#I genuinely forgot that he exists sorry sammy

[blobee]

👀✒️

[selenitawars]

Pressentimento

Never Be The Same - Part 7.

Pairing: Sam x Daughter!Reader, Dean x Niece!Reader, Castiel x Platonic!Reader.

Summary: To save Dean’s life, Sam changes a big part of his past, hoping that he’d only forget memories with his college girlfriend. But, not only he changes his life, he also creates a new one.

Word Count: 2332.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Yes, I’m back after over a year and a half. I know I’m a dumbass for making y’all wait for so long, but, honestly, I want this to be a fun writing, so I try not to pressure myself. Won’t make promises. Either way, always love to know your opinions. Hope  you enjoy this comeback haha!

Pressentimento masculine noun 1. act of feeling in advance, more through emotion than reason, the occurrence of a future fact; suspicion. "I have a p. that this will not work" 2. knowledge of what will happen, obtained by intuition; forecast, hunch, omen.

You still hadn't explained everything to your father nor your uncle. Cas remembered one of the episodes that occurred with you when you were younger, around ten or so. It was hard for you. Every time you tried to explain yourself, things were hard to explain. All the time, something blocked you from exposing the fear inside you, the fear of letting things out.

The way their "new" memories came to them didn't help. It was so unpredictable. Cas remembered you praying first and then, mixed memories, tiny ones, which made him assume a lot about you already; and worry as well. Dean remembered more, like the time Sam was soulless and you lived with him for months, you concluded he was remembering things by the impact they had in his life. As for Sam, well, apparently things were coming more chronologically for him, but a little late, since he also had a lot of Camila to remember.

You tried to think how to talk to them about your crisis. The big ones. It was so complicated. When it started happening, you had your godmother to help with calming down and understanding how sensible you were; but even Vanessa had to talk with the Winchesters to fully understand what made you so much stronger and sensitive. Anyway, she wouldn't help you now that she was in the list of people to whom you never existed.

Oh, and your mother...

Looking at pictures of her nowadays became an addiction. You couldn't sleep before searching a little more about her, not that you've been having much sleep or any of this helped. You wish so bad you could talk to her. And now that Sam told ya you reminded him so much of Camila, you really studied her, trying to find the resemblance.

How would you tell them there's more? More of you to worry. You wanted to wait for a time when the memories hangovers weren't so heavy on them. They were all trying to act normal, but it was obvious - you've never been at home for this long, they were never so quiet. Dean wasn't even drinking, to make sure he wouldn't be more confused.

You were lying down on your bed, trying to ease the headache. It was normal to have a day just to be tired, but after the all day just resting you still got a headache by night. Went to get a pill to make it better and when you swallow it, you realize something.

"I don't exist." You whisper to yourself.

For the first time in that day, you felt useful. Even with the headache, you got in front of the computer and started to do your thing. For some reason you got happy when you confirmed your theory.

"I was never born."

"You gotta stop thinking about that." Dean warned you.

"No, I mean... I don't exist."

The three men stared at you with confusion, you repeated.

"I don't exist."

Still nothing. The room was filled with silence while you hoped for the clicking in their minds. It never came. You sighed.

"I never existed! Never did anything!"

Sam looked at you like he was starting to worry, while holding a bowl with cereal. Just like Dean, who chewed his, probably thinking you've gone crazy.

"I don't understand why you're so excited saying it." Cas finally said.

"Isn't it obvious?" They once more, didn't react. "There are no records of me, at all. Nobody knows about me. I only left the bunker once."

"What's your point?" Dean asked.

"We should keep it that way."

"What? Why?" The brothers said together.

"Well, if nobody knows I'm here, we're in advantage. It's always good to have a secret backup, right?"

"Like... as a surprise element?" Castiel suggested, you nodded. "Y/N, you don't truly expect us to treat you like a secret weapon..."

"Hell no." Dean agreed.

"It's not like it."

"Well, I don't see your point." You father stated. "I know this seems messed up, but, we can fix it. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried, I'm thinking!" You made them quiet. "C'mon, think with me: I barely left the bunker, how could anyone know about me?"

"We know about you." Dean answered.

"But you've seen me. And your memories, are just yours, this doesn't mean the world knows about me."

"Ok, but you'll need to use an ID sometime. Or will you live forever here, inside the bunker?"

"Dean, you should know it's easier to make a fake ID look real if there isn't a real one to prove the fake one as fake."

Sam took a deep breath.

"Ok, so we leave it as it is. How much long do you think it would last?"

"Not much, I know. But at least, for a while it could be useful."

"I don't see how, Y/N. I'm not using you as my secret-spy-soldier or whatever."

"Sam is right. It's not worth it."

"Castiel?" You looked at him, only to find the agreeing look. You looked down.

"Look, how can you be sure nobody else remembers you?" The angel tried to clear your mind.

"For most people I know, I never happened. And the others, will probably only remember me when they see me, if they do. Until then..."

"That's not right." Sam interrupted. "I had this feeling about you, before we arrived on that day; like I left something behind, but I couldn't remember why."

"So did I."

"I got one your prayers for not getting news from us." You stood there, silent.

"That's it? A feeling you forgot something?!" You left for your bedroom, a little ofended they didn't listen to you. Your idea was good, logical. You genuinely thought they would see it as a good thing out of all this.

Reflecting on it, you finally notice: you may not know your family as well as before. At first it sounds crazy, but this is all crazy, ain't it? And after doing their exercise for a couple hours, thinking about your childhood, the events that crossed it and when it all began, you got yourself some questions.

You fell asleep while still thinking, trying to find logic somewhere and always getting to the same point, a lost point. Somehow while sleeping, you had no dreams, didn't wake up once; not even the fact that you were with a jacket bothered you.

"Hey, man. You good?" Dean noticed Sam squeeze his eyes.

"Yep. Just those flashbacks. I hate to have them by day, but I can't sleep no longer."

"Like a constant hangover, thank God it's not a heavy one." Sam did not answer. "Sam?"

"Right..." Sam stared at the floor, seeing stuff in his mind. He blinked multiple times after a little.

"You all right? You seem shocked. What did you remember?"

"It's just... Y/N's suggestion."

"Dude, that was today."

"Very funny!" Dean smiled a little to ease his brother. "It got me thinking. Why would she want that?"

"Honestly," Castiel entered suddenly. "I think she is trying to get something good out of this."

"Good? I see her point, but..."

"Not good." Cas interrupted, correcting himself. "Useful, at least."

"It's not as useful as she thinks." Dean says as if it's obvious.

"It's the only thing she has to offer." Castiel putted it in a weird way, but made sense. They silented for an instant. "Still, how does that has to do with your flashback, Sam?"

"I thought that maybe I should listen to her. Maybe there was a point."

"You, Sammy, considered the possibility of being saved by her?"

"Obviously not. I wondered: what if her non-existence helped her get away from this craziness. Like, she could get to any school if we put some effort."

"You concluded it fast." Cas commented.

"Well, yeah. Then I... questioned." Sam felt the gazes at him. "How did she get dragged into hunting in the first place? Why did I not stop it? And one more thing popped up: why did I leave college?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean couldn't understand his brother.

"Dean, if it wasn't for my anger towards Jessica's death, who knows..." He explained. "So why I left Stanford, making Camila stay behind and after weeks drop out too?"

Castiel took a seat.

"Why did you?"

Sam opened the door, showly. You were in your bed, far from his atmosphere, enjoying a rest you needed. He passed the door carefully, took a look at your room and turned the lights off. Ever since that hunt days ago, when he saw you sleep at the motel bed while he was reading about the case, the day he woke up before you and as you slept in the car coming back home, Sam felt peace as he watched you.

It was the moment he could breath easily and a little relaxed. You were resting, next to him, nothing could hurt you in your sleep. There, you were safe and wasn't leaving soon. So he couldn't help watch you once more; just stood by the door for a couple seconds, smiled at the taught of you having a break from this madness for some hours. Grabbed the door and heard your move, turning to check if he had woken ya.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Your voice sounded lazy. "I have a light sleep."

"So do I." You nodded. You knew it. He regrets commenting it.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"No, tell me." He understood you couldn't sleep anymore.

"You don't want to talk now."

"It's about earlier, I know." You said while rubbing your eyes. "Just spit it." He gave in and sat in your chair.

"Why do you wanna do it?"

"Why don't you?"

"Why would I?"

"You've always wanted this." He gulped.

"What? No!"

"You never wanted me to be in risk, you hated the fact I made you all vulnerable, now nobody knows I'm here. I know this isn't permanent and things can change, but for now, you could finally be at peace. Nobody knows me, none of you have to worry."

Samuel digested everything you said and got his answer prepared fastly enough.

"For a long time I asked myself if Jessica never died, would I be here? And you know, as things turned out to be, as I found out more and more throughout the years I got the answer." He paused. "I would. Because if it wasn't Jess, it would be Dean or dad, or a friend."

"What do you mean?"

"I left college for revenge." You got surprised. "It wasn't Jess. Not anymore." That sounded weird. "I made a choice and I know now that somehow, at some point, no matter how many times... I would make that choice again. As soon as somebody I care about got in danger. So I left college. For you."

Sam got back from his first hunt after two years. Camila was waiting. They talked and she was serious when she told him to call Dean. Leave as soon as he could. She said she had a bad feeling, he had to find his father. Was something repentine, fast and clear - the fear in her voice stopped Sam from questioning.

"The way she talked to me... her eyes, getting sudden tears. At first I tried to calm her, jokes on me, I blamed her hormones. Camila proved me wrong. I knew she had that sometimes, like with tests or bad decisions, maybe something simple like knowing staying in was better than going to a party. She was always right. If not totally right, fast enough to avoid regret." He looked down as her voice came to his head and repeated her words. "'This is your family we're talking about, Samuel! Your child's grandfather.' She screamed. I was scared." You two laughed a little. "She begged. Aggressively. But, I didn't leave because she did."

"Why then?"

"I called Dean to get back there and pick me up because once we talked, I got that bad feeling too. And was suddenly afraid. Afraid something would happen to either of you." You stayed silent. "I hoped things would be more simple, soon I'd be back and things would go back to normal. You would be born and grow up, normal. We would be a family..."

"Please, don't say normal." He smiled.

"Your mother's bad feeling... I don't know what is was about exactly. She got scared too in that moment and it was the only time I saw her that scared. But I know that mine became true. Only, it was even worse. There was no blame. Of all things that happened in those months, how worried I was with my father, you, Camila and even Dean... The hunts, the confusion and overwhelming information all at once. The fear. Your mother's death was the most sudden and painful." You saw a tear run down his cheek, followed by a couple more. Sam had more to say but you spoke before, in the heat of the moment.

"She knew." He looked back at you, now with red eyes. "I think she knew something bad was going to happen."

"She knew we would be in danger." By we, he meant himself, his uncle and your grandpa.

"No. Not that. She knew that something terrible was happening already and would get worse. But she didn't tell you to go to stop it." His tears froze, lost in your words. "Like you said. Camila was always right about this bad feelings. She was certain." You were sure thanks to your own experience with it.

"About Dean needing me more than her?" You denied.

"About you needing the rest of your family once I was born."

[hekate1308]

What’s To Come What Is Ahead, A Destiel Christmas Calendar, Chapter 17

Masterpost

AO3

Dean kept siting there, staring at the snow, the snow which had been his only consistent friend since all of this began, the snow, the snow that would eventually cover all of this, maybe even the pain in is heart, if he just waited long enough…

“I hate to say I told you so…”

“You love to say I told you so” he mumbled but without fire. What did it matter to him now what Crowley said what any of them said? What did it matter now that the demon had probably been watching all along, waiting for something to go wrong, just so he could cheerfully show up to make Dean’s life even more miserable than it already was?

The one guy, the one guy who had seen him for what he was – but that wasn’t true, was it. He had allowed himself to be swept away in enthusiasm for Cas, had not only believed that he genuinely liked him, but that for some reason, he would continue to do so after he had learned the truth, he realized that now. And then what? What did you expect? That Cas would just fall into your arms? That you would live happily ever after? With an end in sight, mind you? Where Cas is eventually gonna go, you can’t follow. You’ll never follow. You’ll stay here until the end of times, with only a demon for company, and that’s only if Crowley doesn’t grow tired of you.

“Oh”. It was a sound of realization, of – yes, of commiseration that Dean would never have thought Crowley capable of, but he didn’t mind now. “Here”. And he handed him an actual flask. With real Craig in it, of course. Could he have Crowley expected to have anything less? Come on. He took a deep drag.

“There? Better?”

“No.”

“Ah, but at least you’re drinking, so that’s that.”

“I guess” he conceded the point because what else was there? Crowley was all he had left, all he had to look forward to. Normally, that wouldn’t have been as awful a prospect as it was, because again, he kind of liked the guy, but now… “It was  really good kiss” he said quietly.

“Ugh, too much information.”

“You were the one creeping on us.”

“From a distance, and just wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. Doesn’t mean I kept an eye on the details.”

With other words, he hadn’t wanted to watch them make out, which in all honestly, knowing Crowley, surprised Dean a little, but hey, thank God for small favours.

Thank god. Hah. What had he ever done that had condemned him to this? Even back when he had been mortal, he had tried his hardest to be a good person. He had looked after Sam; he had done everything his parents asked; he had given his life for his brother – and this is what he got for it. An eternity, all but alone, no one but the king of Hell to keep him company; the one guy who sae him was as close to his brother as he ever would get, but he would one day be gone too – and then one man, one beautiful, perfect man, who was so wonderful in every way but rejected him the second he found out the truth, and Dena couldn’t even be mad about it. Good God, if someone had lied to him in this way…

“Sorry to interrupt your self-pity party, but I hate to be the bearer of bad news…”

“You love it” he said tiredly.

“That may be, but… is there any chance that Castiel might talk?”

“Talk?”

“Yes, you know” Conerly acted like he was holding a telephone, “Yes, Hello CNN? I met a dead guy and I would love to talk to Anderson Cooper about it…”

“No. NO I don’t think so” he said quickly, feeling mortified. “Certainly not.”

“Just saying because I don’t think it would do either you or him any good. You know how people can act when they think someone is crazy.”

Yes. Yes he knew. Cas would be lucky if he only got a few odd looks. In the worst case scenario, he could eb locked up, like Sammy in the nightmares he didn’t have because he didn’t sleep.

“So if you think there is even the remotest chance, we would have to act.”

Dean’s blood would have run cold if not – well, you know, dead and all that. “Are you saying…”

“I am saying that it might be for the best if he forgot all about you and your posthumous existence, Squirrel.”

Dean was silent.

“It’s alright. Take your time.”

And paradoxically he had the feeling that Crowley was indeed trying to be comforting, demonthat he was.

And somehow, it almost, almost made him feel better.

Almost.

His phone rang.

Sam.

Well, he had to tell him sometime. Better get it over with.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Drawing Daisies, Pushing Daisies || Ariana & Luce

TIMING: January 8th PARTIES: @divineluce & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Luce gives Ariana yet another memorial tattoo and some secrets come to light.  CONTENT: Some mentions of grief and the situation with Lydia (domestic abuse/promise binds), use of needles in relation to tattoos. 

When she had first gotten the tattoo of wildflowers on her arm in honor of Celeste, Ariana hadn’t planned on her arm becoming a memorial. As it stood, she kept losing people she loved and wanted to carry them with her. Wanted to make sure she never forgot them and the lessons they taught her. One of these days, she was just going to get a completely silly tattoo. Today was not that day, but it was nice to dream. She walked into the familiar tattoo shop and waved as she spotted Luce at her station. It looked like she was mostly set up and ready to go even if Ari was running a few minutes early. She always enjoyed glancing at the art on the wall as she was in the shop. There was some new floral work up at Luce’s station that she looked at for a moment before taking her place by Luce. “Hey,” she said, “As always, thanks for drawing up something so great. I promise my next tattoo is going to be silly and not a memorial piece.” Her hand flew over her mouth as she realized her error, “I really need to not use that fucking word.” 

 Ariana wasn’t someone that Luce would claim to know well, but she knew that the girl had been through some shit. Fuck, the wildflowers on her arm were proof enough of that. So, when Luce had gotten the email about drawing up a new design, she’d been happy to do it. Art had the power to help people and so did tattoos, even if boomers liked bitching about how they were destroying common decency. If a back tattoo of Post Malone sparked joy, fuck, she’d do it. Which, thankfully, that wasn’t the case. No, she’d requested something with flowers and an old vinyl record, which had been a simple enough design that Luce could fit to match the girl’s pre-existing tattoos. “Yeah, for sure--” Luce started to say before her eyes widened. Glancing to the open door of her room, Luce walked over and shut the door, giving the two of them some privacy. “Memorial piece, huh?” She said cautiously as she went back to her desk, pulling the stencils she’d printed out for Ariana to look at. “I’m sorry to hear that… you lost someone.” Another someone. 

 With the door closed, it dawned on Ariana that she could talk more freely. Not that she really had any true scope of what human hearing could truly pick up over the music playing in the shop. It wasn’t like she had a point of reference. Maybe she’d ask Luis one of these days when he was a little more in tune with who and what he was now. For now, she focused on Luce and the stencils she was pulling out. “Yeah,” she said as nonchalantly as she could, “As the okay DJ Khalid would say, another one.” Nope, that felt wrong. Was she really getting to a point where she joked about the darker things in life? “That was a bad joke.” She shook her head and instead explained, “Remember the article about that one bitch in the paper? Whole horror house thing. Well, this one and the bat one are courtesy of that bitch.” She wasn’t even sure her name deserved to be spoken. That bitch seemed to sufficiently cover things anyway. She glanced over the stencils and pointed to the one she liked best. Though her sense of color was off, the yellow in the daisy seemed to be the brightest. Just like Todd had been. “Thanks,” she said softly, “It is what is. But I like that one.” She pointed to her favorite. 

 As the girl let out a wry, bitter joke, Luce did her best not to react. Everyone dealt with grief in their own ways. She knew that better than most. Her encounter with the tree dude in the forest was a reminder of that. He’d seen what she’d done in her rage and grief. Pulling out one of her trays, she busied herself pouring out some ink. At the mention of that bitch in the paper, with the horror house-- Luce’s hand slipped, black ink bottle spilling onto the silver tray. “Shit!” She swore, swiftly capping the bottle and grabbing some paper towels to wipe up the ink. Lydia. Lydia. She was talking about Lydia. “How do you know about Lydia?” Luce asked cautiously, still tentative about saying the woman’s name. She’d felt the Fae promise burn in the back of her throat before and, even though she knew it was long gone, there was still a part of her that shied away at the idea of saying the woman’s name aloud. “I, uh… Yeah. It’s a good one. I think it’s my favorite out of the bunch. They symbolize purity, innocence.” She said before biting her cheek. “Was your friend… were they in that house?”

 The sound of ink falling to the tray made Ariana flinch slightly. It only slightly startled her. More than anything, she was perplexed. Her head tilted and she looked at Luce curiously waiting for an explanation only to be met with a question. “Wait, how do you know about Lydia?” It was safe to say she was a pretty big part of Lydia’s crimes coming to light and ultimately Lydia’s death though she didn’t wield the knife herself. “Lydia and I… well, there’s a lot there. Mostly her murdering my friends and binding me into something that would have inevitably killed me and a bunch of other people had Kaden not saved my ass. Then I was the “unidentified teen” in that article.” Her fingers did air quotes as she said the unidentified teen. She was unsure if she should mention the whole getting Lydia killed thing. While she knew Nell would understand, but she had no idea where Luce stood on being a murder accomplice… even if said murdered person was actual trash. “My friend was definitely that.” Both Todd and Sammy had a very genuine way about them that made her wish she could have shielded them from Lydia. “Three of them were, yeah. Managed to save one of them… and another person, too.” 

 Luce didn’t want to say it. She should have kept her mouth shut, because of course this would be how the train of thought would go. How did she know Lydia? She couldn’t just tell Ariana that Lydia had… helped them sacrifice a man in the name of vengeance and retribution. Prepping her machine with steadied hands, Luce swallowed. “She had me locked in a promise too. I didn’t know about what she was doing at her house, but I knew that she was capable of some fucking awful things. So.” She paused, glancing down at the stencil as she pressed it against the girl’s skin, leaving an impression on Ariana’s arm. “When someone told me there was trouble, I went to help.” Help. That was a watered down version of the truth. She hadn’t helped anyone. Clearing her throat, Luce nodded, “Shit. I’m sorry… that you lost them.” She said, glancing back to the tattoos that decorated the girl’s arm. This poor fucking kid. Because that’s what she was, a kid. She didn’t deserve this. 

 Ariana hadn’t thought it was possible to hate Lydia more than she already did, but her having Luce locked into a promise as well seemed to do the trick. Somehow, even in death, she just kept getting worse. Her hands clenched into fists, but as it stood, Lydia couldn’t do this to anyone again. “Bitch,” she mumbled to herself before adding, “Her, not you obviously.” It was the next part that made her have to refrain from tilting her head as Luce placed the stencil on her arm. Help, what did she mean by that? Was she the person Athena had gone to for help while Ariana went with Kaden and Agatha to rescue Chloe, Todd, and Kelly? That had to be what she meant, right? She’d been so caught up in trying to deduce just what she meant by that she barely noticed the cool feel of the stencil on her arm. “Help,” she said slowly, “Did that help happen to be teaming up with a blonde warden?” She didn’t want to totally give Athena’s identity away if that wasn’t the case. She also didn’t want to just assume Luce had been down to help kill Lydia. Not that she judged it. Unless Lydia died, all she was ever going to bring to the world was pain. Then there was yet another apology for all she lost. “Thanks,” she responded instinctively at this point, “It is what it is, but I’m getting by.” And she was. Some days better than others, but it was getting by all the same. 

Ripping open a new pack of needles, Luce fitted them into her machine and pulled on a pair of gloves as she settled next to Ariana. The machine buzzed in her hand, the hum familiar and comfortable as she readied herself to begin the tattoo. But, before she pressed the needles to Ariana’s skin, she blinked in surprise at the girl’s words. If she wasn’t holding her machine, she might have flinched at the mention of a blonde warden. But she was a professional. And she wasn’t going to fuck up a tattoo, not even now. Swallowing, Luce glanced at Ariana. “She convinced me to go with her. Well,” She paused and pressed the tip of the machine to the girl’s skin, ink dancing at her fingertips, “I let her talk me into it.” Luce said, not wanting to say anymore. If Ariana knew who Athena was, then she probably knew what Luce’s brand of help had brought about. “Getting by,” Luce echoed with a small laugh. “As someone who’s been getting by for a while, I’m real fucking sorry that you’re in the same boat.”

 The buzz of the tattoo machine was slowly becoming familiar to Ariana. It was even becoming comforting in a way. It was gentle on her ears and she grew accustomed to the dull pain that came with it. She could tell her question through Luce for a loop though. Given, it meant she helped kill Lydia and Morgan had mentioned it wasn’t so kind, but she wouldn’t shed any tears over a murdered serial killer. One who’d hurt her and too many people she cared for. So kept her arm still and quietly said, “Thank you. I really didn’t want her going on her own and I had to get my friends out of her house.” Even if it wasn’t entirely successful. It didn’t make her feel any comfort to know Luce had been just getting by too. She knew about Bea and she knew how much losing a sister sucked. Even getting her back, she’d never be able to erase that experience. The feeling of the needle on her arm kept her steady and resolved, if only so she didn’t ruin her own tattoo. “I’m sorry, too. It’s a pretty shitty boat. I’d much prefer one of those all inclusive cruises if I have to be on any boat.” Focus still on keeping still, she softened her features, “I know I’m young, but if you wanted to talk about any of it, I’m a pretty good listener. If you’d rather not, that’s chill, too.” 

 Thank you. Those weren’t the words Luce wanted to hear, but how was Ariana to know that? She’d killed again and while Lydia was hardly an innocent… that didn’t change the fact that she was someone who posed no real threat to Luce or her family. She would have plagued some other town, some other people. Perhaps Luce had done the right thing getting rid of her. But even if it was, she hadn’t done it for the right reasons. “Are you and her friends? Athena?” Luce asked, the words careful as she focused on her work, making the lines nice and neat. “Yeah, I could do with a fucking cruise right about now.” She said with a nod. Pulling back, she dipped the tip of her machine in the ink and glanced at Ariana’s arm with a gentle but meaningful look. “You’ve got enough of your own stuff to deal with. I’m not going to add to that. But, thanks for the offer.” She said with a nod. “This town… demands a lot from the people who live here. I’m real fucking sorry that you moved here.”

 It dawned on Ariana that maybe thank you hadn’t been the right thing to say. Especially when she was able to piece together just what Luce had done to help. She wasn’t sure being thanked for murder was something most were comfortable with. She’d always been a bit impulsive with her words so she decided to gloss over it and acknowledge Luce’s question. “Oh, she’s my girlfriend actually,” Ariana answered, still not quite used to using the word. Talking with Luce and the dull pain that came with the tattoo made it easier for her to sit still, something she normally struggled to do. Even the daydream of a cruise would typically make her want to immediately jump into the ocean for a swim which was decidedly not so safe in White Crest. “I’d say I’d keep an eye out for raffles, but I’m pretty sure all the prizes in this town are also cursed. Fuck, it’d probably be a damn mime cruise.” Her face visibly cringed at the idea. It was okay that Luce didn’t want to talk and she would have shrugged if she hadn’t needed to sit still. “Everyone’s got shit to deal with. Offer still stands if you ever need it… or even just need someone to spar with. Not sure if you’re into that. I know Nell is. I think it helps.” While she knew Luce was right about this town being hard on people, she wasn’t sure she’d take back moving here. Even with all she’d lost, her and Celeste had both gained a lot, too. “I’m not,” she said surely. There wasn’t much she was sure of, but this she was. “As much as I miss Celeste, it was always just the two of us. She never had anyone to really talk to about things and she’d spent so much of her life trying to understand others. Make them feel seen and heard without ever really having that for herself and well, I think she may have found that in one of her friends here. I think maybe she finally got to be understood in ways I never really could.” She thought of Kaden fondly and knew he could relate to Celeste in ways she was never able to. In ways Celeste had deserved. She also knew Celeste wouldn’t want her to feel regretful. Though as much was easier said than done, she was trying. She added, “And I have so many people I love here, too. The loss, the pain-- it all sucks and some days it’s really  fucking hard, but there’s still so much good and so many people here I that I love.” 

 “Your girlfriend.” Luce echoed, doing her best to contain her shock. But it was impossible to keep the note of surprise from her voice. What the fuck was Ariana doing, dating someone like that? Not that… she could talk. Remmy had-- well. They’d never dated. Never really been anything. But, Remmy had been with her and they had been like Ariana. Someone good. Someone trying their best. So, what did that make her, then? “Sorry. I didn’t realize.” She said, hoping that the girl would leave it there. “I’m good.” She wasn’t, not by a long shot. But how could she explain to Ariana that she hated what she’d done? If Ariana was dating Athena, that meant something. And the fact she had wanted Lydia dead just as much as the Hunter meant more.”Thanks for the offer though.” She continued to run the machine along Ariana’s arm, the tip steady and constant as she made thin, precise lines. “It’s good. That you have people. It makes a difference in a place like White Crest.” Luce said because it felt like the right thing to say. She didn’t know. Not really. There were people here she loved, but at every turn, she’d run from them. “But yeah. It’s sure fucking hard here.”

 Ariana didn’t think too much of the surprise evident in Luce’s tone. After all, Athena was only just coming out to people and it probably came as a shock to most. She quickly added, “She’s only just starting to like really come out, but yeah, she’s my girlfriend.” Her voice was somewhat proud though the moment of pain that she had to force herself to sit still through got to her for a moment. Man, that soft side of the arm was not fun. Still, the buzzing of the tattoo machine was comforting in its own way. Then Luce said she was good and Ariana frowned slightly. Something in her doubted that, but she didn’t really know Luce well enough to push. “If you’re sure, the offer always stands. You and your sisters have always been good to me so you’re on the list of people I’d eat a mime for,” she cracked a small smile hoping to ease the mood a bit. It was clear Luce didn’t want to talk about things and she respected that, especially as the woman was currently drawing on her with a needle and all. She nodded in agreement, “It does. Makes all the other shit worth it. Not even sure where else I’d go, honestly. Plus, someone has to make sure Blanche eats food that’s not cheese balls.” Luce was right though. It was fucking hard. The last couple of months had given her some room to breathe and process all the grief, but there was still always that underlying fear when someone didn’t text her back right away that they were dead somewhere. “You got that part fucking right. But we’re tough, that’s why we make it here, right?” 

 Well. If they were dating, that had to mean that Ariana knew what Athena was, right? But, Luce swallowed as she wiped the excess ink away, Remmy had never known all of what Luce had done until it was too late. “I see. Well. Good for her.” Luce said, not really knowing how to reconcile this information. Ariana was a good kid, but Athena? Luce had been there, she’d seen how the girl had acted when they’d… taken care of Lydia. No, not taken care of. Who was she killed? Athena had killed Lydia and had convinced her to take part in it too. That unquestionable fact weighted heavily down upon her-- she’d helped get rid of Lydia. She’d burned her body from the face of the earth, wiped her existence clean. And she hadn’t had the right to do that. She could have lived with the promise she’d made to the Fae woman. But another town, other people, they would have been subjugated to the same horrors Lydia had brought here… 

 Clearing her throat, Luce focused back in on the conversation. “Trust me, you don’t need to go eating any mimes for me. Wouldn’t want you to go all stripey on me.” She said with an attempt at a grin. “It’s good to hear that Blanche’s got someone like you in her corner. That girl,” Luce said as she began to add in shading, running the machine over Ariana’s skin with a firm hand. “Gets into more than her fair share of trouble. But, I guess the same could be said for all of us.” Mulling over Ariana’s words, Luce shrugged. Months ago, she might have agreed. Being tough was all you needed, putting up a wall, handling things on your own was how you lived in this town. But now? “Sure is.” She said noncommittally. Changing the topic, Luce looked down at the tattoo. “I think we’re just about done with this. Just a bit more shading and we’ll be wrapped up.”

Ariana laughed a bit and refrained from shrugging, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone all stripey. I know how to fix it now at least.” Humor was one way to look past the alarming parts of turning silent and stripey like a freaking mime. How they managed to do that was beyond Ariana, but she sure as fuck didn’t like it. There was another small laugh in regards to Blanche. Her knack for trouble could be amusing, but more than anything she was worried for her friend as of late. Even when she was striped, she barely even got a laugh out of Blanche. “Oh yeah, she’s a trouble magnet for sure, but like, same here. Maybe the town is just a trouble magnet.” She watched as Luce continued shading in and said they were just about done. A few more jokes were exchanged before Luce did the finishing touches. She looked down at it for a moment. The yellow almost as lively as Todd had once been, the perfect little tribute to the friend she should have been able to save. Something to carry with her every day to remind her to be better for all the Todds of the world. “It’s perfect,” she said softly before following her up to the counter to finalize payment. And it was, even if it left her with a sort of bittersweet feeling.

[baby-blossoms]

Communication Skills

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, brief Sam Winchester x reader (platonic)

Word Count:  2060

Summary: Dean offends the reader right before a hunt. The reader, having always had a crush on Dean, takes it very personally.

Warnings: Foul language, Small amounts of violence, mentions of de*th, reader has body image insecurities. 

----

      “Remember, don’t go anywhere with him until Dean is in position, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as Sam called out the reminder from the other side of the bathroom door. You loved him wholeheartedly but sometimes it felt as if he forgot that you had been hunting almost just as long as he had, and unlike him and his brother, you had yet to be killed. 

       “Thanks for the tip Sammy,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I thought I’d just waltz right out with him and patiently wait for him to turn tonight and eat my heart.” 

Sam did not reply, but you heard a heavy sigh of annoyance. You frowned, turning back to the mirror you were standing in front of. You had gone out and bought a ridiculously overpriced dress, compliments of a creepy old man that got just close enough to you for you to swipe his wallet when he tried to hit on you. It was Y/F/C, the same color every victim in this case so far had been wearing.

       “Sorry Sammy, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

You said as you opened the door. Sam met your gaze, then carefully analyzed your outfit. 

       “You sure you wanna wear that, sweetheart?”

Dean said before Sam even had the chance to open his mouth. His comment was immediately met with a hard glare. 

         “Shut the hell up.” You huffed, quickly slamming the bathroom door once more. Staring at yourself in the mirror, a shot of anxiety and insecurity crept into your mind. You had felt confident in this dress. Sure, it wasn’t your usual style, but it had made you feel beautiful and powerful. Now your mind was filled with doubt. Your body image insecurities had always prevented you from wearing certain clothes, and now you wanted to rip the dress off and slip into your usual hunting gear. 

          “Good job, Dean.”

Sam said, his voice laced with subtle anger. Dean did not reply. 

          Dean Winchester was the bane of your existence, but at the same time, you wanted nothing more than to grab his stupid face and kiss him with everything in you. Currently, you didn’t particularly want to, but he wasn’t usually a blatant dick to you. Most hunters were dicks, though. Occupational hazard. After analyzing yourself for a few more minutes and rebuilding your wounded confidence, you finally left the bathroom. Sam immediately went to speak, but you silenced him with a look. You didn’t feel like talking now, it was time to get drunk and lick your wounds at the nearest bar, and kill a werewolf while you were at it. 

         “I’ll be at the bar.” 

You said, only hesitating when Dean called after you.

        “In that?”

 Opposed to your previous anxiety and insecurity, anger shot through your veins like a fire raging through California in the dry season. You considered screaming for a split second, instead choosing to calmly turn back to him, your anger peaking to the point your eyes started tearing up. You hated how only Dean could truly make you so angry you wanted to cry.

        “If you think I look bad just say so, Dean. You don’t have to make me feel like shit.” 

         You cringed internally as you felt a few hot tears escape your eyes. You rarely cried, and you sure as hell didn’t want to cry in front of the Winchesters, no matter how much you loved them both. Wiping the few tears away roughly, you turned and left without another word. 

-------

         Walking the dark streets of Chicago probably wasn’t your best idea, especially with a pure-blood werewolf running around that had a craving for the hearts of girls who roughly fit your appearance. You had never claimed to be one who planned things through in great detail, impulsivity ran through you and it showed. Your fears turned to reality when you heard someone trying to walk in stride with you silently. Continuing on your path, you mentally prepared yourself for a fight. You had an angel blade hidden cleverly in the strapping of the back of your dress. Your only concern was accessing it quickly and effectively whenever the werewolf finally decided to attack. Perhaps he was just assessing you for the time being. 

         Much to your surprise, you made it safely and quickly to the nearest bar without a hitch. Making your way to the bar, you quickly accessed a shot and downed it. Again, not your wisest choice, but you had fought off a vampire drunk off your ass before. Fighting off a pure-blood wasn’t usually quite as easy, but you had the advantage over him. An angel blade and being fully aware that the moment he took you out of the bar you should be ready for a fight. You sipped at a vodka tonic, glancing at the door as the werewolf entered. Hot. Damn. No wonder it was so easy for him to convince women to follow him home. 

        Turning away from him, you simply waited. 

       “Can I get the next drink?” a soothing raspy voice asked from behind you. You turned to meet his stare, his eyes almost glowed in the low lighting. He had the most symmetrical face you’d ever witnessed, and his smile practically dripped sex appeal. 

        “What exactly do you expect out of it?” 

You replied with a raised eyebrow. His eyes sparkled with intrigue. You could only assume he was used to girls melting at the sight of him, but you knew better. He ate every one of their hearts, and you didn’t plan on getting maimed tonight. On the bright side, you had piqued his interest, and you didn’t intend to ruin days of work by losing it. 

         “My name’s Hunter,” he said, taking a seat next to you at the bar. You had to suppress a laugh at the irony of his name. “I didn’t catch your name.” 

          You finished off your drink, calmly watching as he called for a round of shots.

“I didn’t throw it,” you replied, smirking at your own joke. Hunter chuckled and slid another shot into your open palm. You didn’t hesitate to down it, and he didn’t hesitate to order another round. “my name is Jenny.” 

         “Well Jenny, how about another few shots?” 

You grinned, adjusting in your seat to almost fully face him. 

         “It would be a pleasure, Hunter.” 

--- 

          You found yourself dancing and laughing with Hunter along with a handful of other drunk couples on the dance floor. A laugh died in your throat when you made eye contact with Dean from across the bar. He was sending the most ferocious glare you’d ever witnessed your way. He was probably tired of waiting for you to leave with Hunter. A petty alcohol-induced thought rang through your head. He can wait all night, at least Hunter wants to have fun before he tries to eat me. Your attention was drawn back to Hunter as his hands gently gripped your waist and ran slowly up your torso. You grinned and turned back to him, continuing to dance for a few minutes before he pulled you close and whispered,

          “You wanna go to my place?” 

No, I want to drink and not have to fight off a fleabag.

          “Yes,” you answered with the cutest giggle you could muster while near drunk and knowingly walking into a werewolf’s trap. “Let’s get out of here.”

           Hunter smiled, but unlike his previous charming smiles, this one almost unnerved you. Almost. You might’ve been a little drunker than you should’ve been, but you were still a hunter. This was no sweat. Following him out of the bar, you didn’t bother to make sure Dean saw you were leaving, you could feel his stare. You were always hyper aware of when Dean was watching you. You were always uncomfortably aware of Dean in general. Everything about him drew you closer, but tonight you didn’t even want to look his way.

           Hunter led you toward a questionable alleyway, and you rolled your eyes, stealthily grabbing the angel blade as he walked ahead of you. Hiding it behind your back, you felt adrenaline rush throughout your body, sobering you up. 

          “You live in this alley?” you asked sarcastically. Hunter turned, then advancing toward you. Quickly you shoved the blade into his chest and grinned at the shocked look on his face. 

           “You know,” you sighed, “I really didn’t think killing you would be that easy, but here we are.” 

Retrieving the blade, you turned and headed back to the bar. Maybe I’ll try their martinis. 

            “Y/N! Where is he?” 

Dean asked as you passed him. You practically sneered at him,

          “He’s dead in the alley. I’m going back to the bar.”

----

          Dean followed you back to the bar, and you could almost feel him trying to think of something to say to you. You b-lined back to the chair you had occupied previously.

         “Can I get you a drink?” 

You glanced in surprise to a fairly tall man hovering behind you. With a dazzling smile, you accepted his offer, and after a few drinks, you headed to the dance floor with him. He effortlessly twirled you around and made you genuinely laugh. Your fun was abruptly cut short by a painfully familiar voice saying,

        “That’s enough, buddy.” 

        Dean grabbed the man by the shoulder and shoved him effortlessly away from you. The other man looked ready for a fight, but Dean practically dragged you out of the bar before he had the chance to throw a punch.

        “What the fuck is your problem tonight, Dean?” you snarled, shoving him away from you. Dean looked caught off guard for a moment, irritation washing over his features when he replied,

        “I didn’t want to watch that son of a bitch look at you like you’re a god damn prime rib all night.” 

Shaking your head in annoyance, you snapped back,

        “Well, it’s better than making me feel like shit for how I look, Dean!”

        Dean’s face hardened, and he simply walked off toward Baby. You followed, determined to get some form of a much-deserved apology out of him. 

        “Seriously, Dean? You’ve insulted me in so many ways tonight, and you made me feel like horse shit!” He continued to walk to Baby as if you hadn’t been speaking to him, so you continued on, 

         “You could at least act like you care for once.” 

Your voice grew softer with every word, your anger mixing with sadness. Dean whipped around, taking you by surprise. 

          “I do care, Y/N! I care about you too much. I can’t fucking focus when you’re around! You looked- you… fuck!” he yelled, pacing between you and Baby. “I meant that you looked good. No, not good- you look fucking gorgeous in that dress and I…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how to tell you that so instead I made myself sound like a complete dick. You look too good, I didn’t want every guy in the joint trying to pick you up all night. I can’t fucking stand watching them touch you!” 

          Wait, what? You stood staring at him in shock for a moment before Dean continued,

          “It burns me up to see you dancing and laughing with these scumbags, I just…” 

You stared at him, dumbfounded by his statement. 

          “You just what, Dean?”

You whispered. He stopped pacing and finally turned to fully face you. You both gazed at each other for a moment, then Dean had you pressed against Baby faster than you could have imagined. 

          “I just want to kiss you. I want you to be mine, Y/n. That’s all I want.” 

          Slowly, you brought one hand to his cheek, the other pressed softly against his chest, right at his heart. You could feel his heart pumping hard and fast. A smile crept its way across your lips, and you slowly pulled Dean into a kiss. 

         “You know, you could’ve just said I looked pretty.” 

You said. Dean laughed and softly kissed you once more.

          “Yeah, but then we wouldn’t be here.”

It was your turn to laugh as you replied,

           “In that case, I’m glad you have no communication skills.”

[shy-violet-soul]

The Box in Room 11

Characters:  Sam & Dean Winchester Rating: E for everyone Warnings: bittersweet fluff Word count:  1,600-ish A/N:  I think the first time I fell in love with these brothers’ history was 1:18, when Dean gave up his Lucky Charms for Sammy.  His too-grown-up sacrifice broke my heart.  Baby Sammy’s smiling, innocent offer of the prize in the box melted the broken heart pieces.  And that moment kickstarted the muse.

A huge thank you to the awesome SPN fic writers who showered some beta magic on this!  Thank you, thank you @crispychrissy and @thesassywallflower!

Supernatural characters belong to CW and their creators.  This is a work of fiction.  Please do not repost without my permission.

Dreamstime.com by Kjrstudio, & creators (I searched & couldn’t find owners, sorry!)

There’s a box in Room 11 that is precious to both the brothers.

One of them knows about it.  One of them doesn’t.

While scrounging the nooks and crannies of the bunker, Dean found the old trunk in the storage room.  Sturdy, sizeable, it smelled soothingly of cedar as he centered it carefully at the end of his bed.  In one corner sat the old baseball glove Bobby gave him as a boy.  The leather was scuffed, worn shiny in some places, a bit cracked in others.  Tucked underneath it was the only yearbook he ever got - junior year, 1995, Shadyside Tigers.  His dad’s US Marines cap lay upside down, a medal engraved with ‘New York State Youth Association - Wrestling Champion’ inside it with the red and blue ribbon carefully folded.  His first fake ID’s rubberbanded together - ‘Brian Wilson, Bikini Inspector’; ‘William Greer, IRS’; ‘Robert Palmer, CDC’.  The antique pocket watch Pastor Jim gave him when he turned eighteen, the 1988 ‘Sports Illustrated’ with Elle McPherson he stole from a guy’s locker in the 5th grade, a handful of prize tickets from a county fair he’d taken Cassie Robinson to rounded out the collection of mementos from his younger years.

And there was the box.

The old ‘Bank Note’ cigar box looked ordinary.  Unremarkable.  If you lifted it to your nose and sniffed deeply, you could still catch a whiff of bitter tobacco.  It had been carted around for twenty-odd years, shoved under dirty socks, ammo, and a crumpled sandwich bag of matchbooks. The odd scratch here and there, the ragged corners spoke of long handling.  As beat up as the box was, it held Dean’s most priceless treasures.

Nestled dead center in a place of honor lay the very first treasure from decades past.  Fort Douglas, Wisconsin.  Nine or ten year old Dean, already a world-weary parent.  Another night of dad leaving them alone.  A dumped out bowl of Spagetti-o’s, and the sacrifice of the last bit of Lucky Charms he’d saved for himself.  And Sammy’s first gift - the coveted prize in the box.

To anyone else, the little plastic car meant nothing.  To Dean, it meant the world.  Their childhood didn’t include many frivolities.  Crayons weren’t allowed in the backseat after the melting incident; their dwindling plastic soldier army had seen some troops go AWOL; and the Legos not in the vents had been lost in dribbles in countless motels and fast food stops.  The boys knew better than to ask for anything.  But Dean had watched Sam stare at the Hot Wheels cars and super hero action figures stacked up on the endcaps of Gas n’ Sips across the entire midwest.  At his young age, he couldn’t name the feeling that put a knot in his belly at the sight of little Sammy going without even a toy.  So, a car, hot rod red, with wheels that shot it forward when you rolled it backwards?  A prize of the highest degree.  And little Sammy had given it to him.  So, it had been the first treasure in the box.  

A few months later, he’d been ready to pound on his baby brother when he’d come out from showering to see every bowl, cup, and plate in the puke-green kitchenette filled to overflowing with Corn Flakes from the brand new box.  As Dean drew in a breath to threaten the little runt’s life, Sammy had smiled with dimpling delight as he trotted to him with outstretched hands.  His pudgy little fingers offered up a genuine Starbot robot, complete with punching arm.

He’d tried to insist Sam keep it, but the little twerp turned those puppy dog eyes on him and he caved.  He covered up his true pleasure by gruffly ordering him to clean up the mess.  Too grown-up to show how happy he was over a toy, Dean waited until Sammy was asleep before carefully placing the little grey plastic robot in with the red car.

Months passed, filled with shorter pant legs and outgrown, too-tight shoes.  The collection in the box grew, too.  A color-changing spoon from a box of Trix.  A yellow, rooster-shaped bike reflector from another box of Corn Flakes.  A box of Rice Krispies produced a baking soda submarine.  And, their personal favorite, a ghost detector courtesy of Apple Jacks.  He couldn’t remember how many days they’d spent laughing over that thing.  

But Dean never forgot the unabashed joy on his little brother’s face whenever he presented him with a new gift.

Every once in a while, when Dean reorganized the chest contents or was searching for the beef jerky, he’d open that cigar box.  One long finger would stir through the trinkets, mouth quirking in a soft smile.  Each one held a memory that he hoarded up selfishly.  But one - one was particularly special.

Sam had just turned ten.  He could remember the glint of the dollar coins in the sun as Bobby flipped them to him, one right after the other - five whole dollars for a birthday gift.  Even now, he smiled again as he remembered the excited astonishment on his little brother’s face.  After hours on the road and a stop at Gas n’ Sip, John had installed the boys in a motel room before leaving to chase down a lead.  Dean had kept his shower short, hoping to see if this motel had cable before bedtime.  The scene that greeted him at the wobbly kitchen table gave him pause.

Six boxes of Cracker Jack sat scattered across the dented, scratched surface.  The caramel-popcorn treat had been poured into an elephant-shaped cookie jar from the counter. Dean stepped closer, popping a few pieces into his mouth as he glanced at his brother.  He and his dad were big fans of the sweet & salty snack, but Sam - not so much.  Dean took in the tiny plastic bags and scraps of torn paper strewn about the boxes, a couple of plastic bead necklaces, a sparkly pink hair clip, and a couple of rub-on flower tattoos scattered about.  Sam, studiously wiping at something over the sink, still hadn’t noticed his brother.

The gangly kid had nearly jumped out of his skin when his big brother asked what in tarnation he was doing.  His smile had been all triumph and glee when he’d presented the object: a metal badge pin, etched with ‘Special Police’.

“It’s for you!  Here!” Sam chirped.  Dean blinked at him in confusion.

“Do you mean that you bought six boxes of something you don’t even like for this?  Where did you get the money?”  The dimples disappeared as Sam stood wordlessly.  That knot in his stomach, now familiar after years of it, hit Dean anew.  “Your birthday money.  Sam, Bobby gave that to you for YOU, you beanpole!”

“I know that, Dean.  And I spent it how I wanted to.”  Again, he offered the pin to him.  “Here.  I had to get more than one box because my odds at gambling suck, remember?”

Dean didn’t move, couldn’t move.  This small gesture made his birthday gift to Sam seem small and worthless; what normal ten year old kid wanted a three-pack of Bic lighters, anyway?  

A deep sigh from Sammy snapped his attention back to the present, and he watched as his little brother dropped his hand to his side.

“Look, Dean.  I saw this little kid at that last diner wearing this pin.  When I went to the john, I stopped and asked him where he got it, and he said from a box of Cracker Jack.  You’re always talking about how Dad’s a hero, better than a police officer.  And, well - you’re MY hero.  Better than dad.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Well, it’s true.  You’re the one who’s always looking out for me.  And I really wanted you to have this.  So, when Bobby gave me the five dollars, I wanted to try to get this for you.  Please take it.”

Dean stared at the shiny pin, carefully taking it in his hand.  Mistaking his reserve for disgust, Sam hurried to speak.

“I know you’re a grown up, it’s dumb, you don’t have to keep it -” he blurted out, moving to snatch it back.  His big brother leaned it out of his reach, smiling past the lump in his throat.

“Thanks, Sammy.  I love it.”  

The ten year old returned his smile, relief relaxing his shoulders.  After a moment, his grin widened.

“Besides, let’s just look at this as birthday cake!  I can use one of the lighters as a candle!” he chattered out as he waved a hand at the overflowing cookie jar.  

Dean could still see Sam’s smile in the wavering glow from the lighter, and him always having one of those birthday lighters in his pocket weeks later.  He could hear the laughter from both of them as they gorged themselves on the Cracker Jack. He remembered making his dad turn around because he was sure he’d left the can of salt on the nightstand when really he went running back to get the badge pin he’d accidentally left in the drawer.  

After a childhood lived out of duffel bags and a crowded trunk, the Winchesters still struggled with the concept of personal possessions.  Even after living in the bunker for some time, it was hard to break a decades-long habit of living ‘temporary’.  Most of their favorite belongings still ended up centered around the hunting life.  That life had taught painful lessons about loss that would have sent stronger people running for a hermit’s existence, decrying any and all reminders of a past overrunning with tragedy.  

But not the Winchester brothers.  They still relished their happier memories.  Little bright gleams scattered like lucky pennies amid the darkness of their years, giving them something to hold on to and drive from.  

Some of those memories lived in a box.   A box that one of them knew about, and one of them didn’t.

A box in room 11.

[hulksmashin-bannerpackin]

Then And Now

Pairing:
Bruce Banner X Reader

Request Prompt: Could you do a Single! Mom reader where the children’s dad comes back and at first he’s only coming to your job but then he shows up at the house and Bruce answers and the dad try’s to get you too leave him by saying things like “he’s the hulk, he can never be good for the kids” and reader gets extremely protective?

“Y/N!”

“Yes?” Y/N responded, looking at her workmate, taking in her nervous features. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s someone here insisting on seeing you and won’t take no for an answer what should I do?”

Y/N knitted her brows together, she wasn’t expecting anyone to specifically need her today. “Did they say what they needed?”

“He just said he needed to talk to you and that his name was Adrian.” Her friend laughed slightly. “And hot damn was he handsome!”

Y/N’s eyes widened. No… It couldn’t be? There are plenty of men named Adrian. Definitely a common enough name.

“I’ll, uh, take my break now. Thank you.”

She nodded to the woman as she left the room.

Please don’t be, please don’t be, please don’t be,

“Adrian?!” Y/N tried to hide her shock by hardening her expression. She breathed in through her nose emulating one of Bruce’s calming tricks. “What are you doing here?”

Adrian gave her a charming smile. “What? Can’t I just pop around for the sake of seeing a pretty face? I’ve missed you babe.”

“Yeah no I’m not falling for your charm tactics anymore Adrian I don’t want to see you.” She crossed her arms, squaring her shoulders so she would appear more confident and tall.

Adrian’s smile only faltered for a moment. “What about the kids? Don’t I have a right to see my own children.”

“You lost that right when you left us. Now get out of here before I make you leave.” Y/N glared, venom spiking her words.

Adrian let out a sigh. “You know we’d probably still be together if it weren’t for you always creating a fight out of nothing. I was hoping we could act civil this time around.” Adrian turned to leave and looked back at her as he opened the door. “Guess you’re still the same.”

Guess you’re still the same? What was that even suppose to mean!? Y/N huffed angrily as she watched him leave. She wasn’t still the same! There was never anything wrong with her in the first place! If anything she was different now that she could see past his lies!

“You’re the one whose the same you dumb JERK! Uuurgh I should of said that!” She growled under her breath and tried to calm down.

Later that night Bruce had returned home, he walked into the kitchen seeking out Y/N after greeting the kids. He watched her as she did the dishes and cringed as she violently slammed the plates into the wrack before walking up to her.

“Uhh would you like me to do the dishes?”

“No!” She slammed another plate down and Bruce honestly wondered if the plate cracked.

“Honey what’s wrong?”

She threw the sponge into the sink, ignoring the fact she just splashed water all over her shirt. She let out a frustrated noise and moved to sit at the table. “Adrian showed up at work today.”

“Adrian? As in your EX Adrian?” Bruce felt a tinge of anger bubble up in his stomach.

“Yep.” She popped the ‘P’ as she drummed her fingers against the table. “He said he wanted to see me, I told him to get lost.”

Bruce took her hands and pulled her up to stand and into a hug. Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder and let his comforting touch flood over her. “Bruce, he’s not the type of person to take no easily.” She sniffed slightly, willing herself not to cry, she wasn’t going to cry for that man anymore. He didn’t deserve a single tear. “What if he comes back? What if he genuinely does want to see the kids?”

“If he comes back just tell him to leave again, he doesn’t deserve to see the kids.”

“Yeah but that can’t be my decision, Nicky’s never even met him, what if he grows up holding resentment or wishing he did?”

Y/N seriously doubted that was the case as her son had never expressed interest in meeting his biological father but she didn’t feel right making the choice for them. Bruce bit his lip, he wanted nothing more then to never talk about that man again but he also saw where Y/N was coming from. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow as a family okay?”

“Okay…”

“Do you want me to get you some ice cream while you put on a movie?”

“Yes…”

“Okay honey.” He gently nudged her forward. “Pick something I’ll hate.”

Y/N smiled and hunched her shoulders happily. They both had drastically different tastes in television so for Bruce to offer to watch one of her movies made her feel happy inside.

—————

Bruce answered the door the next day after hearing it knock and came face to face with Adrian, whom he vaguely recognised from one or two old photos.

“Who are you?” Adrian eyed Bruce sharply, looking at him with a frown.

“I’m Bruce Banner, how can I help you?” Bruce asked as he placed his arm against the frame, casually blocking the entrance. He disregarded the blatantly rude behaviour, already deciding he hated him.

“Look Mr Banner-”

“Doctor actually.” Bruce said with an edge in his tone, he stood straighter, so that he was taller then Adrian. Bruce wasn’t one to normally flaunt his status but he took pride in being better then the man in front of him.

“Look DOCTOR Banner.” Adrian said in a snide tone. “I’m looking for Y/N L/N.” Adrian was peering past Bruce looking into the house and looking at the photos on the wall. “I know she still lives here.”

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“I believe I still have a right to see MY kids I am their REAL father after all.”

Bruce clenched his fist, feeling his nails bite into his palm, doing what he could to keep his cool.

“Actually.” Sammy spoke up, walking towards the open door, leaning against the doorframe behind Bruce’s arm. She had heard the conversation from her quiet reading spot by the window. “Any man can sire a child and call himself a father. What truly makes a father is in fact a man who takes the responsibility of raising and caring for a child and does everything he can do to support said child. We may be bound in blood, but you are not my father.” She stared at him with a calculated gaze.

Adrian bit back a glare. He forgot how much of a wordy little brat his daughter was.

“Don’t you think I deserve the chance to try Samantha?” He kept a charming smile plastered to his face.

“My mother told me you left us because she didn’t agree with you wanting to abort my brother. Don’t you think he deserved a chance?”

Bruce held back a proud grin at how sardonic she was being, he definitely needed to raise her allowance.

“Sorry Adrian but I’d rather spend my time with someone who didn’t contemplate on the existence of my brother. Farewell.”

She nodded towards him and promptly left.

“Guess she doesn’t want to see you.” Bruce smirked at the expression on Adrian’s face.

Adrien’s patience was wearing thin, he didn’t even care about the kids he just wanted to see Y/N, he saw the look on her face when he saw her last, if he could just get her alone-

“Excuuuuse me!” Adrian turned around at the voice and saw a boy almost his double weave himself past shoving both Adrian and Bruce slightly to make a path for himself to the inside.

“You shouldn’t push people, it’s rude. Haven’t you ever heard of respect?” Adrian said in an authoritative voice causing Nicky to stop in his tracks and turn around. He adjusted the strap of his dance bag over his shoulder and stared at him. “You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my dad.”

Now Bruce knew he was suppose to be correcting this behaviour as Nicky had often got into trouble for his self proclaimed sass but right now he didn’t exactly feel like scolding him.

“Actually son, I am your REAL father. Just look at yourself, you’re almost the spitting image of me.”

Nicky’s eyes widened at his words as his eyes flittered across Adrian’s face, searching for similarities. He frowned at his conclusion that they did indeed look alike so finding no words to fight him, he kicked Adrian in the shin.

Adrian grunted in pain, bending his leg in reflex. “Little shit!” He made a move to grab Nicky and in retaliation Bruce shot his hand out, grabbing Adrian’s wrist as Nicky let out a squeak and hid behind Bruce, clutching onto the back of his shirt.

“Don’t you ever touch my son.” Bruce’s voice was low and dangerous. Adrian’s eyes widened as he saw Bruce’s were now a bright green.

He pulled his hand back, like he touched fire. “That’s why I recognised you. You’re the hulk!” Adrian spat.

“What is going on here?!” Y/N said as she appeared behind Bruce, Sammy was peeking out behind her, being the one to alert her of his presence.

“You’re dating the Hulk?!” Adrien snarled at her, screwing his face in disgust.

“I’m MARRIED to the Hulk actually.” She raised her left hand and wriggled her fingers at him, showing off her ring.

“Are you kidding!?! He’s the hulk! He can never be good for the kids! Baby you and I were the best.”

“That was then and this is now. He’s been a better father then you ever could be.”

“That thing is not a father! I’ll call children services and have them taken away!”

Bruce inhaled sharply so Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“Kids, go inside.”

Both Nicky and Sammy quickly scurried away from the door as Y/N closed it and took a step closer to Adrian.

“Now you listen to me.” Y/N’s voice was low. “How dare you say anything bad about MY husband, l don’t want you coming near my children ever again and if you even think about coming back here I will make you wish you were facing the hulk instead of me. Do you understand me?”

She narrowed her eyes glaring at him.

Adrian scoffed. “Don’t even know why I considered taking back a bitch like you anyway.”

“Leave now.” Bruce stood forward, his veins rippled green, causing Adrian to take a step back quickly. With a final glare he turned around and walked away.

Y/N let out a shuddery sigh when he was out of view and Bruce wrapped his arm around her shoulders opening the door. Nicky and Sammy both fell forward.

“We totally weren’t easedropping!”

“We were just surveying the surroundings and happened to hear.”

Y/N let out a laugh as she pulled her children into a hug. She needed that after finally standing up to her ex.

“I’m so proud of you both.”

Bruce watched his family with a smile before taking his phone out and texting Tony to explain the situation and keep an eye on Adrian until he left for good.

~BONUS SCENE~

“Dinnner!” Y/N called out, hearing the padding of feet come towards the kitchen. Her brows raised in confusion as she saw Nicky come in, his hair was curled, he was wearing a button up dress shirt and had on a pair of 3D glasses that had the lens popped out.

“Is that one of my books?” Bruce asked peering at the cover of the book resting in Nicky’s arm.

“What? Yeah so? I’m totally into physics and mooolectulaar biiiiiolllllogy.” He drawled out the words as he read it off the back of the book.

“Sweetheart.” Y/N stepped towards him and plucked off the 3D glasses. “You don’t have to make yourself more like your father just because you look like Adrian. You are nothing like him, I promise.”

“Okay good.” Nicky breathed deeply in relief. “Because this look is SO unfashionable.”

Bruce looked up half concerned and half confused.

“Oh but it looks great on you dad!” Nicky grabbed his dinner and started backing out of the kitchen awkwardly. “You really rock that 1940s professor look.” He turned on his heel and left the kitchen quickly.

“1940s professor?” Bruce frowned as Y/N giggled and wrapped her arms around him. “I think you look like a sexy professor.” She kissed his cheek and Bruce couldn’t help but grin bashfully at her compliment.

Permanent Taglist: @insanityismysanity12345 @becaamm @mermaid-tails-and-fishscales @greenangrysnowflake @kitchensink-to-me @zadyalyss @theweirdlunatic @itsjackothy @surfin-the-sun

[hekate1308]

The Home We’ve Made

This is my being inspired by the Addams Family. Destiel. Enjoy!

A small part of Sam always assumed he’d fall in with his brother again, even though he knew there was only a small chance.

But every time he pictured their reunion, it was a bit more... well...

First things first.

Sam doesn’t have anything against monsters or demons or whatever else might crawl about in the world. They usually keep to themselves, and despite public misconceptions, they rarely kill or even attack humans.

And yet their father spent decades convinced that they had killed Mom, only to poison himself with alcohol in the end. By that time, Sam had been long gone, and, as he found when he arrived to organize the funeral, so was Dean.

All the times he’s wondered where life has taken him over the years, he’s been worried that he’s been walking down the same path as Dad.

The last time he saw him, right before he left for college, it certainly seemed that way. Dean was begging him to stay because only as a family they could be safe. Sam told him to grow up and slammed the door behind him.

Sam looks down on the file at his desk. Arthur Ketch, one of the vilest businessmen he’s ever come across (and as a lawyer, he meets enough... indecent people), has decided to buy a certain patch of land and build a skyscraper there. problem is, monsters and their loved ones live there, and they don’t want to sell; so he’s decided to use lawsuit over lawsuit to have them declared non-people, entities with no rights of their own.

Sam’s firm just took the case – for the monsters. He’s never been gladder he decided to take this job.

It’ll be best if he gets to know them first. He believes he’s pretty tolerant, but a meeting would do away with any prejudices he still carries around.

The land the monsters inhabit is located at the edge of town, although they have slowly advanced towards their human neighbours as the years progressed. There are more than enough humans now who have no problems befriending vampires and others.

Still, Sam can’t help but think it might not be the best omen that the first thing he comes across is a demon with dark red eyes and blood on his hands.

After he’s introduced himself, the demon’s eyes slowly return to green as he grins. “Sam Winchester? Now isn’t that interesting.” He doesn’t elaborate. “You want to talk to Cassie and Dean. They’re the leaders of our little group, if you wish to call it that.”

He points at a house further down the street. “My next door neighbours. Lovely couple.”

When he sees Sam looking at his hands, he adds, “Just a little ritual, something to take the edge of. No harm in that.”

Sam nods and moves on. If he really hurt anyone, they would know about it.

He knocks at Cassie’s (Cassandra?) and Dean’s (as always he feels a pang thinking of the name) door.

The man who opens him has dark hair and incredibly blue eyes it’s easy to drown in – Sam catches himself just in time.

“My apologies.”

The siren blinks and his eyes stop glowing. “My husband has long been immune against my snares. I forgot.”

“No harm done.” Once he explains his business, the siren looks – stricken? But they wanted his firm to take the case, so why –

“You – “ the siren forces out, “You are – “

“Cas?” a voice called out and then a man – human – stepped up to them.

Sam would have recognized him anywhere.

“Dean?”

“Sammy?”

Several explanations and a crushing hug later they were sitting in Dean’s and Cas’ kitchen, and Sam was trying to wrap his head around this new reality.

Dean was married. To a male. A male siren. And was living an apple-pie life.

Even if they don’t exactly have a picket fence.

Most monsters enjoy playing with human fears a bit, and Dean’s and Cas’ house is no exception. The prominent colours are black and purple, although Dean seems to have added shades of blue and green as well; there’ something looking like a human skull sitting on top of the fire place; and the pictures of their friends...

“I met him. He showed me your place” he says, pointing to a photo that he assumes shows Dean and Cas joining him for one of his rituals.

“Crowley. A bit much sometimes, but not a bad bloke” Dean says smoothly.

“What about him?” he asks when he comes across one where someone’s chugging apparently two litters of blood from a bottle.

“Benny. Vampire. Lives down the street. Just changed his wife Andrea. Cute couple, though not as cute as we, right babe?” Dean kisses Cas.

Sam swallows. “And these two are – “ There’s a woman conjuring butterflies out of thin air, a redhead looking at her adoringly.

“Gilda and Charlie. First friends we made around here.”

“I see.”

And that’s only the beginning. After they’ve gone through the case – there really is no way Ketch can win, but now Sam wants to make absolutely sure of that – Cas leaves them alone.

For a whole of five minutes.

Crowley appears in front of them. “Hey Squirrel, how’s the family reunion going?”

“Of course you didn’t say anything.”

He smiles. Thankfully he’s cleaned up. “The ghouls were getting a little cranky, by the way. I fixed it.”

“Sam mentioned the ritual.”

“They have enough carcasses now for a while.”

“Thanks. Dinner tonight?”

“Always a pleasure.”

He dis- then reappears in a matter of seconds. “Oh, and just a fair warning – my dear mother and I had another fight, there might be more raining frogs coming.”

“They were cute anyway. See you at dinner.”

“Laterz, Squirrel. Greet Feathers from me.” He looks at Sam, then snaps his fingers. “You can be Moose. Till then, Moose.”

And he’s gone.

“Sorry” Deans says matter-of-factly, “Rituals always rile him up a bit.”

Before Sam can asks about his mother, the door bell rings. It’s the vampire from the pictures, and as soon as Dena heard his voice, he asks his brother to join him and Cas.

“Hey Benny, how’s Andrew doing?”

“She’s wonderful about it all. Also, we’ve more than enough blood, so...”

“Ah, that reminds me” Dean interrupts him, popping into the kitchen and coming back with a blood bag. “Just in case.”

“Thanks, brother. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know what I’d do” Cas mumbles softly, taking Dean’s hand. “Crash and burn.”

“Oh, hush” Dean kisses him. “You were doing fine before I came along.”

Sirens, Sam suddenly remembers, life off the love and affection they inspire by snaring people – despite these emotions not being genuine. How much more nourishing must Dean’s true love be?

Not that it is one-sided. Cas could not look at his brother like that without reciprocating his feelings.

Sam’s mind is reeling. It has all been a bit much, and he says his goodbyes soon afterwards.

“You alright, Sammy?” Dean asks, just as Crowley pops back in – literally – wondering if they need help in the kitchen.

“Yes” he says weakly. “I just... have a lot of work to do.”

It’s clearly not enough for Dean, who looks like he did that time fifteen years ago when Sam left him behind with Dad.

Before any of the assembled monsters can react, Sam leaves, feeling like a jerk even as he does.

He has Dean’s number, and he is determined to call him soon; just because his brother’s life happens to be a bit... unusual, he won’t cut him out of his again.

Dean surprises him during his lunch break the next day. “Hey, Sammy. Wanna try the best burger in town?”

“Sure” he replies, although normally he’d prefer a salad. But Dean has come, has put himself out there, so he can at least accompany him to where he’s comfortable.

The Roadhouse proves to be exactly the kind of bar Dean loved back when Sam left... with one exception.

“Are they...”

“Ellen and Jo? Amazons. Ellen broke away from her group to actually meet someone and fall in love instead of rearing a man-killer. Her husband’s a pretty cool guy too.”

“I see.”

After a few minutes of silence, Sam admits, “Dean, I – I don’t really – “

“Yeah” he says, “Me neither.”

They laugh.

“It’s... alright, maybe I should start from the beginning.”

And Dean takes a deep breath and tells him how he met his husband.

It’s just another day in the life of Dean. Dad’s already drunk again and has called him three times in the last hour, causing his boss to give him a talk about “appropriate phone time”, Sam is still gone, and Dean has had enough.

He’s about to start screaming at the world, God, and his phone specifically when Cas walks in. He knows immediately he’s a siren. No human could have eyes that blue.

“I’m sorry, but my car appears to have stopped working...”

And that voice too? That was just unfair...

Dean caught himself just in time. Dude was a siren. Maybe he was trying to snare him in?

But when he looked at Dean, his eyes appeared completely normal. “Can you fix it?”

“Let me take a look” he said and smiled.

The siren took a double-take but then smiled back at him.

And Dean was a goner.

“I asked him to marry me right then and there.”

Sam spits his drink. “You didn’t.”

“To be fair, his attraction to me had activated his powers. It took a bit of manoeuvring until we got through that.”

“He said you aren’t affected anymore.”

“Nah. The powers he has are meant to create quick, unimportant feeling so the siren can feed off of them. What we have is the real deal. He tells me has almost forgotten what hunger feels like by now.”

“I’m happy for you, Dean” Sam says, “I truly am. It’s just... the way we were brought up... and you interacting with all these...”

“They’re friends. Some of them are even family. I mean, you could probably try to get rid of Crowley, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I understand. Only... I’m trying to be tolerant. I thought I was. But the blood and the – to an outsider, it looks like you’re insane.”

“We are, just a little bit” Dean concedes, “But most who get to know us – really get to know us – learn to accept that.”

Sam nods, accepting the challenge. “What is that story with Crowley’s mother and the frogs?”

Dean grimaces. “Rowena. She’s a real witch.”

“So she’s a bad demon?”

“No, Sammy” he corrects him, chuckling, “She’s a witch.”

Sam has never been entirely sure those exist. “I see.”

“Oh you don’t. Rowena needs to be seen to be believed.”

“Alright then, I will.”

Dean looks at him. “Sam, you don’t have to. I get that – my life – I love it, but it’s weird. It’s entirely possible I’m a little crazy. But it’s normal for me, and it’s what I chose. I won’t force you to – “

“No – “ he reaches out and grabs Dean’s shoulder. “Dean. I want to get to know you and this life you’ve carved out for yourself. I imagine it hasn’t always been easy.”

Dean smirks. “You have no idea. Some of Cas’ folks... they weren’t too keen on him marrying a human. But it all worked out in the end.”

Sam can only hope it will for them, too.

Ten years later

Sam sleeps in on this Saturday; when he enters the kitchen, only his wife is sitting at the table, nursing her coffee.

“Good morning” he says, kissing Eileen, “Where are the kids?”

“Crowley took them and their cousins to Disneyland for an hour as a treat” she replies, using sign language. She normally doesn’t talk unless she’s had three cups of coffee.

He nods. “You gave him the bronze knife?”

“Yes, the djinn will have no problem with his coming-of-age ceremony now.”

Sam grins. Times have changed. When he and Dean first reconnected, he turned from “that one smartass” to “the one with the weird brother” in his firm. These days? He’s just plain “That’s how the Winchesters work, don’t ask.”

“Oh, also Drew sent an email. He wants to make his next will.”

He’s had Sam draw up ten so far. That’s what happens when you’re a phoenix and never entirely sure when you’re going to burst into flame next.

“I’ll call him later.”

Their next door neighbours stroll in, using their key.

“Hi guys” Dean greets them. “Thought I’d make breakfast for us while the rugrats are out.”

“Sounds good” Sam says.

“Everything Dean creates is good” Cas says, even though he still technically doesn’t need to eat.

“Oh, shush” Dean replies, kissing him. “Anyone up for pancakes?”

And so what if several goblins fly in through open window and out another while Dean walks over to the fridge?

Sam sits down next to his wife and relaxes.

All is well.