#chuck shurley x reader

[supernaturalfreewill]

reader pronouns: she/her "I—I thought Y/N was—was going to come with you? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Well—she caught the flu or something," Sam explained, a little surprised by the apparent depth of Chuck's concern and disappointment not to see you. "But it's not life threatening."

Chuck's brow furrowed. "You left her alone? She's alone with the flu?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a puzzled glance. "Chuck she's got a cough and the sniffles. It's not life threatening," Dean said. "Take it easy. She'll be fine. She just needs some rest."

"Well, what if she takes a turn for the worse? Nobody is there! What if she needs to get to the hospital?"

"She has access to phones!" Dean sighed and looked at Sam again. "We shouldn't have told him... We know he's a worrier. What the hell were we thinking?"

Sam shrugged. Chuck was now pacing anxiously. "Listen—she did want us to tell you she's sorry she couldn't make it. She said she was looking forward to seeing you, but she didn't want anyone else to get sick."

Chuck froze in his pacing and turned to look at Sam, a smile growing on his face. "She said that?" He returned and stopped in front of the Winchesters. "Those were her exact words?"

"Uhh—I don't know about exact but close enough," Dean said with a laugh. He caught Sam's eyes again and the brothers exchanged a knowing look. "You can give her a call later if you want. I'm sure she'd appreciate it.

"I'll do that," he said, more to himself than to Dean. "Yeah. I'll call her..."

Happy Supporting Character Saturday!

[starchildren220]

Promise?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

my ao3

my wattpad

masterlist

!spoilers maybe!

song fic, The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives

you're a Winchester and met chuck as a prophet, you started dating chuck and left hunting for him, then you woke up one day to find chuck gone no note, you shut yourself in until Sam and Dean pulled you out and only days later Chuck shows himself again, as God

warnings- short, beginning-angst, ending-fluff, cursing, kissing (idk)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Suddenly Dean, Sam, and Chuck appear in front of you while you were drinking your morning coffee.

(The moon will sing a song for me)

You stood there, frozen. A shiver ran down your spine, you mouth twitched not knowing if you should smile or not. Tears rush to fill your eyes and they quickly spill over onto your cheeks. Chuck was there, really there.

"Chuck." You whispered so quietly you couldn't even hear yourself. You drop the mug and run over pushing between your brothers, your heart beats too loud in your ears to hear the warnings coming from your brothers mouth's.

Pulling the scruffy man into a passionate kiss, one hand holding his neck the other holding his cheek, his hands fell to your waist and he returned the kiss with just as much passion.

Just as quickly as the kiss started it ended. You pushed him away by his shoulders angrily, his face contorted in confusion. "You asshole! How could you!" You approached him again and slapped him across his beautiful face.

(I loved you like the sun)

"I loved you! And you just left me!" You scream at him. Swiftly he recovered from his confusion. "I had to." His eyes held sincerity but you couldn't see it over your anger.

"Fine, what was so important then?" You cross your arms, "What's so important that you couldn't even leave me a note?" Chuck walked forwards and held your elbows looking you in the eyes. "It was better to just leave, or I wouldn't have been able to leave."

"You didn't have to, we could've done it together." More tears strolled down your face. Chuck moved his hand to your cheek wiping a tear away. "No, we couldn't've."

(Bore the shadows that you made)

"Do you know the mess you made me! I barley slept or ate, how could you make me love you and then just leave?!" You held his wrist and leaned into his palm missed the old feeling. "Yes I saw." He couldn't look you in the eye this time.

You pushed him away again. "You knew!? And you didn't do anything!" You laughed, some of your tears fell on your tongue with the taste of salt. Dean intervened this time before you tried to kill Chuck.

"Woah, let's pause this," Dena held both your wrist tight, it was quite difficult for him with you fighting him using all your strength. "Chuck what were you going to tell us?"

"I'm God."

(With no light of my own)

Deans hands fall from your wrists and yours dropped with them. "What?" You questioned. "I'm God." Chuck reiterates. The three of you are surprised to say the least then you got angry again.

"You're God and you couldn't even write me a note!?" You approached him again with an accusing finger pointed at his chest. "At anytime in any day you could've dropped in and told me, you could've gone as low as erasing my memories!" You quieted your voice to a breathy whisper. "But you didn't. You just let me sit there and suffer."

You accusing finger pressed against his chest before resting your forehead on his chest too letting all your tear fall, soaking his shirt. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you closer not speaking.

(I shine only with the light you gave me)

"You left me." Your voice is muffled by his shirt but he heard you. "I know, and I never will again." He kissed the top of your head. "Promise?"

"Promise."

(I shine only with the light you gave me)

You pull back, lifting up on your toes you kiss him again. He shifts his weight forwards so your heels can touch the ground. You pull back and rest your forehead against him closing your eyes you whisper.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[narisjournal-blog]

Can anyone point me in the direction of some evil sexy Chuck smut? Asking for a friend... 👀

***UPDATE****

I did it. I wrote it. Here is the link:

[supernaturals-fav-witch]

Steem ( a chuck shurely imagine)

You and Chuck were in the shower. The water was steeming hot but didn't burn. Chucks wings clung to your back. You were both under the shower head water dripping down each of you're bodys. Chuck grabbed your shampoo and massaged it into your scalp and washed it out he did this with the conditioner too. He took your favorite body wash and massaged it to your skin, rubbing small circles with his thumb, all over your body. Washing your body tenderly. when he was done, he stood there with you holding you his wings against your body. The water was still warm, and the hug comforting, no sexual intentions. Just comforting love.

[i-read-and-write-barely]

Witches

You bought a bunch of witch figures, they're all adorable (to you at least) and now Chuck gets to deal with them all over his house.

Day 8. Witches.

Normally it would not be a good idea to potentially piss off a God. But either no one bothered to tell you that, or you just simply don't care. In actuality you don't really know how Chuck will react, you can only hope he'll find the same amount of joy in the little witch figures like you do.

In the distance you hear the noise of a door opening and closing. Chuck has finally arrived. "Honey..? May I ask why?" His voice rings out into the room.

You smile and chuckle softly. "And here I thought you knew everything~" You tease him gently.

"Oh I do, I just know you like explaining things. So, explain away my little agent of chaos."

"Well~ I just saw them in the store, and it made me think. You mentioned that you never really celebrated Halloween much and I decided that while bombarding a house in witch figures ain't really a Halloween tradition, it is done on a more minor scale frequently. And since you've missed out on a ton of celebrations I figured I'd make up for lost time!" You beam happily at Chuck. Clearly happy with your work.

Chuck simply smiles and raises an eyebrow. "Alright, you know that if you truely want to make up for lost celebrations you'd need a whole lot more witches right?"

Pouting you grumble softly. "The store ran out of figures.. And I was going way over my budget."

"It's alright Hun, I'm certain I'll experience a whole adventure with you this Halloween. Don't fret over making up for lost years."

"Did you plan something? That sounds suspicious..." You narrow your eyes at Chuck sightly, trying to decipher his actions.

"Don't worry, it's just something small. You'll enjoy it, and it doesn't inturrupt any of your other plans." Chuck walks up behind you and rests a hand on your back. "Now, how many witches are in my house?"

"Twenty." You're still watching Chuck, now curious about what he's planned.

"Twenty?" Chuck raises an eyebrow again. "I figured there'd be more~"

"Oh hush, they're about the size of my hand! Those did not come cheap. And I made sure to hide them in all the right places~ You'll never see them coming... Except you will, but maybe you'll forget."

"If it'll make you happy I'll do my best to forget you've placed six witches in my bed, perfectly hidden beneath the covers, postioned so they'll roll to me when I lay down." Smiling Chuck laughs a little and walks off, but not before saying one last thing. "I love you sweetie, and I love the chaos you bring to my life."

Blushing softly you reply. "I love you too Chuck."

Taglist: @phoenixwithcatears

[bi-bard]

Characters - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Characters

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Reader

Word Count: 955 words

Warning(s): violence, destruction

Summary: One of Chuck's most ambitious creations resurfaces to show his true nature.

Author's Note: Maybe one day I'll write a Chuck imagine that doesn't have an unhappy ending.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

You created the world; you create the rules.

One of the best lessons a writer could learn when forming their complex and intriguing plotlines.

Another lesson: Never create something that spirals out of your control.

One lesson was one that Chuck took to heart. The other was one that he seemed to forget.

I hadn't seen Earth up close in a long time.

I had spent years stuck in whatever little box Heaven had been told to put me in. Once they started running out of angels, I managed to make it out without anyone stopping me.

I never wanted to destroy the world.

I loved it.

I hated what Chuck had done to it.

He created an entire world in the hopes to force them to worship him. Then, he created me.

I was his equivalent of a love interest. All be it, a very unhealthy love interest. He had created me to see him as perfect. If the humans wouldn't worship and love him, then Chuck always had a fallback in me.

What is Chuck without the need to be worshipped?

He thought that creating an entire being would equal eternal love.

He was wrong.

Again, don't create something that spirals out of your control.

When I saw Earth and everything going wrong, I asked Chuck to help them. He shrugged me off, saying that this was for the best. I didn't believe him.

I tried to make things better. I helped where I could. All I wanted was for it to be better. I avoided Chuck at all costs in order to do that.

He realized that I wasn't going to blindly follow him anymore.

He wasn't happy with that.

That's how I originally ended up in the prison in Heaven.

Now, I was back on Earth.

I could've gone back to saving people. Helping them. But I learned that it never made a real difference. So, I had one more option. Force change to happen. Either through forcing Chuck to change it, or find someone to take his place and change it for him.

I started causing controlled destruction. No deaths. No one harmed. But big enough to catch God's attention.

Buildings collapsing, fires, storms. Anything that would catch the eye of the idiot who made the planet and abandoned it.

I was less than stunned when Sam and Dean found me. I knew their story. I knew what Chuck had originally planned for them. I had a plan for them too.

I anticipated their attack.

As soon as they broke into my small hideout, I used my power to shove them into the wall. They stared at me, weapons now down on the ground where they couldn't reach them.

"Sam and Dean," I said. "Never knew I'd get to meet you."

"You know us," Sam asked.

"God spoke of you both," I nodded. "You refer to him as Chuck."

"You know Chuck?"

"Chuck created me," I replied. "Granted that he created everything, but he made me in the image of his perfect partner."

"Why are you doing this," Dean jumped in. "All the chaos."

"Chuck doesn't answer his calls," I shrugged.

"You're risking innocent people," Sam said.

"No, I'm not," I shook my head. "I know that I'm not. I wouldn't allow that."

"What," they both furrowed their eyebrows.

"There's a reason none of the destruction has killed anyone," I explained, stepping closer to Sam. "I don't despise humanity. I despise how he's treated it."

"(Y/n)!"

I stood up and turned around. Chuck was standing across from me. I took a few steps away from the brothers. He mimicked me. We just stood across from each other. The brothers just watched us.

"You've got my attention," Chuck held his hands out to his sides.

"At long last," I replied. "Been a long time since I stopped being entertaining to you."

"Is that what this is about," he asked. "A break-up?"

"Are you forgetting that you locked me in Heaven for centuries?"

"You betrayed me-"

"I fought for the people you created," I snapped. "I saved them. You didn't like that."

"They're meant to face challenges," he scoffed. "We discussed that."

"Challenges, not mass destruction," I glared at him. "You just wanted something exciting to watch. Some fun side plots for your main event."

I nodded over at the brothers.

"Don't you dare," Chuck stepped forward. "You don't know what-"

"You're his favorite story," I said, looking at the brothers. "That's it."

"What," Dean asked.

"Don't," Chuck stepped forward again.

"You never questioned why the two of you faced bigger threats than other hunters," I asked. "Or why it was you two with the book series? You two as the great vessels? All you two are, are Chuck's favorite characters. And he killed everything you love to keep you there. Pieces on a chessboard for him to move around."

"Shut your mouth," Chuck snapped.

"I was the same thing once," I continued, turning back to Chuck. "He just used to screw me."

"You son of a bitch," Dean snapped, anger now turning to Chuck.

"You ruined everything," Chuck yelled at me.

"Call it an intervention," I yelled back.

Without another word, I flicked my wrist, throwing Chuck backward so his back hit the wall hard.

I walked up to the brothers, "Take him down. Please. I may not be alive to see it. But it needs to happen."

"How-"

I reached out and touched their foreheads, sending them back to their home.

I heard a surge of power behind me. I took a deep breath and grinned. I knew this was the end of my story. And I was okay with that.

Because Chuck wouldn't have many more chapters after me.

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

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[jokingmisfit]

Morning Rays

Chuck Shurley x reader

Prompt- “I would like my good morning kiss now.”

The sun and I never got along. It always gave me sun burn or woke me from the only place I felt home, my dreams. Lately however it had been different. It was him. It had to be, because no when I open my eyes and see those sun rays shining through our window I smile. It’s our window. 

The bed is empty as always, but I can’t seem to be upset about the lack of heat or body. I know where he is and he knows where I am. It’s a comforting pattern like system. We may not wake at the same time but we both know exactly where the other one will be waiting. Mostly him. Writers and their awful sleeping habits.

I tread down the stairs and don’t forget to miss the sun that beats through the window and into my eyes. But I’m not mad. It’s a reminder of who I am about to see. And there he sits at the table typing and blinking away. He’s dead to the world aside from his computer and paper. It’s cute. The ways his brows furrow and he lets small words slip past his lips. It’s a feat to see. A writer in progress, an artist shaping their new world.

I walk towards him. Leaning just slightly against his chair as he continues to work. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows I’m around, but then he sighs and leans back as I slowly run my hand through his curls. It’s like a dance that not one step is missed.

My voice isn’t loud just a whisper compared to the usual tone.

“You seem busy.”

It’s just a phrase. Three words to start a conversation. If he responds I know it’s a talking day. If he doesn’t respond I’ll probably have to remind him to stop and eat or otherwise throughout the day.

“I’m a bit more lost in thought than I am actually writing anything...”

He’s irritated.

He doesn’t say anything else. He just huffs and leans back in the chair. I move my hands down his shoulders. I let them wonder down to his chest as I lay my head on his shoulder, burying my nose in his neck. I whisper all of the love and courage I can because I know he’s just over worked himself. I can hear him huff out a laugh and smile. It makes me do the same.

“You know I never liked being awake. I never liked the light or the sun, but you changed that. You’re the missing piece of me... All that love for the dark fades away and all that is left is you.”

“Is that so?” He tilts his head as I shift. In just a moment our eyes meet and my smile widens.

“It’s the most truthful thing I’ve ever said.”

“You’re such a precious little thing...” His eyes seem to bore into my soul.

“Yeah? Heh. Well, I would like my good morning kiss now.”

He just puffs a laugh and meets me with a smile. 

It’s the closest thing I’ll ever get to heaven. Him and I. I’m trapped in that light and I don’t think I want to leave. I never liked the sun, but when I know the morning rays will bring me to this... Well I don’t think I can hide from the light anymore.

[followafallingstar]

Lucifer stalks you

Summary: After encountering the devil on a midnight forest walk, you can't seem to feel like someone is watching you. Hmm, maybe you are going insane, or maybe you are not. Pairing: Lucifer/Soulmate, Lucifer/Witch Disclaimer/ Trigger Warning: soulmate au, Stalking, Mention of stalking, invasion of privacy, mention of masturbation, mention of murder, just Lucifer lol

Soulmate au: God created a soulmate for each one of his children. For angels finding their soulmate is one of the most honorable tasks they could achieve due to the amount of luck they must have since the soul of a human mate can be sent to earth at any time during the existence of humanity. But when an angel does meet their other half their loyalty to god switches to their mate, protecting them at all costs. Feelings such as love and lust are only acceptable and archivable for angels when they meet their soulmate and that only to the mate too so acts of unloyalty or cheating don’t exist in their world.

As the weeks passed you couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching you. You seemed extra paranoid, considering the almost fifty wards and protection spells you have cast around yourself and the shop. While you were busy checking left, right, behind, and in front the devil his large wings sat comfortably on a cloud right above the small building you lived in. He had watched you since the moment he saw you and the moment you left the forest. You still remember the moment, his demeanor had scared you causing you to teleport yourself away from his vessel's eyes, not his actual hundred sixty-six eyes he had in his celestial form though. He had his ways to watch you. When he was busy with hell or the Winchesters he would have demons following you, if he had time it would be himself who provided you security. What if you got attacked? What if you messed up a spell and hurt yourself? What if a creep followed you?

He didn't even think about the possibility that he was the creep himself. Why would he? He is your soulmate and that allowed him to be a hundred percent involved in your life even if it was behind your back. You shouldn't think he is a creep, you should think he is a protector.

But perhaps, if you knew that he watched you while you took a bath, wondering if you knew how beautiful you were, so bare without any fabric disturbing the view (that he was entitled to see anyways) while dipping yourself in a bath full of rose milk. If you knew that all your senseless panicking and warding spells were useless since when you were out of the house he snuck himself inside, letting the tip of his wings glide over the smooth surface of your sheets where you would lay for at least 10 hours a day and at least an hour now and then being busy letting your hands slide between your legs, letting them do the work that was supposed to be his. If you knew how many corpses he had left behind every time someone looked wrongly at you, talked to you for a second too long, or dared to flirt with you. The smile they caused on your face made him frown, his good mood destroyed and replaced by a sour expression. He was supposed to be the one that made you smile not some ugly human. The feeling of jealousy that he had felt millennia ago towards the race he despised which his father favored so much slowly crept back into his heart, maybe not the same way it was back then but certainly just as intense.

What exactly he is, is yours to decide. Is he a creep or just a loving mate?

[sin-tax-errotic]

Supernatural deleted scene

[scary-noodlesblog]

Soulbound Ch 10

The Monster At The End Of This Book

Soulbound Masterlist

1st Person POV:

The boys and I walk into a comic book shop in our FBI outfits, suits and long coats. The man behind the counter looks up at us as we approach, already reaching into our coats for our badges.

"Uh... can I help you?" The man asks. Dean holds up his FBI badge, "Sure hope so. Agents DeYoung, Shaw, and Mustaine. Just need to ask you a few questions." "Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asks. The man gives us a confused look, "Like what?" "Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights." I reply. The man shakes his head, "Uh, I don't think so. Why?" "What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?" Sam continues to interrogate. "And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?" The man's eyebrows furrow, getting skeptical of us. "What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?" I ask. A big grin breaks out on the man's face as he points at us. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?" "Excuse me?" Dean questions, sounding a little offended.

"You're fans." The man smiles.

"Fans of what?" Sam looks at the man in confusion. Dean's eyebrows crinkle, "What is 'LARPing'?" "Like you don't know." The man chuckles. At the sight of our confused expressions the man explains. "Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too." "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about." Dean shrugs. "You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Uh... 'Supernatural.' Two guys and their sister, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve, Dirk, and (Similar name)? Uh, Sal, Dane, and (Other Similar Name)?" "Sam, Dean and (Y/N)?" Sam asks hesitantly. The man points at Sam, "That's it!" "You're saying this is a book?" I tilt my head. "Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." The man gets up from his stool, walking over to the bargain bin. We follow him over as he pulls a book out, handing the book to Dean. "That's the first one, I think." 

The book has two men and a woman on the cover, standing by an illustration of Dean's Impala. The long haired man is shirtless, I'm assuming that's Sam based off the hair. Dean's counterpart is wearing a black tank top. Standing on the other side of Sam's character is who I assume to be my persona. Her features are exaggerated like Sam and Dean's, a ripped, black dress barely covering her hips and breasts. Sex sells, right? "'Supernatural' by Carver Edlund." Dean flips the book over, reading the back. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths." "Give me that." Sam says, snatching the book from Dean's hands. After a moment, he looks up at the man, "We're gonna need all the copies of 'Supernatural' you've got."

~~~~~~~

Back in the motel, Sam is at the dining table on his laptop. Dean lays on the bed, reading the book where we dealt with that racist truck. I sit cross-legged on the other bed, reading the book where the boys and I dealt with the vengeful spirit drowning people related to the men who killed a little boy. 

"This is freakin' insane. How's this guy know all this stuff?" Dean asks, making me look up from the book. "You got me." Sam shakes his head.

"Dude, in this book it talks all about us saving Lucas and his mom. Even down to what kind of sandwiches they made us." I hold up the book titled 'Dead In The Water'. "Everything is in here. I mean everything. From the to – to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude." Dean says.

I cringe, closing my book, "Ew, Dean."

Dean ignores me save for sticking his tongue out at me. He rolls off the bed and walks over to Sam. "How come we haven't heard of them before?" "They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one – 'No Rest For The Wicked' –" Sam turns his laptop towards Dean. "Ends with you going to Hell." "I reiterate. Freaking insane." Dean scrolls through the website as I stand up, walking over to look over his shoulder. 

"Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?" I point at the screen.  Sam scratches the back of his head, "Yeah." "Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says 'the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic.' Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it." Dean says.

"Well, thankfully they didn't get to the storyline where I have an angel up my ass." I mumble. Sam chuckles, "Yeah. Well, keep on reading. It gets better." Dean grins. "There are 'Sam girls' and 'Dean girls' and '(Y/N) guys'– what's a 'slash fan'?"

"As in..." Sam hesitates. "Sam-slash-Dean. Together. Or Sam-slash-(Y/N). Or Dean-slash-(Y/N)." I cringe while Dean looks horrified, "Like, together together?" Sam nods, "Yeah." "They do know we're brothers, right? And (Y/N)'s pretty much our sister, I mean, we've known her since she was in diapers." Dean argues. "Doesn't seem to matter." Sam almost sounds like he's gonna be sick.

I fake gag, "Dude, they have 'Sam-slash-(Y/N)-slash-Dean'. Oh my God, they have us having threesomes."  "Oh, come on. That... That's just sick." Dean shuts the laptop in disgust, pushing it away from him. "We got to find this Carver Edlund." Sam leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Yeah, that might not be so easy." "Why not?" Dean asks. "No tax records, no known address. Looks like "Carver Edlund" is a pen name." Sam explains. I cross my arms over my chest, shifting my weight to my right leg, "Somebody's gotta know who he is."

~~~~~~~

"So you published the "Supernatural" books?" I ask the woman. 

The publisher's gray sweater flows a little behind her as she walks over to the shelf of books. "Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know – 'Doctor Sexy, M.D.'?" She scoffs, "Please." "Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can... shine a light on an underappreciated series." Sam smiles softly. The publisher starts to get excited, "Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again." Dean interrupts her, "No, no, no, no. God, no. I mean, why – why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to Hell and all."

The publisher smiles, fangirling a little bit. "Oh, my god! That was one of my favorite ones, because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. And in 'In My Time Of Dying' when John said (Y/N) wasn't real family, and Sam defended her to the end. And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in – In 'Heart,' when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in 'Home,' when Dean had to call John and ask him for help." She gets emotional, sniffling, "Gosh... if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings."  "Real men?" Dean asks, a little offended. "I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?" The woman shrugs. Sam grins a little as Dean says, "Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside." The publisher tilts her head, "Is that supposed to be funny?" Dean smiles sarcastically. "Lady, this whole thing is funny." "How do I know you three are legit, hmm?" The woman walks around her desk and sits in her office chair. "Oh, trust me. We, uh... we're legit." I give her a slight grin. "Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys, and their sister." She says. I frown a little, is that all that I am? Just their sister? "No! No, no, no. Never." Sam stammers.

"No, that's..." Dean trails off, looking at Sam for help. "We – We are actually, um... big fans." I interject, saving their asses. The publisher hums, "Hmm. You've read the books?" I nods, "Cover to cover." She starts a trivia, "What's the year and model of the car?" Dean smiles proudly, "It's a 1967 Chevy Impala." "What's May 2nd?" "That's my – Uh... that's Sam's birthday." Sam replies, almost slipping up. "January 24th is Dean's." Dean shrugs.

"September 8th is (Y/N)'s." I grin softly. "Sam's score on the LSAT?" Sam's eyebrows furrow. "One...Seventy-four?"

"When did Bobby Singer adopt (Y/N)?" 

"Bobby took her in on November 26th 1987, but the official adoption wasn't done for a few months after that." I reply. The publisher looks impressed, "Dean's favorite song?" Dean grows a smug look, "It's a tie. Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'" She smiles and shifts in her chair, "Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?" "What's Carver Edlund's real name?" Sam asks. The woman's eyes widen and she shakes her head, "Oh, no. I – No. Sorry, I can't do that." "We just want to talk to him. You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words." I say with a slightly pleading tone.

She shakes her head again. "He's very private. It's like Salinger." "Please. Like I said – we are, um..." He undoes the top few buttons on his shirt, cringing a little as he shows off his anti-possession tattoo on his chest. "... big... big fans." Sam gives Dean and I pointed looks. Dean sighs and I roll my eyes, both of us pulling the collars of our shirts aside to show the same tattoos in the same spots. The publisher giggles. "Awesome. You know what?" She turns around, hiking up her skirt to show the same tattoo on her ass cheek. "I got one, too." I quickly look away, anywhere but there. But, of course, Sam and Dean don't. Dean chuckles. "Whoa. You are a fan."

"Okay." She scribbles something on a piece of paper. "His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."

~~~~~~~

Dean, Sam and I get out of the Impala, walking up the porch steps of the deep burgundy house. We share a look before Dean rings the doorbell. A man opens the door. Dean asks, "You Chuck Shurley?" "The Chuck Shurley who wrote the 'Supernatural' books?" I interject. Chuck's eyebrows furrow, "Maybe. Why?" "I'm Dean. This is Sam and (Y/N). The Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) you've been writing about." Chuck scoffs softly and closes the door. Chuck reopens the door after Dean rings the doorbell again, "Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life." Chuck tries to close the door again but I put my hand on it, keeping it open, "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books."

I push the door open the rest of the way and walk inside, Chuck taking a few steps back as Sam and Dean follow me in. Chuck backs into his living room, "Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny." "Damn straight, it's not funny." I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. "Look, we just want to know how you're doing it." Sam says. Chuck argues, "I'm not doing anything." Dean's eyebrows crinkle, "Are you a hunter?" "What? No. I'm a writer." Chuck replies, confused and a little afraid. "Then how do you know so much about demons?" Dean advances on Chuck, who falls back on the couch. "And Tulpas, and changelings?" "Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!" Chuck tries to reason. My eyebrows furrow as my hands fall to my sides, "No, it's not a "Misery" thing. Believe me, we are not fans!" Chuck lays back on the couch, "Well, then, what do you want?!" "I'm Sam. And that's Dean and (Y/N)." Chuck's voice raises in disbelief, "Sam, (Y/N) and Dean are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!"

~~~~~~~

We take Chuck outside, Dean opening the trunk of the Impala to show him the arsenal of guns, salt, ammo, and all the other shit we use.  "Are those real guns?" Chuck squeaks. "Yup." Dean says, pointing to the bag of rock salt. "This is real rock salt." He opens the box of IDs. "These are real fake IDs." "Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans." Chuck chuckles nervously. "That's, that's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house." He starts to walk back to his porch. "Chuck, stop." Dean demands. "Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me." Chuck pleads and turns around. "How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Chuck's eyebrows furrow in confusion, "Wait a minute. How do you know about that?" "The question is how do you." "Because I wrote it?" Chuck says. "You kept writing?" Sam questions. "Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute." Chuck laughs softly. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did that – Did Phil put you up to this?" Dean looks at Sam and I for a moment, "Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam. And our adoptive sister, (Y/N) Singer."

Chuck only seems more confused. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down." 

~~~~~~~

Chuck pours himself a large glass of whiskey and drinks it all in one go. He sets the glass down on the kitchen sink and turns around, groaning at the sight of myself and the boys. "Oh! Oh, you're still there." "Yup." I say, sitting in at his desk, Sam leaning on the back of my chair. "You're not a hallucination." "Nope."

"Well, there's only one explanation." Chuck says, making us give him confused looks. "Obviously I'm a god." Sam's eyebrows crinkle, "You're not a god." "How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone." Chuck's tone becomes guilty and sympathetic. "Yeah, we're still in one piece." Dean replies from his spot against the wall. "I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica." Chuck looks at me. "I killed both of your parents because I thought being connected to an angel would be cool." "Chuck..." Sam trails off. Chuck just continues, turning his back to us. "All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment."  "You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us." Dean says, walking over to Sam and I. "Did you really have to live through the bugs?" Chuck asks. I cringe and nod, "Yeah." "What about the ghost ship?" "Yes, that too." Dean replies. "I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass." Chuck says. "Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean yells. "We think you're probably just psychic." Sam shrugs, standing up to his full height. Chuck shakes his head, "No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing?" He sits down at his computer. "Writing is hard." "It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives." I explain. "Yeah, like laser-focused. Are you working on anything right now?" Dean asks. "Holy crap." Chuck says, making a realization.  "What?" Sam questions. Chuck picks up from papers next to his computer, "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird." "'Weird' how?" Chuck cringes a little, "It's very Vonnegut." Dean leans over Chuck's desk, "'Slaughterhouse-Five' Vonnegut or 'Cat's Cradle' Vonnegut?" Sam looks at him surprised, "What?" Dean gets defensive, "What?" "It's, uh, 'Kilgore Trout' Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters."

~~~~~~~

We sit at the laundromat, Dean is reading over the latest of Chuck's work while Sam and I are doing the laundry. "I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts." Dean says. "There's got to be something this guy's not telling us." Sam says as he tosses his dark clothes into the machine. "'Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.'" Dean reads, making me chuckle. Dean continues, "'(Y/N) chuckles at Sam's clothes being described as gigantic.' She mentally calls you Sasquatch." 

"Dean!" I chastise. Sam gives me a playful glare before looking back at Dean, "Stop it." "'Stop it,' Sam said." Guess what you do next." Dean asks, making Sam look away with a scowl. "'Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive.' I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your 'brooding and pensive' shoulders." Sam sighs as Dean looks back down at the manuscript. "You just thought I was a dick." Sam turns back around to Dean with an impressed face, "The guy's good."

~~~~~~~

The boys and I end up back at Chuck's house the next day. I sit on the couch, Dean in a chair across from me and Sam leaning against the fireplace. Chuck paces the room nervously with pages in his hand. "So... You wrote another chapter?" Sam asks. "This was all so much easier before you were real." Chuck says, not wanting to say what he wrote down. "We can take it; just spit it out." Dean urges. Chuck gestures to Dean, "You, especially, are not gonna like this."

"Oh, joy." I mumble sarcastically. "I didn't like Hell." Dean retorts. Chuck sighs, "It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam." I sit up straighter, "Coming to kill him?" "When?" Sam asks, taking a couple steps forward. "Tonight." "She's just gonna show up? Here?" Dean questions incredulously. Chuck puts on his glasses, "Uh... let's see, uh, 'Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion'." Sam laughs in disbelief, 'You're kidding me, right?" "You think this is funny?" Dean asks. "You don't? I mean, come on. "Fiery demonic passion"?" Sam says, still chuckling. "It's just a first draft." Chuck defends weakly. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl." I point out. Chuck shakes his head, "No, uh, this time she's a 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana'." "Great. Perfect. So what happens after the... "fiery demonic" whatever?" Dean asks. Chuck takes off his glasses, "I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet." "Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?" Sam asks incredulously.

"Thanks for that mental image, Samuel." I roll my eyes.  Sam only gives me a 'bitch' look while Dean glares at his brother while asking Chuck, "How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?" Chuck tilts his head, "You mean my process?" Dean sighs, "Yes, your 'process.'" "Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream." Chuck explains. "The first time you dreamt about us?" I ask. Chuck puts his head in his hands, "It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really." "You can't seriously believe –" Dean interrupts Sam, "Humor me." He stands up, "Look, why don't we, we just..." Chuck holds out the papers to him. He pauses and takes them, "Take a look at these and see what's what." Dean looks at Chuck, "You –" Chuck nods, "...knew you were gonna ask for that. Yeah."

~~~~~~~

Dean is driving while Sam reads the next chapter in the passenger seat. "Dean, come on." Sam says as he reads from the manuscript, "'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face'." "So?" Dean asks. "So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid." Sam retorts.

"What is this? Paul Blart: Mall Cop?" I laugh. Dean gives me a playful glare, "What's your point?" "My point is this – all of this – is totally implausible, it's nuts." Sam argues. "He's been right about everything so far. You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?" I reply. Sam scoffs and continues to read the manuscript, "Huh. 'Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.'" "A tarp?" Dean asks.  "Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that." Sam explains. Dean shrugs, "Well, he might be wrong about the details, but doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result." "So we're just gonna run?" Sam asks. I cross my arms over my chest, "Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith." We come up across a roadblock, police cars parked perpendicular to the road. Dean comes to a stop and a deputy walks up to the window. "What seems to be the problem?" Dean asks. "Bridge is out ahead." The deputy explains. "We're just trying to get out of town." Dean says. "Yeah, afraid not." The deputy replies. "Is there a detour?" Dean asks. The cop shakes his head, "Nope." Dean pauses for a second before asking again, "There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?" "To get to the highway, you have to cross that river." The deputy nods his head in the direction of the river, "To cross the river, you have to take that bridge." "How deep's the river?" Dean tries to reason. "Sorry. Afraid you three are gonna have to spend the night in town." 

Dean nods as the deputy walks away, and he turns the Impala back around.

~~~~~~~

Dean is now looking over the chapter while Sam and I look at menus in the little diner we stopped at for some dinner. Dean looks up at Sam and I, "Hey, this could be a good thing. I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path." "How do you mean?" Sam asks. "It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left –" Dean trails off. "Then we go right." I finish. "Exactly. We get off-book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It says that we, uh, we get into a fight. So, no fighting. No research for you..." Sam smirks, "No bacon cheeseburger for you." I laugh softly and Sam turns to me, "No breakfast food for you."

I roll my eyes, "You wound me, Winchester."

Dean chuckles, "Then no sarcasm for you." 

I give Dean a 'bitch' face as the waitress approaches to take out orders. "Hi, uh, what's good?" Dean asks her. "Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country." She says. Sam laughs, "I'll just have the cobb salad, please."  "I'll have the... veggie tofu burger. Thanks." 

I raise an eyebrow at Dean and tell the waitress my order, and unfortunately isn't breakfast food. The waitress takes our menus and walks away as Sam says, "This whole thing's ridiculous." "Lilith is ridiculous?" Dean asks. "The idea of me hooking up with her is." Sam explains. "Right. 'Cause something like that can never happen." I mumble sarcastically. Sam glares at me for a moment, "Guys, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close." "So?" Dean asks. "So... we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she's – this is an opportunity." Sam argues. "Are you –" Dean starts.

"Boys." I warn, reminding them that they aren't supposed to fight.

Dean sighs, "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things." Sam's eyebrows furrow, "Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide that fight." There's a tense silence before the waitress comes over with our food, "Cobb salad for you. And the tofu veggie burger for you..." She sets each of our plates down. "Thank you." Dean says before leaning in to the table. "It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight." He takes a huge bite of his burger and his eyes light up. "Oh, my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!" The waitress comes back over, embarrassed, "I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake." She takes his plate away again as Sam scowls at his brother.

~~~~~~~

Dean pulls the Impala into the parking lot of a motel, one that looks like its solely made for happy endings if you know what I mean. I lean forward, pulling myself up using the back of Sam and Dean's seats, "Dude, this place charges by the hour. They're gonna think we are recreating that Sam-slash-(Y/N)-slash-Dean things." I cringe. "Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds Sam at the Red Motel. Hence, the uh, hooker inn. It's opposite day, remember?" Dean argues as we see a man walk by with a very obvious...working woman.

When we get inside the room, Dean drops a bag on the bed and starts pulling out some hex bags, placing them strategically around the room. "What are you doing?" Sam asks. "Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith-proof the room." Dean explains. Sam's tone turns irritated, "So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?" "That's exactly what you're gonna do, okay? And no research. I don't care what you do –" Dean pauses before gesturing to the bed and the television. "Use the or watch Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View." Dean reaches in Sam's bag, pulling out his laptop and confiscating it. "Oh, dude, come on." Sam complains. "Just call it a little insurance." Dean smiles. "What are you gonna do?" Sam asks. Dean shrugs, "Well, the pages say that (Y/N) and I spend all day riding around in the Impala. So I'm gonna go park her. Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn." Dean smiles like he's pleased with himself, ushering me out the door with him following after me.

~~~~~~~

Dean drives us into town and parks the car. We get out and he double checks the locks before we cross the street. I walk a little ahead of Dean, but turn around when I hear him yell, "Hey!" A couple guys are trying to break into the Impala. Dean goes to cross the street, and right as I step off of the curb a van plows into Dean. Dean rolls onto the hood and windshield before hitting the asphalt.

"Dean!" I shout worriedly, going to kneel next to him. 

The woman driving frantically gets out of the car, "Oh my God is he okay?"

I look Dean over, seeing no visible injuries. "I-I think he'll be fine." I glance up at the woman, her star-shaped earrings making my jaw clench. 'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars.' I glance down at Dean again, seeing a little girl putting flowery Band-aids on his face.

Dean slowly starts to come to, making the woman re-explain herself to him, "Oh my god. Just take it easy, you're gonna be okay." Dean blinks and lifts his head as the woman continues. "I'm so sorry. I just didn't see you. Are you okay?" He sits up, the woman gestures to her daughter. "And sorry about... you know. M-My daughter's going through a doctor phase." "What are you talking about?" Dean asks roughly. "You're all better now." The little girl says, making me let out a breathy laugh. Dean glares at me for a moment and I help him stand up. He looks up to the Impala, the back window now shattered and the driver's door is open. His face changes, completely horrified. "Oh, no..." Dean stomps over to the car, fuming before turning to me. "You didn't stop them?"

"I'm sorry, I was worried about my big brother's life." I retort, knowing he isn't that upset with me. I cross my arms over my chest, "You okay, though?"

Dean's face softens and he nods, his hand cupping the back of my head to tilt it down and he kisses the top of my head. He catches his reflection in the side mirror and frowns, peeling one of the Band-Aids off.

"Come on, let's go, Paul Blart."

~~~~~~~

Chuck walks in holding a bottle in a brown bag and six-pack of beer. He doesn't seem surprised to see Dean and I sitting in his living room. "Dean. (Y/N)." He says. "I take it you knew we'd be here." Dean replies. "You look terrible." Chuck points out. "That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck." Chuck sighs, "Oh." Dean leans forward, his voice raising. "That it? Every damn thing you write about me comes true; that's all you have to say is 'oh'?!" Chuck sets the alcoholic drinks next to him, sounding fearful. "Please don't yell at me." Dean stands up. "Why do I get feeling there's something that you're not telling us?" I stand up as well in case I need to intervene. "What wouldn't I be telling you?" Chuck asks nervously. "How you know what you know, for starters!" Dean yells.

"Dean..." I try to reason, taking a couple steps forward. "I don't know how I know, I just do!" Chuck yells back. "That's not good enough." Dean shoves Chuck against the wall, pining him there. "How the hell are you doing this?!"

"Dean!" I move quickly, trying to pull him off of Chuck. "Dean, let him go!" A gruff voice commands. Dean and I both turn to Castiel. "This man is to be protected." "Why?" Dean asks. "He's a Prophet of the Lord." Castiel explains.

"You... You're Castiel... aren't you?" Chuck stammers behind Dean and I, making him and I look over our shoulders while Cas looks between us. "It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I... admire your work." Castiel gives him a single nod, picking up one of the Supernatural books. Cas looks up briefly, giving me a soft, barely-there smile. I smile back a little, walking up to him to look at the book over his shoulder. Or just to be by him, haven't decided yet which explanation I want to go with. It's the book where Sam leaves Dean and meets Meg hitchhiking while Dean fights a scarecrow.

"Whoa, whoa, what? This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's – he's... he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer." Dean argues. He then looks at Chuck, who has plopped down in an arm chair and cracked open his whisky. "Did you know about this?" "I, uh, I might have dreamt about it." Chuck says nervously. "And you didn't tell us?!" Dean yells. "It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness." Chuck retorts, finishing his glass of whisky. Dean looks between Castiel and I before asking Cas, "This is the guy who decides our fate?" "He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece – a conduit for the inspired word." Cas says, not looking up from the book. "The word? The word of god? What, like the new new testament?" Dean asks. Cas closes the book, "One day, these books – they'll be known as the Winchester gospel."

I cross my arms over my chest, mildly offended. "Always the forgotten one." I roll my eyes. Dean and Chuck both say, "You got to be kidding me." Completely ignoring my statement. Castiel's eyebrows furrow in slight confusion, his arms dropping to his sides, "I am not... kidding you." Chuck stands up from his chair, clutching the bottle of whisky. "If you'd all please excuse me one minute." He quickly rushes upstairs. "Him? Really?" Dean asks. Cas sighs, "You should've seen Luke." Dean takes a few steps to the arm chair Chuck was just sitting in. I let my arms drop to my sides, my hand bumping Castiel's. I could feel my cheeks heat up as he looks down at our hands.  "Why'd he get tapped?" Dean asks, making the angel look back up at him. "I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command." Castiel explains. "H-How high?" I stutter. Cas looks at me again, "Very." "Well, whatever. How do we get around this?" Dean's tone starts to get more frantic. "Around what?" Castiel's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?"  Cas hesitates for a moment. "What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass."

~~~~~~~

The tires of the Impala squeal as Dean pulls into the parking lot of the motel quickly. Both of us get out of the car quickly , rushing into the motel room. 

"Come on. We're getting out of here." Dean says as we enter the room, walking passed Sam. "What? Where?" Sam asks incredulously.  "Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we got to swim, we are getting out." Dean looks at Sam and I for a moment, then glances around the room. "Dude, where are all the hex bags?" Sam takes a breath, "I burned them." I look at Sam like he just grew a second head. "You what?" "Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big 'if' –"  Dean interrupts Sam, "No, no, no. It's more than an 'if.' Chuck is not a psychic. He's a prophet." Sam's eyebrows crinkle, "What?" I cross my arms over my chest, "Cas showed up, and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us. You." I correct myself. It's the Winchester Gospel. Not Winchester and Singer. "Okay." Sam just looks more confused. Dean walks passed Sam to his bag. "Okay. Let's get the hell out of here." I go over to my bag, starting to put my clothes in it. I can hear Sam sigh. "No." He says. The older Winchester pauses for a moment before slinging his shirt into his bag angrily. "Lilith is gonna slaughter you." "Maybe she will, maybe she won't." Sam shrugs. Dean takes a couple steps towards his brother, "So what? You think you can take her?"

I glance at the door for a moment, not wanting to be in the middle of another dick measuring competition. I quietly make my way out of the room, deciding to give them their time. I'm surrounded by too many fucking men.

I walk over to a soda machine nearby, putting some coins in the machine. I sigh, letting my forehead rest on the front of it. I do the only thing I can think of, "Castiel. I don't know if this praying thing actually works but we need help." "Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing." Castiel says, saying something else at the end of the sentence that isn't in English. I turn around and look at him, confused. I shake it off and ask, "So does that mean you'll help me?" "I'm not sure what I can do."  "Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up." I plead, taking a step towards the angel. Castiel shakes his head, a sympathetic look on his face, "It's a prophecy. I can't interfere." "Cas, I have never asked anything of you. Please. I'm...I'm your soulmate Castiel." My voice comes out in a whisper. "Save my brother." I gently reach my hand out, my fingertips brushing over the warm skin of his hand. Castiel looks down at our hands, just like earlier at Chuck's house. "What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do." "Why? 'Cause it's 'divine prophecy'?" I ask. The angel nods, hesitantly lifting his hand, holding mine. "Yes." Castiel's thumb brushes over my knuckles as I ask, "So, what – We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?" I really don't want to be mad at him for something he can't control. Cas sighs, "I'm sorry." He pauses for a moment, his gaze still fixated on our hands. "You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected."

I let out a heavy breath and nod, "I get that." "If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're Heaven's most terrifying weapon." Castiel explains, looking up at me now but keeping his gentle hold of my hand.  I smile softly, catching onto what he's implying. "And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?" "Yes." Castiel confirms. "So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon –" I trail off. "Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand... why I can't help." Castiel's eyes search mine with a barely-there smile. "Thanks, Cassie." I grin, gently squeezing his hand before letting it go. "Good luck." Castiel replies as I start towards the motel room again. "(Y/N), wait a moment." I turn to look at him and he says, "You are not the 'forgotten one'. You are just as important as Sam and Dean."

~~~~~~~

Dean and I enter Chuck's house, and this time, he actually looks surprised to see us.

"What are you doing here? I didn't write this." Chuck says, startled.

Dean grabs Chuck's arm, pulling him up from the couch, "Come on. I need you to come with me." "What? Where?" Chuck asks. "To the motel where Sam is." I explain. "That's where Lilith is." Chuck argues, pointing out the obvious. "Yeah, exactly. We need you to stop her." Dean says. "Are you insane? Lilith? I know what she's capable of, Dean. I wrote her." Chuck shakes his head. "All right, listen to me. You have an archangel tethered to you, okay? All you got to do is show up and boom! Lilith gets smoked." I try to reason with the prophet. Chuck shakes his head again. "But I-I haven't seen that yet. Th-the story –" "Chuck, you're the only shot that I've got left." Dean pleads.  "But... I'm just a writer." "This isn't a story anymore, man. This is real! And you're in it! Now, I need you to get off your ass and fight." Chuck takes a few steps forward, walking between Dean and I. "Come on, Chuck." Chuck hesitates for a moment. "No friggin' way." He replies, sipping his whisky. Dean strides towards him. "Okay, well, then, how about this – I've got a gun in my pocket, so does (Y/N), and if you don't come with me, we'll blow your brains out." "I thought you said I was protected by an archangel." Chuck retorts smugly. "Well, interesting exercise. Let's see who the quicker draw is." Dean says.

"And whoever that archangel kills first will be the perfect distraction for the other one to take the shot." I shrug.

~~~~~~~

It didn't take much convincing after that. We bust into the motel room, seeing Lilith on top of Sam with the demon-killing knife. We take a few steps into the room as Chuck shouts weakly, "I am the prophet Chuck!"

Lilith climbs off of Sam, knife still raised, "You've got to be joking." She glares at Dean, Chuck and I. The walls start to shake, hell, the entire building starts to shake and crumble around us. "Oh, this is no joke." Dean yells, a white light pouring in from the windows and pieces of the ceiling collapse. Chuck flinches and I take a step back away from the rubble. Dean continues to taunt the demon in front of us, "You see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder. You've got about 10 seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal. You sure you want to tangle with that?" Lilith looks at Sam one more time, anger written all over her face. The demon expels from the blonde woman's body, the black smoke breaking out the window next to the bed. Sam pants as the room stops shaking. Chuck, Dean and I approach the woman's body, who has collapsed to the ground. The boys and I share a look and a sigh of relief.

~~~~~~~

Dean is driving, Sam in the passenger seat like always. I sit in the back like normal. The back window is still busted, the tarp flapping in the wind, which, quite frankly, is fucking annoying. "So a deal, huh?" Dean asks randomly. Sam sighs, looking out the window, "That's what she said." "To call the whole thing off – angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?" Dean continues to interrogate. "That was the gist of it." Sam says. Dean nods with a hum. "What?" "You didn't think once about taking it?" Dean questions. "You kidding me?" Sam looks over at his brother. "Dude, you and (Y/N) spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track." Dean shrugs, "I'm just saying..." "She would have found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives." Sam says.  "Yeah, I guess you're right." "Anyway, that's not the point." Sam shakes his head. "What's the point?" I ask. "The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running." Sam explains. "Running from what?" Sam shakes his head again, "Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing." Dean turns his head to look at Sam, "What's that?" "She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that."

(A/N): I hope y'all liked this chapter! I hope (Y/N) and Dean's sibling bonding wasn't weird and I hope (Y/N) and Cas' moments were cute-awkward and not bad writing-awkward. Please give me feedback if you think either of those to be true. And I'm sorry this wasn't finished like 2-3 days ago lol

Soulbound Taglist:

@fairy-alix @ltotheucy @delusional-paradise @moon-trash1507 @bakusquadobsessed @cnme2003 @harryssatellitee

[starchildren220]

Body Double

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

my ao3

my wattpad

masterlist

Chuck and his artist girlfriend do a body double date

warnings- short :'(

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You woke up to your bed empty just as it was last night, you frown and get up from the bed. You stretched and checked the clock, '8:32' you sigh and head down the stairs to see chuck sleeping on his desk. You laughed as you noticed his drool and his glasses crooked on his face.

You grabbed a blanket from the couch and laid it across his shoulders looking at the screen you chuckled lightly at the inconvenience his sleep would cause for him; the whole page was the letter 'z' over and over again. 'He must've fell asleep on it' you thought.

You walked to the kitchen to make Chuck his coffee and you decided you wanted pancakes. Grabbing the just ass water batter and start cooking.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

While waiting on the last pancake to finish, you jumped at the feeling of hands placing themselves on your waist. "Didn't mean to scare ya'" Chuck had a deep voice, but an even deeper morning voice. You smile and lean back into him. His chin was resting on your shoulder. "Did you make any f'me?"

"You think I can eat all this? Also, there's some coffee ready for you." He kissed your shoulder. "My savior." He let go to grab a mug to fill with coffee. You used your spatula to put the last pancake on the plate before bringing it over to the table.

Chuck sat down across from you sipping his steaming coffee. You ate most of the pancakes, but Chuck had a couple too. You spent breakfast in silence before you decided to start the painting you were commissioned for. Bringing out your paints you set up your station next to Chucks desk.

Chuck sat at his desk too and presses play on your record player, some light music filled the room and you just started painting. It was a couple of hours before your hands started to cramp up, placing your brush down you massage the muscles in your hands.

The noised coming from Chucks keyboard were slightly louder than the music. But it was quite soothing to you. Standing up you stretched out your muscles before walking over to the couch. You fall onto the couch letting your back get a break. You closed your eyes to feel the hum of the room, your muscles relaxing.

Without warning something falls on your chest, opening your eyes its Chuck. You laughed, he looked adorable his chin resting on your chest, his body between your legs, and his tired, hooded eyes looking into yours with a smile on his face. You smile and wrap your arms around him.

"Takin' a break?" He hums to answer your question. You could feel the vibrations on your chest. Chuckling tightened your grip around him before loosening your arms again. You slid one of yours hands up his back and you thread your fingers through his curly hair massaging his scalp.

His eyes fluttered closed and he relaxed into you, you admired his soft features and watch him fall asleep. Soon your eyes felt heavy, and you drifted off into a comforting nap.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[spitefulsatanfics]

°= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = °

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

"Play your roles. Play your parts."

— Gabriel, Season 5

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Pairing: Gabriel x Reader (She/Her)

Tone: Captor!Gabriel, Soft!Gabriel, Snarky-and-Adorable!Gabriel, Stockholm Syndrome Love, Slow Burn, Dark Romance

Rating: M (Language, Violence, Slight Intimacy, Horror Elements, Injury)

Word Count: 6,720

Written By: Little Devil ♡

Based On: Supernatural, Season 5 (unspecified episode)

Synopsis:

Gabriel always said he was done. Done with Heaven, done with Hell. But when the Winchesters refused again to play their parts in the coming apocalypse, he did what any ancient, slightly unhinged archangel would do—he took a bargaining chip.

Y/N had been with the brothers since nearly the beginning, a tagalong who became family. Gabriel didn’t care who she was—until he did. She was just supposed to be bait. A distraction. A pressure point. He wasn’t supposed to like the way her voice sounded when she was scared, or how she bit her lip when she lied. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

He told himself it was a game. He told himself he was still in control. But somewhere between threats and banter, blood and healing hands, chocolate and silence—he started to fall. And worse… she started to fall too.

What happens when the Trickster gets tricked?

Chapter One: The Sweetest Prison

The motel room was empty.

Dean’s boots squeaked against the laminate floor as he spun in a slow circle, eyes narrowing. Sam checked the bathroom. Then the parking lot. Then her phone history. Nothing. She hadn’t run. She wouldn’t.

“I told you,” Dean snapped, grabbing the nearest chair and hurling it against the wall. It cracked. “I told you he’d come for her.”

Gabriel.

He’d warned them. Play their roles. Say yes to their parts in the heavenly script or the people they cared about would start disappearing. They hadn’t believed him. They never did.

Now she was gone.

° ° °

She woke up slowly. The first thing she noticed was the smell—sweet, like caramel and something darker underneath. Then the velvet beneath her fingers. Her eyes opened to warm candlelight and stained-glass windows casting fractured reds and golds across polished wood.

Not Hell. But not Heaven either.

Gabriel leaned in from the shadows with a grin that made her stomach flip.

“Rise and shine, princess.”

Y/N bolted upright on the settee she’d been placed on, breathing hard. “What the hell, Gabriel?”

“Language. And no, not Hell. More like… my little pocket of paradise. Don’t worry—no one’s going to hurt you. Well,” he wiggled his fingers dramatically, “unless you count my cooking.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“You say ‘kidnapped,’ I say ‘strategically relocated for leverage.’ Tomato, tomahto.”

She lunged. A flash of gold light threw her backward, landing on the velvet cushions with a grunt. Gabriel appeared in front of her in a blink, crouching down, eyes twinkling.

“Hey. Easy. I’m not gonna hurt you. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Well, not officially.”

She glared. “They’re going to come for me.”

“I’m counting on it.”

° ° °

Chapter Two: Chocolate and Chains

She didn’t know how long she’d been there—days? A week? Time bent in Gabriel’s strange world. The sky was always dusky rose, the air perfumed and still. There were no clocks, no doors. Just her, a sprawling garden with oddly intelligent flowers, and Gabriel.

Always Gabriel.

At first, she resisted. Screamed, threatened, refused his offerings. He let her.

Then the meals got better. Her clothes more comfortable. The books she liked appeared, dog-eared at the corners, and he watched her read them with the silent pride of someone who'd been studying her longer than she wanted to know.

“You could leave,” she said once. “You could let me go.”

He had laughed, not cruelly. “I could. But I won’t.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated.

“Because I like you too much.”

° ° °

The next time he brought her dinner—chicken parmesan and a stupid little tiramisu in the shape of a bear—she let him sit beside her. They didn’t talk about the brothers. They didn’t talk about the world.

He told her stories instead.

Of ancient Rome, of pranking Loki himself, of dancing with Kali and nearly getting beheaded. She laughed more than she meant to.

When she leaned too far reaching for her glass and winced, he reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing the bruises she’d gotten trying to escape a few days before.

“You should’ve healed me,” she said quietly.

“You didn’t want me to touch you.”

“And now?”

He didn’t answer.

But the next morning, the bruises were gone.

---

Final Scene: The Kiss That Broke the Spell

It happened on the seventh night.

They were lying on the settee again, the fire low, her fingers curled loosely around the edge of his jacket. He had let her wear it. It smelled like spice and sugar and something electric.

She didn’t know how it started. One moment they were watching the flames flicker, the next he turned his head and looked at her—really looked.

“You miss them,” he said softly.

“Every second.”

“I could let you go.”

She swallowed.

“Then why don’t you?”

His voice cracked. “Because I don’t know how to be anything without laughing. Without pretending. But when I’m with you, I feel… real.”

She blinked. Her hand reached up on its own, brushing a curl from his face.

“Then be real with me.”

He leaned in. She didn’t pull away.

When Gabriel kissed her, it wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t a claim. It was desperate. Soft. Terrified. Like something unraveling at the seams. Her hand found his, fingers twining. And when they broke apart, breathless and quiet, her voice trembled.

“You’re still a jackass.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your jackass now.”

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END

Love is the trick. And the trick is love.

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[theriddlersunderwear]

All of My Supernatural Related Playlists:

(Psst, Sunny is an OC from a fanfic I'm writing please ask about her before I explode autistically)

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Five

Warnings: Self hate, mentions of abusive ex, mentions of a minor character death, fluff

Characters: Reader, Dean, Michael, Jo

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

You had been living with Dean for five weeks now, and everything felt surprisingly normal. You both woke up early in the morning for work, so you got to have breakfast together. You liked having someone to talk to before going to work.

It was five in the morning as you and Dean shuffled around the kitchen in a comfortable silence. You had made some eggs and bacon for the both of you while Dean got ready for work. Since Dean passed the coffee shop to get to work, he would drop you off, and in return, you made him coffee to get him ready for the day. 

"Mornin' sweetheart." Dean grumbles as he comes out of his room, yawning. His hair was still tousled from sleep. You chuckle softly at the sight.

"Morning, Dean. Forget to brush your hair?" You snorted. Dean laughs as he smooths down his hair.

"Maybe I was trying out a new style, Y/n, ever think of that?" He sniffed, pretending to be mad.

"Aw, c'mon now, you never change up your routine, so I find that highly unlikely. And besides, you can't be mad at me forever, I made you breakfast." You set his plate down on the table, pouring a glass of orange juice for him.

"I got damn lucky to have you as a roommate." He sighed happily as he ruffles your hair before sitting down at the table, tucking into his breakfast.

"I could say the same." You smile as you eat with him. Storm was still asleep on the window seal. Despite Dean buying a cat bed for him to get into his good graces, the cat refused to actually sleep in the bed. He just sniffed at it before going back to what he was doing.

Once you and Dean were finished with breakfast, he took the plates and put them in the dishwasher, starting a load. You went and grabbed your apron for work before heading out the door with Dean, sliding into his beautiful Impala. "I hope you know that if I actually still drove, I'd totally wanna take Baby for a joyride." You joked.

Dean laughs softly, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. "You're more than welcome to drive her anytime you need, sweetheart. I won't stop you."

"Oh, um, nah." You shook your head gently. "I don't really drive anymore. I um, I got into a really bad car crash about a year ago and I don't really drive anymore because of it." It was the first time you had really talked about the car crash with anyone other than Jo or Jack.

"I'm sorry to hear about that sweetheart. Was everyone alright?" He frowns, looking over at you.

"Oh, um, yeah, I just had a broken arm. . . The other driver was okay too." 

Dean could tell that you wanted to drop the subject. "So, I was thinking, you don't work tomorrow, right? And you're done with exams?"

"Yeah, why?" You tilt your head curiously.

"Well," Dean said as he pulled into the parking lot of Chuck's. "I was thinking that tonight we go to my favorite bar and have some drinks, my treat. They're having karaoke tonight too, and I think it would be a lot of fun."

You mulled it over for a moment. You didn't drink much, but you thought this would be a good chance to get to know Dean a little better and let loose some. "I think that'd be a lot of fun, actually." You give him a gentle smile. 

"Perfect, I get off work tonight at 5. I'll pick you up and take you home on my lunch break, I don't want you walking home alone or anything." Dean gives you a boyish grin, the one that you had come to adore. 

"Thanks, Dean, you have no idea how much I appreciate your kindness." And it was true. Dean was kind to you when it felt like you hit rock bottom. Being evicted from you apartment was rough, and you never expected him to offer his home up to you. Even though you hadn't known Dean long, you trusted him, and it seems that he trusted you. You hated to think about where you'd be without him right now.

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. I'm just glad I could help you out. I've been where you've been before. My life has never been put together in the slightest, and there was a time when I had no place to go. I really could have used some help, and I want to be that person for you." He said softly, looking over at you.

"Well, I know I'm not much, but I'm here, and I can be the support you need. We can help each other." You offer him a gentle smile.

"I like the sound of that, Y/n, thank you." You lean over and give him a quick hug. 

"I'll see you on your lunch break, then. Let me go make your coffee really quick." You went in and unlocked the doors, making Dean a brown sugar latte and grabbed him a scone before bringing it out to him. "Have a good day at work." I reach through the window and ruffle his hair before heading back inside to tackle the day.

Jo was the next person scheduled to come in, and you hoped it was one of those rare days that she was actually on time. You had talked to her many times before about her punctuality, but it never seemed to stick with her. She was your best friend, and you didn't want to have to reprimand her, but it seemed that it was going to have to come to that. Thankfully, she was on time today, and you didn't have to say anything to her.

"Thank god my car started." She said as she walked in, clocking in on the computer. "I was scared she wasn't gonna crank. I really need a new car."

"Well, you're here, that's all that matters. Today's a Wednesday, so I'm expecting it to be a good day for us. This is usually our dead day, so I think it should be okay with just the two of us until eleven when Maddison comes in."

The day went off without a hitch, the customers were nice, it was a slow day, and everything seemed peaceful. That is, until the end of your shift. Dean was on his lunch break and he was waiting for you to clock out so he could take you home. He didn't mind hanging out in the coffee shop, as he found it rather peaceful. The front door dinged, signaling that there was a customer inside. "Hey, welcome to Chuck's! We'll be right w-" You broke off as you stared up at the man in front of you. Michael. You could feel your heart pounding out your chest as he glared down at you. You hadn't seen him in nearly two months, what made him want to come confront you now?

"We need to talk." He said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was 6'3 and he towered over you. It was something that had always intimidated you, especially when you were together.

"We have nothing to talk about. You need to leave." You tried to make your voice sound strong and determined, but it came out as just a small squeak. You hated the affect he had on you. For years he made you feel small, and even after the break up, he could still make you feel that way.

"Oh we have plenty to talk about, Y/n. Like how one day you just changed the locks to the apartment and had all of my stuff sitting out in the hall?"

"And you're just now wanting to talk about this, huh? You had nearly two months to reach out to me and to talk about this, but you picked now as the prime opportunity? When I'm at work?"

"Oh please," He scoffed. "You can hardly call this a job. Besides, I've been busy with other things." Dean's head perked up at the sound of arguing. He looked over at you and Michael. He could clearly tell you were in distress.

"Michael, just fucking leave. You're not welcomed here. Our relationship is over and there's absolutely nothing for us to talk about. You cheated, you were abusive, you were a shitty ass boyfriend. What else do you want me to say? I've listed a billion reasons as to why we broke up and you still can't accept that."

"Don't speak to me like that." He grabbed your wrist. "I guess I better teach you some manners." You try to pull away from his grasp. Before you could even shout for help, a fist connected with Michael's jaw. 

Dean looked pissed as he grabbed Michael by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. "What kind of pathetic coward lays hands on a woman?" He growled as he punched him again. "Come near Y/n ever again, and I swear to God himself, there will not be anything stopping me from beating you within an inch of your sad life. Got it?!"

You had never seen Dean so angry before, let alone get physical with someone. "And what's it to you, huh?! Why the hell do you care for some whore so much? Oh, I get it, you're fucking her, huh?" Michael laughed, throwing his head back.

Dean said nothing in return as he punched him once more before throwing him out to door. "Don't ever come near her again." Dean snarled before going to check on you. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he? I swear to God-"

"Dean. . ." You hugged him tightly. "I'm okay, he didn't hurt me. . . Thank you for sticking up for me." You whisper, tears in your eyes. Maddison and Jo watched as Dean wrapped his arms around you protectively. 

"No one's going to hurt my best girl on my watch, I promise you that." He said lowly, gently rubbing your back. "I'm guessing he's your ex boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he is. . . I thought I was finally free of him, but he keeps popping back up like an infectious disease." You were holding back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Dean.

"C'mon sweetheart, let's get out of here." He wrapped his arm around you and led you out to his car. "Do you need me to stay with you? I can tell Bobby something came up." 

You shook your head gently. "No, that's okay. . . I don't want to impose. I'll be okay until you get off work tonight. . . Honestly, I don't even what to think about what just happened. And it doesn't even surprise me that he came here. I guess I was just hoping he'd forget about me." You ramble on, looking at your hands.

"You wouldn't be imposing, sugar." He said, his voice soft and gentle. "If you need me, I'm here, okay? There's not much goin' on at the shop today, so Bobby can afford to be on his own for the rest of the day."

You felt tears brim your eyes as you kept looking at your hands, refusing to look Dean in the eye. "I-I could use some company. . . If t-that's okay." You whispered quietly. Dean tilts your head up gently with his finger so you would look at him.

"I'll stay with you as long as you need, darlin'." He then surprised you by kissing your head. He was so caring and gentle with you, which was something you weren't used to. He drove back to the house, letting you pick the music for the drive. Once you got back, he called Bobby and explained the situation before following you inside. He grabbed some blankets and popped some popcorn. "So, what movie should we watch? Comedy, rom-com, action?" 

"You really don't have to do this for me, Dean. . ." You felt like a burden. You made Dean call out of work just so he could sit here and watch a movie with you. You were an awful friend and roommate.

"You're right, I don't have to, but I want to. . . You're my best friend, Y/n, I want to make sure that you're okay. You've had a stressful day, and you need to unwind a bit. Plus, work was slow, wasn't much for me to do. I'd much rather sit here with my favorite girl and cheer her up." He sits down beside you, draping his arm on the back of the couch. 

You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you let the tears flow. "I-I just want to be rid of him. He never let's me have any peace."

"Shh," Dean whispered softly, running his fingers through your hair. "I'm here sweetheart. . . He won't hurt you as long as I'm around, okay?" He kissed your head again, making you feel comfort. Storm jumped up on the couch, settling himself in your lap, purring softly. "See, darlin'? Even Storm's here to help you." That made the tears stream down your face harder. It felt like you couldn't breathe. Everything that you had held in from the break up came bursting out all at once, despite your attempts at pushing it down. Dean held you in his arms as you cried. "Breathe, Y/n, I need you to breathe for me, okay?" He murmured gently. You tried to breathe, but it just came out as choked sobs. Your body was shaking as you cried. Dean let you know that he was here, and that you were safe. You knew he was right. Being in his arms was the safest place for you. You knew that Dean would never hurt you, and that he would do everything in his power to protect you. 

Once you had calmed down, you found your voice. "Thank you for being here." Your voice was raw and hoarse from crying. Dean didn't mention it, he just smiled softly, kissing your temple.

"Of course, sweetheart. What are friends for?" He continued to run his fingers through your hair, as he could tell that's what was keeping you grounded. "We don't have to go out tonight, we can go some other time, I'm sure that you're tired after the day you've had."

You thought it over for a moment. "Actually, I think I still want to go out tonight. . . I just need to feel normal, and show that what he did doesn't get to me." You state confidently.

Dean grins at your confidence. "That's my girl." He let you get ready for your night out with him. You picked a pair faded ripped jeans from your draw, a black blouse, and a black leather jacket. You combed through your hair, trying to find a style you liked, eventually settling on having it braided. You came out of your room with a smile. Dean let out a low whistle as he saw you.

"You clean up nicely, darlin'." He grins. He was wearing a green flannel over a black shirt that fit him nicely and a pair of faded blue jeans. You couldn't help but smile at the compliment. 

"Thanks, De. Shall we get going?" You grab you wallet as Dean grabs his keys.

"Let's go." He smiles, resting a hand on the small of your back as he leads you out the door. You were very aware of his hand against your back. But you shouldn't be thinking about that. Dean was your friend and roommate. You couldn't risk anything. You slid into the Impala as Dean going into the drivers seat. You grinned as the car roared to life. The car was absolutely gorgeous, and you'd love to have an old car like this. That is, if you still drove. Past pains rear its ugly head into your thoughts, making you think of things you wish you could forget. You push it aside. Tonight was about having fun with your best friend.

You showed the bouncer your ID and you were let into the bar with Dean. It was packed since it was karaoke night. You and Dean slid up to the bar, you ordered your favorite drink and Dean got a whiskey and coke. "So, ya thinking about gettin' up there and singing?" Dean smirked as he looked to you.

"Me? Nah, I can't really sing." You shrugged.

"One, that's bullshit. I hear you singing in the shower all the time and you sound amazing. And two, no one who sings karaoke can sing. I'll do it with you if you sing." He offered you up a smile. You could never resist that boyish smile he had.

"I hate you, I hope you know that." Despite your words, you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

"Say what you want sweetheart. But hey, you get to pick the song and I can't complain."

"Oh really?" You smirked. "So if I picked a Taylor Swift song, you wouldn't say anything?"

"Hey, I can get down with TSwizzle, okay?" Dean held up his hands in defense. You couldn't help the laughter that racked through your body. 

"You did not just say TSwizzle-" You continued to laugh, Dean joining in.

"All I'm sayin' is that you can pick whatever song you like."

You went up to the karaoke machine, scrolling through until you found the perfect duet for you two. I Remember Everything by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. "We're up next." You grin as you pull Dean towards the stage. Dean followed you up on stage, grabbing the mic. "Ready?" Dean nods as the song starts. Despite having never heard the song, he did it justice. You never knew Dean could sing. When you sang your parts together, Dean smiled over at you, his eyes gleaming. Once the song was over, he helped you down from the stage.

"Y/n, you were amazing! I knew you had a good voice, but damn, that was beautiful." He praised you, gently patting your shoulder.

"Me? Dean, I had no idea you could sing like that. You were fantastic!" You gently punch his shoulder.

Dean chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck as the tip of his ears turn pink. "Thank you, sweetheart, I appreciate it." He grinned.

"Aaand I think that some of the girls over there found your singing attractive." You chuckled as you looked over to a group of girls that were eyeballing Dean. "You should go talk to them!" You encouraged.

"Nah," He shook his head. "This night is about you and me, and celebrating our friendship." He gave you a smile. You couldn't help the small butterflies you felt in your stomach. Instead of going off with a girl, he wanted to spend time with you. But at the same time, you felt bad, because you felt like you were keeping him from having a fun time.

You felt like screaming at yourself, because you always did this. Every time there was something good going in your life, you found a way to get in your head and overthink things. You wished you could turn those voices in your head off. Sometimes those voices got particularly loud, especially in times like these. You tried to push them away and have a good time with Dean, but you couldn't help it.

"You okay, Y/n? You got really quiet all of a sudden." Dean said softly. Damnit, he knew you too well.

"Oh, yeah, it's um, it's just been a long day, y'know?" You cleared your throat, looking up at him.

"We can head home if you'd like?" He suggested, tilting his head to the side.

"No no, I'd hate to be a bother. You look like you're having so much fun, and I don't want to ruin that." You spoke softly.

"Sweetheart, if you're tired or you just don't feel up to being here anymore, you can tell me. I won't be upset. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or feel like you have to stay for my sake. Besides, I don't care where we are, as long as we're together, I'm happy to spend time with you."

You gave him a soft smile. "I just don't think I'm in the right headspace right now." You sighed. "It's just been a long day with a lot going on. . . I promise to make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it, Y/n, we can just spend some time together and watch a movie if you'd like?"

"I'd really like that, De. . . Thank you." You whispered gently. Dean ruffled your hair and went to pay for the tab. You rode home in a comfortable silence as Dean hummed along to the radio. You were stuck in your own head again, per usual. You were leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass on your cheek.

"Are you sure everything's alright, sweetheart?" He asked, looking over to you. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I dunno, I'm just really struggling mentally today. After everything that happened this afternoon, I just feel so. . . empty?"

"I get it darlin'. What do you need? Do you need some time by yourself, or do you wanna curl up on the couch with me and watch some Dr. Sexy MD?" He questioned, his voice gentle.

"I think that spending some time with you could help. . ." You couldn't help but smile. You felt safe with Dean, and even though you were having a tough time, you knew that everything was going to be okay as long as you were with him.

[theanonymouswriter1989]

No title yet (I'm working on it)

This is the first thing I'm posting, it sucks I know. I got bored and listened to an angst playlist and just started typing. I also made an OC, I'm also figuring out how tumblrs posting works! Warnings: Character death, alcoholism Dean should have seen this coming. He was warned by Zachariah all those years ago, but he didn’t. If he had heeded the warnings then maybe his best friend, the woman he considered a little sister wouldn’t be dead. Maybe then Sam wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep over what he did. No, Sam stares up at the ceiling every night praying to a god that had screwed them over so many times just to plead for the soul of the woman he had once regarded as a friend, an ally, a lover, to be spared. Maybe if Chuck actually listened and granted Sam’s request, he wouldn’t have to stare in the mirror with hatred burning and simmering under the surface, he wouldn’t think of himself as a freak.

”Once a freak, always a freak.” Sam thought. A thought that would have been carved into Sam's headstone when Chuck finally decides to put down the controller of his sick and twisted one player game. Its a funny thing, never truly being able to die, being used as entertainment for a sick God. At least that's what Calliope always said.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Calliope once promised. Calliope was a dangerous woman, she always knew how to outsmart you even if you were twenty steps ahead, maybe that’s why she got along with the Winchesters so well. Or maybe it was that she was a sharpshooter who could rival Dean’s skills. Or how she would understand Cas’ newfound love for humans, or moreso a newfound love for a human named Dean Winchester. Either way, Calliope Conners was a force to be reckoned with, one that God found sadistic pleasure in messing with.

The bunker was cold, it always had been, but somehow without the distant warm and twinkling laugh echoing down the hall, it felt even colder. The one place that once housed a dysfunctional gang of misfits turned family, now felt frozen in time. The air was thick as the Winchesters set down their bags in the war room, their faces blank, a shell of who they used to be. Dean tried to hide his tears, but there are only so many tears that can fall before the booze turns sour with despair and regret.

(To be Continued)