair the color of mint that covered his eyes, his beard long and poorly taken care of with split ends and some leaves and small sticks stuck to the thicker parts of it.

He waved at you when he saw you approaching. He did not scare you, not one bit.

He did not blend into his surroundings well because of how unique his appearance was. He wore an open black waistcoat with some of its buttons hanging on by a loose thread and nothing underneath. His pants were torn from the knee down. Grossly, you smelled him before you even saw him.

“Hello, sir,” You say, stepping a bit closer carefully, skillfully, being sure to not make a sound to startle or agitate him. You have become well-acquainted with unfamiliar gentlemen lurking around your residence as daylight fades, after all. “It’s getting late, isn’t it? Do you have a place to stay? There is an inn nearby I think if you don’t.” For better or for worse, stealth is something you are quite intimate with. “Sir? Are you alright? Sir?” The man did not respond, simply looking past you like you were not there.

He looked on into the brightwood trees, the wild, overgrown bushes dotted with purple Sumeru roses, and the rising, circular moon. You have a sudden flash of inspiration; since you have no weapon on you, you could bite him and claw at him if he tried anything. Your eyes go downcast, to his tattered, dirty leather shoes, as you dismiss the idea. 

“Excuse me? Do you need something? Sir?”

“I don't,” The man finally said, his voice raspy. “What about you? Do you live somewhere?”

“Here, I live here.” You could not hear what he mumbled as a response because of how quiet he was. “I live here. This is my home. You are outside my door and I can’t get in. Please, if you don’t need assistance, take a few steps back from it.”

Instead of looking at him, you look at your door. That is when you saw it; a hairpin lodged into your lock.

The man took it out and ran into the forest.

Despite the slight dents on your front door's lock, your house remained in good condition. Its aged appearance stood in stark contrast to the lush greenery that thrived just a few meters away. The wood showed signs of decay, with splits and a distinct scent of dampness and decomposing fish. Attached to the house was a collection of neglected Sumeru rose bushes, stunted and infested with flies. A rockery filled the space with an abundance of rocks, while a fairy ring composed of squishy brown toadstools emitted a dreadful odor when mistakenly stepped upon.

ii. “There is a sickness inside of me. I feel it eating away at me, eroding my mind and body. But I do not care. If I have to suffer for knowledge, I gladly will.”

The well outside your house was, for lack of a better word, still decrepit. But still, it seems like the man did not do anything to it. On the first day you moved in, all alone, the old couple that lived a hundred or so meters away made a point of telling you how dangerous the well was, and they warned you to be sure you kept away from it. 

You found it as soon as you stepped onto the property, it was in front of your house after all, smelling strongly of damp, dirty water, behind a clump of trees—a low brick circle almost hidden in the high grass. There were nests of drain flies that from afar looked like crushed pebbles. It made you step back a bit in complete disgust before you turned in the opposite direction to put your things down.

Like most Sumeru forests, there were plenty of types of animals. There were crystalflies that were sometimes the only light source you had, frogs that sometimes crept up your legs as you walked in tall, wet blades of grass and nearly made you scream every time and lizards that always somehow found a way inside and slithered across your floors.

There was also an orange cat, who sat on walls and tree stumps and watched you while meowing loudly but slipped away hissing if ever you went over to scare it off.

You spent the first two weeks after you moved in making adjustments to the rather old house. You hardly ate or slept, you just worked. There were days when you did not change clothes or drink water even, being so focused on your work that you hardly noticed anything else around you.

“This is my favorite!” exclaimed Willow, pointing at the Padisarah Pudding that was blocked off by a wall of glass.

“How much mora is it?” You asked, taking out your wallet. “I'll buy it for you. I am buying some Samosas here anyway, so it is no trouble. If you want, I can buy you some too, I recommend getting the potato and pea one.”

“No,” Willow answered, shaking her head while chuckling. “I'm fine. I have to use up some old vegetables and meat anyway at home before they go bad or my parents are going to kill me for real.” 

“Alright, be sure to check the ingredients beforehand for any dirt or mold,” you said. “‘I do not want you getting sick.”

You stood by one of the bakery’s windows, observing the rain pouring down. This rain wasn't the type you could venture out into; it was the other kind, cascading from the sky and creating splashes upon impact. This rain was serious, and its current agenda was transforming the streets into a murky, soggy mixture.

There was nothing to do here other than talk to Willow and wait for your food. Not that that was a bad thing in your book.

You had met through a mutual stalker, to put it simply, and now are inseparable. Even though that man is currently rotting in a prison cell, the past still influenced both of your actions. You just thank Lesser Lord Kusanali for granting you good fortune. With every new stalker, Willow seemed to be connected to them somehow, making you two even closer than before. You bond over your shared reverence of violence and love.

So, you start talking.

You start talking with a tone akin to someone making small talk over the weather, but instead of dark clouds or how bright the sun is, you talk about the man you saw yesterday. Willow listens, nodding a bit from time to time while still looking both outside the window and to the glass wall where the desserts were placed for the viewership of the customers. From the way she smiles with every word you say, you know you have piqued her interest yet again.

“Interesting.” She finally says, her back turned to you as she looks out to the rainstorm.

iii. “I wondered, why does a man who has done nothing think he deserves everything? That is what this experiment is about.”

“Hello?” You say, opening your door. “You're back.”

“Yes,” The man answered, playing with the buttons on his torn clothing. “Only for you, beloved.”

“Should I be honored?” You asked. “Who are you? What are you?”

“Your prince, what else?”

“Who or what else are you?”

“Someone utterly in love with you, someone you love too.”

“How do you know that?”

"My mouth,” The man answers, leaning in closer to you with his tongue out. “Look—look at it. The better to eat you with, my dear. It hungers for you. I just know you are the one to finally satisfy it. It is in a wolf's nature to feed, after all.”

“I see.” You look down as he kisses you, showing no resistance. He has holes in his shoes. His big toes are sticking out like sore thumbs. You suppose that they are, in a way.

“You have two choices. One, I will eat you now; or two, I will cut your arms and legs off one by one and eat them in front of you slowly as you cry on the floor covered in filth.”

You considered this carefully as you thought of an answer, preparing to ask him why.

So, you do, because he does not stop you and you want to know, don't you? He does not stop you.

He says for love.

You ask again.

He once again says it is for love. You say that love isn’t something given as part of an exchange or contract, that what he is asking for is bitter and dry.

He simply laughs. “For love.”

“But do you love me?"

“You smell so good, like the finest rose in all of Sumeru, all of Teyvat, even all of Celestia.”

Struggling would be useless. “Have there been others?” You ask.

"You must be the seventh," he remarked, leaving you to grapple with this realization. Escape became an impossible feat as he denied you any chance to flee. 

As if responding to his words, the door creaked open, followed by a gunshot.

iv. “I could have simply sliced her apart the moment I saw her and threw her to my patients, but I could not waste someone as fascinating as her. She is a treasure trove of knowledge, and it is rather rare to find someone as interesting as her, my assistant.”

The man fell to the floor grasping his shot through chest. Willow helped you up. Life quickly faded from the man's once concealed eyes, his red eyes.

“The plan worked,” Willow said. “Good job. He won't see you anymore. We make a good team I think.”

You agree.

“You should boil some water.” She said.

You then shrugged. “I'm getting tired of soup.” You responded. “I want sauce or something to go with the Samosas.”

Willow did not say anything for a moment.

It was dark outside now, with the rain still falling from the sky and making tiny splatters on the soil, making it hard to see out the window.

Perhaps making soup for dinner was not a bad idea after all. Days like this called for comfort. “Fine,” You say, and Willow smiles. “I’ll start prepping ingredients.”

“I’ll run to my home and get the leftovers I talked about.” She is already putting back on her coat before you can rebut.

You sighed as you heard the door close. It was time to get to work, you suppose.

“Come out, my friend.” You take the meat cleaver out from the kitchen drawer where you put the rest of your knives, the said cleaver still stained with blood from the month before. “You are unsightly if I am being perfectly honest with you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

…

Dinner went off without any problems. It was a lovely feast. However, heating the Samosas without breaking them was kind of difficult for you because you only had one small pan and one large pot.

Something creaks in the distance.

Creeeeeeeeak. The floorboards. You and Willow are too busy talking to notice. The sound came from your bedroom. A man with a mustache the color of rotting mint that covered his mouth and chin, his filthy brown hair long and dirty, and even some animal fur being laid about everywhere on his scalp.

He sneaks out your bedroom window.

His shadow was hardly seen by either of you because of how fast he ran.

He was like a spider. The comparison was sort of funny because he knew how much you hated them.

He has to eventually make his way to Port Ormos to catch his boat back to Snezhnaya. 

But that can wait for later. You are so much better than business and any other projects he is currently doing or has discarded. 

All he can think about is you. He thinks of what to tell the current him, of how many stalkers you and your friend have murdered in retribution for their harassment.

Would he be delighted?

Would he be angered?

There is no way to know for sure. After all, whenever someone tries to talk to him they have to tread the line between being too nice and being too rude unless they want to find themselves on the other side of the operations.

There is just one more thing he needs to check before he goes. Just one. It will only take a minute. It will be quick.

He steps on the old well’s edge and looks down into the murky water.

He sees one of the clones’ skulls floating on the surface, its disintegrating bone covered in flies fighting each other for the tiniest scraps of fat. 

They buzzed and buzzed until he could not take it anymore and threw a large rock, breaking the cranium and scaring away the flying insects, though there is no doubt that maggots are being born where the eyes and tongue used to be.

You and Willow throw the bones down the well. Just what he thought.

Good.

v. “My work is the purest form of art there is. It requires painstaking detail and absolute perfection, all in the spirit of scientific advancement and understanding. As an example, the first part of this experiment in particular is a success.”

#yandere #author aya #yandere x reader #yandere dottore #dottore #fatui harbingers #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere dottore x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #yandere fatui #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere il dottore #yandere il dottore x reader

[writersblockedx]

𝙎𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Hi, Welcome to my supernatural masterlist! As this is the fandom I seem to have written the most for, it’s taken up around half of my main masterlist, so I thought it’d be easier to have a whole separate one where you can find every fic related to supernatural.

★ - Angst ☆ - Fluff ☆ﾐ - Series

Dean Winchester

★ Careful What You Wish For Dean’s been pining for his best friend for years now. Though, it isn’t until he breaks out from the Jinn’s dream world (in which she took the role of his girlfriend), that he comes clean.

★ Survivors Guilt When Dean returns back to the land of the living, he seeks out to locate his girlfriend. He finds her sitting alone at a bar; it’s obvious this time without him has changed her.

★ When Evil isn’t so Bad Dean was brought up to believe demons were nothing but the enemy, a monster to be slain. But when the Winchester Brothers find Y/n, a demon whose not so bad, his opinion begins to sway.

☆  Remedies for Insomniacs Y/n is notorious for getting herself hurt. So when she can’t sleep, Dean fixes up everything he can to ease her insomnia.

★The Soulmate Situation It’s written in every hunter handbook that to stay clear of ones soulmate; a rule of which Dean has lived by all his life. After Y/n fixes up Dean’s wounds, it becomes clear she’s more than just his nurse. The boy does everything he can to push her away.

☆ﾐ  The Side Effects of Curses While hunting a witch, Y/n gets a rather harmful curse placed on her. Slowly, the people around her begin to forget her existence - Dean is the last, and only, person who remembers, stopping at nothing to lift the curse. Part two When Y/n bumps into her forgotten friends on a hunt, they team up together, unaware of how they once knew her. Dean gets a hunch something is up and doesn’t stop until he figures out what exactly.

★ Lawless Y/n is assigned the impossible case of catching the Winchester brothers. When she finally gets her hands on them, a threat of which only they can solve hits. Y/n has no choice but to turn to them for help.

★ If It was a preference You had your own history with the Winchester brothers, in particular, Dean. So when the two bumped into you, accompanied by a new hunter partner, jealousy can’t help but grow.

★ That Grey Area When Sam and Dean discover that their fellow friend and hunter is in fact getting involved in witchcraft, they can’t help but take matters into their own hands.

☆ The Exception Y/n and Dean have been silently pining for one another since they first met. Though, things suddenly start to come out when the two venture on a hunt on their own.

☆ Bad Dreams When the mark begins to conjure vicious nightmares for Dean, it’s only a matter of time before his best friend finds out.

★  Places We Shouldn’t Go When Y/n suffers a panic attack at a crowded bar, the brothers do all they can to help calm her.

☆ Unwind After a long hunt, both of the brothers are tired and in need of Y/n’s comfort.

Sam Winchester

☆ Coffee Stains and Stolen Jackets Sam is utterly infatuated with a girl in his weekly lecture. When she comes in one day, wearing a coffee stained shirt, he offers her his jacket; it just so happens to be the start of something.

★ Places We Shouldn’t Go When Y/n suffers a panic attack at a crowded bar, the brothers do all they can to help calm her.

☆ Unwind After a long hunt, both of the brothers are tired and in need of Y/n’s comfort.

Casitel Novak

★ Healing Wounds Y/n usually sits behind the front lines, doing all she can to research the monsters that the brothers slaughter. When the girl finds herself shoved into the frontlines, Cass worries it may go south. When it does, he struggles to keep his feelings to himself.

--

If you’d like to get tagged in any future supernatural fics click here! Other than that, happy reading!

#superntaural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #imagine #fanfic #masterlist

[diminuel]

An underrated part of the confession scene is Dean saying

“…she’s going to come through that door and she’s going to kill you, and then me”

because like, it’s saying

Dean knows Cas, who is not the true target of Billie's wrath, is going to get in between them to protect Dean and Dean can’t do shit to stop Cas and he knows it, and

Billie wants Dean to suffer for what he’s done to her and he knows that she knows that watching Cas die for his sake is going to destroy him more then actually killing him eventually will

and then of course Cas goes and dies in front and for Dean anyway. And honestly it could be argued Billie does get Dean in the end, Cas dies to take her down and Dean has just…given up by the time he gets impaled in that barn, much like he’s done in the past when Cas has died, it just took longer this time and he hid it better. Tho at least he gets to heaven and isn’t thrown in the Empty like she planned so she didn’t fully “win” there.

But yeah, Dean knows Cas WILL die first because of Dean, he has not hope Cas survives or is spared for the above reasons and it’s tearing him up so bad before Cas just derails him with like, his worst nightmare*

*(That worst nightmare being:

Cas dies in front of him

That Dean has personally corrupted poisoned, and ruined Cas somehow is being proven because Dean taught him to love

Cas confirming he’s choosing to die FOR Dean because Cas loves him therefore:

~*~Everyone Dean loves will choose to leave him eventually forever because he’s poison and ruins them~*~

Soooo yeah. We all rightfully rage against the 15x20 aka Rusty Nail ending as like the worst ending for Dean, that him dying young on a hunt after never finding love or happiness of his own to keep, was an uninspired and a very “Chuck Wins, the brothers can’t escape their Season 1 character archetype” end, but Dean's own personal&emotional&spiritual “death” happened in 15x18, where almost every secret fear Dean's heart is proven “true” only he was still technically alive after)

Wah.

Cas will try to save Dean and Dean will have to watch Cas die (again) before he too will die. :'CCC

And I'm still so angry at that finale to give us a Dean who we have no reason to believe that he even tried to save Cas the moment that Chuck stopped being a problem. He says, shortly before he gets killed on screen, that the way to honor the people they've lost is by living and he doesn't even do that. Like... ugh. (I will never be over that, will I?)

Though I don't think I agree with you regarding Cas' death reinforcing Dean's thoughts that everyone chooses to leave him because he is poison. You can certainly make an argument for that, especially considering how Dean isn't even trying once he gets out of that dungeon. He can keep up the front long enough to survive, but he's on his way out. And I love that angst.

But I feel it would do Cas a disservice, so I don't really want to interpret it that way *lol* (also, I want to undo 15x20 so I don't tend to follow through to the bitter end) I mean disservice in the sense that Cas' heartfelt words would completely miss their mark. Despite the fact that Cas wanted Dean to understand just how much he is loved by him, by Dean embedding that love into a narrative of "I'm poison, everyone is leaving me" it gets twisted - not an emotion that Cas is feeling freely, but a flaw. And also a disservice because it would turn the love confession from a key moment for Cas to a boy melodrama moment for Dean *lol* Like, would he just not try to get Cas back because Cas being stuck in the empty is better than being out and loving Dean?

So yes, if we follow it to the bitter end, which is the mimepire fatality, then yes, I think your interpretation makes a lot of sense.

I just want to live in that moment after 15x18, where there was so much possibility for love to triumph instead of Chuck eventually winning whether he planned it that way or not.

But I'm glad that no matter how we interpret it we are in agreement about 15x20. Burning rage that can only be soothed by being undone in my opinion X3

#Anon #Diminuel replies #Supernatural #Destiel #15x20 mention

[choicesmc]

I've been following you for a while, but the only one of your characters I feel like I know is Fiona. Who are your other favorites? Please gush away 🤭

Caro, love this ask! I'll take literally any chance to gush over Rin and Rams 🥺

I tend to talk more about Fiona than any of my others (though I’m slowly working on that!!) I’ve just had Fiona rotating in my brain for longer than my other two! 

I have two other MCs: Rams (the Elementalists) and Rin (the Freshman series but is not the MC for it). Rams I made for the book club event and Rin I made for the fun of it. 

RIN 

Where do I start? She’s amazing, she’s awesome, she’s possiblytheloveofmylife. She’s the only one where I’ve really sat down to write down her backstory [here]. I like her, she’s tough but still caring and kind –just in her own way. 

Rin’s main angle is a motive of control. For most of her life, her circumstances were beyond her control. She’s had to just roll with the punches life has given her which meant that when she did have control, Rin clung to it tighter than a mother beat with her cubs. Rin wants control, she wants to steer her life in a way that matters despite the world going out of its way to rip any semblance of control from her. 

A twin angle to her character is instability: her mom, her domestic life, her education –all were built on rough ground and could be taken/leave very easily. Even the positive relationships she’d built weren’t permanent. So Rin’s gotta act like nothing will last because nothing has  lasted. 

But like I said, despite all of that. Rin wants to be there in the way few were. She wants to be that janitor that quietly took care of you when your parents were hours late picking you up. She wants to be that one dude on the train that saved your regular seat for you when you ran late. She wants to be a small piece of kindness that you don’t stop thinking about. 

At her core, Rin wants to be good in a world that wasn’t good to her. I love her for it. 

RAMS 

Rams, Rams, Rams. Where to start with cos? Co is a little slippery to me, I won’t lie. But co’s got a solid center, just a bit harder for me to express right, I suppose?

When it comes down to it, she wants to be there for others. She wants to support everyone and be reliable and be their comfort. Rams wants the people around her to know that she’s always open to them —that she’ll always care about them even when she’s not caring about herself. 

The tiny problem? A lot of that isn’t reciprocated for a long time. Rams makes themself so so available to their detriment that often people just… forget the effort it takes to do that. It becomes natural to rely on them in a way that Rams loves but can’t keep up with. 

By the time, he’s in highschool Rams is running on empty. He can’t disappoint anyone, can’t not be there, can’t not care about them. Rams has to keep this going. In addition, he’s a good student: was labeled gifted in elementary and so suffers for it now. His deans toss all the hard classes to him and he’ll perform. He’ll do it with mild complaint because that’s how it has to be, right?  

It’s all reinforced by the idea that no one cares about co. As I said, the immense effort co puts into his relationships (at this point platonic, romantic are a different story that’ll throw me off track–) is not returned and the lack of praise or criticism co receives from Mr Erndheart (co’s guardian) affirms his belief that it doesn’t matter what happens to co as long as co can still survive. Pretty much ‘alive’ is all co expects for coself. Co could be unhappy, tired, hungry, etc (basically a Sim but all the bars are red all the time) and as long as co can hear co’s beating heart, it’s fine for Rams. 

Add that Rams doesn’t want to worry anyone. Blessedly, lack of sleep doesn’t show up to well on him so he plays it off when people notice. He takes extra care that he seems to be doing well even if he really is suffering behind the scenes. If he confesses that no, he’s just a swimming duck desperately trying to keep afloat then what can he provide? Who would take assurance from him? Who would he be reliable for? Who would stay around him? If anyone knew what he was, who would stay? 

In Penderghast, Rams is basically healing. Xe’s been tossed into a world xe doesn’t have any reference for where no one expects much from xim. And for the first time in forever, Rams just breaths. Exists with minimal responsibilities and starts to understand just how much stress xe’s put ximself under and I love that for xe. 

#rin #rams #tiny tidbits #asks answered #thank you caro! #had lots of fun answering this one!!

[pointyearedelvishprincling]

Destiny & The Destruction Of Fate

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: E

Summary: Dean knows what happens if they lose to Lucifer. He's seen what becomes of his brother. Of Castiel. He knows the kind of man he's destined to become when the world dies because of him. It was always bigger than them.

Whatever you do, we will always end up here.

While Dean grieves for the brother imprisoned in his own body by the devil, Castiel hunts for the father who brought him back from the dead only to abandon them all. But the world is slowly ending around them, and sooner or later they have to accept that here at the end of all things, all they've got left is each other.

It's the end, baby. There's nothing they can do but brace for the storm.

Chapter 3: Deus In Absentia (6.6k)

Excerpt:

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Dean’s mattress squeaked, his voice growing closer as though he’d turned toward the wall.

It means, Cas thought, that Dean would be crowned a saint for his selflessness, if such positions still mattered. “It means the only person standing in the way of your happiness is yourself.”

Dean scoffed, and Cas flinched at the distinct sound of the cap of the whisky bottle Dean kept in his nightstand. “Yeah, that’s rich from the guy who spent a billion years thinkin’ god gives a crap about any of us. Where is he, Cas? Huh? Still think he’s got some secret up his sleeve to fix this shit? This was his plan, man. I’m –”

“You certainly know a lot about keeping secrets.” Cas knew it was a low blow, given the truth Dean had told him earlier that day. Back when the world was theirs and the guilt of his survival wasn’t bleeding Dean’s heart so badly he refused to really live.

“Fuck you, man,” Dean muttered. “Ain’t my fault you’re goin' through some reverse angel puberty crap.”

“Do you suffer these indignities for some larger purpose? Misery isn’t a currency for forgiveness.” Cas kept pushing. He needed Dean to fight back. Needed him to say he didn’t regret what they’d done. That this wasn’t the end of them. Needed to keep him talking so that he wasn’t swallowed by the silence of his monstrous guilt.

“Well fuck me, Father, for I have sinned. This ain’t confession, Cas. Shut the fuck up.”

Read more on ao3

#the girls are fightingggg (foreplay) #endverse #endverse destiel #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #my writing #datdof #destiel fics #gardenforcas #angelscas #chapeldean #user4x01 #becauseofthebowties #spxcekya #offbeattraxx #mybelovedcas

[nico-di-genova]

Firm believer that Sam not only dropped out of CalTech, but that he also full on spiraled when he got there. According to Sam’s guidance counselor, Sam was managing school surprisingly well. Even while he was getting into fights, and causing general mayhem, his grades never suffered. This is a gifted kid who’s repressing everything. This is a kid who’s placing his entire worth on his grades, and hating every second of it.

“You’re your father’s son for sure,” his teachers would say as they put another A+ in the grade book for him. Sam would smile, tight lipped and forced, and then he’d go out and punch the next asshole he saw shoving a kid in the hallway.

He gets through high school only because a quarter of his trust fund is spent repairing damages he’s caused, and smoothing away threats of expulsion with a couple thousand dollars in the dean’s pocket. Alan almost thinks Sam’s trying to drain the account, what with the way he’s signing a check nearly every other week. But then Sam gets his diploma and Alan assumes that will be the end of it.

Until he gets the call late one night, half past midnight and in the dead of winter. He answers groggily as he paws at the nightstand beside him for his glasses.

“Is this Sam’s dad?” The voice on the other end of the line is unfamiliar, unmistakably young, and definitely not Sam.

“Sure,” Alan replies, because it’s late and he’s tired and figures he’s the closest thing Sam’s got to a father right now anyway.

There’s the muffled bass of music pouring from the other end of the line, distant chatter, and then above it all, Sam’s voice - slurred and overexcited for the late hour.

“‘S that Alan?” He asks, laughing loudly enough that even Alan can hear how unhinged he sounds, “Alan! You gotta get out here, man! It’s wild!”

Sam friend, or possibly a concerned stranger, Alan never does find out which, comes back onto the line.

“You should probably come get him.”

Alan does. Immediately. Grabs his car keys and throws on an old college sweater, running out the door before he can ever consider hesitating. He’s wearing slippers that soak up the snow as he rushes to the driveway, they’ll be ruined by the end of the night, but Alan doesn’t have it in him to care.

He drives the three hours it takes to get there without pause, hardly ever going less than 80. And by the time he gets to the address that the kid on the phone had given him - right before Sam stole the phone to tell Alan about how much molly he’d taken - the party has died down to little more than a few stragglers slumped on the porch. Sam is passed out on the steps.

He’s got a black eye, blood crusted under his nose and smeared along his chin. His lips are purple. Alan didn’t think to bring a spare jacket, mainly because he didn’t expect to find Sam lying in the snow in little more than jeans and a t-shirt.

“C’mon, son. Wake up,” Alan finds himself pleading, hands hovering over Sam’s still body like he’s not sure where to check for a pulse first. The last time Alan had tried to hug Sam, the kid had flinched away from him like it was an assault, Alan wasn’t sure if his aversion to contact extended into unconsciousness.

“Wake up, Sam. Please, kid.”

Sam’s groggy when he does finally shift and blink up at Alan bleary eyed. His pupils are blown wide, nearly black. The dopey smile that spreads across his face reveals the blood staining his teeth.

“Al,” he giggles, like they’re two pals meeting for lunch, “what’re you doing ‘ere?”

Alan considers what steps he’d taken in his life to end up here. One Flynn vanished, the other delirious and shivering in front of him. He helps Sam sit up, pulls his own sweatshirt off just to slide it over Sam’s head like he’s dressing a child. Sam is all floppy limbs and lulling head, still caught in the grasp of whatever drugs he’d taken. He isn’t even looking at Alan as the man grips his chin and tries to get a good look at his injuries.

“What happened, Sam?” He demands, hoping there’s enough weight in his voice to convey how serious he is.

Sam smiles again, blinks owlishly, “I’m socializing,” he says, like there’s an inside joke Alan is missing out on here.

“That what they’re calling it these days? Who hit you?”

Sam shrugs, tries to pull away from Alan’s grip, but his body isn’t quite his yet and there’s no real strength to the movement.

“Dunno. Doesn’t matter. Didn’t even feel it.”

The alarm bells are ringing in Alan’s head so loudly that he’s giving himself a headache. He’s gotta get the kid out of here, get both of them out of here, now that the cold is beginning to burrow it’s way into him as well. He helps Sam to his feet, filing away the way Sam winces when Alan’s hand comes to rest just under his ribs.

It’s not until he’s got Sam buckled into the passenger seat and a good twenty minutes between them and the frat house that the tension in his chest begins to lessen. Sam drifts in and out of sleep on the car ride home. They have to pull over more than once so he can vomit on the interstate, mainly liquid and heavy with the scent of alcohol. By the third time, Sam’s got tear tracks trailing down his cheeks, snot mixing with the blood under his nose, and vomit crusted with spit at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

Alan takes pity on him an hour into the drive, pulls into a gas station to grab him a bottle of water. He hands him a handful of napkins from the glove compartment as well, though Sam barely tries to wipe the mess from his face. His movements are still sluggish and laced with exhaustion.

“‘M sorry,” Sam mumbles when they’re back within the city limits.

Alan doesn’t look away from the road and keeps both hands tight on the wheel.

“Just drink your water, Sam.”

They’ll be plenty to talk about come morning. After Sam’s had a shower and they’ve both gotten some sleep. Alan will have plenty of questions, and he has no intentions of letting Sam squirrel his way out of answers.

Sam sips from the water slowly, curls tighter into the warmth of Alan’s sweatshirt, and rests his head against the passenger window. The orange of the streetlights wash out his already pale form, make the bruises under his eyes seem deeper.

“I tried,” he says, small and broken and heavy with the honesty of it.

Alan sighs, “I know you did, kid. I know.”

Sam doesn’t go back for the spring semester. Alan doesn’t press it. He’s half afraid that if Sam had gone back, it would have killed him. It would have killed them both.

#this wasn’t meant to be a full fic #but whatever #I had thoughts about Sam and cal tech #sam flynn #alan bradley #tron #tronblr #tron legacy #my fic #alcohol mention #drug ment tw #drug mention #emeto mention #emetophobia #tron headcanons #sad sam flynn hours

[smartycvnt]

Left Behind

Title: Left Behind Pairing: Abaddon x Reader Summary: You had been warned not to put your trust in a demon, but you preferred to make your own decisions. NR WC: 892

It was always going to be Sam and Dean in the end. That was something that you had known since you met them, hell you had known it before then too. Your father had been a religious nut who had relished in your brother becoming a prophet at the start of the apocalypse. You had been sent out to find Sam and Dean, which had been easier than you expected it to be. They had seemed almost like guys who didn't want to be found at first, but they had a tendency to leave a bit of a trail behind them. All you had to do was follow the trail and wait at the next town that was showing signs of the end. Still, you had been too late. Almost as if it was some sort of retaliation from God, your hometown had been struck down and completely destroyed. Since then, you had been an occasional guest on some of their hunts, but you preferred to do your own thing most of the time.

"Y/n, we need your help." Dean looked down at you with a pleading look. He was close to begging for your help, which you told him was close to what it would take after the bullshit he had put you through to side with Crowley.

"This isn't any run of the mill monster-," Sam paused, as if he was unsure of what to tell you, "-She's a knight of Hell."

"Abaddon," you filled in. Both boys looked surprised. Sam knew that occasionally you kept tabs on them, but they hadn't expected you to know about this one. You didn't hunt demons because you hated them, you just avoided them at all costs. The less in Crowley's view you were, the better. "We're familiar with each other, which is why I'm telling you now to leave me alone."

"Familiar?" Dean questioned. You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what you meant by that. Dean's face fell as he turned to Sam, hopeful that he wouldn't have to say it. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That she could put Crowley down for good, and maybe, just maybe that if I helped her my place in Hell wouldn't be so bad. The things I've done for the two of you have more than damned my soul to Hell, so if cozying up to her makes the pain and suffering a little shorter, I'd say it's more than worth it. Besides, she seems less likely to leave me behind than you two," you told them. You didn't have to explain yourself to them, but you still did anyways. Obviously your words held some merit because they both backed away after that.

"I think you're making a huge mistake Y/n, and when things come down to the wire, I don't know if we can protect you," Sam warned you. You knew that if things had come down to it, they wouldn't have protected you anyways. Your time was running short anyways, so you might as well have a little fun first. Being one of Abaddon's demons didn't sound nearly as bad as being forced to do something else like buying and selling souls. She could use your strengths as she knew them, just like she had promised.

"They're gone!" you called out. The door was shut and locked, which was when the familiar scent of Abaddon hit you. It was hard to describe, something along the lines of smoke and metal, like she was a weapon literally forged in battle. You had needed a bit of time to get used to it, but you were grateful that she didn't reek of sulfur like some of the other demons you had encountered.

"What did you tell them?" Abaddon asked as she wrapped her arms around your waist from behind. You shuddered a little at the feeling of her breath against the back of your neck. Her body felt hot pressed against yours, much hotter than anybody else. It was almost like she was filled to the brim with hellfire, just waiting to break free and burn the world.

"I didn't say much, but they came here asking for my help just like you said they would. Dean's probably running back to tell Crowley about us now. Don't worry though, they don't know about the books," you answered. Abaddon hummed as she pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. "I'd die before I told them what I did."

"If they lay a finger on you, I'll burn the world down before they even know what's happening," Abaddon promised. You wriggled out of her arms to turn around and face her. Abaddon glanced down at you with a serious look on her face. You weren't used to the sincerity from her, and at times, her intensity scared you a little, but you trusted her. To distract yourself from that look, you closed your eyes and kissed her. The gentle press of her lips from before was gone without a trace as she kissed you fiercely. You shouldn't have been so trusting of her because you knew exactly what she was, but Abaddon had already done much more to make sure you wouldn't be left on your own than the Winchesters ever had.

#my writing #abaddon x reader #abaddon #supernatural x reader #supernatural

[veryace-ficrecs]

Criminal Minds Fanfic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)   

He Was Left on the Steps of the FBI in a Basket by schrijverr - Rated T

Maybe not a basket, but sixteen-year-old Dr. Spencer Reid suddenly shows up at FBI headquarters claiming that his mother has been kidnapped. The BAU isn’t certain first, but the case he sets them on proves to be an interesting one, wherein they get to know the young doctor until he’s practically family. 

Shuffle the Odds by schrijverr - Rated T

Spencer is a Vegas boy, who's game is poker, no matter what others might believe. The team slowly catches onto it.

Following Spencer from when he started at the BAU till season 7 with poker as red thread.

Dr. Spencer Reid's First Case by boredom - Rated T

Derek Morgan wasn't sure he trusted Gideon's judgement. After all, who allows a 23 year old who can't even pass the academy's physical exam to become a field agent? Luckily for him, Reid is about to prove just how competent (and badass) he can be.

Trigger warnings: blood, violence, mentions of school shootings, death, lack of respect towards people suffering from mental illness, and other things you would normally find in a Criminal Minds episode.

Bite Your Tongue (Choke Yourself To Sleep) by drspencerreid - Rated G

reid tipped his head back and leaned it on the shoulder behind him, making it look like he was just putting on a show. he whispered, "i swear to god if you hold what i'm about to do against me, i'm sending garcia the baby pictures your mother gave me."

••

or the one in which spencer has to go undercover in a club and his friends are far too smug

Gotta Live Before We Get Older (Nothing To Lose) by drspencerreid - Rated G

the silence that followed in the next few seconds was eventually broken by prentiss loudly exclaiming, "i'm sorry, what was that?"

•••

or the one in which spencer surprises everyone with his view on tattoos

The Times They Forget by Ena2705 - Rated G

Spencer Reid is a genius, anyone can tell you that. But sometimes people forget that his head wasn’t always buried in books, and there was a time when he did something other than catch serial killers. 

These Are My Friends (I Love Them) by drspencerreid - Rated G

"as much as i have enjoyed learning all these new sides to the kid, i should start going too. i'm very slightly starting to get old, and i really shouldn't have tested it with all those shots."

"very slightly starting to?" spencer repeated. "rossi, i think you surpassed that like sixty years ago."

••

or the one in which spencer gets drunk and honest

Dumb and Ditzy by TimelessTears - Rated T

AU. Years of being bullied for his smarts left him dreading when people figured out he was a genius. What better way to throw them off then by acting stupid? Enter: Dumb Blond Spencer Reid. 

Supernatural:

Monsters in Your Closet by AlbusCorvus - Rated G

Series: 2 Works

When Castiel goes on a hunt alone and is caught by a particular FBI team, the brothers do something they never thought they’d have to. They kidnap SSA Spencer Reid to make an exchange. But being kidnapped by delusional serial killers is nothing like Spencer thought it would be. 

Monsters are Real by WhiskyBoys - Rated T

'Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.' Stephen King.

The kid sitting in the interview room swings on the rear legs of his chair, throws back his head, and at the top of his lungs, sings a painfully off-key version of 'Wanted Dead or Alive'. Hotch looks at Morgan with one eye-brow arched in question. "You think he's your unsub?"

No Difference by The_Bookkeeper - Rated T

Derek has been in a lot of bad situations. This one easily makes the top five. Or would, if Dean and Sam Winchester were actually acting like the sadistic psychopaths he expected them to be. Instead, Dean is referencing Star Trek, Sam is comforting Reid, and Derek has never been more confused.

Batman:

How... Did I Get Here? by PurpleMango - Rated T

Spencer Reid gets transported universes, happens along Batman, and ends up with a job as the resident quirky profiler to the Bat Family

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #crossover fanfiction #supernatural #batman #criminal minds fanfiction #veryace recs #fanfic recs #ao3 fic recs #ao3

[mlobsters]

supernatural s7e17 the born-again identity (w. sera gamble)

i gather this is gonna be sad. dean's easy to be charmed by and emotionally invest, sam's a little harder nut to crack and they don't have him suffer so freely but he's got me by the throat here lately.

kinda hate when i notice an actor's name in the opening credits, spoiler alert 🥴 i guess cas is making an appearance, finally. he gonna do the magic brain fixing woo woo?

DR KADINSKY So you're aware that Sam is experiencing a full-blown psychotic episode? DEAN Psychotic? Come on. I mean, the guy's... It's not like the guy's freakin' Norman Bates.

i know this is just how tv/movies deal with this but agh psychotic doesn't mean violent! make it a teachable moment, sera

Psychosis is disconnection from reality. People may have false beliefs or experience things that aren’t real. Psychosis isn’t a condition. It’s a term that describes a collection of symptoms. Two important types of psychosis include: Hallucinations. These are when parts of your brain mistakenly act like they would if your senses (vision, hearing, touch, smell and taste) picked up on something actually happening. An example of a hallucination is hearing voices that aren’t there (auditory hallucination). Delusions. These are false beliefs that someone holds onto very strongly, even when others don’t believe them or there’s plenty of evidence that a belief isn't true. For example, people with delusions of control believe someone is controlling their thoughts or actions remotely.

DEAN Sam, if I don't find something – SAM Then I'll die. HALLUCIFER Oh, you're upsetting me. SAM Dean, we knew this was coming. DEAN No. SAM When you put my soul back... DEAN No. SAM ...Cas warned you about all the crap it would – DEAN Screw Cas!

yes, he was warned but it also wasn't just the deterioration over time, cas just zapped the wall away! so maybe it would have played out the same but you don't know and it wasn't a guarantee

honeymoon is over, indeed

better job with the musical score in this sad montage guys. felt some of the feelings

EXCUSE ME KACEY ROHL WITH A NECK BANDAGE?????

hannibal s1e3 potage - kacey rohl as abigail hobbs

is dean gonna forgive and forget cas at the end of this?

DEAN Yeah, well, what if you were some kind of... I don't know...bad guy? EMMANUEL/CASTIEL Oh, I... don't feel like a bad person.

oh no.

MARIN No, it's not! You are crazier than I am! Charles Manson tells you what to do. At least it's my own brother – SAM It's your brother?

MARIN Yes. It sucks... when it's your dead brother saying... kill yourself to be with him... or he'll do it for you

no no no.

DEAN Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head. EMMANUEL/CASTIEL He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend? DEAN Yeah, well, he's gone. EMMANUEL/CASTIEL Did you kill him? I sense that you kill a lot of people. DEAN Honestly, I-I-I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't – I don't know why.

truly a mystery, dean. someone caused, and continues to cause, your brother immense suffering.

action legs

kacey is doing a great job with this part. she's so good!

oh a very good use of music when cas goes on the smiting/recovering memory tour, turn into earth by the yardbirds

smiting in your little cardigan. chef's kiss on the music selection, truly

so is cas gonna be like, i sacrificed for you again, dean by taking the hallucifer? leaving him in the hospital was... a choice. also a hallucinating and extremely powerful angel seems like a bad combo.

DEAN Mutually assured destruction. Look, man, I get it. She's not our friend. We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead.

not to put too fine a point on it

from the wiki

At JiB con 2012, Jensen talked about the trench coat scene, describing it as "awkward," pointing out that the jacket was in a stolen car, that Dean wouldn't have folded it that nicely, describing the written dialogue as, "It was so bad," and saying that he and Misha ended up changing the dialogue. One fan who won a copy of the script from Misha posted the relevant pages on Tumblr. The removed lines have Dean saying, of the trench coat he's holding, "Dumb to keep. I know. I saw you-- dissolve or whatever. But, just in case. 'Cause I never stopped wanting to fix it either. So we got something in common. Just-- take it. Please." Though, there may have been an earlier version of the script that Jensen was referring to, as he talked with Misha at JiB con 2012, and they mentioned Castiel having a line that they changed, and Dean having a line that referenced something like the smell of the coat or Dean cuddling up to it. Jensen said Misha had called the scene "gay" in a previous panel, and Jensen referred to it as "unmanly" saying, "Which would make sense because (Sera Gamble, the writer) is a girl. (...) She writes amazing, but sometimes there are some effeminate lines (like) "I guess I really hoped you'd come back someday." "

major side eye at the that whole manly business. but i do think, again, the show talks more about their relationship than whatever makes it to screen. stop trying to make fetch happen.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 7x17 #sera gamble #christopher lennertz #kacey rohl #the yardbirds #turn into earth #spnhiky #hiky #hannibal

[cpopnatural]

15x20 Notes

-THE CAS IN THE PREVIEW??????

-OH THEY WERE SICK

-the happy music.

-uhhhhhhh pie haha isn’t it funny

-yeah I miss Cas too. Anyway. Pie time

-THE FUCKING CLOWNS HAHAHA

-Singer and Kripke fuck off

-they left the woman alive but cut off her tongue? Classic SPN silencing women

-unserious ass show!!!

-the fact that this whole case is just set up to ensure Dean dies. So fucking stupid

-are we just on this earth to suffer

-I need to get drunker

-THE REBAR IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE BARN

-why are we bringing back this random woman

-REBARRRRR

-this is so contrived

-they really test Jackles to his limit rn and he’s past. It

-he does not look like he’s dying?

-YOU WERE JUST TALKING LAST EPISODE ABOUT HOW YOU CAN CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING WHAT IS THISSSSSS

-what theme does this convey. What does any of this mean

-whyyyyyyyy the fucking incest bait

-WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE

-why is he monologuing go to a hospital!!!!!!

-it tries too hard to make you feel sad but none of this is earned

-NO AMERICANA YOU DID NOT DESERVE AMERICANA YOU STUPID EPISODE

-JARPAD????? HAHAHAHAHAHA

-no one at Dean’s funeral except Sam. Whatever

-I like Sam but Sam can not carry the last half of this episode. Or should I say Jarpad can not

-when do we get to see white wig jarpad

-“that kid of yours”……..

-the fucking look Bobby gives after “Cas helped” is so funny. Auntie telling you a boy stopped by earlier looking for you (I’m delusional)

-the car in fucking heaven

-stop with the Carry On dude

-Dean Jr akdjskdhs

-if they were being realistic they would have Dean Jr wearing one of those Southern ass monograms

-we skipped over blurry wife on accident

-WHITE WIG JARPAD YESSSSS

-Dean Jr with the anti possession tattoo

-why he look like old John Mulaney here

-don’t make me listen to the acoustic cover of Carry on My Wayward Son

-is this the fucking Glee cover or something. Why are we listening to it twice

-THE STUPID FUCKING BRIDGE

-no cello Americana. Be so for fucking real

-this is the evil version of the time they panned out from Dean and Cas staring at each other

-POST CREDITS SCENE??????

-I feel like I’m being attacked

-everyone on there and not Misha. Sick and twisted

-I think I said “what are we doing here” about 20 times.

0/10. A failure on all fronts. No other episode has made me question my life like this

#min finishes spn

[mistydear]

soften me now, let me take as is given (xiii)

billie dean howard x reader

summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together.

w/c: 3.3k

taglist: @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @talulahmae @max-the-d0g @mistysswampmud @angelxsarahp @billiedeanspearls @madamevirgo @cordithatgurl @devriesgoode

chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen

notes: okay so warnings!! for p*ke, possession type darkness, violence

The car ride is silent after Billie tells you her address. It isn’t so much that there’s tension, more so a heaviness. A weight that seems to be putting pressure on your eardrums in the tightness of the car as Billie keeps her eyes closed and her hands in her lap. Meanwhile, your hands grip the steering wheel, glancing over at her every so often, curious and worried.

Work stuff. What does work stuff mean? You know what work stuff means, you just don’t want to think about it. 

When you stop at a red light, Billie sighs quietly, resting her forehead against the cool of the window. 

“Christ.” It’s a soft exclamation, one of suffering. Darkly, you wonder if it’s a plea. 

“Hey,” you whisper, surprised at how meek you sound. This is scaring you a little. “Look at me.” Wearily, she does. Her eyes are bloodshot, and you swallow. “Billie, what’s going on?” She shakes her head noncommittally, but you persist. 

“Sometimes, spirits aren’t so nice,” she offers, each word a struggle. She sees your pained look and waves you off, looking at the now green light. “Go. I’d like to throw up in my own bathroom, not your car.” 

“Do you want me to pull over?” you ask, panic shooting through you. You really wouldn’t care that much considering the state of Billie, but you’d rather not clean her lunch from your upholstery if you can help it. She just shakes her head, lips pressed tightly. 

When you make it to Billie’s apartment, a tall building in the heart of West Hollywood, she’s clammy and unfocused. You park outside and walk with her to the front door in sunny LA heat. When her ankle rolls before the first step, you’re close enough to lunge and catch her, your arms under hers, solid against her momentarily limp form. 

A strange little whimper escapes her throat, and you want to melt into the sidewalk, your chest pulling. She blushes as she stands but is wobbly on her feet, and you hold her steady, an arm around her back. 

“Just take them off,” you instruct at her heels. She shoots you a glare, and you glare right back. “It’s fine. I got ‘em,” you say, holding out your hand. She sighs and uses your shoulder for balance as she steps out of her shoes. She’s shorter than you, just by a couple lovely inches. You bend down to pick up her heels, and when you stand, she’s watching you with something swirling in her eyes you can’t place. Something rich and dark. Then all at once it’s gone, and she’s walking up the front steps with your hand protectively across her spine. 

The receptionist is confused when Billie waves her off, but opens the elevator for them as requested. 

“Second highest floor,” Billie scoffs absently even though the button’s already pushed. “Every month I check if the penthouse is available. Never is.” You think the comment’s a little snobby, but you wouldn’t tell her that. It’s almost like she wasn’t even there when she said it. And you don’t hold what people say when they’re sick against them. 

Billie pads barefoot to her door, swaying, and you think if she weren’t ill, it might be kind of adorable. But she is, so it’s not. 

When you close the door behind you, a refreshing blast of air conditioning hits, and you toe off your shoes, looking around. Her apartment is sleek with shiny floors and soft looking rugs, but there’s a warmth to it that doesn’t escape you, a lived in feeling that for some reason you don’t expect. You almost assumed that Billie lived as starched and refined as she dressed. But it smells like her in here, her rich Chanel perfume and the indescribable headiness of her skin. You set her heels down next to your worn boots and follow her as she walks to the kitchen. 

Her appliances are just as shiny as everything else, and you don’t notice her opening the freezer door and sticking her head in until she sighs heavily. You almost laugh, but concern draws you closer. When your hand comes to rest on her, you're surprised by how warm she is. 

“You’re burning up,” you mumble. 

“Thank you for that astute observation,” Billie retorts, her forehead against the ice machine. The hair on the back of her neck is suddenly damp with sweat, and you frown. What fever this severe comes on so quickly? Confused, you grab a kitchen towel and wrap a few ice cubes in it, resting it on the back of her neck. The tension in her shoulders releases a little, but she doesn’t say anything. Then all at once the tension is back, and she stumbles from the kitchen. You follow her—her shoulders stiff—to the bathroom where she gracefully kneels down in front of her toilet and pulls up the seat. 

Wordlessly, you brush her hair from the stickiness of her neck and rest the makeshift ice pack back on her skin. Billie coughs, and you gather her hair in your hand, holding it away. You’re not sure what Billie wants in a situation like this, to be left alone, to be comforted, to just be present? You hazard a dangerous guess considering her strange, sour mood, and sit behind her, rubbing a gentle hand up and down her back. 

Not much comes up, so Billie spits and gasps, resting her forehead against her arm that’s across the toilet. She’s silent, so you’re silent. Her neck twitches, and she exhales forcefully, sinking lower into the bowl. You find it unusual for her twitch like that, and you remember seeing her do it in Insomnia as well. Her back arches, and she gags. When nothing happens, she whines faintly, and your chest constricts. Swallowing, you run your fingers through her hair, hoping it’s as soothing for her as it is for you. 

“Just stop,” Billie mumbles, and you freeze, sliding your hands from her soft, blonde hair. She coughs weakly, spits, and then sits up, looking stiff and achy. For a moment, she seems to remember herself, remember she’s not alone, and stills. Not looking back at you—maybe too embarrassed—she hesitantly snakes her hand behind her. It lands on your leg, and she rests it there. “Not you,” she says hoarsely, and you aren’t sure whether your heart is somersaulting or sinking. 

Without another word, she pulls herself to her feet and rinses out her mouth, running shaking hands through her loose, ruffled hair. You’re too stunned not to follow her, so you trail behind her like a child as she walks to her room. You try not to notice every little thing about her space, try not to fixate on the vanity with everything so perfectly in its place or the silky robe that’s been tossed haphazardly across an armchair in the corner. Instead, you see Billie reach in her nightstand and pull out a faded, worn bible. Oh. 

She sits down on her bedroom floor, and you follow suit in front of her, cross legged and curious. Wordlessly, she flips through the bible that now lays between you, her fingers landing on a passage that she mumbles aloud to herself, eyes closed. A coldness settles over you, and you shiver, Billie’s concentration never wavering. Her back is straight, her voice quiet but solid, and then her neck twitches again, and something in her face contorts. 

“You have no power here,” she says, louder this time. But she twitches away from something invisible, inhaling sharply. You feel your heart starting to pound and watch as Billie grows firm, almost angry, almost dark. “No, you don’t,” she says, but it almost sounds as if she’s responding to herself. 

“Billie,” you whisper, hesitant and scared. The air is heavy and oppressive. You aren’t sure what’s happening, but you don’t like it. Billie laughs, slow and easy, her eyes opening. They’re darker than you remember, emptier. 

“Billie’s not home, right now. Can I take a message?” she asks, never blinking, never wavering. Your heart skips and leaps, and you scoot back involuntarily. That’s not Billie. Something deep inside of you knows it more primally than you’ve ever known anything in your life. And it chills you to the bone. “Am I scaring you?” she asks, head cocked. Your breathing quickens, and you wonder what would happen if you took your eyes off of her long enough to blink. Her neck twitches, and her eyes close as she struggles with something. You see an opportunity and scramble back, almost to your feet when Billie pushes you back down to the floor. You land with a thump, your head hitting Billie’s carpet hard as she looms over you on her hands and knees. “Where ya goin’, pretty thing? Stay awhile, hmm?” she asks, voice softening, but a dangerous edge remains. 

“Stop it, Billie. You’re scaring me,” you mutter, voice wavering. Billie laughs and mocks you. 

“Did you know that Billie Dean Howard has a secret? Something she’s scared to tell you.” Your blood runs cold when Billie talks about herself in the third person, your vision blurring. What the fuck. Panic coursing through you, you try to scramble out from under her, but her hand darts out to your throat, wrapping and squeezing. Billie’s neck twitches and her eyes flutter as she falters, but then her fingers tighten again. You claw at her hand to no avail. 

“Billie, please,” you choke, tears springing to your eyes. Her neck twitches again, and that darkness in Billie’s eyes flickers, her fingers loosening. 

“No!” she shouts suddenly, hand tightening once more. “You’re weak, Y/N. And I know your secret too. I know how you really feel about Andy.” Your whole body breaks out into goosebumps, and as your throat tightens, Billie’s neck twitches again, her whole body shivering. When she opens her eyes, they’re the brown you remember, and her hand loosens on your throat. “Y/N,” she mumbles hoarsely, her eyes instantly filling with tears. Panicking, you scramble away from her as she leans back on her heels. Both of you are panting, gasping for air like you’ve never tasted it before. Looking around like she’s just seeing her own room for the first time, she runs shaking fingers through her hair and then refocuses on the bible. As she recites, quietly but clearly, the lord’s prayer, you stumble to your feet and into the bathroom. 

Unable to look yourself in the mirror, you splash cold water across your face and try to stop shaking. The heaviness in the air has lifted, and the California warmth has returned, but you’re so jumpy and raw you barely notice. 

After what feels like hours of you leaning over the sink with the water running, you hear padding footsteps behind you. 

“Y/N,” Billie ventures quietly. Your name, so soft and careful on her lips, has you wavering on your feet. “Y/N, look at me, please.” You don’t turn, but when you feel Billie’s hand on your shoulder, you jump. She pulls away quickly. “I’m sorry you had to be here for that,” she says hoarsely. “But I’m thankful you were.” It’s a vulnerable admission, and tears blur your vision before you can stop them. “Without you, I would’ve…” she chokes, and you swallow, turning and crashing into her arms. Billie gasps, but her arms wrap around you as tightly as yours do around her. Your knees give out, and then both of you are sinking to the bathroom floor again, holding each other. 

“Billie,” you plead through silent tears, and she understands what you’re trying to say because she tangles her fingers in your hair, holding you close. 

“I’m sorry. Work stuff. It’s just work stuff.” When you pull away, you’re shocked to see her crying too, tears running her mascara. “You’re safe,” she says, finding your eyes as you wipe them. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” She extends her hands to you, and you take them. “It’s gone.” 

“Are you okay?” is the only thing you can think to ask after that baffling series of events. 

“It’s rare, but this isn’t my first rodeo,” she jokes weakly, her smile flickering, but you can tell that was just as traumatic for her as it was for you. Without thinking, you lean forward and wipe a stray tear from under Billie’s eye. It’s a comforting gesture that Billie seems to receive exactly how you intended it, and that’s some sort of magical in its own right. 

Billie takes your hand again when you rest it back down, and you aren’t sure how to pull away from her or if you want to. You can tell she wants to apologize again and to examine you from head to toe to make sure you aren’t hurt. She feels guilty. She feels so much guilt that you want to take her heart and scrub it clean for her. 

“I’m okay,” you say instead. 

“Okay,” she whispers back instead. Then she swallows, licks her lips, and looks away. “I have to make a phone call.” As the energy changes, she seems embarrassed again, and you swallow as she pulls away to stand up. You follow numbly, confused, as she walks to the living room and offers you a seat, awkwardly and with a broken sentence. You sit because you aren’t sure what else to do and watch as she dials a number she seems to know by heart. 

“Father,” she says as a greeting, and your ears perk up, hands carefully in your lap. “I need a favor…yes…I know,” she sighs, pressing a hand to her hip. She seems to be recovering from whatever the fuck just happened quicker than you, or maybe just repressing it. “It followed me home…no, I couldn’t tether it. It’s still there…yes, one other…” her gaze turns to you, eyes softening. “She’s okay…I will.” Billie gives him an address, the house you assume she was at earlier that day. “See you then.” She hangs up her phone then walks up to you, numb on the couch. Instead of sitting down next to you, she kneels in front of you, forcing you to look in her eyes. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” 

“You choked me,” you say, just now processing that fact, and Billie swallows, her eyes misting. 

“Yeah.” It seems to be all she can say, and you chew your lip, looking down into your lap. 

“Billie, what just happened?” 

“Um,” Billie hesitates, her voice cracking. She sniffles, wipes her nose, and looks back up at you. “The house we were filming at today contains some…unfriendly spirits. The current owners were being harassed and wanted me to investigate. One of them followed me from the house. I couldn’t shake it until I…until you…” 

“Until you choked me.” 

“Yes,” she confirms, firm and decisive. “But seeing you hurt, I…” she trails off and shakes her head, looking down. “I couldn’t let that happen.” 

“That wasn’t you,” you say, somewhere between a question and a statement. 

“No,” she confirms, and the word rings in the air. 

“Okay.” 

“Just okay?” she asks, a hint of playfulness in her voice, mostly concern. You shrug, and she nods, swallowing. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“The ice. Holding my hair back,” she offers, meeting your eyes again. You don’t know how to feel, and Billie can tell because she gives you a sad smile and stands, walking towards the kitchen. When she comes back, she has two glasses of water, and she hands you one. Then she sits next to you, quietly and carefully, and sips her water. And she waits. 

You’re both silent for a long time. You think you’re getting a headache, so you sip your water, fiddling with the condensation on the glass. You can’t make sense of what you’ve seen, of the way Billie acted, what she did, what she said. You can’t reconcile that Billie and this Billie—the one you know, strange and mysterious and careful but also attentive and sweet, with the one you saw, dangerous and angry and sadistic. And then something clicks in you. Something you never expected would.

“So it’s true,” you say, and Billie glances at you. “It’s real.” 

“Yes. It’s real.” You swallow and look away, sipping your water. No matter how terrifying it was for you, you can’t imagine what it was like for Billie. 

“What was it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Who were you on the phone with?” 

“A priest.” You sip your water again. Then a thought strikes you. 

“Why were you embarrassed?” She looks at you startled. “That I saw you like that?” A light pinkness coats her cheeks, and she looks down into her lap, gathering her thoughts before looking back at you. She doesn’t ask how you knew. 

“I can have hundreds of thousands of strangers watch me talk to the air on Lifetime, but you…” she looks down, her jaw twitching. “I care what you think of me.” 

“Why?” you ask, and the pink in Billie’s cheeks darkens. 

“Do you?” she asks instead.

“Yes,” you nod. Billie hums smartly, and it pulls a faint smile from you. She chuckles easily, teasingly, and your lips pull up. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Billie echoes in a delicate whisper, never taking her eyes off you. After a moment of silence, Billie’s lips part. “Do you want to leave?” 

“No,” you answer automatically because it’s the one thing you’re sure of amid all the confusion. “Can we just…can I sit here for a while?” 

“Of course,” she says tenderly, and so you do. You sit there in silence for so long that your eyes unfocus and the weight of the stress on your body and your mind becomes too heavy to handle. You feel yourself drifting, and then there’s a hand on your water glass, pulling it from your loose grip. And then a heavy dark overtakes you, comforting and deep. 

. . . 

You wake up to Billie twitching against you. Your head is resting on her shoulder, hers resting against the side of your head. She whines faintly, and you frown, blinking sleep from your eyes. She gasps, muscles tense against you, and you realize she must be having a nightmare. Every once and a while, Kate would have a bad dream, and eventually you learned how to soothe her without waking her. Gently, you turned your head to look up at Billie. Her brow was furrowed tightly, lips parted, and when she whined again, broken and scared, you hushed her. 

“Shhh. You’re safe,” you whisper. She doesn’t react. You reach down between you to run the back of your fingers up and down the inside of her arm, hanging limply between you. “Shh shh shh, Billie, you’re okay.” She groans, and you hold her steady, burrowing into her shoulder. “I got you.” Her breathing quickens, and you decide to try one more thing. Carefully, you trail a finger over her forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Shhh…” Slowly, Billie settles, and you settle with her, your hand coming to rest on her collarbone. 

One more small whine escapes her, something different. It’s not scared. It’s almost…needy…as she leans into you again. Your heart flutters, and you swallow, matching the steady up and down of her breathing. 

Kate. 

Kate. 

Your chest tightens. Fuck. With a new found, terrifying determination, you untangle yourself from Billie, making sure she’s still asleep as you stand. She needs it. Quietly, you pad to the door, giving her one last glance before closing it behind you. 

You have to go see your wife. 

#hehehe #thoughts? #billie dean howard #ahs fanfic #ahs fanfiction #american horror story #sarah paulson #billie dean howard x reader #soften me now #writing

[diminuel]

Dean forcing cas to hang out with the demon that is wearing his dead child’s corpse (and being a major dick through out it all) will always bother me tbh. He’s having to work with the being walking around his son’s dead body and dean has no empathy for him??

Cas isn’t even allowed a moment to grieve and anytime he tries to say how painful it is to even LOOK at jacks dead body dean rolls his eyes and treats him like dirt and is just the worst, idk what they were thinking.

Cas wasn’t even allowed to express how horrifying it would have been to see and -know- Dean was moments away from killing jack. He doesn’t get to react to that?? Cas is barely allowed to show hurt about the cruel ways he is treated after Mary. I just really hate the later seasons 💔

I haven't rewatched S 15 in a while, so my comment has to be taken with a grain of salt. But I have the vague memory that Dean was surprised to hear that Cas was so affected (or that Cas admitted to being affected by having to work with and share space with Belphegor wearing Jack).

Dean's just all anger at Chuck and he doesn't see anything else, he doesn't expect anyone else to feel something different than he is feeling. I don't think that the Winchesters are particularly good at empathy... It's more like... "I am angry so you have to be angry!" And "I am angry at your actions, so you have to suffer either by a) being abandoned by me (usually Sam and Dean's way of dealing with it, see S5 or S9 for example) or b) stay around and suffer my anger (Dean usually with Cas. It's hard to abandon Cas, so being mean and giving him the cold shoulder is more effective.)"

I do think Cas' reaction to Dean planing to trap Jack and then later kill him was not as strong as it should have been. It barely even seems to register and Cas doesn't hold it against Dean because it's easier to blame Chuck? But Dean wasn't controlled by Chuck, Dean still made his own decision (including to not go through with killing Jack and himself in the process). I feel they lingered longer on the fact that Dean threatened Kaia with a gun than they did on Dean wanting to kill Jack.

But you are absolutely right: Cas isn't really allowed to show hurt, for anything. And he gets further punished for his choice to leave the bunker as if Dean was the one wronged by him leaving (which is something I don't really enjoy when I read fanfic which is why I say I want to read fics that take Cas' side in the divorce *lol*)

I'm not even sure what the show is trying to say in terms of guilt regarding Jack. We can all see what was there on screen and make up our own minds (I'm in the "Sam and Dean have a brain too" camp that refuses to put the blame of Mary's death on Cas just because Cas didn't tell them about his suspicions right away. Dean didn't tell Cas about what Donatello said either! But well. Winchester morals, we know they suck. And the show often veers towards confirming Winchester morals even though we as viewers can see that they suck.)

Sorry for long rant. I have many feelings about this.

#Diminuel replies

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Man’s Best Friend with Benefits: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

!! Warnings: stillborn, baby in dies in womb, trauma associated with that, explicit (minor) talk of baby dying, heartbreak, really heavy angst, canon angst and violence !!

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

The first thing that the doctors want to tackle is your brain bleed because if you don't make it, then the babies won't have a fighting chance. The on-call pediatric surgeon, Dr. Robbins, is in the OR monitoring the babies' heartbeats, and she gives the okay for the neurosurgeon, Dr. Shepherd, to begin.

After being prepped, the Dr. Shepherd exposes your brain to where the bleed was located. He grabs his tools and begins his work, frowning when he gets a good look at the damage.

"This is weird," he mutters.

"What is it, doctor?" one of the scrub nurses asks.

"I see blood, but not as much as there was in the CT scan."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"She's healing, but at a rapid rate."

The doctor definitely has questions, but all he is focused on is fixing you up so that when you do wake up, he can talk to you about this. Your magic heals you of the damage, even as the doctor patches you up with collagen sutures. Dr. Shepherd is working quickly to get you patched up that he doesn't really notice how your brain is mending back together like magic.

"Okay, Doctor Robbins, you're good to go."

"Alright, let's get these babies out quickly but safely."

The PEDs surgeon makes an incision on the lower side of your abdomen, and then she makes an incision on your uterus wall on the same spot so the delivery is as smooth as possible. Baby A, or Maryann, is head first towards your pelvic which she is in the perfect position if you were to give birth to her naturally.

Dr. Robbins gently lifts Maryann out of the womb, and as soon as she breaches the surface, she takes in a lungful of air. She lets out a loud cry which is the best possible sign that her lungs are good for being born two months early. Dr. Robbins holds her while one of the scrub nurses cut the umbilical cord to separate her from the womb.

Dr. Robbins brings Maryann over to the small incubator that she will be living in for the next two months so the doctors can monitor her closely.

"Clean her up and bring her to the NICU. I will be up as soon as possible."

"Yes, doctor."

Maryann is taken away, and Dr. Robbins turns to you to remove the other baby, Robert. She reaches inside your womb and grabs Robert, immediately feeling something wrong. Something isn't right. She removes Robert, but he isn't as loud as his sister. In fact, he isn't making any noise. Babies don't always scream right as they come out, but Dr. Robbins knows he won't ever get the chance to scream.

Robert is pale, too pale for her liking. He is limp in her grasp, and the umbilical cord is wrapped around his neck. Likely due to the fall you suffered, the umbilical cord wrapped itself around his neck. Robert never had a fighting chance at life. This is a freak accident, but that doesn't make it any less sad.

"Is he going to be okay?" one of the scrub nurses.

"Unfortunately not," Dr. Robbins sighs. She calls the time of death for your son, and the entire OR is silent for your loss. "Let's get Y/N cleaned up. Does she have someone with her?"

"She has a husband. I'll be informing him," Dr. Shepherd sighs.

You're stitched back together, and when you're redressed in the hospital garment, your magic works well to heal you so that no scar will be left after this. You're taken to your own private hospital room while Dr. Shepherd prepares himself for the talk he is going to have with Dean. It's not going to be fun, and it's going to end in tears, but it's something that he won't be able to sugarcoat.

Dean sits in the waiting room with Joanna sitting next to him, and he is biting his nails down to the nubs.

Please let Y/N be okay, and please look after Sammy, Dean thinks to himself.

Garth walks into the local police department since he and Sam split up. Sam is with Portia right now, which Garth is okay with since he'd rather do the easy stuff than be with the woman who can change into a dog. Garth is being escorted by a man in a white coat to the lead on the case, Ed Stoltz.

"Ed, this is special agent Keith. He needs some information on the case."

"Josh here tells me you don't have a lot to go on."

"Yeah. We have vics who lived in isolated parts of the city who meant nothing to nobody."

"Right. Well, my partner and I had a look at the crime scenes. Well, we did manage to find this piece of fabric." Garth hands over the piece of white clothes with blood on it. It's the same cloth that was on James' shirt that Sam ripped off. "Things get overlooked. It happens. Why don't you run the blood? It could be the victim's or it could be the killer's. Let's see if we get a match."

"A witness did mention seeing a man in a suit and a white shirt leaving the area," Ed sighs.

"You didn't mention a witness in your report. Anything else?"

"No. We'll get back to you on the lab work."

"Sure, but this witness--"

"That's all that was said, agent Keith. We really don't have a lot here, okay? We'll be in touch."

Garth isn't too happy with the way the lead is treating him, but what can he do? He leaves the station without another word, not wanting to cause a scene in front of everyone. Maybe Sam will have more luck with Portia down at the club where familiars and their witches go to frequently.

"Am I getting the stink eye in here or what?" Sam asks Portia due to all the stares he is receiving.

"They can tell you're an outsider."

"Are they all witches?"

"Enough of them are. If there's information out here about James, they'll know."

"How did James find you, anyway?" Sam asks, not wanting to sound rude.

"That's not the way it works. The familiar finds the master, and they become inseparable."

"Portia," a man sitting in a booth gestures for her to come over to him. Her and Sam both maneuver around the tables to get to him. "Over here."

"Sam, meet Phillippe LeChat. Sam's a wiccan from Detroit. Is Spencer here?"

"Somewhere. Tell me about James. There's a lot of buzz out there about him."

"It's all gossip. The community has a little attitude going," Portia rolls her eyes.

A tall man walks up to the table and stares at Sam before moving his eyes over to Portia.

"Uh, I'm a wiccan. I'm from Detroit," Sam stutters.

"Spencer's the man to ask about our little problem," Portia whispers to Sam.

"Have you ever heard of a spell where a witch can control the actions of another witch?"

"No, I've never heard anything like that. I don't think it's possible. How's James?" Spencer akss Portia.

"Better. I'll tell him you asked."

"Philippe, it's time we get going."

"Of course. Good night, Sam and Portia. It's very nice to meet you."

Philippe transforms into a cat right before Sam's eyes and Spencer picks him up. He must be Spencer's familiar. Sam watches them both leave when his phone rings, and he answers it when he sees Garth's name.

"Hey, where are you?"

"In some witch bar. Why?"

"Listen, I just got the lab work back from the blood on James' shirt. It's not looking good. The blood's an exact match to victim number three."

"Well, that pretty much says it all, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

Sam and Garth silently agree that James is the one killing these people, and the only way to stop him is to put him down. Portia isn't going to like it, which is why the two men wait until it's later that night to break into James' house and kill him. Portia has no clue this is what they're planning, so it should go by smoothly if she isn't home.

Sam enters through the house first with Garth behind him in case Portia decides to attack from behind them. Bobby had a concoction that would kill witches without using bullets, and it was messy to put together, but Sam managed to get everything in working order. The weapon looks like a clear flask filled with blood with a piece of cloth stuffed in the top of it to replace the cork.

Some might say it's a Molotov cocktail, but it kills witches easily.

Sam quietly makes his way into James' bedroom where he is still chained to the bed. He seems to be sleeping, but when both men are near his bed, he opens his eyes. James is not surprised that they're here, nor does he react at seeing the weapon. Sam takes out his lighter and clicks it open, bringing the flame closer to the cloth. Before he can light the cloth, Porita comes out of the bathroom in a panic.

"No! No, Sam! You have to listen to me, please. It's not James!"

"We should hear her out. He is still chained," Garth whispers to Sam.

Both men and Portia leave James chained to the bed as they talk in the living room. She deserves to explain why it's not James before they think about killing him.

"Tonight, James and I were close--intimate. We have an unusual relationship. Familiars aren't supposed to be sexually involved with their witches. James and I  hadn't made love in weeks. His agony ate him up, and he shut me out. But tonight, I saw his thoughts and memories of the murders. Sam, all I saw were the kills. No preparation, no thought process, no anticipation, and no motive. Just the kills without context."

"No other awareness of the crimes?"

"No. Doesn't that at least suggest he's under another's control?"

"Spencer said that wasn't possible."

"He said he'd never heard of it. James is chained. He's confined. At least take a shot."

"We owe it to him and ourselves to give him that shot," Garth convinces Sam.

Sam's phone rings again, and he opens Dean's message.

Still no update. I'm about five seconds from storming in there and getting answers myself. I'll let you know what happens.

Dean is this close from beating up some doctors when he sees the same doctor as before with a female doctor entering the waiting room.

"How is she? Please tell me she is okay."

"Follow me, Mr. Winchester."

Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Robbins leads Dean to the same conference room as they were in before. Before Dean can get comfortable with Joanna, he notices an older woman standing outside of the door as if she is supposed to be there. The doctors let her inside the room, but Dean doesn't know who she is or why she is here.

"I've asked Ms. Hamilton from Social Services to watch over your daughter while we talk, if that's okay?"

"Yeah, of course." If there is bad news, he doesn't want Joanna to hear about it. "Joanna, be good for Daddy, okay? Go with the nice lady."

"Come on, sweetheart. I have some toys to play with."

Joanna goes with her without a problem, and when they are both out of the room, Dean looks like he is about ready to cry due to the unknown.

"Please tell me my wife is okay."

"I did locate the bleed in your wife's brain. I was able to patch it up easily without issue, and she is healing very nicely. I expect her to make a full recovery without any repercussions. If she is well enough, she can go home in a few days."

One part of Dean's stress is lifted from his shoulders, and he feels a little better about this. He takes a few deep breaths before letting the doctor continue.

"About your daughter--"

"Her name is Maryann," Dean cuts him off nervously.

"Yes, of course," Dr. Robbins smiles. "Maryann, despite being born two months early, is actually doing very well for her age. She will be staying in the NICU for two months until we see progress, and she is being closely monitored as we speak. I have high hopes for her if she continues the way she is going. She had a very strong set of lungs, and that's always a good sign."

Another part of Dean's stress is lifted from his body. Both Maryann and his wife are going to be okay. He has no doubt Maryann will pull through.

"What about my son? Robert?"

Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Robbins look at each other before Dr. Robbins takes a deep breath because this is the hardest thing to ever tell a parent. As soon as the words "I'm sorry" comes out of her mouth, Dean falls to the desk in tears. He doesn't have to hear anymore, he already knows what happened. Dr. Robbins' words are muffled since all he can hear is his own heartbeat.

"How?" Dean's voice cracks.

"The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. We were able to preserve his body long enough for you to see him if you'd like."

"Is Y/N awake?"

"Not right now. Would you like to see him?"

"Yes."

Dr. Robbins takes Dean to an empty OR where his son was placed. There is a sheet covering his small body, and Dr. Robbins lowers the sheet so that his face is visible. Dean breaks down at the sight of his dead son, and his knees buckle beneath him. There is a wheely chair next to him, so he sits on it and wheels himself closer to his son.

"When you're ready, we can take his foot and handprints. We can also preserve a lock of his hair as well as bag his identification bracelet for you. We can talk about what you'd like to do for after-life care when you're ready."

"Okay," Dean sniffles.

"I'll give you some time alone."

Dr. Robbins leaves the OR, and as soon as Dean is alone, he sobs into his hands. Robert looks so small and innocent. Why did this have to happen to him? With a shaky hand, he runs the back of his finger down Robert's small face. He is cold to the touch, but Dean doesn't seem to mind.

Before Dean gets to the point where he can't talk because of how much he is crying, he calls Sam.

"Hey, did you get an update?" Sam answers.

"He's gone, Sammy," Dean cries. "Robert didn't make it."

"What?"

"He died," Dean sobs.

"Do you need me to come back?"

"No, go gank that son of a bitch, and then you can come here. What are you going to do here?"

"Dean, I am so sorry. Is Y/N awake?"

"No. I don't know how I am going to break it to her. She was so excited for his arrival. She decorated his nursery and everything."

"Dean..."

"Please hurry up and get back here."

Dean hangs up on Sam before he can say anything else. Garth is staring at Sam in anticipation, but based on his look, he knows something bad happened.

"What did he say?"

"His son didn't make it."

"What?"

"Yeah," Sam whispers.

"Do you want to go back? I can handle this myself."

"No, we came here to do a job, and that's what we're going to do. Why don't you go back to the police station and talk to Ed some more."

"Yeah, I guess I can. Something didn't sit right with me when I talked to him. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah."

Garth knows he needs some time alone, so he leaves the motel room. As soon as Sam is alone, he breaks down crying at the loss of his nephew. Garth sheds a few tears because he's gone very close with you, and your loss is his loss. He loves your kids, and the thought of one of them not making it breaks his heart.

Still, he's here to do a job, and he's not going to let Sam down.

x

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#man's best friend with benefits #series rewrite #supernatural series rewrite #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural angst #spn #spn fic #spn fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan fiction #spn fanfic #spn fan fic #spn angst

[vaicomcas]

A ficlet that's nothing more than me venting my bitter cas girl feelings. cw: very Dean-critical; pre-meditated murder of Dean Winchester.

Synopsis: Alternate explanation of series finale. The rusty pipe was a miracle performed by Jack to avenge his father's pain and suffering inflicted by Dean .

The Miracle

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything froze the moment Dean Winchester was about to hit the rusty pipe, inexplicably (miraculously) protruding from the wall of a barn.

Then, Dean was face to face with Jack.  A fresh-faced God in a white denim jacket and baggy Jeans. 

Dean was pleased.  God, his own kin, had come to help him. 

“Jack!  It’s about time!  Where the hell have you been?”

“I have been looking for a way to get Castiel back.”  

Dean noticed how different Jack’s demeanor was.  No more shy waves.  No more self-deprecating smile.  No more wide-eyed search for approval.  

Jack was stony-faced, glaring at him with a storm whirling in his eyes.  

“Really?  Did you get him back?”

“Not yet.  I was not strong enough.  All I managed to do was to sense him in the Empty.  But  I have been growing my power, and I am finally ready to go to the Empty and get him out.”

“But before I do that, I need to make things right in this world for him.  I need to deliver my judgment.”

Dean was confused. “These shitty little werewolves?  Sam and I are handling them.  This pipe here isn’t really going to do anything—too blunt to penetrate a human body.”

“My judgment is not for the werewolves.  They are the instrument of my judgment, which is meant for you.”

“What the hell are you talking about, kid?”

“You are a selfish and cruel man who was the source of endless pain and suffering for my father.  He is still suffering because of you.”

Dean bristled.  “He sacrificed himself out of his own free will.  I didn’t make him.”

“That’s not what I am talking about.  I have been able to see what he is experiencing in the Empty.  He is in agony, reliving over and over his past regrets and his sorrows.”

“I saw everything that happened ever since he raised you from hell.  I didn’t know any of that before.  I saw how you treated him like a tool, like your property, how you reduced him, put him down, made him believe he was worthless.  He is still in that hell, even after he sacrificed his life for you.” 

Jack had tears in his eyes now, but a fire raged in them too. “I am going to get him out of there, then I am going to help him.  I am going to undo what you did to him.  I am going to help him see, and feel, the beauty and splendor of his own heart.  But the first step is to remove you from his life.”

Dean felt God’s anger striking fear into his heart, but he was nothing if not belligerent. 

“You are losing your damn mind because of your grief for Cas.” Dean jabbed a finger at Jack.  “He loved me.  He said so himself.  He belongs with his family.  If you want what’s best for him, you need to get him out of the empty and bring him to me and Sam.  He deserves to be by my side.”

“Shut up!” Jack shouted, knocking Dean off his feet.  “You don’t get to give orders to me, to anyone, anymore.”

Dean scrambled up to his feet, ready to argue.  But Jack cut him off. 

“You want to talk about what Castiel deserves?  How about what he deserved when he was alive?”

“He deserved to have been listened to and supported when he was all alone fighting the army of an archangel, his own family, to save the human world-your world- from apocalypse.

He deserved to have been cared for rather than reprimanded when he lost his mind taking Sam’s madness onto himself.

He deserved to have received sympathy rather than vitriol from his friend when he had been mind wiped and shot.

He deserved to have been called ‘commander’ from those who genuinely admired him, without being criticized and belittled about it.

He deserved not to have his army taken from him due to your sabotage.

He deserved to have been offered a small token of help, of care, when he was either a homeless human, or dying from stolen grace.

When Amara carved a gruesome message in his flesh, he deserved to have heard even a simple “are you OK” to acknowledge the violation.

He deserved not to have his choices written off baselessly as screw-up or brainwash—one of those choices was being my protector.

He deserved to have received a shred of recognition of his grief when I died. “

Shaken now, Dean nevertheless remained defiant.  In fact, anger was rising from being scolded by his kid.  “That’s just guys being guys.  So I’m not good at touchy-feelies -so sue me.  It’s not how I was raised.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Fine.  Let me give you infinite benefit of the doubt.  Let me scrape the bottom for you.

Castiel deserved not to have been regularly mocked for who he was.

Castiel deserved to have been thanked, even once, for saving both you and Sam from hell—from hell!

How is it he didn’t even get from you the bare minimum?”

Dean protested.  “You are wrong.  I loved him in my own way. I expressed it in countless ways. When he died, I…”

“You went to a pie festival,” Jack’s voice was cold as ice.

“No, but…”

Jack cut him off again.

“Let me guess. You punched walls when he died, you tried to say losing him nearly broke you. You pretended you left him behind rather than believe he left you.  This is supposed to be your great love. But it’s all about you, all about what he made you feel: having someone who was on your side, loved you unconditionally.  That he was, and he did.  He gave everything to you: his blood, his grace, his life.  What did you give him?  Oh right, a mixtape. A cowboy hat. still about you.  Your music.  Your movies.  Your taste.  You never gave a single thought about him.”

Dean was finally without a response.  

But Jack wasn’t finished.  His eyes glowed golden as he delivered his final judgment onto Dean:

“You want to talk about what Castiel deserves?”

“He deserves everything, but first he deserves basic things that every ordinary person deserves: consideration, understanding, and respect.  Show him those minimum decencies, then maybe you could start to earn the right to say you loved him.

Except you didn’t.  Not the first time he was alive.  Not the second time he was alive.  Not the third time he was alive, or the fourth, or the fifth, or the sixth. You know, Castiel may still forgive you, if he has a seventh, eighth, ninth life.”

“I do not.”

Jack snapped his fingers.  Time unfroze.  Dean Winchester slammed into the rusty pipe with a force far exceeding what any law of physics could achieve.

Jack was gone without another glance at him.

#dean critical #castiel #jack kline #justice for castiel #bitter cas girl hour #became judge jury executioner hour

[1-imaginary-girl]

I’m a Monster Pt. 1

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A hunt goes wrong and the reader gets possessed by a demon. The demon then zeroes in on the person the reader loves the most. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Violence and death.

Word Count: 3639

Part 2

A/N: I’m done with school for the summer and I’m working on some fics with new characters, but for now I’ll stick with a classic ;)

This is part 1 in a two-part story.

You and the boys are driving out to a barn where you suspect a few demons have been hiding out. You all think it’s just going to be a normal hunt, a simple job. But it never is with you, is it? When you arrive at the barn, the three of you enter and instantly realize how much you had screwed up.

It is not a few demons like you suspected. There are more than a dozen well trained demons waiting for you. You are instantly outnumbered. When the fighting begins, each of you have a few demons to deal with on your own and you become overwhelmed. Dean begins shouting out a plan to distract the demons while Sam grabs heavier arsenals from the Impala. You begin to think that you would be okay…

And then a scream bellows out from below the barn floor. The demons have been slowly collecting more and more people from the town a few miles down the road to torture and possess. And you can see that almost all of those humans had been beaten until possession as they were who you are fighting off.

But there is one girl unaccounted for. One girl who can still be saved. And she is currently screaming from the basement. You think that you can save her. 

You manage to separate yourself from the demons you’re fighting, momentarily forgetting about the boys as you run towards the basement. You’re surprised no other demons are following you, but you don’t think much of it.

Until you see the girl. She is standing there with her back to me. You move to approach her when she says, “You’re too late.” She turn around and you see two black eyes staring at me. Your heart drops as you realize your mistake. You also see the bloody stains all over the girl’s now possessed body, telling you that she had been tortured first.

You are caught off guard, giving the two demons behind you the perfect opportunity to grab you. You struggle against their hold, but they’re too strong. You desperately try to think of an escape plan when you see the demon holding a lighter. And looking directly at your anti-possession tattoo that is exposed thanks to your now ripped shirt.

“Looks like we got ourselves a new puppet,” the demon says from the poor girl’s mouth.

The next thing you feel is severe pain as the fire burn off your tattoo. You are panicking, helpless, unable to call the boys for help knowing they are too busy fending off the rest of the demons. You had fucked yourself over by making a stupid call that you now had to pay for.

Up until this point you had somehow managed to not become possessed by a demon and so when you see the black smoke exiting the girl’s body and heading towards your mine, you have no idea what to expect. But as soon as the demon enters you, you lose control. You’re still there but all you can do is watch. Watch as the girl’s body drops to the floor, dead. You failed to save her. If only you could have gotten there sooner.

You watch as the demon stretches out your arms and adjusts to the new body. “Not bad,” you hear yourself say. Only it isn’t you. You can’t scream, can’t fight, can’t do anything but exist trapped inside your own head.

“Now let’s finish these hunters off.” The demon’s thoughts and feelings overtake your own and you see all of the horrible things she has in store for the boys. You are breaking down as you watch all her fantasies play out. Her feelings try to attach themselves to yours and you can feel what she felt. Anger towards the pathetic humans. Glee when it came to watching them suffer.

You don’t feel like yourself and the longer you are trapped in here, the longer you fear you’ll lose your mind. Then the three demons, including yourself, head upstairs.

You watch as you make eye contact with Sam and Dean and confusion clouds their expressions. Until the demon flashes her black eyes.

You want to tell them that you’re sorry and to beg for their forgiveness for your carelessness. You want to kill the demon who dares to take over your body, and to fight against your entrapment, but it’s no use. You feel powerless and useless.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Winchester boys. How kind of you to stop by.” It’s only then that you realize the demon possessing you is the leader of this group.

“Let her go you black-eyed bitch!” Dean, your boyfriend, screams.

Demon you pouts. “What, you don’t like the upgrade?” she says. Dean growls. The demons have stopped fighting to let their leader speak.

“Oh come on, I could be a nice replacement, don’t you think?” She winks at him and your blood boils. “I could do everything she could do, only better.”

“What do you want?” Sam asks her, his nostrils flaring.

“What every demon wants: to be left alone to cause the chaos I so desire.”

“Not gonna happen,” Dean replies, his eyes still glaring daggers into yours. And even though you know it’s directed at the demon, you can’t help but think he also means it for you. For screwing up. You never want him to look at you like that again.

“Come on, I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.” Demon you licks her lips and winks again at Dean.

That’s my boyfriend, you bitch, you scream in your head.

“I’m not in the market for making any deals with your kind,” Dean bites off.

Demon you gasps. “How very racist of you! I can assure you that we are no different than you. Only better in every way.”

Dean rolls his eyes, clearly fed up with the banter. You would have rolled your eyes too if you could. It seems she’s one of those chatty demons.

Demon you sighs. “Well you’re no fun. I suppose we can get back to business.”

“What do you want?” Dean demands, repeating Sam’s earlier question.

“I already answered, to be left alone.”

“And I already said that that wasn’t going to happen.”

Demon you laughs. “I don’t think you’re in any position to barter. You’re clearly outnumbered, and I have your little girlfriend in my clutches.” Dean’s jaw twitches and his fists tighten around his weapons. “I have already proposed a generous offer for you to leave with your lives, what more could you want?”

Dean is about to reply when Sam butts in, “Okay fine.”

You’re shocked to hear his response and so is Dean. But then you catch onto his plans. Now that you know the numbers here, you can retreat and regroup with more back-up. You can be more prepared. You are starting to feel happy about your chances. 

Dean seems to catch on too, as he looks back at Demon you. “Fine, we’ll leave. Just give us Y/N and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Yes finally! You hate being stuck with this demon confusing your mind. Hope starts to give way to your thoughts and—

“Who said anything about the girl?” What?

“What?” Dean says, also caught off guard.

“No, I quite like my new meat bag. She’s much prettier than the old one and a lot less bloody.”

Dean’s eye begins to twitch in confusion and frustration. “But the deal was—”

“The deal was that you” pointing to both Sam and Dean, “get to leave with your lives. It’s too late for the girl, she lost her chances when she lost to me.”

Guilt consumes you. It’s your fault that you ended up like this and now you lost your chance at freedom. You want to tell the boys to just leave without you, that maybe they can come back for you. Would I be the same after that? The thought pops into your mind and you ignore it.

Sam seems to be thinking the same thing you are. “Dean let’s just go. We can come back for her—”

Dean whips around to yell at Sam when Demon you pipes in. “Yes, although don’t be too surprised if she has a few more scars on her. You know we like to have our fun too—”

“THAT’S IT!” It seems that Dean has had his fill of conversation as he starts attacking two of the demons to his right. Sam follows his lead and attacks the demons to his left. This brings a smile to Demon you’s face.

Two more meatbags, two more hunter corpses, the demon thinks. You panic and desperately wish you could do something. You already tried praying to Castiel but you do it again in the hopes that he can fix your mistake. Please Cas I’m begging you.

Sam and Dean are once again outnumbered as Demon you said they would be, but that doesn’t stop them. It never does. Just when you start to think that you might be okay, Demon you decides to get involved.

She holds out both of your hands and two demons standing on either side of her each give her a blade. She laughs as she joins the fight.

It’s clear she has a target in mind, and you’re dreading what’s to come as she set her sights on Dean. Dean, who is already outnumbered. Dean, the love of your life. Dean, who would have to hurt you to save himself.

Demon you shoves the others attacking him aside and Dean looks at you with relief before he remember you’re possessed. Then his face becomes conflicted.

“You’re all mine now Winchester,” Demon you says. Dean dodges her attacks and doesn’t fight back. “Aw, afraid to hurt your little girlfriend?”

“Y/N.” Hearing him say your name pushes aside your worries if only for a moment. “I know you’re still in there, please baby, I need you to fight back.”

You want to tell him that you are trying, that you had been trying this whole time. But you don’t know how to get rid of this bitch.

Demon you laughs. “Sorry Winchester, but she’s too weak to fight against me. Just as you are.” She is right, you are weak. But you’d be damned if you let her hurt your man. You struggle against every move she forces your body to make.

Dean tries his best not to hurt me, but his defensive position can’t last forever, and soon Demon you lands a blow. She stabs his shoulder and he cries out in pain. Inside, you let out a roar and rage against the cage in your mind. You can’t dwell on your sorrow for Dean, the fact that it was your hand that forced the knife into his shoulder. No, instead you let your rage consume you.

Demon you’s attacks slow and falter. Dean looks at you, hopeful as Demon you is no longer attacking him.

You fight and fight and fight and you finally manage to do something on your own. You look at your boyfriend struggling to stay on his feet and whisper, “Dean.”

He looks at you with hope and love and it gives you the strength to keep fighting until—

“You stupid hunter brat!” Demon you gains enough control to stab you. Right where your anti-possession tattoo used to be. Right where the burning feeling is now replaced with devastating pain.

Your struggling stops and Dean looks pissed. Demon you smiles, even as blood races down her new meatbag.

“That ought to shut you up.” Dean lets out a warrior’s cry before he begins to fight offensively against Demon you. She’s caught off guard for a moment before fighting back. Both bodies are weak as they bleed out but Demon you’s strength doesn’t suffer for it, as it was a wound created by a regular knife instead of a demon or angel blade.

Dean is losing and you want to scream at watching your own body fight him. He lands on his back and just as you think he might actually die, a strong light suddenly emerges in the corner of your eye. Demon you turns and looks on in horror as you smile on the inside.

There, stabbing two demons at once, is Castiel. He had heard your prayers after all. He begins fighting off the demons around Sam, and with him freed, the two begin making their way through the other demons. Demon you watches on, enraged and panicked. Clearly, she hadn’t accounted for the angel.

She watches as her lackies are killed and instead of fighting the boys off, she just scowls and looks down at Dean. “You and your friends got lucky that angel showed up in time.” And just as Cas reaches you, black smoke erupts from your mouth.

The demon is gone.

Without her in control, you fall and lay on the floor, the tears you feel finally escaping.

“Y/N?” Dean asks cautiously.

“It’s me.” You hear sighs of relief before you see the boys crowd around you. “Cas, you came.” You involuntarily let out a whimper, both in relief at his arrival and pain at your wound.

“Of course, now let me heal you.” You weakly grabs his hand before it reaches the gash in your chest and shake your head. He tilts his in confusion.

“Dean first,” you manage to say through the pain. They all look at you like you’re insane. Cas looks over at Dean and notices his wound just as Dean looks at me in shock and anger.

“Y/N don’t be stupid—” Dean tries to argue.

“Dean first,” you say firmly, glaring intently at Cas, without being able to look at Dean. Cas nods while Dean continues to look at you in disbelief. Sure, you are bleeding more and probably need more attention but that doesn’t matter. Because you had caused Dean’s wound. You deserve your pain while he had only been trying to spare you any at all.

And if somehow that wound had killed him…you bite your lip to hold back a sob at the thought.

You watch as Cas heals Dean’s wound, Dean looking angry the entire time. But you just smile. The glow stops meaning Cas is done and Dean’s wound is gone.

“Great, my tiny cut is healed, now fix her!” Dean yells.

Cas doesn’t respond and just moves his hand to hover over your still bleeding wound. Before, the pain was constant, but as soon as you see the glow it starts to fade slowly. You sigh in relief when he finishes healing you.

You had been so focused on the pain that you hadn’t realized Dean had placed his hand on your shoulder until he squeezes it. You look at him and notice he’s exhausted but still has a small smile on his face. His eyes are brimming with tears and you can’t help but cup his face.

“I’m okay,” you tell him. He nods and lean his face into your hand.

After Cas heals Sam, Sam says, “We should probably go.”

You all agree. Dean helps you stand up and only then do you notice the carnage. Bodies litter the barn floor, all surrounded by pools of blood. You can’t help but mourn the loss of all of these innocent people.

Dean pulls you into him and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We did all that we could for them,” he whispers to you. You nod but you can’t help but think that you could have done more.

You exit the barn, worn and torn from an unexpected battle. Your mind is swimming in guilt as you recall your faults and failures of the hunt, but you would dwell on them later. Just as you are sure you would be yelled at for them later.

Sam lights a match and you wait until the barn is engulfed in flames before leaving. You have to cover your tracks.

The car ride is silent except for Dean’s music. Sam tries to argue with him that you’re all tired and don’t want to hear it, but Dean insists that the music will play. You knew it helped him relax so you said nothing.

“I’m sorry I took so long to respond to your prayers. I was caught up in something, but I left as soon as I could,” Cas says from beside you.

You look at his sorry expression and just smile. You grab his hand and squeeze it. “I’m just glad you came when you did.”

Cas smiles. “Yeah we owe you one, buddy,” Dean says from the driver’s seat.

“I’m just glad I could help,” Cas says.

The talking ends there, all of you too tired to continue. At the motel room, you take turns getting a shower, except for Cas who insists that angels don’t shower.

You sit at a table in the room after your shower—the boys insisted that you went first, ever the gentlemen—your gaze directed out the window, but you’re lost in thought. Yes you are tired, but you can’t stop recalling what you did wrong and how you all could have died because of you.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dean approaches you, noticing your state. But he’s tired and you don’t want to drag him into your downward spiral.

“Fine, just tired,” you lie, looking up at him. You can tell he knows you’re lying, he always knows, but he doesn’t touch it for tonight, knowing you don’t want to talk.

“Try to get some rest, okay?” he says to me, knowing I usually don’t sleep well after bad hunts.

You nod and say, “You too.”

That night you and Dean share a bed like you always do but when he tucks you into his chest, you feel wrong. Like you shouldn’t be in this loving position after you stabbed him and almost killed him. They all will insist that it was the demon but it was still your hands gripped around that blade.

So as soon as you feel Dean’s steady breathing, you roll yourself out of his grip and turn away from him. You didn’t sleep well that night…

†††

If only you had known that you wouldn’t be sleeping well for any of the nights after that. A month later and that hunt refuses to release its grip on your thoughts.

Every night when you close your eyes, you lose control of yourself. In your dreams, it’s always her who’s in control. It’s her thoughts that run through your mind and her feelings that poison your heart. In your dreams, you are no longer yourself, but you have become one with the demon.

In your dreams, you don’t struggle against her grip anymore. You let her do what she wants, convinced that it’s what you want too. And in your dreams the hunt ends much differently.

Every night without fail you have to watch as she uses your body to kill the boys. And the worst part is that dream you likes it. In your dreams you agree with the demon, that they have to die. It starts with Sam, stabbing through his heart. In your dreams you smile as the life drains out of his eyes, but your consciousness is horrified.

Then Cas tries to stop you but there are too many demons for him to fight off, much more than there actually was that night. He doesn’t stand a chance against them and in your dream, you take the angel blade in his hands and shove it right through his chest, his eyes and mouth lighting up before his body drops, his wings staining the barn floor.

Demon you saves the worst for last. Dean’s all alone now, his weapons too far from his reach, his will to fight slowly draining out of him. There’s always a speech before you deliver this blow.

“Y/N please, don’t do this,” he says, begging you to fight off the demon. “You can fight her.”

“Who says I want to?” you say, in your normal voice. The last look on his face is horror and shock before you stab him again and again, his blood spewing out and covering you, but you don’t stop until his body is cold.

You stand back and laugh. You laugh and laugh until you spot a mirror and realize there’s no demon possessing you anymore. You have become the monster.

You wake up, every night, horrified of what you had just witnessed. You don’t panic until you leave yours and Dean’s room. You don’t panic until you’re in the gun range where the walls are soundproof. Then you collapse and cry. You curl up into a ball and rock yourself back and forth, covering your ears to somehow drown out the demon’s voice: telling you that you’re the same now, that you’re no better than her, that they deserve to die.

You’ve been having these night terrors every night, and no one knows. You haven’t told anyone, not even Dean. He found out the first night and you let him comfort you, but you never told him what the nightmare was about.

After that you figured you had to keep it a secret from him for a multitude of reasons. The boys have gotten incredibly busy lately and it seems like they barely have time to relax. You don’t want to burden them with also having to deal with you. You can handle this on your own.

And also, you’re afraid that you’re slowly becoming her. You’re afraid they’ll find out you’re a monster and will want you gone. You can’t lose them.

So, you suffer alone. And you’re okay with that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Belated welcome to the fandom, I am making my way through Rough Night and I am obsessed. Was curious: how would you rank the gg seasons and why? Fave character and the one you hate the most? Thoughts on 2.13 - a terrible narrative decision or a way to jump start many more episodes of delicious angst?

Aw, hi anon! Thank you for the welcome. I’m excited to be here. 😁 And thank you for your kind words about Rough Night! That’s so sweet. 🥹

I really love all the seasons in their own ways. There’s something so special about each one. Ranking them is hard for me. If I HAD to, I’d say 2,1, 4, 3 – strictly for quantity and quality of Brio interactions.

Season 1 is just so full of moxy. It’s endearing and why I kept watching the show. Everyone looks so cute in it and their excitement to be working on this set really came through. I love their wigs and I love their outfits and I love their conspiratorial energy about this naughty thing they’re doing. I even love dumb Dean and his ridiculous schemes to keep his unhappy wife.

Season 2 deepened every character. It gave us glimpses into just how unhappy Beth and Dean’s marriage had been and for how long. She never looked at him the way Ruby looks at Stan. It gave us a better view into the disproportionate friendship Beth and Ruby have had for years. How Beth would choose her above everyone else every time, and how she expected Ruby to do the same. Foreshadowing for season 4. Of course, the ✨Brio energy✨ in this season is unmatched. It’s magic. The way they were so many things to each other here and how poorly they handled it all. 2.13, in my opinion, was an excellent narrative decision. Everything Brio had been to each other in this season led up to it and made perfect sense. It showed Rio for who he is – deeply emotional, imperfect, lonely, easily hurt and petty when he is. It was our first glimpse into his humanization. He wasn’t a smirky, all-knowing, impervious figure anymore. He was made into a man who feels compassion and confusion and attraction and wants validation just like the rest of us. Season two showed us just how much he NEEDS validation and how hurt he gets when he doesn’t receive it.

Idk why people don’t like season 3. Everyone loves angst in fic and this whole season was Brio angst. The way this man suffered feeds my soul. This is a much more emotionally complicated season and I love that for all of us. 😆 The indecision, the duality, the denial, the deep deep hurt. The way he made her watch while he killed someone. “My girl.” He said it to Beth, not Lucy. He held her eyes and brought a lamb to slaughter to show Beth she wasn’t above causing someone’s death. She wasn’t better than he is. And in turn, the way we got small glimpses into how Beth thinks about him when he isn’t there. Her scene teaching Lucy’s bf to shoot and what her holding that knowledge implied. How closely she was coached and guided. She was remembering as she took her aim and fired. Remembering all he’s taught her and remembering the last time she fired a weapon. The depth of her denial is so frustrating to watch because we see the care and nostalgia there for her. She just refuses to acknowledge it.

Season 4 was unmatched Rio personal development. If anything, I think THAT was probably the most out of character and out of previous scope thing to happen. The catalyst of Nick made sense but also was kind of barely believable as a plot line. It recast Rio as much less in control than we all assumed him to be, and made him much more subservient to his lonely predicament. Ultimately though, I buy it because it’s what leads Brio back to each other. And that’s all we’ve ever wanted. Rio, who’s held on to so much anger to try and maintain control, just gave it all up. Let it drift and wash away. “We can do whatever we want.” Sir! Pleeeaaaseeee! 😭😭😭 The way he did all the gestures. The way he self-sacrificed for her. Set aside all shreds of ego for her. I will tolerate all the trash boyfriends and all the bicycle bullies for the way Rio showed Beth all his softness. I wiiiiish we would have gotten to see her soften to him too. Our white whale.

#good girls nbc #beth x rio #seasons #Rough Night #Brio