ph: supernatural


“Did it hurt?” the fallen angel asked you and you peeked up from the book your were reading to look at him.


“Did it hurt?” he repeated his question and proceeded to add when you raised an eyebrow at him “When you fell from heaven. Did it hurt?”

Either the smirk on his lips was contagious or you just liked this too much- much more than what you’d llike to admit.

“No” you said trying to put on a straight face “But I broke a nail crawling out of hell.”

“Which you should know, considering you were there” you added sassily but he only chuckled.

“Still playing hard to get?” he asked with a bigger smirk.

“I thought you’d know by now” you looked at him straight in the eyes “I am impossible to get”

“We’ll see that, angel” he said cheekily.

You fakely rolled your eyes at him “Oh we will, satan”

“Oh there will be one day. Mind my words-” he didn’t have time to complete his sentence as Dean walked in.

“No you mind my words, Luci.” you  and Sam let a small snicker at the nickname “If you keep it up like that you won’t live long to see that day come”

The threatening tone in Dean’s voice should have been a warning for him, to make him stop for even a little, but it certainly shuold not have made him laugh.

“Hey (Y/n), do you have a band-aid? Cause I scrapped my knee when I fell for you” and he just had to wiggle his eyebrows at you.

You could barely keep a snicker in but you tried to put on a serious face anyway “Really? I thought when you fell from heaven would have hurt more”

Sam Winchester, drawn in PS.

[Caption: A realistic digital painting of Sam Winchester from Supernatural. Portrait is from the waist up. Sam is wearing a dusty rose/red plaid shirt. His neck length brown hair is tucked behind his ears. He’s gazing down with a sad and thoughtful expression. The background is warm strawberry red.]

Kevin Tran, drawn in PS.

[Caption: A realistic digital painting of Kevin Tran from Supernatural. Portrait is from the waist up. Kevin’s arms are folded across his chest, and he’s wearing a beige button up shirt over a cream colored t-shirt. Soft golden light shines down from the upper right. The background is stone-gray and covered with a pattern of glyphs like the ones found on the ancient tablets Kevin translates in the show.]


“No, no no. (Y/n) no please no!” Sam’s voice was the only thing that could be heard in the deafeninng silence of the werehouse they were in.

The werehouse where the hellhounds had just moments ago ripped you into shreds.

Dean stood motionless, not a single muscle flexing as he stared wide-eyed at your limp and bloodied body in Sam’s arms. Horror written all over his face.

But his heart- his heart was the only thing that hurt more than anything else, like the wounds he had when he tried to protect you. And it hurt because he knew it was his fault. He should have never shouted at you, he should have never blamed you for all of it. He knew that you didn’t want to kill Lisa back then, it all was an accident as she stepped in the way but they way Dean reacted he knew was purely out of rage.

But how would he have ever imagined that you were going to sell your soul- your own soul to save her just because she was important to Dean.

Not as much as you were. He realized it as well, now. Now that he felt his heart hurt more than what it had when he had been watching Lisa’s limp body all that time ago. It hurt more knowing, thinking and realizing he was never going to see you again- that he had lost you. And it was all his fault.

They had not even left you enough time. No ten years. Not even one. Just a few months. And they had only found one month ago. Or basically Sam had. You had slurred it out to him in the drunk state you were, the tears rolling down your cheeks. Sam’s horror was unparalleled but his anger was even bigger.

He knew he was probably going to beat him hard for that - in both literal and metaphorical way - but maybe later. Now he was too devastated as he cried over your dead body.

And Dean knew exactly how he felt. Just like he was willing to take everything later. It was all his fault. He knew it.