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Literature Text
There was once this boy with chocolately freckles and a killer grin.
He ganked monsters with rock salted shot-guns, holy water, and demon-traps.
Always to the perfect background song....
The only real thing about him are his boobs. Cheeky Bastard.
Leather jacket,
gruff, and practical joker.
Dad's perfect little soldier, nothing else.
Dad's blunt tool,
Dad's punching bag, sir!
For this kid, he was afraid of flying and hummed Metallica to himself to calm down.
For this kid never loved anyone as much as he loved his little brother,
Sammy, and he was the only one that got to call him that.
Well, as he says it's his job to take care of his pain-in-the-ass little brother.
For this kid repaired his loving 1967' Chevy Black Impala with all her
tiny little flaws, scratches, and details.
A military green colored toy soldier stuck in the ash-tray in the back.
The rattling of lego pieces stuck in the ventilation.
A glint of light from the window.
He called her baby.
An Aquarius who enjoys long walks on the beach and frisky woman.
A kid at heart and with luck's shine in the twinkle of his eye, he's Batman!
Ah, too soon? Yeah, six seconds does seem too soon, Dean.
A kid who thought catching balls at the park wasn't good enough to
please daddy, yet his real daddy took him anyway.
And daddy gave his life for his little baby boy in the end.
Everywhere and back!
Heaven: Here, he lit fireworks with a young Sammy to the words,
"Knock knock, knocking on Heaven's door!"
...............
Purgatory: "Bloody, messy, thirty-one flavors of bottom-dwelling nastiness.
Hell, most days felt like 360 degree combat.
But there was something about being there... it felt pure."
..............
Hell: He choose not to remember, forty years of torture....
..............
A lethal warrior who knows empathy,"talk, stab later!"
A goofy, pie-loving lovable boy...
Pie: cherry, blue-berry, apple, pecan, anything really...
A boy whose best friend was a trench-coat wearing blue-eyed angel!
Whose real father was an old alcoholic who used the same baseball cap,
day in and day out, declaring them "idjits" in his indignation.
And whose brother, gassy from burritos or not, demon blood flowing through his veins,
fought alongside him in sickness and in health, a true brother.
And that, my friends, was Dean Winchester: a hunter, a best friend, an older brother,
and a pie-lover.
Literature
The Little Dreams (A Sabriel One Shot)
Sam was sitting at the table in the corner of the room, his eyes red from reading unhelpful article after unhelpful article about which was the correct method to kill the thing they were currently hunting. All of them claimed to ‘actually work’, which made Sam snort because if they all worked he and Dean wouldn’t be here. Dean was out talking to witnesses, would probably be back in an hour or so, giving Sam less time than he’d originally wanted to try and find something that had a hope of working.
“Gabriel? What are you doing here?” Sam asked startled as the archangel suddenly appeared sitting on top of the
Literature
Dean x Reader: Little Piece of Heaven
You sat cross-legged on the old motel comforter, your body forced a tremble as it rocked back and forth, but it wasn’t from the cold. Every time the bright flash of headlights flew past the motel window curtains, your head would perk up, but quickly you would look away knowingly. All you could really do at this particular moment was wait, wait and see what the outcome was.
Then, like a heavy boom of thunder, the motel door opened and in walked Dean Winchester with his blond hair in a mess and his green eyes searching for only one thing; you.
At the sight of him you quickly stood and ran to him, wrapping your arms around his solid figu
Literature
Calling All You Angels
It had been three months since Sammy had died. At least, that's the way Dean preferred to think about it. He couldn't face the fact that his brother was trapped down in Lucifer's Cage. Dean knew a thing or two about being trapped, he'd served his time on the rack in hell after all. So when he thought about Sammy he'd pretend he was dead. He'd be better off.
"Maybe I would be too," Dean mumbled to himself before taking another swig from the bottle of vodka he'd been working on for the last half hour. He winced at the taste, vodka had never been his drink of choice but it was hard and that's what he needed.
Dean ran his fingers along th
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My first Supernatural poem, dedicated to my love Dean Winchester. Also, the hardest so far...
© 2013 - 2024 kissysaltcoatedangel
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wow... im speechless... it was amazing