Characters: Dean Winchester, Y/N Y/L/N (Reader), Officer Jacobs (OMC), Officer Wheaton (OMC), Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Garth Fitzgerald, John Winchester, Thomas Y/L/N (OMC), Dominique Sandgren (OFC).
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 1.5kish
Warnings: AU, Language, Angst, slow build up (more warnings would be included in future chapters)
Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is my entry for @nichelle-my-belle aka my beauty, Nichelle’s Angst Challenge! I got the prompt: “She was an angel craving chaos, he was a demon seeking peace.” I really hope you guys like it and stick around for the ride!
**Also, huge thank you to @neversatisfiedgirl for reading over this and giving me the confidence to post it like this.** -This will be a series-
I’m having fun drawing/writing a Dean/Castiel tattoo!AU (Copic markers, Prismacolor, Staedtler Pigment Liner). I drew 3 sketchbook spreads, I hope to post it soon, but first, I’ll post on Thursday a watercolor of Sam. ^^
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader
“I’m not going.” You said stubbornly. "I don’t care how many times I get possessed. I’m not doing it. You can’t make me.”
Life as a hunter was not without its share of injuries. You had been slashed, cut, burned, and hit so many times you had lost count. You cleaned up and moved on. That’s what hunters did.
But a bad experience with a tetanus shot as a kid had left you with a deathly fear of needles. It was ridiculous really. Sam and Dean had stitched you up many times, and you barely flinched. But get a flu shot? No freaking way!
You had been hunting with the Winchesters for about a year now, and sleeping with Sam for about half of that. They both knew you didn’t like shots, but they had no idea how phobic you were until a hunt went wrong and you were possessed. Then your dirty little secret was exposed.
@wlwprompts posted Soulmate AUs. Not requested. Just for fun.
The first words your soulmate says to you is tattooed on your body Sam felt conflicted as he traced the first words he had ever spoken to Jessica Moore on her thigh. He loved that the words were his. He felt guilty that the words on his ankle didn’t belong to her. He kept the tattoo covered with socks and she had never pressed to see it. Maybe she thought they were hers.
* * *
Dean had grown up knowing that everyone was born with a tattoo of the first words that their soulmate would ever speak to them. He had watched as other people compared theirs or traced their fingers over the markings. Dean stared at his and felt alone. Everyone else had words. He had a tattoo that didn’t say anything. They were squiggles and strange symbols. Dean didn’t know that they were Enochian.
* * *
Sam and Dean got back to their bunker that was their home. It had been a long day. The brothers exchanged grunts before going off to their respective rooms. Sam sat on his bed with a heavy sigh and ran his hands through his hair before kicking off his shoes and leaning over to take his socks off. His fingers brushed his tattoo and he did a double take. “Sorry. I wasn’t working that night.” He smiled a little, relief and the rare sweep of happiness taking over as he fell back onto his pillows. Eileen.
* * *
Dean had tried almost his whole life to scratch or cut or burn off the tattoo of the dumb squiggles that marked his rib. Scars that had built up around and on top of it had been healed away by each healing touch that Castiel had given him for every injury he’d had since he’d come back from Hell. He wrote one of the markings on a page, just idly doodling while drinking a beer and putting off research. Cas walked behind him and looked at it.
“Are you learning Enochian?” Cas asked as he stopped behind Dean’s chair and looked at the ancient word.
“No?” Dean moved to scribble out the symbol.
“Where is the rest of the sentence?” Irritated, Dean drew out the entire tattoo that he had memorized from his own ribs. Cas looked at it for a moment and smiled.
“How did you know what I said to you in that gas station in Illinois?” Dean looked from Cas to the markings and shrugged, his face burning. He crumpled up the paper mumbling something about “just doodles” and walked to his room.
* * *
Angels, being celestial beings, didn’t have tattoos. When they took a human vessel, usually no tattoo would replace the previous owner’s. Castiel had had two tattoos for years after he had found his vessel, Jimmy Novak. Jimmy’s tattoo stayed on his inner arm until the moment he died, when it faded to the pale white of his skin. When Castiel had possessed Jimmy, a new tattoo had appeared on his ribs. “Who are you?” was all it said. Castiel tried to ignore that he had a tattoo at all. Angels weren’t supposed to have soul mates. The ones who did were typically hunted to avoid the creation of Nephilim. He heard the words not long after acquiring his vessel. He heard the words come from Dean Winchester on his first night on Earth in the 21st century.
I haven’t posted this on Tumblr yet. I want to share now though. So when I went to Nashville for a supernatural convention I asked Jared, Jensen, and Misha to write out the three words to “Always Keep Fighting” so I would have it in their hand writing for my tattoo. I didn’t have much time to explain so I quickly asked and they happily did so. These past few months of my life have been really hard on me. I wake up almost everyday asking myself why am I still alive, now having my tattoo I can look down and say this is why I’m still alive. Thank you supernatural family for everything you do for us.
AN: Sorry this part took so long to get out, hope you enjoy this part. I’m not sure how I feel about it honestly but I finally got it done. Thank you @jalove-wecallhimdean for putting up with my crazy ass and helping me all of the time. Next part is meeting his family.
Things had been going well considering everything that had happened. Dean had made you feel just as loved and adored as he had prior to the weeks leading up to your big fight, but you were still having a hard time trusting him. You still had reservations with sharing anything too personal with him for fear of it being thrown back into your face once again. Your conversations typically seemed to be more of him talking and you listening. You would share how your day had gone, errands that needed to be done, and anything mundane you could think of, but you no longer shared how you felt…about anything.
Dean had managed to make fast friends with your father, making sure to make it to his house several times a week to help him with the classic car tucked away in the garage. If you didn’t know any better, you would think your father was ready to marry the man himself. Dean seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with him just talking and working. The only real exception was Friday nights. Those were reserved especially for you and what he had deemed as date night. He even went as far as making sure the bar was fully staffed and covered for any situation to avoid that night being taken from either of you.
It appeared out of thin air,
on her forearm, a tattoo of a latte cup, steam rising from the open lid, the
heart design in the foam dominating her skin.
She had heard of things appearing on others, soulmate designs,
they were called, doodles, sketches of art, permenantly etched on one’s skin.
She was 33 and she had never even gotten a lame butterfly in all
her years, until that day in the bookstore, as she reached for a book of
poetry, her skin exposed.
Her soulmate had drawn their coffee cup and as the sketch
completed she saw a scribble of a name on the sleeve.
Was it her imagination or were her senses playing a trick on
her? She could smell the vanilla and cinnamon, the rich grounds of coffee,
coming from the far counter of the bookstore. She looked from her tattoo to the
only man sitting at the barista’s counter and caught her breath.
She tucked the book under her
arm and approached the broad-shouldered man, with the tawny brown hair, and
pencil to paper.
“Excuse me,” she tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, his
green eyes piercing her dark ones, “are you Sam by any chance?”
The man looked at his sketch and noticed her forearm, shook his
“Name’s Dean,” he pulled a stool out for her, “there’s something
you need to know.”
She cautiously sat
next to Dean, who asked if she wanted one of the fancy coffees to which she
accepted. As the barista made hers, she inclined her head and asked,
“Who is Sam?”
“Sam was my little
brother, law student, obnoxiously smart, but taken too soon.”
“Every town I drive
through, I stop and order one of his favorite coffees, reminiscing of what we
“And today, you drew
the latte, but why?”
Dean sighed, a tear
slid down his cheek, “it was just us two against the world and now, now I’m
tired of being alone.”
“I’ve been here this
whole time,” you took a sip and noticed Dean never drank the latte he ordered,
just held it in his hands for warmth, for a connection, for memory.
“I never believed in
soulmates and when I saw the drawing and the name, I felt whole.”
gulped, “but now you know I’m your soulmate, not Sam, and I’m not the man you
thought I’d be.”
You placed your hot
mug on the marble countertop and folded one hand over Dean’s on his mug.
“You’re more than I
could ever have imagined and I’m yours to tell more stories of Sam to as well,”
“But I want to know
more about you, the artist for one,” you scooted closer, “would you tell me
“Are you sure,
Sweetheart, hell I didn’t even catch your name,” Dean chuckled and his eyes for
a brief second sparkled.
You took his pencil
and scribbled in cursive on the napkin, and your name appeared on his wrist.
“YN,” he said your
name like a prayer, “I’d love to tell you another story.
Kansas Tattoo Shop. You stared at the red brick building,
fear coursed through your veins. Get a tattoo your mind said, it will be fun.
It will give remembrance to the one you loved, you told yourself.