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multifandomgirl08 · 7 months

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Something Bad, Something Good [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fiancée!Reader

Summary: Reader deals with the haters on Twitter, Nico calls Reader Mama. Max claps back at the haters on Instagram like the malewife that he strives to be.

Warning(s): slander of reader on Twitter (+ some people not being mean on Twitter at the end), fluff, Mixed formatting (Story + Social Media)

A/N: This was a request from this ask and was sent in by anon. I felt it was important to show that everything in life is give and take and I hope that this showed that.

11/12/2023 A/N: The last social media post was updated to match reader's face claim

Words: 2k

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You had seen it on twitter and it wasn’t long before you were down the rabbit hole. It had showed up on your Twitter feed when you opened the cursed app,

It started with a simple tweet and took you no time to find the source.

It was speculation that you had grown used to. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt that people thought that you were using Max because he had money. You knew that it probably wasn't just the small group of people on Twitter. It never was. There would always be people that wouldn't like that you were with Max. It was just the inevitable.

You had closed your phone when Nico had come up to you with one of his toy cars in hand.

“Are you sad Mimi?” Nico asked.

“No, Nico I’m not sad.” You reached for him before he moved to sit in your lap.

Nico didn’t need to know that people on the internet liked to be assholes for no real reason at times. They talked what they didn’t know about, and speculated on the obvious. Just another day of living in the 21st century.

“Someone wasn’t being nice to me. But, I have you and Papa, grandma, and Auntie Vic. So I should be okay.” You kissed the side of Nico’s head before he curled up with you on the couch to watch something.

You would be okay. They were just comments on a screen, as long as Max didn't find out it would be okay.

"Okay." he muttered before laying his head on your shoulder. You were still a bit jet lagged from getting back from your trip with Max and decided to close your eyes while the movie played on the TV.

“Papa,” Nico said. “Is Mama sad?”

Max looked up from his phone to see Nico in the living room.

They had only been back from their trip for a few days and Y/N had left to go get groceries with his mom. Sophie was leaving in the morning so Y/N insisted on cooking tonight before they dropped her off at the airport tomorrow.

Nico had never called Y/N mama before, not even when they had gotten back from their vacation, and told Nico that he and Y/N would be getting married.

“You called Y/N Mama, you haven’t before.” Max wanted to know why. Why now?

He knew that Nico had grown quite attached to Y/N after she had moved in with them. Nico liked spending time with Y/N. Nico had thrown a fit before they had left for their vacation because he would be without Y/N for a few weeks. His mom had called him once they had gotten to The Bahamas saying that Nico wanted Mimi to come home and had been crying since seeing Max's plane take off.

Nico gave a shrug of his shoulders. Maybe Nico was too young to understand the concept of a mother.

Nico walked away before pulling out one of the children’s books that he would read to Nico before bed. The story had a very basic structure that would appeal to Nico’s mind. It was about a mother lion taking care of her cubs.

Nico’s finger ran over the picture of the lions on the page before stopping on the mother lion. “She’s their Mama, like Mimi is mine. She takes care of me...” Nico trailed off.

He felt his phone buzz next to him, but didn’t check right away to focus on Nico. He pulled him into his arms and then to sit him on his knee.

“Nico, you know that you can call Y/N Mama, right?” He said to his son in Dutch.

Nico nodded.

“I’m sure that it would make her happy if you did.” Nico didn't say anything to Max for a moment. Max saw him nod.

"When is ...Mama coming home?" Nico slowly said, as if he was trying it out for the first time. Letting the word roll off his tongue, and then assessed if he liked it before giving a small nod that Max would have missed if he wasn't looking.

“Soon,” He said. "Why do you think Mama is sad?" He couldn't help but think back to what Nico said when he first came into the room.

Nico gave a small shrug, "She was looking at her phone yesterday. She looked sad."

Max was a little surprised. Why would Y/N be sad about something on her phone? He would ask her when she got home.

“Come, we’ll go play with some of your toys until she and grandma get home.” He was going to leave it at that. Nico didn't need to worry about that.

He checked his phone to see a text from Lando while Nico went to get out the toys that he wanted to play with.

Nico took things out of boxes while Max quickly texted Lando back,

Max quickly locked his phone turning to Nico to give him all of his attention to play with the mini model cars he had.

This was the why Y/N had been sad, she had seen what people were saying about her on Twitter. He wasn't going to even look because he knew it would just make him angry.

Max and Nico had played for a while before Max asked Nico if he would put all of his toys back.

It wasn’t much later that Max heard the front door open to Y/N and his mom walk through the door with groceries in their hands. Max moved from his spot on the couch and helped take the bags into the kitchen.

Max hugged his mom before pulling Y/N close, he cupped her cheek for a moment before kissing her on the lips. He just needed her to know that he was here for her if she needed anything.

“Hi.” He muttered feeling her pull away.

“Hey.” She said back. He tried to search her eyes to see if Nico was right. If she was sad, he couldn't see a trace of it at the moment.

There was the unmistakable sound of light feet against the hardwood floors.

Max and Y/N turned towards the sound to Nico standing just outside of the kitchen looking at them for a moment before running up to Y/N.

“Mama!” He yelled, before his little arms locked around Y/N’s legs.

Y/N looked down at Nico dropping her hand into his hair.

Max could see the tears filling at the corners of her eyes, not expecting to hear that.

Max couldn’t help but look over at his mom, and could see the approval on her face. It wasn’t something that he needed from her, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

He could see that Y/N pushed away the stray tears that had managed to fall before he had reached over and kissed her forehead letting his hand rest on Nico’s shoulder. Max reached up to cup her chin again feeling the slight tremble of her bottom lip. She was trying to stop herself from crying.

As he looked at her he could see the silent thank you in her eyes. Her letting him know how grateful she is to him for letting her have this. To truly be Nico’s mother.

Y/N had kissed the top of Nico’s head before his mom had shooed them out of the kitchen so they could put the groceries away. Max quickly kissed Y/N on the lips before giving his mom a hug and took Nico with him out of the kitchen.

Y/N had started dinner not long after and they ended up eating some pasta dish that took what felt like no time to cook. Through dinner every time Nico asked Y/N something it started with him calling her Mama. Y/N couldn’t wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the night.

Once Max was done clearing the table after dinner he quickly wrote a message and then posted it to his instagram story, from what he remembers his social media manager told him. It was easy enough. Once they were both up and he had checked them twice for spelling, he had left his phone on it's charger for the rest of the night.

He would never allow a few anonymous people to speak ill of his son's mother, Max loved her too much for that.

maxverstappen1 has added to their story

Sophie had called it an early night so she could finish packing and offered to put Nico to bed. Neither he nor Y/N refused.

Max had tried to get comfortable in bed but he couldn't manage it.

"What's going on?" Y/N said as she climbed into bed. "You’re never like this."

"I got a text from Lando today. Apparently, people on Twitter were talking about you." Max watched as Y/N stopped in her tracks, slowly sitting back against pillows.

She knew, she had seen those comments.

"I'm assuming that you saw them." She said.

"No, I didn't.” He didn’t need to see it to know that Lando was telling him the truth. “Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.

"Because it doesn't matter." Max wanted to fight her on that. People on the internet shouldn't have a right to say things like that about her.

“Y/N,” He started to say.

"I'm his mother Max, Nico sees me as his mom. That's why none of those comments matter." She continued. "I never knew how much I needed to hear him call me that until he did today."

Max could only guess for Y/N how different it was to actually hear Nico call her Mama for the first time. Max remembers the first time that Nico had called him Da. It was barely audible, but Nico had looked right at him when he had said it. He wasn't sure if he was able to breathe after that.

He let out a deep breath before opening his arms for her. She pushed back the sheets resting herself against his side, playing with the loose thread at the hem of his grey t-shirt.

“Mijn leeuwin,” He started to say. “Is this something that you want?” He asked.

“Do you want to legally be his mother?” They had talked about this months ago after he already had gone to get the ring made. Making it legal was just another step for them to fully be a family.

“I don’t need to legally be his mom Max.” She stiffened in his arms, seeing the reflection of the diamond ring just out of the corner of his eyes.

“Do you want to though?” He echoed. He knew that she didn’t need it, she hadn’t in the last few months since they had talked about it the first time. She had never pushed for Nico to call her anything other than the nickname that he had for her.

He looked to see her slightly nod, her eyes glassy with the threat of tears ready to spill from her eyes.

“I’ll give it to you.” He could make it happen, a few calls to his lawyer, looking through the papers that his ex left him about giving up her parental right to Nico, talking to Raymond and it could all be settled just after the wedding.

“Max.” She dropped her head to his shoulder. She didn’t have to say anything else but his name. As she looked up at him again he could see how grateful she was for letting her have the option to legally become Nico’s mother.

Neither of them had to say anything in that moment. It was settled, they were going to start the process of Y/N adopting Nico.

It wasn’t long after that they both fell asleep curled up around each other. Exhausted from the high emotions of the day.

maxverstappen1

Liked by sophiekumpen, victoriaverstappen and 523,345 others

maxverstappen1 Miji Familie

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August 19, 2024

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv33 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 imagines

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seehisbriefs · 2 months

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Picture yourself settled in the common area of your dorm, buried in your studies, donning a t-shirt and, of course, those tighty whities – the only underwear your parents deem appropriate for their darling 23-year-old. Suddenly, your dorm mates, Brad and Tyler, emerge, on the hunt for a bit of fun. They catch sight of you and can't contain their amusement.

Brad: "No way, man, are you actually just chillin' in tighty whities? That's just too good!"

You glance around, mortified, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, and stammer out a feeble response.

Tyler: "We have to share this moment. Hey, everyone, come see what we've got here!"

You shrink back, trying to sink into the couch, your whiny protests barely audible.

You: "Please, don't... This isn't... I'm just... studying."

But it's no use. Brad's already got a firm grip on you, and Tyler's rallying the troops.

You: "Stop it, guys... It's not... Stop laughing!"

With one on each side, they hoist you up, your arms flailing weakly as you're paraded down the hall, the snickers of your dorm mates trailing behind you.

Tyler: "Feast your eyes on the king of old-school cool in his tighty whities!"

You're practically wilting with embarrassment as the hallway fills with curious and chuckling students. You feel so exposed, so childish.

Sophie, from your biology class, peers out, her mouth agape.

Sophie: "Oh my... That's him? I can't... tighty whities? Really?"

Brad: (with a smirk) "Right? It's like he's living in the past. Hey, maybe we should upgrade him to big boy pants!"

Whispers and giggles fill the air, and you can feel the shame settling heavy on your shoulders.

Tyler: "Or maybe some superhero underoos? Might as well embrace the whole kid vibe!"

Your voice cracks as you plead with them, the embarrassment turning your pleas into whines.

You: "Please... just let me go. This isn't right... you guys are being so mean..."

But the walk of shame continues. You're the spectacle, the college senior who can't seem to let go of his boyhood underwear. As you stand there, the butt of the joke, all you can think about is how your parents always seem to know best. They've always said you weren't ready for the adult world, and right now, you can't help but feel they might be right.

#eum #tighty whities #embarrassed underwear

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liz-lil-oc-corner · 10 months

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Things To Never Say To Someone Who Just Came Out D.A.C Edition

Aka i drew over some of my OCs over some slides of that one slideshow that became a meme

“Behold! The oracle spoke the truth!”

You can be supportive without mentioning that a blind old woman prophesied your friend’s sexuality to you years ago.

“I’m gayer.”

It’s not a competition.

“You’re so lucky you don’t have to donate blood now.”

This is actually deeply unfair to queer people who desperately want strangers to have their blood.

“In that outfit?”

Not everyone comes out as stunningly as you.

“You still owe me $45.”

They do, but give them a minute.

“Oh, like Ellen!”

Comparing a friend or acquaintance to Ellen DeGeneres at one of their most vulnerable moments is about the cruelest thing you could do.

#twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland fan school #Destiny Araneae College #Úr'sidaesh #Portumbra #Catriment #Joujoulen #Soarinure #Barbara Bathgate #Layla Teras #Margarita Jiménez #Violet Dazzle #Sophie Trail #Alba Marques

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cressida-jayoungr · 9 months

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One Dress a Day Challenge

August: Fantasy & Sci-Fi

Return to Oz / Jean Marsh as Mombi and Sophie Ward as Mombi II

I was lucky enough to grow up in a town whose library had a nearly complete collection of the Oz books, so of course I remembered Princess Langwidere and her collection of heads! It was great to see that onscreen, even though they merged the characters of Langwidere and Mombi.

In the book, she only wore a simple white dress, as changing her head gave her all the variety she wanted. But I think the burgundy-and-plum gown created for the movie by designer Raymond Hughes is gorgeous, with its iridescent patches and art nouveau swirls. A particularly interesting feature is the rack of golden splinters trailing back from the shoulders, almost like they're trying to form into fairy wings but aren't quite complete.

#return to oz #fantasy costumes #jean marsh #one dress a day challenge #one dress a week challenge #movie costumes #sophie ward #1985 movies #1985 films #raymond hughes #princess langwidere

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janaispunk · 4 months

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it’s the season

part of the space sisters secret santa 2023 - for @pascalispretty, merry christmas sophie! 🫶🏻

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~ 1.8k

summary: Joel had promised his daughters that they would bake Christmas cookies this weekend - which turns out to be more complicated than he had anticipated. Fortunately, their new neighbor next door can help.

tags: AU! no outbreak, Joel has both of his daughters, FLUFF, hints at reader’s sad backstory but nothing specific, mentions of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, I think that’s it? Let me know if I missed something <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

full masterlist here

follow @janaispunknotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates

shoutout to @reddedmiller for holding my hand while writing this and convincing me that it’s not trash, i love you bby <3

It’s Sunday, one week until Christmas, and Joel Miller is beginning to lose his mind.

His daughters had been bugging him about baking Christmas cookies with them for weeks, and he wants nothing more than to make them happy, but while Joel is many things, he’s certainly not a baker.

Work has been hectic lately, which apparently led to him forgetting to buy the ingredients that the girls swear up and down they had requested several times.

He’s had to sent Sarah to ask one of their neighbors to lend them something twice now and by the looks of it, he’s gonna have to do it a third time. She groans and insists to take Ellie with her this time, complaining about how this is “sooooo embarrassing, Dad!”

You furrow your brow when your doorbell rings for the third time in half an hour, a slightly disbelieving look on your face when you open the door and once again reveal the young girl from next door standing on your porch, this time accompanied by who you think is her younger sister.

You only moved into the house a month ago and don’t really know any of your neighbors, except for the elderly couple that lives a few houses over. They had introduced themselves hours after you moved in and have tried to invite you to come to Sunday church with them several times, an invitation that you consistently decline.

You know the girls though, you often see them through your windows, constantly pestering their father, who constantly fends them off in a kind of gruffy but clearly loving manner.

The girl who had introduced herself as “Sarah” when she first came by thirty minutes ago to ask for baking powder smiles at you apologetically.

“Hi… again. I’m so sorry, do you by any chance have cinnamon as well?”

You can't help but laugh this time. “What are you guys even doing over there? I think I do, why don’t you come in while I go check?” They nod and follow you into your kitchen where you start digging through your supply of baking ingredients.

“Our Dad said he’d bake Christmas cookies with us today, but he forgot to get the groceries for it,” the other girl explains. “I’m Ellie, by the way.” You smile and tell her your name, then hand over the cinnamon to them.

“That’s very sweet of your Dad,” you remark, “I’m sure he’s trying his best.”

Ellie’s eyes fly over your neatly organized collection of ingredients and baking utensils, then her face lights up with an idea.

“Hey! You look like you’re a good baker and our Dad is really struggling to be honest. Do you want to come over and join us?”

“Ellie,” Sarah argues, “you can’t just invite people like that, I’m sure she has plans already.”

You don’t, to be fair, but you’ve never spoken to their father before, who’s rather giving the impression that he likes to keep to himself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude…” you begin, when Sarah looks around herself and notices that you don’t have any Christmas decorations up around your house.

“Or do you not celebrate Christmas?” she asks, “You obviously don’t have to come if that’s not…”

Your heart warms at how considerate the young girl is trying to be. “No I do, I just didn’t…” you trail off, not sure how to explain that it feels pointless putting up decorations just for yourself and that you don’t want the reminders that it will be the first Christmas in your life that you’ll be spending completely alone. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face. You do like baking and maybe this will help getting you into the spirit.

“You know what? Okay, if it’s alright with your Dad, I’ll come over and see how I can help.”

Both girls beam at you and you follow them over to their house, where you find their Dad elbows deep in a mixing bowl with dough sticking to his fingers and swearing to himself under his breath. You feel awkward and definitely like an intruder but the girls’ mouths are going a mile a minute, explaining how you had soooo many baking supplies and that you had agreed to help them.

Their Dad introduces himself as “Joel” and you feel your cheeks heating when you notice how attractive he is up close. You had already thought that when you’ve seen him from afar, but now that you’re standing in his kitchen, it really hits you. Trying to snap out of it, you take a closer look at the dough that he’s fighting with.

“This needs more flour, then it’ll be less sticky,” you mutter, suddenly feeling a bit shy, and go to add it to the mix in his bowl. He huffs a “Thanks” and you smile, still fighting the heat in your cheeks but also feeling excitement buzz through you as your hand brushes against his when you pull back.

The girls kick back into action then, throwing several recipes at you that they want to try and you do your best to coordinate it all, running back to your place for ingredients several times, accompanied by an apologetic look from Joel every time, but you honestly don’t mind. His daughters are adorable and you’re having more fun than you’ve had in months.

Sarah turns on the radio and Christmas songs sound through the kitchen. With the music in your ear and the smell of freshly baked cookies in your nose, you feel at ease, comfortable.

When all the cookies are baked and thoroughly taste tested, the girls retreat to their rooms on the upper floor, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. You find that you don’t want to leave, don’t want to go back to that big empty house where it’s just you, not now that you’ve basked in the warmth of this family home right next to yours all day. And just maybe, you want to spend more time with Joel.

“I have a bottle of pretty good red wine, shall I go and bring that? Half of my kitchen’s contents are here already” you joke and Joel laughs.

“I’m sorry about that, I’m usually better prepared, but work’s been crazy these weeks and the girls insisted on baking today, so…” He scratches his neck and you smile at him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had a great time today. Finally got me into the holiday spirit a bit, I kinda really needed that.”

You walk over and take the wine bottle back to his place where you sit down in the living room, the Christmas tree that has been mostly decorated by the girls shining in the corner and the several strings of fairy lights that Sarah has spread all over the room glowing around you.

You feel a warmth and comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time, but also a kind of envy for this feeling of family, of how clearly this man and the two girls belong together, how their house is basically imbued with love for each other. A feeling that you’re not sure you’ve ever had, but that you suddenly find yourself desperately longing for.

“So…” Joel begins, a faint expression of uncertainty on his face. “Is it just you over there, or…?” You understand what he’s asking and nod, a wry smile playing around your lips.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story, really, but yes, it’s just me.” The understanding is clear on his face and he doesn’t push you, sensing that you don’t want to expand on the subject and you’re grateful.

You still talk about both of your pasts, where you grew up, where you went to school, learning that Joel lost his parents when he was young, only two years after he had Sarah, how it had been just the both of them in the beginning, with the addition of his younger brother whom he speaks of with the loving kind of exasperation that only an older sibling can muster up, and how he adopted Ellie a few years later.

You finish the bottle quicker than you would like to, and when Joel walks you home and you’re both stood in front of your door, you’re drunk on more than the red wine, a happiness in your veins that warms you from within.

Joel clears his throat, his eyes trained on your face.

“Listen, I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’, but would you want to come over for Christmas Eve? ‘S just me an’ the girls, nothin’ fancy, just-“ he shrugs, his hands buried in his pockets, “don’t like the thought of you alone in this house on Christmas.”

It might be embarrassing how quickly you say “yes”, but you can’t bring yourself to feel that way. A smile stretches across Joel’s face as he tells you “good night” and kisses your cheek before you step into your house and watch him walk back to his.

Christmas at the Miller household is one of the best evenings that you’ve ever had. Sarah and Ellie have gone all out on the decorations now that they have a guest, leaving twinkling lights, glitter and ornaments in every corner and on every surface, Joel makes a surprisingly good dinner, you’re playing board games with the girls that dissolve into fights between them most of the time, everyone is talking over each other and you’re all eating chocolate until you’re sick with the sugar high.

Late in the evening, with both of the girls softly snoring on the couch, tangled up in each other like two overly large kittens, Joel and you are sharing another bottle of wine. You feel so full of happiness that you feel like you might burst, a smile on your face that feels like it’s never gonna leave again.

When it’s time for you to go home, Joel stands with you and walks with you to his front door. “Thank you again, for inviting me,” you smile at him, “this was probably the best Christmas Eve that I’ve ever had.”

He nods, his gaze dancing between your eyes and your lips.

“Merry Christmas,” you murmur, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He leans in and you hesitantly do the same. Before you can overthink it, you cradle his face in your hands and pull him towards you, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers against your lips.

i hope you liked this!!! merry christmas and happy holidays 🫶🏻

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #janas fics #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel and sarah #joel and ellie #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff

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christinarowie332 · 6 months

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you coming over or what ?

matt sturniolo x reader

angst to fluff .

warnings: language, that’s all really !! just smooching

requested: kinda , anon wanted more matt , more angst and more fluff , thank you anon

————————-

i have allways been a push over . well . not really . i just find the good in people , and that’s all i see .i get blinded by a small compliment , a small gesture , a shift in their attitude , and i run with it . i use it as fuel to run the fire that is a toxic and dangerous relationship. the fire ends up consuming me , engulfing the small embers of my heart that still somehow burns . eventually the fire burnt out , leaving ash . leaving a cold and hollow hole like a cigarette had created it .the only red and orange hues that still slowly burn in my chest is anger . hate . for one man and one man only .

matthew sturniolo .

i look down to the phone placed on my lap , neck muscles pulling at the sudden movement, a cold rush sent through ligaments as they have not been used in a while .my eyes have been glued to the tv for the past hour or so , only movement has been looking for my disgarded vape , or to trail a misplaced shadow , wondering if it’s a ghost ,my fucking anemia or lack of sleep fucking with my brain.

my eyes travel across the phone screen .

““matthew bernard sturniolo” sent you a message”

oh fuck off

i grab my phone from my thighs , sitting up straight and open the i message notification.

what?

my eyebrows furrow at this . a thousand thoughts fill my mind . i ignore the one that says go , i ignore the one that says you know how u feel , i ignore them all . the only one i pick apart , type out , and send , reading this;

me: the fuck u texting me for ??

matt: who’s this ?

me: u sent the message fuck ass??? soph???

matt: oh

me: oh ???

matt: wrong sophie mb

me: k

i roll my eyes and close my phone . my attention should be on my tv again , that’s where i’m looking . i’m looking at a scene i’ve watched multiple times , this being the 100th time i’ve watched the originals . my attention should be on the man on my screen. but it’s not . who the fuck is sophie ? why the fuck did he ask her to come over ? he knows another sophie ?

before my mind can react , my hand is on my phone . my thumbs jumping from each letter , playing hopscotch with my future . i don’t care . i really don’t , i’m just intrigued is all . that’s what i tell my self . no . that’s the truth .

me: k read 8:03

me: who’s sophie ?

i’m not quite sure when i started to hate matt . i mean we were never friends, i met chris first , then i met nick . i became friends with them , then naturally met matt . he had a girlfriend at the time , a stupid annoying stuck up bitch who allways had it out for me . bitch . so naturally i stayed away from him , and never really got to know him other then as nick and chris’s brother , matt didn’t try and talk to me so it became kinda awkward. then the awkward became “why is she/he here” and “why don’t they like me” and “fine i just won’t like him” . even his face pisses me off , the annoying blue eyes , the bags , the chiseled cheekbones , his lips . not in a weird way . he just never shuts the fuck up so of course i’m looking at his lips . what else am i gonna look at ? his hands ? the annoying ass rings he wears ??? his tattoos ….. i mean yeah i like tattoos but why does he have them ? and don’t get me started on the-

a ping from my phone snaps me from my thoughts .

matt: don’t worry about it .

god he’s pathetic.

me: what is she your new girlfriend…. couldn’t get me so pick the next best sophie .

matt: fuck off

i chuckle at myself, smiling at the messages . before i see a text bubble appearing .

matt: you coming over or what ?

…

my heart starts to quicken along with the pace of my thoughts . why the fuck does he want me to come over ? i weigh the pros and cons in my head , i go through the different scenarios , i even practice what i’m gonna say , what arguments i have for him . in all of these i’m left confused and intrigued .

if curiosity killed the cat , this pussy is fucked.

i don’t give myself a second to back out , grabbing my phone , letting him know i’m on my way , grabbing my keys and before i know it i’m pulling out of my driveway and halfway to his house .

the drive is a short one usually , more often then not it’s an excited and happy drive , knowing i get to see my two best friends .and i get to argue with matt . but this one is different, my hands are gripping my wheel , depriving my fingertips of blood as my palms strangle the warm leather . my eyes dart across the road , to my mirror , to the map , showing me in perfectly placed pictures the destination of my mistake .the road mocks me with the traffic lights i pass . each time it counts down to red , illuminating a big “game over”, taunting me with its game . within seconds , i’m putting my car in neutral . within a few more im out side of his door , knuckles hovering over the wood.

two knocks.

three seconds

“hey”

his hair is messy , eyes are heavy and his face is a dead and emotionless one. i exhaile a breath . pulling myself together and barge past him , shoulders colliding, knocking him back a step .

“nice to see you too” he continues, before slamming the door and turning towards me .

“why am i here matt .” i ask , defeat and impatience laced in my voice , crossing my arms .

“you literally drove your self here? you tell me” matt replies , walking past me , towards his living room and dropping his body onto the couch. i scoff and turn to walk towards him , slumping in the spot farthest away from him on the creme sofa .

“you quite literally asked me to come” i finally replied,he smirks slightly and turns his head towards me , eyes still on the tv before he meets my eyes .

“wow . i ask , you come ? that easy ? man you must be obsessed with me” he condescends , leaning forward and looking me up and down.

i huff a breath from my nose and raise my eyebrows , before grabbing a pillow and covering my body , feeling naked infront of him.

“oh please , the only reason i’m here is pure intrigue, just because i share a name with your little slut doesn’t mean i’ll let you-“

“who the fuck are you talking about” he cuts me off , pure confusion and disgust painted across his features .

“sophie ??? the girl you were meant to text ??” i ask before leaning back and looking around dramatically “ is she here ??? do i get to meet her , SOPHIEEEE , WHERE ARE YOUUUU-”

a hand cups my mouth and cuts me off , i turn around to see the boy attached to it leaning over me , inches away from my face . my heart quickens slightly before i feel my ears heat up , my breathing under his palm becoming more harsher .

“chris and nick are asleep right now , shut the fuck up” matt says in a slight whisper, his now wide eyes darting between mine rapidly , then falling to his hand over my mouth and removing it before speaking.”sorry ….. i don’t want them waking up , especially if you’re here”

i’m speechless for an embarrassingly long time , my hurried breaths fanning his hair at the closeness . he notices this and moves back , still sat near me . we sit in awkward tension for a while before he speaks up again.

“there isn’t another sophie”

what

“what?” my head whips towards him , eyebrows furrowed , his eyes meet mine , surprisingly soft features gleaming in the dim lighting from the floor lamp and kitchen light .

unbeknownst to her , the words meant more then she knew . she is the only sophie . the only girl that ever occupies his mind . his sophie . it doesn’t matter that she hates him . she hates him. there was no one else for him .

“u literally said “the fuck you texting me for” what else was i supposed to say . “oh i want to hang out ? we haven’t seen each other in a while !! yeah you hate me but i’m sure u wanna spend time with me alone” he mocks me , using air quotes and talking with his hands . i smile at him for a second before realizing i was and dropping it immediately.

“ ok …. why the fuck do u want to hang out with me ? you also hate me ? right?” i reply, genuinely, we have spent a year and a half being horrible to each other . i’m met with silence, his eyes fall to the couch cushions , eyebrows curled downward matching his perplexed expression. “matt i don’t understand you ? what do u mean you want-“

i’m cut off as he heaves forward and collides our lips , his hands grab my face holding it close to his. my eyes widen and i think a million things. none of the scenarios never prepared me for this . none of the conversations ended with this . and i cannot argue with him on this. i move with him and relax in his hold , my hands cover his on my face , before moving one to the back of his neck pulling him impossibly closer. the years of using our tongues as knifes , battling in heated arguments, cutting each other apart with the wielding of words prepared us for this . we lay down our swords and use our tongues in perfect harmony. our kiss like a puzzle peice finally fitting together . a dance perfectly paced .

i pull away first , the bewilderment finally hitting me . all this time ? he felt it .

“i didn’t mean , a single word i said . do you know how it felt, to be around you , knowing that i was completely ,and irrevocably in love with you.” he pants out each phrase, the breath he held to kiss me finally filling his lungs. “i was with her , and loved you , she knew soph , she knew i loved you before i did . i made you hate me because i couldn’t love you and be with her , i couldn’t be around you because all i wanted to do was kiss you . all i ever wanted was you . then when i could love you …. when i finally broke up with her …. you still hated me . i’m so sorry i’m sorry im-“

i cut him off now , reattaching our swollen lips , i desperately kiss him , needing him to know more then anything that i understand. “matt” i pull away and grab his face now , forcing him to look at me , forcing him to understand. “i have never hated you , not really. i hated when i couldn’t have u , i hated when i couldn’t hold u , i hated when i couldn’t love you .god i love you matt , allways have” i breathlessly ramble out , the months of pretending finally being lifted from my shoulders, relaxing as he pulls them towards him , wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.

in his arms i feel myself drift off , hearing his rapid heartbeat slowly dying down , my head rising and falling on his chest as he takes in his breath . we’re both aware of the conversation to be had in the morning. and of the explanation to his brothers when they find two people that spend their time sending death threats each others way , wrapped together in each others limbs . but the comfort and warmth of the room and each others body’s is enough to will us both asleep .

still kinda hate him tho .

—————-

🤍🍼

what a little bitch bro being all cute and shit . (can this be us matty poo 🥺🥺🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️)

kinda hate this . felt like the angst wasn’t angsty enough. next time i’ll make someone cry but i wanted sophie to also be the problem and also be a bitch 😇

love ya !!!!

tag list :

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @strniohoeee @azkabanstar @daddyslilchickenfingers @kenzieiskoolaid @kvtie444 @luvsturniolo @lustfulslxt @littlebookworm803 @lovingsturniolo @deatthmatch @sturnphilia @biimpanicking @bluesturniolo333 @parkerssecrets @urmyslxt

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #milkietalks #milkie is down bad #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo #send anons

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months

Text

Dead in the Water | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, Dean and the reader are dickish to each other

Word Count: 9338

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You were sitting inside of a diner across from Dean, munching on the last of your fries as he circled names in an obituary. Sam had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and you and Dean refused to speak to each other unless it was to start a petty fight.

The pretty blonde waitress returned, leaning over the table and showing off her boobs. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked Dean.

You looked over at him as he grinned around the pen he was chewing on.

You suppressed an eye roll, addressing Wendy. “Just the check, please.”

“Okay,” she smiled at you, glancing over at Dean once more. The waitress strutted away, and Dean dropped his head down before looking over at you.

“You know, (Y/N), we are allowed to have fun once in a while.” He pointed at the waitress as she walked into the kitchen, “That's fun.”

“You can have fun when we find your dad.”

Dean went to say something back to you, but Sam sat down and effectively cut the conversation short.

“Hey,” he said. “What’d I miss?”

“Just your brother trying to pick up our waitress,” you stated, glaring pointedly at Dean.

“Can it, (Y/N).” He put the newspaper in front of Sam. “Take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin.” He pointed to the obituary he had circled in the paper. “Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.”

“A funeral?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure, or whatever,” the older of the two shrugged.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.”

Dean’s expression hardened. He squared his shoulders and leaned forward on his forearms on the table. “Something you want to say to me?”

You took a sip of your drink, eyes widening as you looked down and to the side of you, feeling pretty awkward.

“The trail for Dad,” Sam started, “It's getting colder every day.”

Dean sighed. “Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?”

“I don't know. Something. Anything.”

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude.” Dean’s tone was harsh as he spoke. “You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?”

“Yeah, I know you do, it's just—”

Dean cut his younger brother off. “I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?”

Sam rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he did so.

The waitress walked past again, effectively distracting Dean from his anger toward Sam. His gaze was focused right on her ass.

You snapped your fingers a mere inch in front of his face.

He jerked back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “What was that for?!”

“For focusing on getting your dick wet instead of the task at hand,” you replied.

Dean went to shoot something back at you, but Sam was quick to jump in. “Alright—” he directed his next question at Dean, “—Lake Manitoc, how far?”

***

You had been driving for what felt like forever. Lake Manitoc was, in fact, pretty far from the diner you had stopped at. In between playfully bickering with Sam about the cultural impact of 1995’s Clueless and fighting with Dean over the stupidest thing, you had been doodling in your journal to keep you occupied. You were focused on drawing the wendigo from your previous hunt to the most detailed extent your memory would allow.

Most of your sketches were placed next to journal entries about the hunts you embarked on, or you wrote around them once you had finished your drawings. The drawings themselves were halfway decent, in your opinion. However, you always wished you would’ve been able to take art classes in your youth and had some semblance of normalcy. You did all your shading and drawing with black pens you’d purchased while hopping state to state. You found the process relaxing and helpful at getting your mind off the horrors of your day to day life.

Your shading process was interrupted by the Impala’s roaring engine stalling to a low rumble in front of what had formerly been the drowning victim’s home.

You got out of the car and headed up the painted green steps leading to the house. The wooden stair boards creaked beneath your boots as you walked. Dean knocked on the door of the house and was greeted by a man that looked to be about your age standing there.

“Will Carlton?” Dean questioned the young man.

“Yeah, that's right.”

“I'm Agent Ford,” the older Winchester started. “This is Agent Hamill—” he gestured to Sam, “Agent Fisher—” he gestured to you, “We're with the US Wildlife Service.” He held his fake badge up for Will to see. “Can we ask you a couple questions? Maybe see the spot where your sister went down?”

“Sure,” Will nodded. He led you and the boys down to the edge of the water. “She was about a hundred yards out.” He pointed at a spot far out into the lake. “That's where she got dragged down.”

“And you're sure she didn't just drown?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer,” Will answered. “She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

The older man sitting on a bench on the wooden dock that jutted out into the lake grabbed your attention. The following interrogation was just background noise to you as you studied the man’s slumped over form.

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam piped up.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.” Will was failing at keeping his aggravation at bay. You were sure he had already had a week full of questioning keeping the wound of his sister’s passing ripped wide open.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?”

“No. Again, she was really far out there.”

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?”

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?”

“We'll let you know as soon as we do,” you heard Dean say. You sucked in a breath when Dean suddenly yanked on your arm to get you to follow him to the car.

“What was that for?” you hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“You wanna stop creeping on the old man and focus on the case?”

“I wasn’t creeping on him,” you replied.

“Yeah? Well, then what were you doing?”

“Just... thinking,” you answered.

“You can think when we’re not in the middle of talkin’ to a witness,” he told you.

“Are you that much of a control freak that I can’t think when I want to?” you asked incredulously. “Grow up.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something back to you, but Sam cut him off in an attempt to stop a fight from happening in front of the Carltons. “Okay, so. Can’t talk to Mr. Carlton.“

“Okay...” you trailed off, “So our best bet is the police station, then.”

***

The sheriff, whose name you found out was Jake, walked out from behind the desk in the police station’s lobby as he addressed you and the boys. “Now, I’m sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?”

“You sure it's accidental?” Sam challenged. “Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.”

Jake led you and the Winchesters into his office. “Like what?” He motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Here, sit, please.”

You took a seat in one of the chairs and Dean sat in the other. Sam leaned on the back of your chair as the sheriff continued to speak.

“There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yeah, Dean laughed, “Right.”

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still—” Jake sat down behind his cluttered desk, leaning forward on it on his forearms, “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That's weird, though,” the older Winchester noted, “I mean, that's, that's the third missing body this year.”

“I know,” Jake started, “These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”

“I know,” Dean told him.

“Anyway,” the sheriff sighed, “All this...it won't be a problem much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned.

“Well, the dam, of course,” Jake stated as if it were obvious.

“Of course, the dam. It's, uh,” Dean stuttered awkwardly, “it sprung a leak.”

You jumped in before Dean could make the situation worse. “No, it’s falling apart, remember? The feds won’t give them the money to fix it, so they opened the spillway,” you told him.

“It’s good to see somebody does their research,” the sheriff commented. “As Federal Wildlife, you should already know that.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed.

A few quiet knocks on the door drew your attention behind you.

A pretty brunette walked into the office. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

You and Dean stood up, facing the young woman.

“I can come back later,” she said, turning to leave.

Jake’s voice stopped her movements as he stood up as well. “Gentlemen— and lady— this is my daughter.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” the older Winchester smirked.

‘Is he seriously making his voice deeper?’

“I'm Dean.” He shook the woman’s hand. You fought the urge to scoff, given he couldn’t spare you a handshake when he’d met you.

“Andrea Barr,” she smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He was eyeing her up and down.

‘He’s still fucking smiling.’

“They're from the Wildlife Service,” her father interjected. “About the lake.”

“Oh.”

A little boy with shaggy, copper-colored hair walked out from behind Andrea, his head down low.

“Oh, hey there,” Dean grinned at the boy. “What's your name?”

The child looked up at Dean with sad eyes before turning and walking out of the room without saying a word. Andrea looked at Dean apologetically before following who you assumed was her son out of the room.

“His name is Lucas,” Jake answered for the boy.

You watched as Andrea gave Lucas a box of crayons and ran her hand over his hair.

“Is he okay?” Sam asked.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have,” the older man admitted. He went and stood by the entrance to the office, turning to face you and the boys. “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” He led the three of you out of the office.

You thanked the sheriff.

Dean looked at the sheriff as he began to talk.“You know, now that you mentioned it—”

‘Oh, boy.’

He directed his attention toward Andrea, “—could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”

“Lakefront Motel,” she told him. “Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.”

“Two—” He feigned confusion. “Would you mind showing us?”

Andrea laughed. “You want me to walk you two blocks?”

“Not if it's any trouble,” Dean stated, his smile bright.

‘Is he for real?’

“I'm headed that way anyway,” she shrugged. She told her father she would be back to pick up Lucas at three and told Lucas that she would take him to the park before leaving with you and the boys.

“Thanks again,” Sam nodded at Jake as he followed Andrea out of the station.

You and Sam stayed a few paces back from Dean and Andrea as he attempted to charm the brunette. You and Sam both wanted the pavement to swallow you whole.

“So, cute kid,” you heard Dean tell her.

“Thanks,” she replied.

‘Short, to the point, not taking any of his crap,’ you thought. ‘I like her.’

“Kids are the best, huh?” the older Winchester tried again.

Andrea glanced back at him over her shoulder, shaking her head with a smile on her face as she continued walking.

She stopped in front of a place that said “Lakefront Motel” in bold, white letters, contrasting with the red background the words were placed upon. “There it is. Like I said, two blocks.”

Sam thanked her.

She turned to address Dean. “Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” She walked away, calling back over her shoulder, “Enjoy your stay!”

You let the laugh you were trying to suppress burst out of your lips. “I like her!”

“‘Kids are the best'? You don't even like kids.” Sam was not missing the opportunity to rag on his brother.

“I love kids!” his older brother argued.

“Name three children that you even know,” Sam responded.

Dean paused to think for a moment but came up empty. You waved your hands at him in a shooing motion before walking toward the motel with Sam.

“I’m thinking!” he called after the two of you.

“Have fun going to get the car, Dean!” you called back to him as his younger brother chuckled.

“We seriously just walked two blocks and left the car at the police station all so Dean could try to hook up with the hot mom,” you sighed, shaking your head.

You and the boys had gone to your separate motel rooms to unpack once Dean had grabbed your bags— well, his and Sam’s— making you go out to the Impala to get your own.

Sam told you that he and Dean were going to take some time to unpack and the three of you would meet up again later. You were never one for unpacking your duffel bag on hunts since you would not be staying in one location for very long. Instead, you took the downtime you had been given to do some research.

You pulled your laptop along with a few other items out of your bag before flopping down onto the flimsy mattress and kicking your combat boots off. As you blew out a puff of air, you opened your laptop to The Lake Manitoc Tribune’s browser page. You scrolled through article after article on the drownings in the town. One article, in particular, caught your attention. The headline read “Local Man in Tragic Accident” with the story of a man named Christopher Barr written below.

‘Christopher Barr... as in Andrea Barr?’

Your question was answered when you scrolled a little way down the page to see a picture of a soaking wet and traumatized Lucas wrapped in a towel. He was standing next to a policeman who you assumed was Lucas’s grandfather.

You read the article in full detail. It told the story of how Lucas and his father were out swimming in the lake when Christopher was pulled beneath the surface of the water. Lucas was floating on a nearby wooden platform at the time of his father’s drowning. Two hours later, Lucas was rescued.

‘That poor thing...’

You were no stranger to witnessing the death of a parent, so you knew how hard it must have been for Lucas. As far as you could tell from reading through loads of articles, Lucas was the only eyewitness to see whatever creature you were dealing with. This struck you as peculiar since there were so many accounts of other lake monster sightings, making you believe you were not dealing with something corporeal.

You heard a knock on the door moments later, and you opened it to find Sam standing there. You invited him into your room, and the two of you sat at the small table by the window of the room to talk.

“So,” he started, “we figured out what’s up with Lucas.”

“Yeah, I did too,” you responded. “That poor kid.”

“Yeah...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Back in our room. He’s still unpacking.”

“Jesus, how much shit does he carry around with him? He’s been unpacking for, like, forty-five minutes,” you scoffed.

“He’s slow,” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, so I’ve gathered,” you retorted.

You saw Sam’s eyes drift over to your bed where some of the contents of your duffel bag were scattered. He nodded at what you assumed was your open journal as he questioned, “You draw?”

“Yep,” you replied.

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair to grab it off your bed. You opened it to some of your most recent drawings and let him flip through them.

“Dude, these are really good,” he complimented you.

You thanked him with a smile. “I did one of you the first week I met you.” You showed it to him.

“Thanks,” he grinned. “This is amazing.” He looked from the drawing back up to you. “But why’d you draw me?”

“Well, I draw people I find interesting,” you shrugged. "You and that freaky head of yours are interesting.”

“Who are the other people you drew?” He gestured to one of an older woman from a few months back.

“Not a clue,” you answered. “Like I said, people I find interesting. Random people in bars, diners; pretty much anywhere.”

“That’s so cool,” he told you. Sam handed you the book back.

“What about you?” you asked as you took it from him. “You have any fun hobbies? Hidden talents I should know about?”

“Not really,” he replied. “I mean, I like to read.”

“Lame,” you joked, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed. “C’mon, there’s gotta be something more fun than that.”

“Well, I liked going to the gym at Stanford and going on runs.”

“Oh, so you’re a health nut,” you chuckled.

“I guess so, yeah,” Sam laughed.

A moment passed before you spoke again. “You remind me so much of my brother.”

He turned his head to you. “Didn’t know you had one.”

You shrugged. “I, uh, don’t talk about him much. But yeah.”

“What was his name?”

“I always called him ‘Stevie’ or ‘Bubba,’ but his name was Steven.” You smiled fondly at his memory. “He was super smart. Greatest person I’ve ever known.”

Before you could continue, you were cut off by a knock on the door.

“You girls done in there?” Dean called.

“I guess we are now,” you remarked.

Sam got up and let his brother into the room as you glanced at the clock on your bedside table that read “3:15.”

“We should probably head over to the park now,” you told the boys.

“Park? Why?” Dean inquired.

“Andrea said she was bringing Lucas there at three. He’s the only eyewitness we got, so we should probably try to talk to him,” you informed him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***

Conveniently enough for you and the Winchesters, there was only one park in Lake Manitoc since it was such a small town. You noticed Andrea sitting on a bench on the outskirts of the small field near the playground watching over her son. He was sat on the ground by another bench a little ways off from Andrea, using the bench as a table for him to color on. Lucas had crayons, paper, and what appeared to be green army men scattered on the bench.

“Can we join you?” Sam asked Andrea once you three had walked up next to her bench.

The brunette looked up at you three, smiling as she stated, “I'm here with my son.”

“Oh,” the older Winchester started, “Mind if I say hi?” Without waiting for her answer, he went over to Lucas.

Andrea addressed you and Sam as the two of you sat on the bench next to her. “Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.”

“I don't think that's what this is about,” Sam told her.

You watched as Dean knelt next to the young boy while Andrea and Sam talked about Christopher’s drowning. Lucas paid Dean no mind, continuing to color as Dean played with the army men on the bench briefly. He spoke a little more before grabbing a piece of paper and sitting on the bench. Dean showed off whatever he had drawn to Lucas before putting the drawing down when Lucas was unresponsive and decided to say something else to the young boy. Moments later, the older Winchester walked back over to you, Andrea, and Sam.

Andrea was saying something about how Lucas had not spoken since his father’s death as Dean reached your group.

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” Sam told her. “What are the doctors saying?”

“That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she explained.

“That can't be easy. For either of you.”

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw...” she trailed off and shook her head.

There was a short silence broken by Dean. “Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.”

You noticed Lucas get up from his seat by the bench out of the corner of your eye and make his way over to your group with a piece of construction paper in hand.

“You know,” Andrea began, “he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—” she was caught by surprise to see Lucas suddenly next to her. “Oh, hey, sweetheart.”

Lucas ignored his mom and looked up at Dean. He handed the man the picture.

“Thanks,” Dean nodded, looking the drawing over. “Thanks, Lucas.”

You caught a glimpse of the paper, recognizing the house in it but unable to place where you had seen it.

“We’ll see you around,” Sam told Andrea as you and the Winchesters turned away from the Barrs.

You studied Dean as he looked over the picture. In your mind, he was still a dick but had made the child feel comfortable enough to communicate by some means with him.

“What are you looking at?” Dean interrogated you gruffly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

‘And he’s back to being a dick.’

***

You slept pretty well that night but woke up groggy in deep need of coffee. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and got up from your bed, moving over to your duffel bag. You grabbed a clean black shirt from your bag along with a pair of jeans and socks. You tucked the oversized shirt into your jeans and tugged on your combat boots. After finishing your morning routine, you headed out of the door. You figured it was late enough that the boys should be up, and knocked on the door to their room. Sam opened it a few seconds later.

“I want coffee,” you stated dryly, feeling a bit like a zombie in your decaffeinated state.

“Me too,” he answered. “You want anything, Dean?”

The older brother grunted in response from somewhere within the room.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

After grabbing the Impala’s keys, you and Sam headed over to the car.

“Is he always that cheery in the mornings?” you asked referring to Dean.

“Yeah, he’s a joy to be around when he first wakes up,” Sam responded sarcastically. The two of you got into the car and Sam began to drive away from the motel.

“Ooh, I saw a cute little coffee shop over that way.” You pointed out of the passenger’s side window.

Sam followed your instructions, and soon the two of you were off for a drive in the neighborhood around the lake with coffees in hand.

You straightened up in your seat when you saw an ambulance in front of the Carlton house. “Pull over.”

Sam did as told, and the two of you hopped out of the car. There were several other onlookers standing near the house.

“What happened?” you asked one of the older women nearby.

“Oh, the young man who lived here, Will Carlton,” she began, putting a hand on her chest, “he died last night.”

“What?” Sam asked incredulously.

“The poor thing drowned.”

“How?” You gave the woman a quizzical look.

“I don’t really understand it myself,” she laughed uncomfortably, “he drowned in the sink. His father didn’t find him till this morning.”

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath.

“Poor Bill,” the older woman sighed, looking at the house. “First his godson in May, then his daughter, and now Will.”

“His godson?” Sam questioned.

“Christopher Barr.”

You looked up at Sam, who looked down at you with a confused expression that mirrored your own.

You said your goodbyes to the older woman and headed back to the car.

“This just gets weirder all the time,” Sam commented as he drove the two of you away from the scene.

“At least now we know there’s a connection to Bill Carlton,” you reminded him.

“But what did he do to deserve this?”

“Hell if I know.”

You and Sam filled Dean in on the situation as soon as you walked into the boys’ shared motel room.

“What the hell? So you're right,” Dean said, talking to Sam, “this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.”

“Yeah, but what?” you asked.

“I don't know,” he told you in an annoyed tone as if you had asked a stupid question. “Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...” he trailed off. He straightened up and his eyes grew wider as he came to a realization. “Water that comes from the same source.”

“The lake.” You were making the same connections he was.

“Yeah.”

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time,” you added.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.” Dean got up from the bed as he spoke, his stress level seeming to rise slightly. “This is gonna happen again soon.” He sat down on one of the chairs at the table near the window.

“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton,” Sam mentioned.

“Yeah, it took both his kids,” the older Winchester acknowledged.

“And this lady at the Carlton house said that Chris was Bill’s godson,” you explained.

Dean looked up at you and Sam. “Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

***

Your attempted questioning of Mr. Carlton had gone unsuccessfully.

“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please,” the older man dismissed you. Through the duration of his visit, he refused to look up from the boards of the wooden dock. His posture had been slumped over, and his facial expression remained solemn.

“We’re sorry,” you told him before you followed the boys back to the car.

“What do you think?” Sam asked.

“Aw, I think the poor guy's been through hell,” Dean replied. “I also think he's not telling us something.”

“So now what?” the younger brother inquired, leaning on the roof of the car.

“Huh,” you let out, still facing Bill’s home.

“What?” Sam asked.

“You got Lucas’s drawing on you by any chance?” you asked Dean.

He looked at you questioningly but pulled it out of his jacket pocket nonetheless.

You unfolded the paper and held it up next to the Carlton house. Lucas had drawn Bill’s house on the paper, which is why the drawing looked familiar to you.

“Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something,” Dean commented.

***

You and the boys were just inside the door of the Barr household, trying to get Andrea to let Dean talk to Lucas.

“I'm sorry,” Andrea expressed, “but I don't think it's a good idea.”

“I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes,” Dean pleaded.

“He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?”

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there,” Sam explained.

“My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all.”

You could tell Andrea did not really think that.

“If that's what you really believe, then we'll go. But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son,” Dean tried one last time.

Andrea gave in, showing you and the boys down the hall to Lucas’s room. Your group found Lucas sitting on the floor surrounded by drawings and army men. He was coloring another picture.

Dean walked into the room and crouched down beside the boy’s setup. “You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.”

You looked over at what Lucas was drawing. It was a person in the water. You quirked an eyebrow at it as Dean placed the picture of the Carlton house in front of Lucas.

“How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me,” Dean offered.

Lucas ignored him.

“You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”

That seemingly touched something within Lucas, who dropped the crayon and looked up at the older Winchester.

You heard Andrea suck in a breath as Lucas handed Dean a picture of a white church, a yellow two-story house, and a little boy with a red bicycle.

“Thanks, Lucas,” Dean said quietly.

***

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died,” Dean brought up as he drove along the highway. The three of you were attempting to find the place Lucas had drawn.

“There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies,” Sam explained.

“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please,” Dean remarked.

You leaned forward on your elbows on the back of the leather front seat. “All right, we got another house to find.”

“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean brought up, his tone once again implying what he thought you were suggesting was stupid.

Sam looked at the picture, which he held in his hand. “See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.”

“Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart,” the older brother mocked.

“You know, um...” Sam started. “What you said about Mom...You never told me that before.”

“It's no big deal,” Dean shrugged.

Sam looked at him with his signature puppy dog eyes expression.

“Oh God,” the older Winchester groaned. “We're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?”

You and the boys walked up to the yellow house that matched the one in the drawing. The house just so happened to be across the street from a church just like Lucas had drawn.

You were greeted at the door by a petite old woman. “Hello,” she smiled.

“Hi,” you grinned back. “I’m (Y/N), this is Sam and Dean—” you gestured between the two boys, “—we just have a question for you.”

“Come in, come in.” She was incredibly welcoming as she allowed you and the Winchesters into her home.

“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am,” Dean began, “but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.”

The woman’s formerly cheery disposition suddenly shifted to solemn. “No sir. Not for a very long time.” She looked over at a picture of a smiling little boy on a table in the living room. “Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.” She turned back to you and the boys. “The police never— I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” The woman’s voice wavered as she spoke.

Your eyebrows turned upwards out of sympathy for her.

Sam nudged your elbow and pointed out toy soldiers sitting on one of the side tables.

“Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.” The woman echoed Bill Carlton’s earlier statement.

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” the older Winchester question.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up,” the woman whimpered.

Dean picked up a picture off of a mirror in the room. It was of two little boys in boy scout uniforms, one of them being Peter with his red bicycle. “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy,” Dean read from the back of the photo.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam stated softly. “We’ll just be going now. Thank you for your time.” He and his brother turned to head out of the door.

The woman turned away, her sniffles tugging on your heartstrings as you went to follow the boys.

“Mrs. Sweeney?”

She turned to you, as did the boys, who watched from the door.

“Can I give you a hug?”

She seemed surprised by your question but accepted your offer nonetheless. As soon as you wrapped your arms around her, she broke down into sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered to her.

She nodded into your shoulder as a response.

After another moment, you released her and rubbed up and down her arms. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded once more.

You and the boys showed yourselves out. None of you said a word until about halfway through the drive.

Sam was the one to break the silence. “Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.”

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean mentioned.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.”

“So what if Bill did something to Peter?”

“What if Bill killed him?”

“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean’s eyes flickered to yours in the rearview mirror. “This is probably the quietest I’ve heard you since I met you, (Y/N). Wanna share what you’re thinkin’ about with the class?”

“Like you give a shit,” you grumbled back.

“I was trying to, but fine, keep being a bitch.”

You could not believe Dean. “What, you treat me like I’m stupid, act like a dick to me for weeks, and suddenly I’m supposed to believe you’re genuinely concerned?”

“Forget I asked.”

The Impala pulled in front of the Carlton house, and to your surprise, you had not seen Bill sitting on the dock. You and the Winchesters got out of the car, calling out to Mr. Carlton.

You wheeled around when you heard the roar of what sounded like a boat engine.

“Guys?” you called to the boys behind you when you saw Bill driving his boat out into the lake.

You immediately broke out into a sprint, yelling for the man to turn his boat around.

Bill turned his head to look at you three standing at the edge of the dock but continued driving out. As soon as he turned his head back around, the water beneath the boat sprang up as if a bomb had been blown up beneath the surface. Bill’s boat flipped over into the water, and neither Bill nor the boat ever resurfaced.

You and the boys called Jake to the scene of Bill Carlton’s disappearance. Neighbors gathered around the lake, looking for signs of Bill, the boat, or whatever had taken him down. After Jake found nothing and questioned the neighbors who witnessed what had happened, he asked you and the Winchesters to head back to the station with him.

Once inside the station, you spotted Andrea and Lucas sitting behind the desk in the police station’s lobby.

When the young woman saw you, she bounced up and put the bag that was in her hands on the seat behind her. “Sam, Dean, (Y/N), I didn’t expect to see you here.

Jake looked between your group and Andrea. “So now you're on a first-name basis,” he scoffed. “What are you doing here?” He directed the question to his daughter.

“I brought you dinner,” she explained.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't really have the time.” He shook his head and moved past her to head into his office, you and the boys hot on his tail.

The sound of Andrea’s voice made all four of you stop and turn around. “I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?”

“Right now we don't know what the truth is,” Jake relayed. “But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.”

As soon as the older man mentioned Lucas going home, the little boy jumped up with a panicked look on his face. He whined and tugged on Dean’s arm as Andrea and Jake tried to comfort him.

Andrea managed to get her son off of Dean and pull him out of the office. You watched the pair as they left, and noticed Lucas’s eyes never left Dean.

The sheriff threw his jacket onto a chair and scrubbed a hand through his hair as he walked into the office.

You looked at Sam and the two of you supposed you were to follow Jake.

You sat in one chair, Dean sat in the other, and Sam leaned on the back of your chair just as had happened before.

The older man leaned on the front of his desk in front of your trio. “Okay, just so I'm clear, you see,” Jake trailed off, recovering a moment later, “something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?”

“Yep, that about sums it up,” you replied.

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” Jake casually mentioned.

You managed to keep a poker face on, but apparently, Dean gave you away.

“That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you three.”

“See, now, we can explain that—” Dean started, but was immediately cut off by the officer.

“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Jake jutted his finger in your face as he spoke, his tone harsh.

“Door number two is... rather appealing.” You were trying to keep up your plucky attitude despite your circumstances.

“That's the one I'd pick,” he said sharply.

***

You had your head against the window, legs tossed to the side of you as the hum of the Impala’s engine was slowly lulling you to sleep.

Sam’s voice pulled you out of your haze. “Green.”

“What?” Dean asked. Apparently, he had been in a daze, too.

‘Not good considering this asshole’s the one driving.’

“Light's green,” Sam elaborated.

Dean turned right.

“Uh, the interstate's the other way,” you yawned.

“I know.”

“Oh-kay—” you dragged out the word, “—so why are you heading back to Lake Manitoc?”

“Cause I think we still got more work to do,” he responded.

“But Dean, this job, I think it’s over,” Sam interjected.

“I'm not so sure,” Dean replied shortly.

Sam gave his brother more pushback. “If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.”

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean argued.

“But why would you think that?”

“Because Lucas was really scared.”

‘Can’t argue with him there.’

The younger Winchester was caught by surprise. “That's what this is about?”

“I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” Dean tried to play off his concern nonchalantly, but you could see right through the act.

‘Aw, he does have a heart.’

“Y’know, I’m actually with Dean on this one,” you declared.

Dean quirked a brow at you in the rearview mirror, but you simply shrugged at him.

“Who are you two? And what have you done with my brother and (Y/N)?” Sam quipped sarcastically, glancing between you and his brother with a confused expression.

There was a slight pause before both you and Dean said in unison, “Shut up.”

***

“Are you sure about this?” Sam looked around as you and the Winchesters stood on the front porch of the Barr house. “It's pretty late, man.”

Dean ignored him, ringing the doorbell. Immediately it opened to reveal a panicked Lucas.

“Lucas? Lucas!” Dean called after the boy as he took off into the house.

You followed behind Dean as all four of you sprinted through the house. You heard a splash beneath your feet and realized water was pouring down the stairs in front of you. Lucas started to pound on the door that led to where the water was coming from, which you assumed was a bathroom.

Dean pulled Lucas out of the way just before you gave a powerful kick to the door, effectively knocking it in.

Inside the bathroom, the tub was filled to the brim with murky, brown water. You jumped out of the way to let Sam try to pull Andrea out of there, knowing he would be a better fit for the job than you were.

Sam eventually managed to pull her out of the bathtub. They landed with Sam on his back and Andrea on top of him, sobbing and coughing up water. You immediately offered the woman a towel you had found and wrapped her in it.

Lucas threw Dean off of him and immediately wrapped his arms around his mom.

Happy to see that she was okay, you and the boys let Andrea have some privacy to get dressed. After she had done that, she and Sam went into the living room to talk while you and Dean looked for a connection to Peter Sweeney.

You found a bookshelf full of photo albums and began giving the labels a quick once-over. You found one with “Jake— 12 years old” scrawled across the white label of the brown cover. You flipped to a page with pictures of the same Boy Scout troop that Peter Sweeney seemed to have been in from that picture you saw at the Sweeney house. You shut the book on your finger, holding your spot in the photo album.

“Whatcha got?” Dean asked.

“You’ll see.” You walked past him back into the living room. You opened the photo album to the page your finger was tabbing, putting the book in front of Andrea on the coffee table. “You recognize the kids in these pictures?”

She seemed caught off-guard, and you felt bad for potentially startling her after the night she had had.

“What? Um, no.” She took a pause. “I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” The brunette dragged her finger across the page gesturing to her dad as a young boy. Jake was standing next to who you recognized as Peter Sweeney in several of the pictures.

“Chris Barr's drowning,” Dean spoke up. “The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”

“Bill and the sheriff,” the younger man corrected his brother, “they were both involved with Peter.”

“What about Chris? My dad—what are you talking about?” Andrea was looking at the three of you like you were crazy.

“Lucas?” Dean’s voice brought your attention to the little boy staring out of the window. “Lucas, what is it?”

Lucas kept his gaze focused outside as he walked out of the door. Andrea continued to call after Lucas as you all followed him outside. Lucas stopped and looked at the ground and then up at the older Winchester, who stood beside him.

Dean faced Andrea. “You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?”

Andrea did as told, pulling her son away from your trio.

You turned to the brothers. “You guys still have those shovels in the trunk?”

“Keep workin’ hard over there, sweetheart,” Dean deadpanned.

You pushed yourself off of the tree you were leaning against. “Dude, you only had two shovels and you were too busy trying to be macho and digging whatever’s down there up yourself to let me use one of them,” you protested. “So don’t tell me shit about ‘working hard.’ But by all means—” you then started to use a mocking baby voice, “—if Dean is getting a wittle too sweaty, I’d be happy to take his pwace.”

“Nope. I got it.”

You loved using his stubbornness against him. “So hush your mouth.”

He glared back at you and plunged his shovel back into the dirt when the metal part of the shovel hit another piece of metal. You and Dean both looked down at what laid beneath the ground and you helped the boys pull the object out of the dirt.

“Peter’s bike,” Sam remarked.

You heard a gun cock behind your head before feeling the barrel pressed squarely on the back of it. “Who are you?”

‘Jake.’

The boys slowly turned around.

“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam pleaded.

Both he and Dean dropped their shovels.

“How did you know that was there?” The sheriff demanded.

The older Winchester did not answer his question. “What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” The sheriff’s lie was not even in the ballpark of convincing.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about.”

“Dad!” Andrea yelled, running up to the altercation.

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit,” Dean continued, keeping his eyes trained on Jake.

“Peter’s gonna get everyone you love— Lucas, Andrea— and drag their bodies god knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then it’s gonna take you. It won’t stop until it does,” you informed him, trying to keep your voice even despite the cold chill running down your spine emanating from the spot where the gun met your head.

Jake pressed the gun further into your skull. “Yeah, and how do you know that?”

“Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton,” you told the older man.

“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane!” he chided.

Dean scoffed. “I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.”

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea interrupted, her voice shaking.

“No,” her father lied. “Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.”

The brunette wasn’t having it. “Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.”

A pause followed.

“Tell me you—you didn't kill anyone,” Andrea pleaded.

No response came once again. You felt the gun behind your head drop away. You rushed over to Sam and Dean, your adrenaline still keeping your breath in a vice grip. You could see the guilt beginning to overtake Jake’s features.

“Oh my God,” Andrea breathed.

“Billy and I were at the lake,” Jake started to explain. “Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.”

‘Great,’ you thought. ‘Makes our job so much easier.’

Jake’s focus remained on his daughter. “Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.”

Dean was done with Jake’s skeptical attitude. “All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.”

Andrea turned her head and immediately cried, “Lucas!”

You turned your head in the direction she was looking to see the little boy leaning over the side of the lake reaching for something.

You took off, following close behind Jake as you ran. You spotted Lucas get pulled into the water by something, causing you to cry out his name. You ran off the solid ground onto the dock, leaping into the water once you reached the edge of the platform. You pulled yourself deep into the lake, trying your best to make out the shape of Lucas or the spirit of Peter. You went back up to the surface, taking in a deep breath. You looked over to Andrea on the dock, and she stared back at you with a panicked expression. You shook your head, diving back below the surface.

While you did not see Lucas, you did see a boy with skin pale gray and tattered clothing rising to the surface a mere few feet from you. You flinched back, the appearance of Peter’s spirit catching you off-guard. It grabbed Jake, who you just noticed had gone into the water and began pulling him under. You sprang into action, swimming as fast as you could over to where Jake was being pulled down. You reached your hand down, trying to grab him, but. it was too late. You were running out of air, and because the water below was getting blacker as you went deeper, you could not see Jake anymore.

You clawed your way back to the surface, gasping for air when you came up. Andrea looked at you frantically, and you shook your head once more. She screamed “No!” just before splashing coming from behind you on the right caught your attention. You looked behind you to see Dean holding an unconscious Lucas to his chest. The poor little boy’s head was lying on Dean’s shoulder limply, and you and Sam swam to help him. Sam took Lucas ashore, and you checked him over to see if he would need CPR. Once you determined that he would, you immediately set to work. You were able to revive him with two cycles of rescue breaths and chest compressions. He immediately coughed up water as air filled his lungs once more. You got out of Andrea’s way and let her hug her son.

The scene before you— Andrea on her knees, crying and hugging her rescued son— was the reason why you did what you did. Seeing families reunited and given a temporary happy ending was what made you love hunting, despite how gruesome the job could get at times. You figured that even though your life was so screwed to hell, at least you could save the lives of others.

Once you and the boys had changed clothes, dried off, and packed up, you began loading your stuff into the car. Dean clearly had something on his mind, and you were not the only one to notice.

“Look, we're not gonna save everybody,” Sam reminded his brother, having figured out what Dean was mulling over.

“I know." His voice was distant.

“Sam, Dean, (Y/N),” you heard Andrea call.

You looked up to see the young woman walking toward you with Lucas, who carried a tray of food wrapped in cellophane.

You all walked toward each other, stopping once you had met in the middle.

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road,” Andrea smiled. “Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”

“Can I give it to them now?” Lucas asked his mom.

The sound of his voice made you smile.

“Of course.” The young woman kissed her son’s head.

“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” Dean led Lucas over to the car, and you stayed with Sam to talk to Andrea.

“How you holding up?” the younger brother asked her.

“It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?”

“Andrea, I'm sorry,” Sam sighed.

Andrea shook her head. “You saved my son. I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.”

You heard Dean talking to Lucas from behind you, and you turned around to face them as Dean spoke. “All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”

“Zeppelin rules!” the boy cheered.

Dean cracked a genuine grin. “That's right. Up high.”

The two boys high-fived as you, Sam, and Andrea began walking over to them.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” Dean told Lucas.

“All right.”

Andrea leaned over the open door of the Impala that Dean stood behind and pressed her lips to his.

“Thank you,” she said to him.

You rolled your eyes, pissed at him for his ability to pick up whoever he wanted.

He scratched his head, walking around to the other side of the car. “Sam, (Y/N), move your asses. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

You got into the seat behind Dean, waving to Andrea and Lucas who were waving back at you as Dean backed the Impala out of its parking spot.

Once you were on the road, you spoke up over the music. “Y’know, I’m not dissin’ on Zeppelin because I love them, but there were so many other amazing bands that ‘rule’ that you could’ve told Lucas about.”

Dean groaned. “Really? You’re picking a fight with me about that?”

“I’m not picking a fight, I’m giving my honest opinion,” you replied.

“Okay, well, who would you ‘ve told Lucas about?” he questioned.

“Um, how ‘bout Fleetwood Mac, Metallica, Guns ‘n’ Roses, Blondie, Black Sabbath, need I go on?”

“I cannot believe you just said Fleetwood Mac is better than Zeppelin,” he stated incredulously.

“It’s fucking Stevie Nicks, dude, of course Fleetwood’s better than Zeppelin,” you argued. “She’s a goddess.”

Dean turned left onto the Interstate, picking up the Impala’s speed. “Robert Plant’s better.”

“Yeah, no,” you responded dryly.

Instead of responding verbally, Dean put one of his Led Zeppelin tapes into the cassette player and cranked the volume up. “What’d you say? Can’t hear you over the greatest band of all time!”

For the first time since you met him, you genuinely laughed at him. “You are such an idiot!”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireaderr @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylorr @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

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