Rewatching Supernatural And Am On Season 8. There’s No Way Dean And Benny Didn’t Fuck In Purgatory

No matter how much you dislike your own writing, I promise you it’s better than AI

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy THE BOYS (2022) | 3.04 – “Glorious Five Year Plan”

I lied, I’m in too much pain from my surgery rip to the idea that I’d have a fic out

reblog this if you’re a fanfic writer & your motivation to write actually increases when readers actually show interest & give you feedback. even just a reblog or a little comment here and there

Can you do a drabble for Number 67?

absolutely anything 4 u and them. esp bc i have NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT. I SWEAR. am just locking tf in to wrap up s1 before i start posting them again <3 i forgot this was in my drafts bc i thought it was buried in my inbox bc im a lil idiot ok. so sorry </3 pls take this as forgiveness.

this is also something canon that will happen eventually down the line, so u are all basically getting exclusive content rn hehehe.

the stanford cheer squad were incredible people, hosting a car wash to fundraise for the education of less fortunate children. you were incredible, and you knew it, having been the one to bring up the idea to the team captain yourself.

it was something you were passionate about, considering how hard you were working for your nursing degree, and how much of your own childhood was spent wishing for the same opportunities that the other kids got. that wish grew into a dream — pediatric nursing.

expectedly, the turnout was insane. people were so passionate about education for the youth of today. they were so passionate that they'd bring their freshly washed car back again into the open parking lot the team hosted it in.

hey, whatever you had to do, right? the money was racking in, and the pipe dream to help kids like you get more of a chance to get where you were without needing to sacrifice as much as you did was becoming a reality.

pour some sugar on me plays on the stereo propped on a foldout chair in the back. you were one of the sign girls, drawing the cars in from the campus streets and handling the cash intake.

adeline was on the other side of the tall sign. it was nice to have your sorority big sister cheering, too. you weren't yet close with a lot of the other girls, so having someone you knew you liked and that liked you made times like this, when the girls paired off to the assigned tasks, feel a lot less intimidating.

"lots of honks," she says idly, letting her arms and the sign fall in front of her, "but not a lot of people comin' in anymore."

you hum, pointing out a fancy black car a couple of miles away, just pulling into the parking lot. "they look like they'd be into a car wash."

adeline's eyes narrow in on where you're pointing, a little huff of laughter bubbling out of her mouth. "oh, the cardinal's two golden boys? sure."

surely that wasn't dean and taylor. adeline had an easier view, closer to the road they were driving on than you were by only a few feet, but you'd be able to recognize dean anywhere. surely that wasn't him, and his roommate, and that couldn't have been his car.

you watch it roll in — just in time to see the car jerk to the right in the direction of the car wash.

adeline's laugh brightens. "god, it is! of course they're comin' in." she turns over to you, eyebrows raised up. "you and dean are always in each other's orbit."

your face goes a little pink, and you let your arms fall now too to properly shoot her a glare. "shut up." you didn't even like dean like that. yeah, he was the first proper friend you'd made, if you didn't count the other two cheer girls you'd met during sorority rush. that didn't mean anything like what adeline implied. in fact, you'd tell her that. "taylor's prettier, anyways. don't you think?"

"taylor king is a pig." she rolls her eyes, a fond smile curling at the corner of her lips that gives way any irritation. "he's makin' his way through the cheer roster. don't let him put a cherry red notch in his belt."

the car slows to a stop outside of the giant makeshift sign entrance of the car wash. the driver's side window rolls down, and sure enough, you're met with dean winchester's pretty green eyes. "is it fifteen per car or per person?"

that was your proof that you and dean were not orbiting each other. no hello, no nice to see you; he was straight to the point around his friends. you just didn't seem to make the cut. "per car." you slip the sign between your knees, hand extended for the cash taylor was blatantly swinging in your direction. "though i could make it per person for you guys. because you're football."

"harsh," taylor interjects from the passenger seat, giving up on reaching across dean and tossing the loose bills. "oh no... now you have to bend down and pick them—" he's cut off by an elbow straight to the ribcage.

"ignore him." dean picks up the bills in his lap, handing them out to you. "i was askin' just so i could make him pay for me, too. he tried to kill us gettin' over here once he saw the sign."

taylor's face scrunches up in befuddlement, slapping dean over the forehead. "yeah i did. boobs, dean. fuckin' tits." he catches the elbow dean tries to reem him with again. "hell no was i letting this chance pass me by."

dean, to his credit, looks a little sheepish about all of this. you, to your credit, were very good at ignoring it. he was getting picked on enough, and you didn't want any excuse to start thinking that dean liked you enough to care about what you thought about him.

"drive on through," you say, bypassing dean's gaze to hold taylor's stare as you shove the wad of cash in your cropped white stanford tee. you expect it to break taylor's act, but all he does is break into a wolfish smile. taylor king may have been a pig, but he was so pretty.

dean inches forward, forcing the eye contact between the both of you to break. finally, a reprieve from the intensity that was the lineman and the quarterback's attention all at once.

short-lived relief, because taylor's ass is planted on the rolled down window on his door's frame, his head and shoulders visible above the top of the car. "how much for you to wash the car?" he shouts to you, his grin nearly ear to ear now.

you shake your head, laughing, your hands held up in surrender. "you offering to donate more?"

"babygirl, i'd donate a kidney for this."

adeline's eyes meet yours from her place at the edge of the ovehead sign. the whole point of the dynamic between big and little was that she was supposed to guide you. she'd done great so far, making the transition so much easier than it could have been.

you didn't want to be another notch on taylor's belt. you also didn't really want to test the line that existed between you and dean. but there were greater things than flimsy college relationships. a little extra money toward something more meaningful had its sacrifices, and you were more than willing to make them.

"fifty bucks and i'll wash this car all by myself," you finally answer, handing off your sign to kristen as you saunter up to the rest of the girls. kristen's protests are lost to you, and die off anyways when she realizes that neither of the boys in the newest car to join the lot of soapy ones are looking at her. they're looking at you. "extra soapy."

taylor visibly begins to fumble around in his varsity jacket pockets, but you're only paying attention to him in your peripheral vision. your eyes are back on dean, his expression unreadable.

"you're trouble," he mouths, shaking his head, the little dimples in his cheeks giving way to his amusement.

maybe he did care what you think. and maybe you cared what he thought, too. that's why you couldn't help but give into this, and also why you couldn't keep giving in after this. there had to be a line. there had to be something stable, or else everything would shatter.

you take the cash from taylor as you circle around dean's car and up to the speaker. you grab the ipod connected to it, flipping through the saved songs until you land on cherry pie by warrant.

it was hard to see if the line in the sand between you and dean was broken or crossed through the soapy water all over the windows and the windshield. it wasn't hard, though, to figure out which pair of eyes watched you the hardest through the haze of the glass.

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notes. cherry pov <3 hope u guys enjoyed PLS i missed the stanford!dean universe SOOOOO SOO SOOOO BADLY.

tags. @whyyouegg @sthefferrete @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @bluestrd @ultravi0lence14 @mccartneyqp @depressionbarbie2023 @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @honeyryewhiskey @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @reynas13 @momoewn @deanswidow @jasvtsc @figthoughts @beausling @sunsettsam @aileenunfiltered @samslvrgirl @globetrotter28 @urfavpisces95 @rubyvhs @hollywoodxrose @imsiriuslyreal @bluemerakis @angels-silhouette @tortureddarkstar @tristimith

"The Superbowl half time was bad it wasn't that hype or enjoyable" it wasn't for you. It was for black people. It wasn't meant to be a fun performance. It was meant to be political art.

before anyone asks, yes im ovulating

In the Fields We Lie

Hello! This is going to be a multiple part story. It’s about Harry and his life before, during, and after World War I. I hope whoever comes across this enjoys it! I encourage feedback of any kind! Also, I am not sure of some writing/punctuation rules so please point those out especially! Happy reading :)

Word count: 3k

TW/Warning: None

Prologue

They say that in the midst of darkness and a time where nothing prospers, the mind tends to wonder. This is the time where inspiration strikes and masterpieces are made. There is, more than anything else we have in the world, is time. What we do in that allotted space is up to us to choose. What shall we occupy ourselves with? Where shall we let our minds wander off to? Distant lands or perhaps a reality that we dream of that is better than our present? Do you dream of being in your lover's arms? Or do you wish you could have taken back those harsh words you said to your mother recently? Others have to think quickly, in a fraction of a second, or else they will not live to see the light of day. In that darkness there is chaos and when everything turns quiet, is that moment of primal instinct to save your life or to accept that death will grab you and bring you to a hell that you have not seen yet. Anything to keep the mind busy in times of hardship is crucial. That is how we survive. The silence, especially in the time of war, is deadly, so deadly that it could turn anyone crazy.

Every soul is trying to keep themselves safe and there is not an option otherwise, unless they have lost their way, lost hope. Those are the people you have to take care of, to watch out for because without community and camaraderie there is no purpose. Without care for others is the destruction of oneself. Without out the care for oneself is to rot. Those who only think of the betterment of themself are soulless. To be self-sufficient is another story. To have support behind you, next to you, in front of you, gives you strength. To know that others are experiencing life similar to yours is comforting because ultimately you’ll feel less alone.

—

Manchester, England

5 June, 1914

Friday

In the summer of 1914, Harry Styles was a young and innocent soul. He was only worried about getting to work on time and pleasing the cute girl next door. Even though his life was simple he enjoyed it very much.

It was a particularly hot morning, especially for the beginning of June. No clouds in the sky to provide any shade on the way to work, making Harry sweat. Having to take off his work shirt so he doesn’t stain through it, even though it’ll be twice as bad inside. Sun hitting his pale skin, he hasn’t had the time to be outside to give himself a healthy glow so this is a perfect opportunity. He might get a horrible tan line from his undershirt but Harry’s okay with that. What he isn’t okay with is his inability to stop daydreaming about his neighbor, and that is exactly what he does walking two kilometers to work.

They are acquainted, Harry has helped her move furniture, tried to fix her shower pipes once but failed miserably, leaving him no other option but to pay for maintenance and to allow her access to his washroom. She had occasionally made him food whenever he came home late, or she would purposely bump into him in the morning before work to put a smile on his face. They enjoy each other's company so much that they go to the market together to buy groceries. Sometimes Harry stargazes in the park right below their building and she’d see him through her kitchen window, and she would join him anytime she caught him. They’d always lay in silence, enjoying the presence not only from one another but the vast universe above them.

In this particular moment all Harry can focus on is her being in his home, using his shower. Being the gentleman that he is, he respected her privacy when she was over to wash up, which was every night for a week. But he also couldn’t, and presently cannot help but to imagine her beautiful figure underneath her clothes. He would hear her hum to herself in the shower, she slipped once and she screeched but then laughed hysterically, it was heavenly. Seeing water drip from her hair was adorable. Her coming over made Harry feel whole, made his flat less lonely. There was one instance where she had forgotten a change of clothes, and that was the night Harry knew he was truly in love with her.

—

Harry was making some boiled chicken and pasta when he heard the shower handle squeak and a handful of choice words fall from his beautiful neighbors mouth. He assumed that she was rushing too fast while getting changed, she had a date who was waiting on her outside the building. Jealousy raged over him when she told him that there was a man taking her out to dinner. It was someone she knew in grade school, she told Harry that she bumped into him while she was at one of her friends' weddings. The negative emotions he was feeling quickly dissipated when she said his name.

“Harry…”

She sounded worried. Why was she worried? Was she nervous?

“Fran, I know your nerves are getting the best of you, but I’m sure you look lovely…” He turned around to find her in just a towel. Eyes widened, jaw dropped, and heart racing at a million miles an hour. Too stunned to speak, Harry quickly spun on his heels so he wasn’t starring. “Shit, I- I’m, I-”

She’s now laughing at his embarrassment. All worry washed away from her voice, “I forgot my dress. I guess I was so excited to get ready that I forgot it. Can I borrow a blanket or shirt to cover up in?” After a few moments of silence she walked up to him and tapped his shoulder and spoke, “Harry, it’s okay, turn around.”

He did as he was told, making sure that when he did, he only looked into her eyes. She was so beautiful, so confident in her body and in herself to let a man she wasn’t with, to look at her when she was indecent. A strand of hair fell into her eyes, before she could move it herself Harry gently pushed the lock behind her ear. Both of their breaths caught in their throats but Harry managed to whisper, “I’ll um, go grab you a shirt.” He never walked so fast in his life. Making sure he picked out a nice shirt that smelled good was top priority. He ended up dabbing some cologne on the collar just in case.

She was too busy admiring the books on his bookshelf to notice that he had come back so he cleared his throat before speaking, “Fran, you better change quickly before your date thinks you’ve fallen in the toilet.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny Styles. Gimme that.” Snatching the shirt like it was hers to begin with. She disappears behind the washroom door and reappears seconds later it seems like, but maybe that’s from the state of shock Harry’s still in. Fran has to ask him this twice to get his full attention, “Will you watch for any unwanted eyes as I walk to my flat?”

“Of course I will. Let me see your key so I can unlock your door so you don't have to struggle.” Walking past her is painful, he can feel his excitement pushing against his trousers, it’s only just started but he needs to be free of Fran soon or else she’ll see. Walking the hall fast but lightly, not to make a ruckus and concern the nosey neighbors. He unlocks her door and sets her key on the small table that sits just to the right of the door. Making sure that no one is in sight he quietly calls out her name. She holds her dirty garments to her chest as she speed walks to him. As soon as she’s in her doorway Harry stands in front of her, both arms outstretched, with hands grabbing the baseboards to make for a better cover for Fran.

They are extremely close again, both of their hearts are pounding so hard it’s a surprise they can’t hear each other's heartbeats. “You better have fun on your date. Hurry along then, you don’t want to miss him.”

“Oh, I will. And don’t tell me what to do.” Fran winked at him and then closed the door in his face. Harry smiled and walked back to his flat. He ended up burning his pasta on the stove. If this was any normal night, he would have lost his wits if he burned his pasta, but he made an exception for the gorgeous woman that stole his attention.

—

Ever since that incident, a very particular image of Fran has been taking over Harry’s mind. The shirt that Harry gave her was a pale pink shirt and he never realized, that without an undershirt underneath, that it was sheer. When Fran came out of the bathroom, her hair had gotten the fabric around her breasts wet. It was only for a brief moment that he looked, and Harry swears that she did it on purpose. She was perfect, everywhere. He thought he saw her smile when he looked at her the way he did, she seemed almost satisfied. An angelic devil she is.

Too distracted by his thoughts, he barely realized that he was arriving at work: Taylor the Tailor: “Let Taylor, Tailor You!” was displayed above the building in bright red lettering. It was a quaint little shop that sparked Harry’s interest when he first moved to the city. Before he even asked for a position, he had to come in for a repair on a set of trousers. Long story short, while moving into his flat, he had slipped on some ice and ripped right down the bumline. Quite embarrassing, even more so considering one of his neighbors came out of the building right as it was happening and laughed. It turned out to be Fran. She still teases him about it.

His mum taught him how to sew, crochet, and knit, so already having experience was attractive to the owner, Mr. Taylor. He was hired on the spot actually. He loves everyone he works with and that’s the reason why he’s stayed with the shop for almost two years. He welcomes Mimi and Rena as he walks through the main room and towards the back to put his shirt back on before customers arrive. Harry can hear the two older ladies gossiping about who knows what but it makes him chuckle, they think they’re whispering but they’re both basically half deaf so they naturally talk loud.

“Ladies, ladies,” Harry interrupted them, “No need to whisper about how gorgeous I am, when I’m right here!”

Rena rolled her eyes, while Mimi stood up and made her way to him. Mimi takes his blue bowtie from his hand and begins to put it on for him. A little tradition that they’ve made. Harry is fully capable of doing it himself but he lets her. They both gain from it. “Thank you, my darling,” He kisses her on the cheek when she’s finished, “And how are both of my girls today, ready for the weekend I assume?”

“Always ready for the weekend, Styles. Two days out of the week where I am free of you.”

“I’m truly hurt by your words Rena. You know what that does to my ego. Everyone loves me, right Mimi?”

Mimi laughs, “You are very lovable Harry. Rena is just an old fart. You’d think after so many years she’d warm up to ya.” That is exactly how each day goes. Rena is the sturn and conservative type but has her moments, Mimi is a freer spirit and can get along with both of her coworkers, and Harry is, well, Harry.

The day is long and hot, everyone is being careful not to sweat on any of the clothes that they’re working on. And their day has only gotten longer, because right before five o’clock a woman comes in. She is in desperate need of fixing her husband's work attire that her children  had shredded with scissors. Three shirts and four trousers. She was a fairly sweet woman and she would pay them extra to get it done for her by Monday morning. They all obliged. Harry was surprised Rena hadn’t complained in front of the customer, but as soon as the woman left Rena said that she would have left if it weren’t for the extra money. Typical.

To make things fun, Harry took on three garments that were badly damaged, and told the ladies he would finish all of them before they finished their two pieces. This didn’t amuse Rena, but she ended up finishing before him and she was greatly satisfied, giggled even. Getting out of the shop around half past nine was quite impressive and everyone patted themselves on the back for the hard work.

“Get home safe my loves, I will see you later. Rena, you better think of me!” He yells at them when they’re about to round the corner of the street. It makes Rena furious.

The weather changed within the last two hours, clouds moved in just as the sun was setting and rain came midway through Harry’s walk home. He usually doesn’t mind walking through the rain, but when the lightning starts Harry would much rather not turn into a crisp so he runs. He slips once and one of his legs extends too far out in front of him, almost ripping his pants, again. It was a close call, the amount of stretch he felt was worrisome. As he approaches his building, he notices an all too familiar Rolls-Royce that belongs to someone who is the epitome of rubbish. Someone who is used to getting his way, maybe it’s the money he has or possibly the fact that he has not struggled a day in his life. Harry is reluctant to go inside the entryway but likes to make this man suffer.

“Hello, Dick! It’s awful seeing you here,” Harry coldly welcomes him, “Where will you be taking Fran tonight?”

“For the last time, it’s Richard. And it should be none of your business, but I know she’ll tell you anyhow. We are going to my brother’s engagement party, and before you say anything-” “Speaking of engagement, when will you ever ask Fran to go steady with you? Oh wait, that’s right, you were too busy getting your dic-” By the look on the other man's face, Harry knew Fran was walking up to them, “Dick! So lovely to see you mate!” He then turns around, smiles at his beautiful neighbor as he walks up to her, whispers for her to be safe, and heads up to his flat. In the stairwell Harry could hear Dick tell her how much he annoys him, and that is always his goal.

“Such a nosey neighbor…”

“I think he’s perfectly fine, Richard. Leave him be…” Her voice is so soft. She wouldn’t be talking so tenderly to him if she knew that he was seeing other women besides her. It infuriates Harry to his core, but he can’t tell her because she would rip him a new one and he does not need anything else being torn apart. Second, Fran would be so devastated and Harry doesn’t want to deliver that news to her. She will find out sooner or later, and Harry prays that he gets front row seats to Dick getting his balls kicked in.

—

The storm only got worse throughout the night. The power went out shortly after Harry got home. Currently at the kitchen table reading a book but failing horribly from sore eyes, waiting for Fran to be dropped off. At this point it could be likely that she had to stay with Dick and his family, which is revolting. It’s none of Harry’s business where she is, who’s she with, and he shouldn’t be waiting up for her but something isn’t sitting right. Looking back on it now, it seemed too late for an engagement party. Maybe it was a surprise and maybe the couple went out to dinner while everyone set up? He needs to go to bed and stop worrying, Fran is a grown woman and she’s more than ready to stick up for herself. She’s fine.

Looking out of his window one last time, to make sure he doesn’t miss her, is when he sees headlights crawling towards the building. Assuming it’s Fran, Harry sighs in relief and heads to his washroom to get ready for bed. As he gets done brushing his teeth is when he hears her walking up the stairs and decides to meet her in the hallway. Knowing she can barely see up the stairs from the power outage, he brings out a candle to give her when she gets home.

“How was your night out Miss Fran?” He says to her as she reaches the last step but she’s too quiet. He walks closer to her once she reaches her door and leans against the wall. She looks sad. Her eyes and nose are red, Harry can make out where the tears streamed down her face. His stomach flips and he feels nauseated instantly. What happened to her? He wants to ask but knows it’s not the time.

Her voice is hoarse, “You know Styles, you don’t need to wait up for me, it’s sweet but a little strange.” She half heartedly jokes. “My night was fine, thank you. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course. Here, take this…” He straightens up, taking a few steps to get closer to her, and he smells the alcohol coming from her breath. It must’ve been a rough night because she hardly drinks. Handing her the candle and keeping eye contact he whispers, “So you can see where you’re going. I’ll come get you tomorrow.” Harry wipes away a fallen tear from her face with his thumb and kisses her cheek in that same spot.

So softly she murmurs, “Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight Fran.”

Just finished big sky and THATS IT!? THATS HOW IT ENDS??? wtf

*reads fanfiction with the most incredible description, most incredible inner monologue, most incredible dialog, most incredible pacing, most incredible world building, and just most incredible writing*

*looks at my own shrimpy writing skills*

*looks back at incredible fanfiction*

*blinks*

*shakes it with unyielding force*

"HOW DO I DO THAT?!?!?!??!?!!?"