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elsewhereuniversity · 5 months

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Alternative Therapy with Marbles

There is one being from the Else who works for the University. Not because it’s replacing someone; the school has its Name.

It was young, once, and hungry, and fond of marbles, beautiful worthless things that they were, a human sort of glamour. It played marbles with students, by rules arcane and unexplained, and paid out just enough heart’s desires that they still sought it out with their marbles even though more often it would win an eye, or both, delicious things like soft, delicate marbles, and sometimes it won more than that and sucked the marrow from a student’s bones, leaving the rest for the Groundskeepers to clean up.

But it had been young. Cocky. It hadn’t understood how quickly a human can learn, new skills gained in just a few years, or how determined a human can be. Most vitally, it hadn’t learned what hustling was in time to avoid being hustled by the lover of one on whose marrow it had fed. “Wager nothing you can’t afford to lose,” the humans told each other, but it had bet a Name against a Name, overconfident, and it had lost. The one who won its Name gifted it to the University (traded it for nothing, as if it was worthless) and then went back to the world of Iron and never again touched a place where the borders were thin.

The school administration had never been put into such a position before. (It did not understand their dilemma until much later, the difficulty of deciding whether to let a killer go free or to keep it enslaved. It took it a long time to comprehend the value that humans place on the freedom of others, and on their own status as people-who-do-not-own-people.) The Dean decided that it would be given a job. It spent many years as a guard, a member of campus security, paid (although they need not have paid it; they had its Name) in pig’s eyes and cow’s eyes and sometimes delicious-lovely goat’s eyes as a “bonus” when it saved a student or two from being killed or stolen.

The girl who started talking to it was called Marbles, and it did not save her from anything from the Else, only scared off a drunk boy who had been trying to follow her home. Marbles stayed to talk to it, gave it her use- name, and offered it a marble “in thanks.”

“No debt is owed,” it said, the words vile in its mouth. It wanted that marble, an end-of-the-day, a unique blend of orange and purple. “I am permitted to make no trades.”

“Freely given, then,” Marbles said, and she began to visit with it during its “time off” (another strange human concept), and shared her marbles with it, playing games for no stakes at all, with rules they invented together as they went. The students began to call it Friend-of-Marbles, and it was a relief to have a name that was its own and was true, even if it wasn’t its True Name.

Then Marbles was Taken. Her human friends came to it, begged it to help, but it could make no trades to empower them, could not leave its post to seek her. They cursed at it - not curses with power, merely words, but they hurt it all the same, “false-friend” and “Marbles should have known not to trust a–” and the vilest invectives they could think of, but it was Marbles’ friend, and Marbles had trusted it, and as they turned to leave, it said, “Wait,” and breathed yearning onto the first marble that Marbles had given it, the orange-purple end-of-the-day, unique in all the world, and held it out.

“Freely given,” it said, wrestling to get the vile words out, because they would have traded with it, would have given up much for this, but it was not allowed. “Set it down and it will roll towards her, I swear it thrice; though I cannot prevent there from being danger along the way.”

They gave it suspicious looks, but they took the marble, set it down on the path and traded glances with each other when it rolled uphill, towards the woods. One of them nodded to Friend-of-Marbles, and they set off, Questing.

Days passed, seven and then seven times seven, before it saw Marbles again, although one of her human friends had returned its marble to it after only three. “She’s back,” they said. “She’s not okay yet, but she’s talking to someone in counseling. Your gift helped us find her.”

She was still not okay when she came to talk to it.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” she said. “I’m going back.”

“To the world of Iron?” it asked, but it knew that the answer would be no. Her eyes had been such a rich, lovely brown before, and now they were grey and empty, and she seemed less than before, her clothes hanging off her loosely.

“All I wanted when I was in the Spring lands was to get back here,” she said, looking at the ground. “But… it was so beautiful.” She talked about the flowers, the sight of them, the smell of them; about the music they had played in the Spring court, and how every sound it had heard since had grated on her ears in comparison; and she had been too canny to eat, but she drank from a clear spring, and she could not help but taste the artificiality of packaged food now, and the decay in everything else, the way that everything grew from the moldering remains of what had gone before and began to turn bad itself as soon as it had ripened. “I wish I could just forget,” she said, “But I can’t. So I’m going back.”

“You could give them to me,” Friend-of-Marbles suggested. “I was of the Spring lands, once; they would be no burden on me.” If it breathed, it would have held its breath in suspense. It wanted those memories, and it wanted its friend back, but it could offer nothing in recompense, was allowed to make no deals.

“I’ll try anything, at this point,” Marbles said. “I freely give you my memories of the Spring lands.”

Oh, they were delicious, a taste of home like a breath of fresh air. It was careful, more careful than it truly had to be, by the terms of the not-a-deal they had made; it took all of her memories of the Spring lands, but let her remember remembering them, though not what she had remembered. When it finished, it was full, sated in a way that eyes did not touch (delicious though the squish-pop of them was), and Marbles’ eyes were brown again.

“Thank you,” Marbles said unwisely, and flung her arms around it.

“There is no debt,” Friend-of-Marbles said, and held her close.

The next day, the Dean and a staff member it did not recognize approached it, looking cautious but hopeful.

“I’m Marbles’ therapist,” the one who was not the Dean said. “She told me what you did, and gave me permission to talk about it.”

“I took only what was freely given,” it said defensively. “And I could have taken more - she was not careful - but did not.”

“We’re not upset with you,” the Dean assured it. “We wanted to ask if you could do it again. And if maybe you’d like a different job.”

And that was how Friend-of-Marbles (who was just called Marbles now, many years after the original Marbles had done what mortals must eventually do) began to work at the student counseling center. It learned, over the years, that some students who had been Elsewhere only needed to talk to someone who would understand, who would listen and not judge (which the human counselors would have done, too, but some of the students who had wandered in the Else thought themselves monsters, and were more comfortable talking to something monstrous).

It took memories only rarely and sparingly, memories of Spring, for Autumn memories could be shed like leaves, but Spring memories would take root and grow, if allowed. The students always offered more, desperate to be free, but it learned to be discerning, taking one song, one taste, one impossible color.

(Sometimes, students offered it other memories, memories that haunted them in other ways, but it learned quickly that for them, knowing what had happened but not remembering soon became worse than remembering had been; and so it did not consume those memories but only held them temporarily, giving them back at the start of each weekly session and taking them once again at the end if the student asked it to. And eventually, they would stop asking.)

The school still gives it payment in eyes and marrow-bones, but Marbles dines well on memories too beautiful to bear, and sometimes appreciative students will give it a marble, tiny false gems, a human glamour.

#submission #vigs #alternative therapy with marbles #oh i loved this #friend of marbles #marbles #eye trauma cw #long post #stories

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lotanxiety · 6 months

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You’re not alone

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean and Sam notice you aren’t taking good care of yourself and they are worried about you. Dean talks you through it and offers support.

Warnings: mentions of ED, SH, and depression, this has some seriously heavy shit so if this triggers you PLS don’t read, fluff with dean

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You have lived in the bunker with the boys for 3 years. Lately, your mental health has been really bad, but you were trying to hide it from Sam and Dean. With everything they dealt with on a daily basis, the last thing you wanted them to worry about was you.

It all started 4 months ago when you started having nightmares and flashbacks of the times you almost died. You were pretty sure you had PTSD, but with your lifestyle, therapy wasn’t really an option. You grew up with abusive parents which didn’t help with the accumulating trauma. The body keeps score and it seemed to all be catching up with you now. First, it was the nightmares, then the dissociating. The only times you felt alive were when you would fight monsters which led to your newest bad habit.

Whenever you didn’t feel real or got angry with yourself for whatever reason, you would take it out on your hips. It was something you could control. It reminded you that you’re real and it’s served as a punishment when you felt you deserved it. Seeing the red lines across your hips made you happy when everything else seemed grey.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, it was increasingly more difficult to get out of bed each morning. You would forget basic human necessities like eating, drinking, or bathing. You were able to hide your struggles before, but now it’s becoming noticeable. On the days the boys were home, you would fake it the best you could so they wouldn’t pick up on anything wrong, but not anymore. Maybe you want someone to notice. Maybe you finally want to be saved and cared for the way you save others.

———————-

*around noon*

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Dean asked Sam walking into the kitchen.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day.” Sam said. “Have you noticed.. she seems a little quiet lately. I also noticed she’s been having more nightmares lately.”

“I noticed that too, I can hear her scream out sometimes. I mean we all get nightmares, but these seem bad. Have you not talked to her about it at all?” Dean questioned.

“No, I thought you would’ve mentioned it.” Sam said.

“Dude, she’s obviously going through something and neither of us have checked up on her? Way to go.” Dean scoffed as he headed in the direction of your room.

—————————

You were laying on your bed, staring at the wall thinking of all the ways you have messed up lately. The last hunt you were out on, you made a mistake that almost got Sammy killed. Now, you opt to stay back and reference the lore. You replayed every mistake over and over in your head. Suddenly a knock interrupts your ‘greatest hits’.

You clear your throat, “um, who is it?” you ask.

“It’s Dean, can i come in.”

You look around to the mess of your room, random items taking up space on your bed with you. Suddenly, you become embarrassed and ashamed. “I- uh, do you need something?” You shout to the man on the other side of the door.

“I haven’t seen you all day, I just wanted to check up on you. Are you feeling okay?” Dean asks with concern.

*coughing loudly* “No I think I’ve come down with something, you should stay away.” You say, trying to sound sickly.

“Oh, ok. I can bring you some soup if you like” Dean asks, knowing you’re lying but trying to get through to you.

“I’m not hungry, thanks though” You say, pushing any kind of help away. You didn’t understand why you do this. You want help but then it comes and you resist at all costs. Maybe because this mess you’re feeling is comfortable, familiar. You’ve always been messed up, but now it’s just manifesting on the outside. When it was bottled up, it was easy to hide from everyone, but this is much harder and every lie you tell drains you more and more.

“You need to eat” Dean contested.

“I said no, now can you please go” The words felt like knives being thrown at the closed door. You didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but Deans pushing set off a nerve. Immediately you felt bad, but knew you couldn’t look at his face so you sat still in your bed as you heard hushed footsteps fade away. Feeling hot tears burn in your eyes, you walked over to your bathroom, and grabbed your razor. Anger towards yourself coursed through your veins, into your hands, as you unleashed hell onto your body. Saying to yourself, “You deserve this for being mean to Dean, he was just trying to be nice. He doesn’t deserve that. What’s wrong with you, etc.”

When you’re satisfied, your hips are stained red. You clean up and go back to laying in your bed, as you cry yourself to sleep.

——————-

That evening

“I don’t know Sammy, I think there’s something really wrong. Earlier- the way she spoke to me. It wasn’t her. I need to talk to her, to see her face, but she keeps pushing me away. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried… I’m worried it’s worse than just nightmares.” Dean confides to his brother.

“Yeah, I’m worried too. Maybe we can set up a movie night in the Dean cave and coax her out of her room. I think having some quality time, not worried about monsters could help.” Sam suggested.

“Okay, yeah. You run to the store and get some supplies and I’ll break out blankets and pillows. Meet back here in 30.” Dean says hopeful. He hated knowing that you were upset, but he wanted this to help so badly. He worked hard at getting his Dean cave set up perfectly. He even made a blanket fort. Once Sam and Dean finished setting everything up, the came to knock on your door.

You had just woken up from your restless nap. Unfortunately, the day wasn’t even over so you were back to laying in misery. You heard another knock on your door.

“Hey uh, we need your help in the Dean cave” Dean said from behind the door, you could almost hear the smile in his voice even though you couldn’t see him. While most other times you would decline, your curiosity got the best of you.

“Uhh okay, let me use the bathroom and I’ll be right there.” You said, getting up from your bed, ignoring the terrible headache. It stemmed from a combination of lack of food, water, good sleep, and crying so much. You looked in the mirror, repulsed by the face staring back at you, so you got to work making yourself as presentable as possible. After a much need brush through your hair (and teeth), a change of clothes, and some light makeup, you felt okay enough to make your public appearance. You left your bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind you to hide the mess, and headed towards the Dean cave.

When Dean and Sam laid their eyes on you for the first time in days, their mouths dropped. You looked awful. Bags under your eyes and barely skin and bone. You were always skinny, but this- this was bad. Both of the brothers concern immediately sky rocketed, but being as smart as they are, they knew to play it off. They knew if they outright said anything, you’d get defensive and shut down. So they quickly glanced at each other and greeted you like any other day. You were too busy looking at the scene in front of you to notice the boys faces.

“What- what is all this” you say surveying the room in awe.

“We thought you could use a little pick me up movie night.” Sam said with a soft smile on his face. Dean turned away from you to face the tv. It was too hard to look at you. He blamed himself for not checking on you sooner. For not immediately knowing there was something deeper going on. The cases had distracted him from the problem right under his nose and he was so angry at himself. You instantly noticed the change in his demeanor, making you uneasy. You thought he was still mad at you for the way you spoke to him earlier in the day. You made a mental note to apologize later. Sam opened up the blanket to let you sit beside him and so you did. In front of you, there was a whole display of food. Burgers, fries, popcorn, candy, you name it. The sight instantly made you nauseous.

You thought that you didn’t deserve food. Your mind = your greatest enemy. You pretended not to notice the food and encouraged them to start the movie. It was Alice In Wonderland- your favorite childhood movie you let slip one night with Dean after a beer too many. You glance across Sam to Dean who is staring at the TV but not actually watching. Sam nudges some fries in your direction, to which you shake your head.

“No thanks” you whisper over the beginning scene of the movie.

“Cmon Y/N, you haven’t eaten all day.” Sam said.

“Oh no, I had some granola bars in my room. I’ve been snacking on those-“ You lied.

“No you haven’t” Dean said finally speaking to you.

“What-“ you say looking at him confused, trying to play this off quickly.

“I’m not sure you’ve eaten anything in days” Dean starts.

“Dean-“ Sam interjects, trying to keep his brother from pushing you away.

“No, Sammy. She’s sick. Look at her.” Dean states.

Immediately, tears well up in your eyes. You knew you didn’t look your best but hearing Dean say that. It was too much. You wanted to head straight to your room to cut again, but Dean wasn’t finished talking.

“Y/N, I can’t walk on eggshells about this- you look terrible. What is going on?” Dean says in a much softer tone than before, his anger fading into worry.

“Nothings… going on.” you say.

“That’s not true and we all know it, can you just talk to us?” Sam asks.

Suddenly, that defense mechanism hits you strong and you attack the boys you love more than anything. You can’t help it. “I SAID I’M FINE. WOULD YOU BOTH JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO BACK TO WORRYING ABOUT MONSTERS OR WHATEVER” you shout, exiting the room and heading straight for your bedroom.

You close the door behind you, still crying. The scene that just played out was one of your worst nightmares and partially why you have started staying locked in your room. You beeline for the bathroom to pick up the razor for a second time that day. You roll down your pants to the hidden canvas. Right before you can move, Dean bursts through your door.

You both freeze. Time stops for a couple seconds. Every mirage and illusion you’ve built over the past few months is shattered. The ugly, dirty truth is exposed. Your walls crumble to the ground. You refuse to lift your eyes from the ground as he approaches you. He takes the razor from your hands without saying a word and throws it to the other side of the bathroom and grabs you into his arms. You both crash to the floor, as you sob into chest. Dean hold you patiently while you let it all out. Everything you’ve been holding inside. There are a million thoughts going through Dean’s head, questions he has, but his main objective is just to be there for you. You needed him, and he wasn’t there. All the warning signs, ignored. He secretly blamed himself for letting it get this bad.

You both sit in the floor of your bathroom for a while. Your sobs slowly turned into quiet hiccups for air. You nervously lifted off of his chest, anxiously awaiting the conversation to follow the events that have just transpired. You finally make eye contact with Dean, his eyes are glassy and red.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Dean said barely above a whisper dragging his hand over your hair to brush it out of your tear soaked face.

You open and close your mouth, not expecting his response. “What are you sorry for?” you ask confused.

“I- I wasn’t there for you. I mean I knew something was off, but- but this. This is all my fault.” Dean says moving his hand to hold your cheek, a singular tear falling down his right cheek.

“No, no this isn’t your fault at all. I- I don’t know what to say.” You say, feeling the weight of the situation.

“You don’t have to say anything. We are going to get you some help. You’re not alone in this. You have Sam. You have me. This- this work is hard and I know you’ve had it rough, but you can and will get through this.” Dean says, as more tears begin to fall from your eyes, though you thought you couldn’t cry anymore.

“I need you to get better. I need my Y/N. Can you do that for me?” Dean asks, gently stroking your cheek and wiping the tears as they fall. You nod.

That night, the three of you work on tidying up your room. Dean filled Sam in privately and he wanted to help you in anyway he could. You guys went back to the Dean cave after your room was clean, and ate dinner. Dean even drank water with you instead of his normal beer so you would be more inclined to drink it.

Finally, it was time for bed. Dean walked to your room with you. “I wish you would’ve told me what has been going on with you, but I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t” Dean said.

“You didn’t- I just didn’t want you to worry about me when you’ve got a whole world and billions of people to worry about.” You say in response.

“I will always worry about you first. I care about you Y/N. I am here for you no matter what.” Dean says firmly, pulling you in for a hug. His chin rests on your head as you two stand in an embrace mid hallway.

“Dean, could you maybe- um stay with me tonight?” You ask.

“Of course”

Dean grabs your hand and pulls you towards your bed. He strips down to his boxers and climbs in, holding a spot next to him for you. You curl up next to him, feeling the heat radiate off his body, comforting you. “Thank you” you whisper as you quickly drift off into a much needed, nightmare free, deep sleep. Dean leans over to kiss your head as he whispers, “I love you Y/N”.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #fanfic #sam winchester #supernatural

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soullessjack · 8 months

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another tally on the “things about jack that have been almost erased by the baby au” is how genuinely fucked up and weird and scary and violent and horrifying he is. the body horror of his existence is so. Palpable.

he looks human, but he still fundamentally is not human, and the thing that separates him from being human or belonging or being normal and loved and accepted without strings attached is his own bloodline. his own family, his own father. the blood that runs through his veins is the blood of the devil and he wasn’t fed it like Sam. the anger and rage and capacity for violence inside him isn’t an ancient curse like it was for Dean. It’s just who he is. It’s his neurology. Jack enters a guilt/grief-induced psychosis so bad he starts hallucinating his own dead evil father who proceeds to say “I’m in your head, your DNA,” and goes on about how Jack’s place with the only chosen family he ever cared for is that of their little pet monster who’s only kept around to kill things for them. And this is his subconscious, remember, these are all Jack’s own thoughts being given a hallucinatory voice.

When jack is first born he doesn’t even register that he’s not a full human. It’s not until he catches dean telling the sheriff that he’s a Nephil and gets stabbed all the way through his entire heart to the hilt of the angel blade and survives, that he realizes he’s Not Normal. Jack stabs himself 18 times with “grim determination,” dedicated to making a wound stay open in his body, but nothing happens. He doesn’t know what any of this is, but he knows it’s dangerous and he’s seen firsthand what he can do, because he sent the sheriff careening backwards into glass when he didn’t mean to do anything more than push her away. He tells Dean he will hurt someone again [whether he means to or not]. And he tells Sam, using his powers is like breathing; it’s a subconscious, physical, neurological part of his system that he cannot (currently) consciously control or stop.

He’s literally a living weapon. These powers of his that hurt people are akin to breathing. His violence and his evil is deep seated and runs through his heart and bleeds out of him. But he can’t bleed the evil out. He can’t escape what he was born into or what keeps him alive. He can’t even live without this nuclear power that ostensibly others him from everyone forever. He’s foaming at the mouth and seizing and fainting and bleeding and going into total systemic failure and subsequently dying as a human because he just isn’t human and he can’t live as one even if he wants to, even if that is a part of him it still isn’t the only part of him. The other half that makes him untrustworthy and violent and angry and dangerous and nuclear and evil and feared and hated is the one part he is left dying without.

His body dies a first time because it couldn’t live without its own hereditary disease, he died as a human and goes to human heaven and sees and rekindles with his human mother, the part of him that he wants to be and loves but can’t exist as. He’s brought back but now he’s a time bomb, a nuclear reactor internally melting down. he’s a weapon, but he’s alive because he was born as a weapon, and neither of these things were his choice.

and then a second time his body dies because he was only registered as a threat with no humanity. his eyes are burned out of his skull and instead of heaven with his mother, instead of humanity, he wakes up in the pitch black abyss where other nonhumans go when they die, then he’s brought back and he’s a weapon for the third time. He’s a living bomb, a collapsing black hole, and he has to eat human hearts ripped straight from the chest to keep his bomb body alive and ready for detonation, ready for collapse. He’s so far from human, further than he ever wanted to be, further enough to make his deep rooted fear a reality that he’s too suicidal to bother rebuking. Why rebuke the truth? The absolute truth that the devil, the evil of all things is in his blood and he is evil and he was a born weapon whose body exists to destroy and kill and not even his own love or will can stop it.

He is a gun that doesn’t want to be a gun and hates that his body is made to shoot and kill, but he has no choice in being anything else but a gun. He cannot ever be good, he was never good to begin with, he was just malfunctioning, glitching, experiencing an error and virus and flaw that he wishes was his entire programming. His eyes glow yellow like the corrupted Star Wars Sith and Rosemary’s Baby and a whole slew of evil things that are evil and meant to be rejected. When he gets angry, people stare at him as if he’s a cornered animal, because that’s what he is to them. To both sides of the equation, he is an animal. A foreign creature, a thing, he’s not human enough to be human and he’s not angelic enough to be an Angel. He’s some weird mixture that nobody can understand or accept. He’s unpredictable and violent and wild and born that way and only in his subsequent domestication, only in the extension of personhood and humanity can he be deemed worth loving. He’s like a dog, detrimentally loyal, old yeller going rabid while saving his family and having to be shot in an act of mercy. Barking and biting at people who might hurt his loved ones and killing them as an act of love. Sam wanted Nick to burn so Jack burns Nick and that’s why Jack says they would be grateful. He did what Sam wanted. Same for the other biblical killings. He’s the cat sinking its fangs into rodents and birds. Leaving the punctured corpses on the doormat as a gift, I did this for you because I love you, don’t you love me too?

I haven’t eaten well in the past two days does this click click anyone’s boom. Saliva

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narrynukezankielover · 13 days

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I believe this episode is Hunteri Heroici or something like that. I laughed at this a little too much. Cas literally took that little bag out of Deans bigger bag (I don’t know what to call it) and started picking through it. What I find interesting is that Dean doesn’t say anything to Cas. Dean isn’t the type to let people pick at his stuff yet he’s letting Cas do it. I was thinking maybe it’s Sams bag but I don’t think Cas would touch Sams stuff. I don’t think he cares enough to find out more about him.

Dean said he needed his 4 hours of sleep (you can function on only 4 hours of sleep I’ve done it almost every night since I was 15 and when you’re used to it it’s not that bad) and Cas said I’ll watch over you. He’s looking directly at Dean so he’s offering to be Deans guardian angel not Dean and Sams. It’s adorable because a few people have called Cas Deans angel and it’s obvious Dean is Cas human.

If anyone else was looking at their dad’s journal Dean would’ve grabbed that out of their hands told them to f*ck themselves and probably threatened to kill them. It’s a very cute way to start this very emotional scene. I love that when Cas yelled at Dean because he told him he wasn’t going back to heaven Dean took that to mean Cas needed to talk. Dean isn’t good with his emotions but the fact that he listened to Cas and tried to help him shows growth. The look of shock and worry on Deans face when Cas said he was afraid if he went back to heaven and seen what has happened because of him he’s afraid he would kill himself was heartbreaking.

I just found this look on Cas face when he seen Dean trying to hide his porn hilarious. Cas watched porn infront of Dean and Sam so I don’t think Cas would judge him.

This is definitely the look of oh hell ya by boyfriend can get anything.

This broke my heart. Finding out Cas was tortured and he’s traumatized by it was heartbreaking. How can anyone do that to that adorable angel.

I really wish Dean felt comfortable to be himself. He’s clearly a nerd. He wanted to LARP when him and Sam were looking at it online. He had a smile on his face until he thought Sam was looking at him then he went back to his normal face. He loved it when they actually did it, he wouldn’t let Sam see him playing with a sword, he likes ballet and pop music. He’s so scared of Sam laughing at him or making fun of him that he won’t be himself.

In LARP And The Real Girl Charlie asked Dean if he broke up with someone. Interesting she used the word someone not a girl which is what you would say to a straight guy. She obviously could tell Dean was thinking about someone. Personally I think he was thinking about Cas and Benny. Cas because Dean knows there’s something wrong with Cas he just doesn’t know what and Benny because of how he told him they couldn’t talk anymore. I know some people see Dean and Benny as more then friends thing but I personally see them as just friends. Dean likes having someone else in his life other than Sam. Normally it’s Cas but when Cas was still in purgatory Dean liked talking to Benny but once Cas was back he didn’t need to talk to Benny as much.

Yet again a gay moment happens to Dean. Aaron could’ve come up with any excuse for following Dean. He even could’ve said he was trying to get someone elses attention but he clearly sensed the best option was to pretend to flirt with Dean. Dean got flustered and banged into a table and then when he found out the flirting was fake he was disappointed.

#castiel #cockles #dean x castiel #destiel #deancas

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suncaptor · 11 months

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hi! i hope you don't mind me asking, but i need a certified opinion on sam winchester and you seemed like the person to go to :D

could you rec me some good sam-centric fic & character studies? preferably for early seasons or pre-series?

i'm showing spn to a friend and they like sam a lot, but we are both. somewhat afraid to go into the tag lol. so I figured you could have something nice bookmarked or there's maybe a rec list i dont know about.

thanks!

Okay I actually mostly read later seasons Sam stuff (or at least s5+) because the more trauma the better <3 but here are some that are either sam studies that include earlier stuff or earlier/preseries (like kripke era)

DO check trigger warnings! since these are (mostly) pre hell (and I would not read w*) they aren't as bad as some of the sam & lucifer fics I'd share, but some still have different potentially triggering themes (like addiction, suicide, etc, so please just be careful! I'm assuming you can check the tags on ao3 <3)

also some are 18+, not sure your age but I don't personally want my followers talking to me about nsfw content if they are minors. so be wary around that too, but they're all outer links so ao3 will have them rated/stop you etc.

Sam w/ OCD rec list & my old Sam rec list

samjess

Sunlight by sp8ce, samjess

The first time Sam tastes blood it's human blood, and it feels like shame and the closest he has been to truly human wrapped up in one. He's never been so safe and in love. The second time it's electric and consuming. He has nothing left, but the desire to chase the power and hold on to the objective of revenge, only still connected at her touch. The third time, he's pretty sure it will kill him, burn him like purifying light from the inside out. --- An exploration of Sam and consuming blood. This work is the first time: with Jessica Moore.

also if you like samjess sp8ce has later seasons ghost samjess too<3

sam & john

the type who doesn't burn by patrocluus

On a late October afternoon in 1997, John Winchester takes his son out into the woods and puts a bullet between his eyes.

make a mirror out of you by sp8ce - john kills jess (it's john pov though)

The thing about Jessica's death is that it makes Sa,m understand John more than anything else ever could and choose everything John's ever wanted Sam to choose. Azazel always seems to have John's silhouette.

sam / gen or multi

This Is the Way (The World Ends) by Lise

In Georgia hunting a skinwalker, Dean saw Sam. AU. Like, really.

Weblike Causality by sp8ce

Which came first? The fear or the inevitability?

instrument by sp8ce

Sam Winchester grasps with his own personhood.

Polaroid Sun Picture by sp8ce

Sam has been stalked his whole life in order to be manipulated into an instrument of his worst fears. He has no privacy to himself. He has no defence.

therefore I react by sp8ce

for a while, in the cage, all Sam sees is a tree.

(okay so I've tried to not give you any lucifer stuff but this one is a sam & learnt helplessness thesis for connecting past & present)

This Kid's Not Alright by safiyabat

What exactly did Sam get up to at Bobby's while Dean was at Sonny's? When John makes a very odd request of the older hunter, Bobby takes the boy into his home for a few months. It isn't an easy time for either of them.

the easy way out and the hardest part by queenbaskerville

Sam would rather die than be Lucifer's vessel. Lucifer will just resurrect him now, but there was a time before the seals were broken—a time before Sam broke the seals. To save the world, to save Dean—Sam knows what he has to do.

The Special Children by TheMightiestPen

After Dean reveals his Dad’s last words, he asks Sam to lay low for a while. This time, Sam says no. This time, Sam goes all in in his search for the other kids like him. S2 AU, for spnhiatuscreations on tumblr for week 5: favorite season.

sam & dean

Dear Abel by lowkey_existential_despair (it has samjess/early sam&dean basis okay)

It wasn’t always like this, is the thing. There used to be a time when caring about Dean was more than just a habit. There was a time, once, when seeing Dean with demon-black eyes would’ve been the worst thing in the world. But that was a long time ago. Now, he looks at this black-eyed version of Dean—wrapped in layers of chains, in pain, sobbing quietly—and he feels nothing. Nothing at all.

Purify by cenotaphy

"We know what happens when Sam drinks demon blood.

…but what happens when Sam drinks angel blood?"

Set at the end of season 4, before Sam gets out of the panic room.

Hell Fractal by sp8ce

Sam's last real memory is of Dean stabbing him after he let Lucifer out. Sam keeps, with varying levels of memory and awareness, waking up in the panic room. With Dean needing to kill him.

Man-in-the-middle by ambersock (who has some lovely fics <3)

Sam hears the driver’s side door open, hears footsteps approaching. He remembers that Dean still has Ruby’s demon-killing blade. Yet another voicemail fix-it.

The Choice by authoressnebula (authoressjean)

(this author has other early seasons sam&dean stuff)

One gun. One bullet. It's up to Sam and Dean to decide who will shoot the bullet…and who will die.

it’s not that i think i’m good, i know i’m evil by redskyatmorning

(author has good later seasons Sam stuff as well)

The conversation that leads up to Sam ending up in the panic room, again, to detox from demon blood.

Fade Far Away, Dissolve, and Quite Forget by Lise

You've seen isolation before, but not like this. It's not quite another hemisphere, but it's close enough.

Catharsis by BlueIris08

Sam copes with learning of Dean's promise to John in the classic Winchester way--with alcohol. Or, the drunken, angsty post-Croatoan/Hunted scene that didn't happen.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right by WilsonTheMoose

In which Sam gets beaten up (rookie), Dean mentions the voicemail (idiot), and nothing really changes (figures). Fits into the first episode of season 5. For an anonymous prompt on tumblr asking for Dean hitting Sam in the earlier seasons. This is not quite what you wanted anon, sorry.

yeah, well, i don't want to by AreYouReady

He didn't do it on purpose. / Dean sabotages Jess's warding in pilot

Comets, Stars, Haunted Houses, and Other Things Best Observed from a Hundred Million Miles Away by occasionallyalways

See also: violent deaths; apologies; lightning. Or; Something happened in the panic room. Something went wrong. Dean finds out six years later.

sambrady

One to Save You by sp8ce

If Brady needs Sam, he'll be there immediately.

The Piece You're Missing by sp8ce

Brady can't seem to figure out why Sam won't give up on him. They have a conversation where he tries to dissect and understand why.

Out by TheMightiestPen (also sam&dean)

A god-possessed witch reveals a secret that Sam’s been keeping for a long time. The brothers handle it like mature, well-adjusted adults, for once.

sastiel

Grace (made perfect in weakness) by Sidewoundcore (CherryHollow)

After he is freed from the panic room, Castiel, rather than Ruby, is the first person to find Sam. In the end, it changes nothing at all.

atrophy & other stories by saintsurvivor

early seasons sastiel that is sam centric

Monster by Ginipig (voicemail fic so mostly sam&dean)

After everything that happened between him and Dean with the breaking of the final seal, Sam is having trouble moving on. Dean's weird, sort-of helpful angel friend wants to know why.

Not that it's any of his damned business.

Comfort by Never_x_Better

Sam's being tormented by Lucifer and Castiel just wants to help him. Nightmares, blood addiction, hallucinations, and fluff ends up leading the two friends down an interesting path.

Wishing Is Cold This Year by Lise

Dean has his head rather determinedly up his ass, so it falls to Castiel to take this one. Post 5.03ish.

what did you bury / before those hands pulled me from the earth? by starlightswait

It’s the strangest thing. Sam’s in the Cage. And then he’s not.

(technically post kripke but it's my favourite sastiel <;3)

Ruby Red by sp8ce (also samruby but I don't read or write a lot of samruby)

An exploration of Sam and consuming blood. This work has Sam reminiscing on Ruby. He then has more blood forced upon him by some hunters who think they can purify him. (can be read standalone or in series)

#fic rec #fanfiction #writing #sam winchester #sammy #spn #supernatural #fic #incoherents #wow that took hours. making rec lists is a time warp #also there are some of my beautiful mutuals who write beautiful later seasons fic. if i didn't include you it's cause I'm focusing earlier

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green-typewriterz · 2 months

Text

Some Kind of Animal, Cannibal

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

Summary: You and Sam get lucky when trying to find the missing people…the luck being you both get taken too.

ASK: N/A

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, illness, injury, refusing to eat, kidnapping, cannibalism, talks of feeling sick, it’s basically all angst, early seasons Sam (3-4)

Author notes: VERY INSPIRED by Possibly in Michigan - Animal Cannibal, Reader is smart and took criminology in college. loosely based off of season one episode fifteen, I thought of this when talking to myself at 12:03 am as any good fic writer does.

word count: 4012

The three of you had been in the small town of Bayfield, Wisconsin for almost a week now and still barely anything had come up about the seven missing people. From what you had figured out, there was a sort of pattern; they were always taken at night and it was always in pairs.

Dean assumed it was a demon, but something didn’t feel right to you. Demon’s were vicious, masochistic, it didn’t make sense for them to take a person and not parade the kill about the town for all to see. Sam thought it could be a vamp, maybe even a rugaru, but you weren’t sure.

”How’s the research goin?” Dean asked nonchalantly as he walked back into the damp motel room, a bag of beers and snacks in his hand. You looked up from your uncomfortable position on the bed with an exasperated look and Sam leaned back on his chair. That was all the answer he needed. “So we’ve still got no clue at all?” He continued, turning to look at you, “and you’re sure it’s not a demon.”

You shook your head, “not completely, but it just doesn’t make sense for the profile.” Sam smiled slightly as you spoke; you could’ve been an FBI agent (meaning you probably would’ve ended up crossing paths anyway) but instead you chose the hunting life. Despite this, the criminologist in you snuck out sometimes, something very useful to the two. “If it were a demon, it would be an outlier, one who had either devolved or worked differently.”

There was silence for a while and Sam sighed, pulling his hands through his hair. It was getting longer now, the tips of it tickling his jawline every so often. “What if they’re human?” He began, “nothing about this screams monster.” Sam turned to look at you, wanting your input.

”Well what would you prefer, a monster who we know how to kill, doing something we’d expect, or a human, who may be completely insane, doing this purely because they can.” Somehow the second option seemed scarier to the three of you.

Time passed the three of you in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the low humming of MTV reruns coming from the TV Dean had put on. Sam was the first to fall asleep, leaning his head gently against his book. Dean followed soon after, his ability to fall asleep pretty much anywhere was something you had always envied. This left you in a half-awake stupor, trying to get some last few moments of research in before falling asleep like the two boys in front of you.

Eventually, you called it quits and closed your book, heading over to Sam to do the same for him. You gently replaced John’s diary with a small pillow and were placing Sam’s coat over his shoulders when you heard a crash outside. This area was known for raccoons but the noise sounded too loud to be an animal. You shook Sam awake and pulled the knife from your waistband, preparing for whatever might be outside.

Sam blearily looked over at you, standing up quickly despite the tiredness that clung to him when he saw the look in your eyes. He followed soon after, his gun firmly in his grip as the two of you walked out the door.

It was almost impossibly cold outside, the mist of the early morning clinging to your clothes. You pulled your jacket closer to you and turned round the corner into the alley, both of you with weapons raised. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a drunk guy?” Sam asked tiredly as he slowly lowered his gun. You shook your head in confusion and turned round to face him.

”It could’ve been, but something just…felt off.” You replied. It had always been impressive, your intuition - Dean had called it witch-adjacent. Neither of you were concentrating on your surroundings, talking quietly between yourself when Sam’s eyes widened and he went to raise his gun again. Though, you didn’t get a chance to fight back as pain bled through your skull. You fell to the floor as the sharp crack of Sam’s gun went off and the final thing you saw before darkness clouded over your eyes was Sam’s unconscious figure beside you.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

This is where you are now, waking to an unbearable pain, cold metal stinging against your skin as you come to your senses, your body racked with shivers. You sit up slowly, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. The only light that streams through was from a dirty, mould ridden window that tints the area with a sickly green. You can hear the sharp breaths of another person from across the room and small, pained cries echo across the dark every so often. “Y/n.” The voice whispers, out of breath and harsh. You move slowly, eyes flitting across the darkness to find the source of the voice.

Sam sits in a cage of his own, hands harsh against the iron bars. His hair is damp and slick against the side of his face, face hollow and pinched from the fug of the basement. “What the hell is going on?” You reply, voice sharp from sleep.

You can see the surroundings through the thin strips of light, sun warping itself around cracked glass - it was day. “I don’t know. You’ve been asleep for a while, maybe three days. God, I thought you were dead.”

Silence spreads like a cancer. It’s been three days. Where was Dean? Did he know you were both gone? Did he care? Of course he did. You push the thought from your mind and move across the cage, hands clasping cold metal. The area wasn’t tall by any regard and you had to crouch to walk across - you felt bad for how uncomfortable Sam must be.

Eventually, you reach the other side where Sam was sitting and look at him with the same, unnatural quiet. He reaches a shaking hand across the space and clasps it over your own. He is cold, hands sweaty - though you find that you don’t care. You and Sam had always been close, leaning against one another during research or allowing him to plait your hair (and you to him if he was stressed). You run your hands over his in repetitive, soothing motions and lean your head against the rusty metal.

Sam sighs, though you aren’t sure of the emotion behind it. His hands work over your knuckles, almost as if he was massaging them, though he moves away quickly when a door opens at the top of the stairs. It shines a new light in, one that’s warm and forgiving - it feels like a new world.

Eager heeled footsteps click down the endless stairs and come to rest by a third cage, her hands laying on the side as if it were simply a wall. “Thank goodness, I was wondering when you’d wake!” She speaks cheerily, hands now clasped together. The caged woman edges closer to the light, you can see a shining, silver cross necklace resting against her chest, the metal contrasting against her dirtied skin.

There’s an almost silent click and the door in front of you swings open, creaking and worn. Sam is first to exit, his hands being chained to a small lead she holds in her palm. You felt like a dog, some kind of rabid animal she was trying to tame. She leads the three of you up the stairs, metal chains clinking miserably against your wrist.

The two of you look around your surroundings, surveying every corner, crack and door with a pinprick precision. You can see Sam’s hand instinctively move to his waistband - though you know there’d be nothing there. The three of you are led into a small dining area, lit with the homely glow of candles. You could almost laugh at the difference.

Lori, as she had introduced herself, sits you down with a smile and places a plate in front of you. It’s warm and suddenly reminds you that you haven't eaten in a while. You share a wary look with Sam and lean back in your chair, you’re not an idiot.

The girl opposite you, a tangle of sinew and bone, eats silently, hair withered and face gaunt - God knows how long she’s been here.

She’s pretty, she would’ve been. The girl has a sharp hooked nose and deep brown eyes, skin dark and warm. But she’s lost her hope, and with hope goes will, strength and livelihood. Though beauty seems to have stayed.

From her, you come to the conclusion that the food wasn’t poisoned, but you don’t want to test it anyway - you won’t accept food from someone who kidnapped you.

The room is quiet, the only sound being the crackle of candles and the repeated scrape of a fork on a plate.

It’s a winding path to sleep, something Sam doesn’t seem to be blessed with any more. His hands shake in yours, his eyes screwed shut. This is you, sitting, waiting for the path to end, withering resolve and aching eyes. This is you, standing on the shoreline as Hero - a goddess' daughter - as your Leander’s searchlight dims. This is you, letting time slip from your fingertips like golden blood.

The routine continues like a paper mobius strip, one that’s tearing. There’s an end, you can see it carving itself into marble - but it’s an ending you do not want for Sam.

It’s in this routine now, that you wake, hold a slowly succumbing hand in yours, refuse to eat and you hold Sam’s hand once more. It’s made you think more than you’d like, about time. About stories. Sam shivers, almost like clockwork now. His shirt is baggy against hollow bones and the tattoo on his breast seems wilted, like it won’t offer protection. He whispers too, short sentences you can never grasp.

The only word you’ve ever understood is a drawn out, yearning, “Please.”

There had been an offer of treatment, of safety. But Sam had seen to have found a sanctity in his suffering, he tells himself it’s a blessing, reminding him his limbs still ached, his body still yearned. Sam spits at the feet of his saviour and is rewarded with a harsh whip-like slap across his cheek.

He crumbles, rocks slipping from a cliff face, and grows still. “Sam?” You whisper, afraid. You were afraid most days now.

There’s a moment, then a breath and you lean forward to brush the hair from his eyes. Dean would know what to do - he had always known. Instead you hold his hand again, there’s not much else you can do.

The woman in the corner weeps. It had been the first time she had dared to make a sound, perhaps the violence had scared her.

“Oh, my dear.” Lori speaks soothingly, smiling with bared teeth of mock sympathy. “Come along, let’s calm you down.”

The words feel like an attempt to cajole a scared kitten, but the glint in her eyes shines radiant in the dark. You and Sam don’t see the woman again.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

“Where do you think he is?” Sam asks, leaning against the bars. A welt has risen on his face and a large cut streaks across his angled cheek from Lori’s ring. He looks like a corpse, a victim of an illness that never stops taking.

You don’t reply, he nods. Every so often, Sam holds your hand, rubbing your palm with his thumb, and you’d be Hero once more, seeing Leander for the first time at the festival. Though, he lets go eventually (he always did) and as he pulls away, his livelihood drowns - searchlight fading.

In the evening, careful hands guid you up the stairs once more, careful not to touch the raw skin around the handcuffs. Hunger picks at you, stretching your skin over your bones. You look at Sam, allowing a mournful sigh to escape from you. The both of you are dying, it’s something you have accepted, but you can’t bear the thought that he’ll die before you.

You’ve listed every single thing that changed in your mind, every time he shivers, every time the bags under his eyes darken. Maybe it’s become a way to cope. The both of you sit and Sam’s near shoulder length hair falls in front of his eyes - it was an indication of how much time has passed. The both of you have no choice tonight, you have to eat.

This was the choice. You sit, silent, and know that you are giving in to the final piece of defiance you have. You watch while self-loathing washes over Sam’s face as he too is forced to make the same choice, his body weaker than his mind. This is the choice; let go of your morals. Or die.

It’s almost funny how quickly morals leave you in the face of death.

You find there’s no way to delay it either. You have already analysed every movement of Lori’s. Every breath is calculated, every smile is vicious and hungry. So, with one final look toward your closest friend, you bite into the grey meat, the taste of something akin to pork overwhelming you. It’s stringy, but it still tastes like the best thing you had ever eaten - perhaps it was the amount of time you had had in between meals. You take a bite of the mash on the side and feel something cold and metallic in your mouth.

You breathe in sharply and sit in place, slowly moving your hand toward your mouth. There’s a moment of emptiness before your realisation, a stillness as you hope the silver cross necklace you had pulled from your teeth did not mean what you thought it did. You release a shaky breath and hold a hand to your mouth, feeling sick to your stomach.

You had eaten her.

“Sam.”

The whisper is almost inaudible. You’d never spoken at the table before and, though it was allowed, you feel as though you’re breaking a rule. He looks up and his eyes widen, seeing how quickly your face has paled. You look down at the plate, then back at him, shaking your head in a warning motion.

It’s only now he sees the necklace in your palm, pieces of dried blood sticking to it. Lori hadn’t even bothered to clean it - she had probably meant to throw it away. You lean back in your chair, looking out the window to your left and seeing how the trees stretch for miles past it, leaves heavy with snow. You weren’t sure when it had snowed. You try not to cry.

“Are you alright dear?” Lori asks, tension cutting across the room. Your head turns slowly, tears falling down your cheeks like hot tar, eyes wide, sucking in quick breaths. Sam seems scared - you look animalistic.

You hold up the necklace. “Did you make us eat her?” Your voice is unnatural, toneless and uncaring - a stark difference to the look on your face. Lori smiles. All she ever fucking does is smile.

You stare silently, face set with fear as she approaches, placing a manicured and veiny hand on your shallow cheek. You turn your head to the side, but her hand never leaves your face.

“Did you enjoy it?” It almost wasn’t a question - not when she knew the answer. You turn back to face her and her hand moves across your face, coming to rest by the corner of your mouth.

If you were to be treated like some kind of animal, that’s what she’d receive. You bite down hard, ignoring the scream as your teeth carve through her finger. You get to bone and pull, degloving the skin and muscle from her finger and holding it in your mouth like a dog. Then, just as she looks back to you, you spit it onto your plate with an almost smile.

Sam looks at you with an unreadable expression. You meet his eyes, ignore the feeling that settles in your stomach and simply reply, “We’re done with our meal.”

Lori pushes you down the staircase and into one singular cage, being in too much pain to open each individually. This is your plan. She closes the doors and snaps the keys. This is your plan.

Sam is withering, flu-like and scared. “Why?” he asks quietly, moving from your arms. “Why would you do that?” his eyes are wide, begging. Tears litter his cheeks. He’s given up thinking there’s a way to be saved. He’s grown accustomed to dying behind rusted metal bars.

You don’t reply and with blood stained lips you kiss him, trying to offer reassurance. He returns your kiss with a sigh, his pained fever making his skin hot to touch. He leans into you, hands holding your waist as if you’d disappear. You pull away and cradle him, gently brushing shaking hands through his hair. You kiss his forehead every now and then, staining his skin with darkening red.

Everything about you is strangely calm. You don’t fear Lori, not now you have seen her bleed. She could die. She would. You fall asleep almost smiling; she would, she would.

Lori wakes you in the early morning, hand bandaged and face stern. There’s no more smiling. Thank God. Your confidence chipped at her, annoyed her. It’s your turn to smile now. She unlocks the cage to move you to your own - you knew she’d had a spare key, she loved theatrics. As soon as you stand to move to your own cage you sprint, knocking her to the floor.

You knew you would’ve won, but weak monsters always bring a weapon when they feared the Hero the most. Though, you refuse to be Hero. There is no Leander, there is no searchlight. It’s you and Sam: wild eyes, knotted hair and blood stains.

A knife pushes you off of her, sinking itself into your abdomen with aim and anger. Lori had known you’d bite again.

Your breath escapes you, blood seeping from your sullen skin. You fall into the agony, screaming out to the sky. It’s not the single cut that would’ve killed you, it's the anger. Lori stands now, placing a foot against your throat. “A rabid dog bites three times before it’s greeted with death's hands, a rabid human? They get one chance.” She whispers, her words distant.

Behind the both of you, Sam slowly rises, hands clenched in fists, teeth baring. Her head hits the floor first, a horrible crack echoing in the basement. Screams had a way of sinking into you, biting at your heart, but these made you strong. You stand beside Sam as he hits her, ripping the fabric of your large jacket to tie around your wound.

You let him kill her.

Sam lifts you up the stairs and you help him walk through the cold, each taking turns to keep the other alive. You walk through the snow, damp and ripped clothes doing nothing to keep you warm. It feels as though it’s been hours and eventually, Sam collapses into you, the both of you falling to the soft snow.

He kneels forward into you and you hold his face gently. The image was almost too familiar; Sam falling into the arms of someone he loves, face slick with tears and body weak. He had died too much already, you wouldn’t let it happen again.

You kiss his jawline so softly it might’ve been a snowflake landing on his bruised skin and he lifts his head. “Sorry.” he mutters repeatedly, a slurry of vowels and tears. You don’t dare to shush him, it wouldn’t help anything, it wouldn’t stop him. “I’m so sorry.”

You kiss him again. “None of this was ever your fault,” You whisper, voice tired and teeth stained. After a while, you try to move again, stumbling over only the iced floor. There’s a cough from Sam that pushes blood to his mouth, then he’s losing his footing again and falling into you, his hand pressing into the wound on your abdomen. You cry out, collapsing to the floor, spilling red on the pure white snow.

It’s his turn to hold you now, muttering endless apologies and ripping his own clothes to rebandage you; his skin is pale, a majority of his muscle eaten away by time and hunger. He looked like a corpse. You lie there, cold and silent as his hands shake, tying knots as though it’s routine. He pushes past his own pain, placing a blood stained hand on your cheek and whispering to you. You shiver under his touch and it shocks you how much you’ve missed being near him. You smile gently, and bury your head into his shoulder. The both of you sit there for a while, slowly freezing and holding each other with a softness you hadn’t felt in a while.

Eventually, you reach the road and lean against a barrier, slowly, softly. He kisses your collarbone as he leans into you and you both wait to die.

“I love you.” You whisper, ready to close your eyes and not open them again. He sighs almost contently, his lips finding your skin again. Your fingers were red and sore, blood picking at the frost.

“I love you,” he replies.

Just as the two of you close your eyes with a sad acceptance, there’s a roar of an engine you recognise. The wheels screech, a voice yells, but neither of you respond. Sam’s fallen asleep now and you don’t have the energy to speak. Hands grip your shoulders, press down to stop the flow of blood, scream your name. You can see him in a blur, but there’s not enough in you to react. Your eyes close and it’s something you’re ok with.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You wake up slowly, bleach biting at your nose. The room is stark white and clean - beeping rings in your ears. You’re alone. You climb out of the hospital bed and wince, the wound clean, but still painful. It didn’t take you long for you to find Dean, his voice loud against the hush of the ward. He turns, eyes locking onto you and grins, running over and leaving the doctor he was talking to behind. His arms wrap around you, soft and welcoming. “Thought the both of you had left me. Took me a month and a bit to find you.” He pulls away, smiling, “You’re both too strong, found your own way out.” He’s happy, Sam’s alive.

He sees the look in your eyes, he knows. “He’s inside, not awake yet.” He replies, voice softer now. You spare one more, thankful glance at your best friend and make your way to Sam’s room.

Sam lies there, still and peaceful. His cheeks are brighter and his bones hidden by strength once more. You sit by his side, eyes tired, and wait for him to wake up. He will, he has to. Eventually, sleep takes you and you lean against his bed, head resting on his chest to feel the gentle rise and fall. Your hand holds his, there’s not much else you can do.

“Aren’t you meant to be in your own bed?” A voice asks and your eyes open to see him smiling at you. His hair is brushed back and his skin is clean of dirt. He sounds okay.

You laugh slightly, smiling for the first time in a month and reply, “I had better things to do.” You lean forward, kissing his lips softly, careful not to hurt either of you. He returns the sentiment, hand tying itself into your hair. You hold his face, thumb tracing his jawline, and smile as you pull away.

He stays there, noses touching slightly. You’re centimetres apart. “You’re lucky I’m not infectious.” He whispers. You laugh again and move your hands to gently clasp the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t care anyway.”

Sam kisses you again.

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #angst #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x friend!reader #whump #gore #cannibal #supernatural

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boywifesammy · 10 months

Text

sam winchester just doesn’t fit. he lives life between two worlds; too strange for normal people but not strange enough for his family. he’s passionate and nerdy and kind-hearted. he’s trusting but terrified of losing the little that he has. he’s been looking from the outside in for his entire life and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t change that.

imagine growing up like that. never in one place, constantly moving around, surrounded by fear and family secrets and things that go bump in the dark. imagine always being the new kid, getting weird looks in the hallways, growing up in hand-me-downs and dingy motel rooms and having an alcoholic, revenge-obsessed ex-military dad who’s never around. being raised by your big brother and never being able to explain to anyone what family means to you. that they’re your prison and your curse but also everything you have, because you never stopped in one place to keep anything else.

and on the inverse, imagine being the black sheep in a family of hunters. imagine wanting autonomy and safety and being shamed for it. sam is a dreamer at heart. he loves reading and human connection and moral philosophy. he wants to be good above everything else. he’s a bleeding heart who gets far too involved in cases and feels the pain of everyone else too strongly.

imagine wanting to play soccer instead of shooting at things that want to kill you, and being berated for it. wanting to get an education and being belittled for it. wanting to get free of it all, wanting to make an honest life for yourself and have companionship and a stable career and a family that trusts you as much as they love you and being told that if you leave, you’re never welcome back.

sam tried so fucking hard to fit in at stanford, and it ended with his girlfriend burning up on his ceiling. he tried to be a good hunter, and instead became the boy king, a demon-blood halfling, an abomination, a monster even in the eyes of his family.

if you can’t save him, kill him. if i didn’t know you, i would want to hunt you. sam has always been more monster than human or hunter. always. he was a monster at school and a monster at stanford and a monster on the road with dean. he was stuck between worlds and floundering for any bit of reassurance that god hadn’t given up on him.

yet even through that, he was still kind and loyal and motivated by good will. he wanted to see the good in everything, even in the monsters he hunted. he wanted to give them a chance, because he wanted so badly to believe that he wasn’t a monster either. he knew how it felt to be bad to his very core yet still want to do good. he GOT it. even when the world hated him, he still always tried to do the right thing.

sammy’s a big, cuddly, bleeding-heart monster and i love all of him.

#oc #sam winchester #supernatural #spn meta #spn 2x01 #spn 4x04 #i cannot stop thinking about him #i know he’s big and scary and does awful things sometimes #but he’s hurting so much #and he’s been through fucking hell and back #like i GET it. i get why he’s so fucked up. poor boy has been suffering his entire life.

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canonmisogynyvictimstournament · 8 months

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PROPAGANDA

MARY WINCHESTER (SUPERNATURAL)

1.) in a series famous for fridging women she is THEEE og. fridged in the first five minutes of episode she might as well be in the freezer.

AND THEN. this sounds like some real stupid spn bullshit but. season 12. she gets defrosted. and its the smartest thing the writers ever did. does some rly fun things with the dissonance between s&d (mostly d)’s image of her and the actual real human person she was and is!!

ONE SEASON LATER: they stop trying to bother giving her a tangible personality or any interesting conflict (imo this was probably motivated by poor fan response to her; a big chunk of the fanbase were just as upset as dean was that she wasn’t the perfect mother they’d pictured. HOWEVER it is still canon. a canon that is easily swayed by fandom misogyny is also misogynistic ofc). they strip away complexity they’d set up in season 4/5 by saying umm actually things would be worse if she didnt make that morally complicated demon deal in her youth <3

TWO SEASONS LATER: still not giving her any personality. worse than just not doing anything else with her complicated relationship with motherhood at this point, it feels like theyve stripped her down to nothing BUT that. they shove her into a relationship with s&d’s other parental figure with literal sub-zero chemistry for no reason. and ummm guess what :) they kill her again!! back in the fridge for you, bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THREE SEASONS LATER: s&d find a spell that was explicitly invented with the intention of bringing her back and they just say like welllllll she seems like shes having a good time in heaven. i HAAAAAAAAATE THIS FUCKING SHOWWWWWWWWWWWW

ALSO: even if she doesnt get in i recommend checking out the photo. its rly good. samantha smith milf of all time forreal.

(my last supernatural submission. sorry for putting you through this bestie. i could go on but i dont think i should.)

2.) The first scene in the show is her getting brutally killed by a demon. It is what starts the events of the entire show, since she gets fridged for manpain. And then she gets resurrected in season 12 and is a really interesting character and then she gets fridged for manpain AGAIN

3.) Going for the Guinness world record in “number of times one show fridged the same mom,” SPN?

KONAN (NARUTO)

1.)

• She is taken in as a *child* by jiraiya and trained as a ninja. When jiraiya leaves his parting comment is that she'll be beautiful when she grows up & to come visit him when she's 18 (she's still a child at this point) 🤢

• Konan isn't given the chance to express her own opinions - she's shown to simply follow nagato's lead.

• Unlike nagato, she isn't acknowledged as being naruto's ""sibling student"" for having the same teacher. Naruto isn't shown to care about this bond and is entirely unaffected by her death.

• Wrote out of the story & killed off immediately after Nagato's death for no reason. Doesn't get a chance to exist as an independent character even after she becomes the leader of her village.

• Naruto vows to bring peace to the rain village but never does or is even shown to think about it or her. (& in boruto the rain village is even shown to be in ruins)

• Konan puts her faith in naruto and vows that she and the village will support him in his quest for peace. Despite this she doesn't ever get to fight at his side during the war because she is immediately killed off.

• She also doesn't get to show up in the war as an opponent to naruto. Despite being a founding member of the akatsuki she isn't reanimated along with the others in the war.

• While her fight against tobi showcases her skill and preparedness it only exists as a reason to kill her off. Tobi only wins due to his plot armour.

#polls #round 1 #week 2 #new

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destieltaggedfic · 3 months

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howdy! I know you’ve mentioned before that you also like asshole/unsupportive sam fics sometimes so I was wondering if you could rec some more? Its hard to search for these cause there isn’t really a tag to go through on ao3

Can I ever! 😃 I've been waiting ages for someone to take me up on that offer. In general there are 2 authors I love who write really good Sam being an entitled asshole both in canonverse or AU. They are thebatmandiaries and AshwinMeird

Four Rings and a One Man Apocalypse – FunnyWings Ao3

Set S6AU. After an angel asks for his help in healing Cas after an injury he had, Dean’s isolation in his retired life with Lisa doesn’t work anymore and while he wants to stay out of hunting he wants Cas back in his life, even if Cas is busy fighting a war Dean only just found out about.

Word Count: 58k No Sex

These Fragments I Have Shored Against My Ruins p- BlackUnicorn Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe. Sam’s life takes a turn when his latest girlfriend leaves him, so he decides to try and find his brother. He doesn’t expect to find him living in a bunker in Kansas living a very domestic and different life to what he expected.

Word Count: 25k No Sex

The Drive - InnocentVash, PaleRedWings Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe. Dean got seriously hurt on a hunt and Sam has no time for anything other than keeping Dean alive on the journey back to Bobby’s, especially since he blames Dean’s injury on the recently human Cas.

Word Count: 3k No Sex

champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends – thebatmandiaries Ao3

Canonverse AU. The demon didn’t kill Mary, but Dean’s family was never the same again because John started hunting secretly and forced Dean to do so as well, while Sam grew up to be the pampered darling. As he gets closer to the end of high school Dean is caring less and less about his so-called family and their treatment of him.

Word Count: 72k No Sex

Reputation and Redirection - AshwinMeird Ao3

AU. Sam’s always known he was the best son and his career is on the up but when he does some illegal stuff on a deal he loses both his job and his wife in quick succession. With his parents on vacation he feels its Dean’s responsibility to help support him despite them not really having a relationship since they were teenagers. Dean’s not so keen on that idea though.

Word Count: 26k Non-Graphic Sex

Small Everyday Deeds – Featherthief Ao3

Set S13 AU. 3 years ago baby Jack was born and in the action of the day, Cas was left human and Dean had a shattered leg that never recovered. Now they are living in a small town where everyone believes they are married and Sam has finally come to visit. But there seems to be something different about them and he’s determined to find out what it is. But it wasn’t easy for Dean to get where he is today. (This is included here because I absolutely HATE the way Sam treats Dean in this fic especially when he starts dictating what Dean must do in the aftermath of the injury)

Word Count: 297k Non-Graphic Sex

#rec asks #destiel #sam is a butthole #ive mostly kept these canonverse #there are so many more where sam is a self-entitled butthole #unsupportive Sam #i wish I could write asshole Sam but I don't think I could do him justice

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deansmom · 6 days

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listen it’s 2021, nobody can yell at me for my Hot Takes on the w*nchester bros and specifically sam because none of you care about me anymore lmao

and no, I will not be responding to defenses of these things, I just want to yell about this because I can’t stop thinking about it now

I don’t think anything demon!dean said to sam was out of line, not really, because like yeah, it was mean whatever, but sam has said WAY crueler things to and about dean when he was just a normal human person. but dean gets crucified for being a demon and fully expressing himself and his trauma and his feelings? nah fuck that lmao

I’m up to s8 in my rewatch and it’s absolutely wild to me how sam STILL thinks he’s better than dean. not only does he still somehow think he’s smarter, but he also thinks he’s BETTER than dean. that dean’s like, a bad person or whatever - as if both of them aren’t mass murderers ffs

this mans really said “I don’t know if my brother is alive or dead...... hm sucks for him I guess lol.” like yeah, sure, trauma, whatever. everybody handles and processes trauma differently, I know, but seriously sam??? sure, take a couple months if you need it, but just - no effort? didn’t even try? didn’t even do a quick google search?

just fucking ditched kevin, a SIXTEEN YEAR OLD KID, and then got mad at dean when dean was like “dude wtf is the matter with you this kid was our responsibility”

fandom ALWAYS wants to talk about how dean’s the more toxic one but damn, dean gets one friend - his first friend who isn’t cas!!! - and sam’s like “lmao this dude has to die” LITERALLY ONLY BECAUSE DEAN KILLED AMY, WHO WAS KILLING INNOCENT PEOPLE (for a good reason, sure, but like, she was still killing innocent people and benny’s out here just minding his own business, stealing AB- negative blood because they can get blood transfusions from any negative blood type!! his old ass wasn’t hurting anybody) and the episode before sam finds out about benny they let kate go be a werewolf and then when dean mentions that to sam about benny he’s like “so?! she was a victim!” and he’s like “and benny hasn’t done anything wrong!” and sam just doesn’t give a shit lmao

he ALWAYS bitches about how dean doesn’t trust him and I’m just sitting here like??? damn bro I WONDER FUCKING WHY. sam only takes responsibility for his actions when it’s convenient for him, generally when he’s being portrayed as the victim, and it!!!!!! [screams into a pillow]

dean’s like “he’s never given me a reason to doubt him” (about benny) and sam immediately goes “well it must be nice to find that” and dean takes a second to figure out what sam’s talking about and it’s just like WOW, didn’t fucking mean it like that, but yeah IT IS NICE SAM TO HAVE A FRIEND THAT THUS FAR HASN’T BETRAYED ME, IT’S A GOOD FEELING like tf is the matter with you dude come on

OH OH OH and when dean came back from hell in s4 sam’s going around like “dean’s weak he can’t handle it” but doesn’t try to help his brother?????? doesn’t offer him emotional support or validation or anything that you should offer someone who’s just been through something profoundly traumatic and is ~*~struggling~*~ to keep themselves afloat.

listen dean certainly isn’t an unproblematic saint in this relationship specifically, but sam is SO MEAN??? ALL THE TIME??? and I know it’s because especially in the early seasons he associates dean with his dad and him and john never got along because they were too much alike, blah blah blah, whatever, it’s still not cool to project your trauma onto other people and take it out on them.

will I ever be over 9.13? no. no I will not, because that was the cruelest thing that could have maybe ever been said to dean, and yeah again, trauma, whatever, but like......... if you’ve been traumatized and your response is to purposefully emotionally devastate someone that you know 1) had no malicious intentions and 2) is emotionally unstable and perpetually suicidal, I’m allowed to hate you wtf???

sam knows NOTHING about his brother.

like ok in the fic that I’ve been writing somebody was like “it’s very in character but edgier but dean didn’t hate john” and listen, I TRULY think that dean hated him in canon. yeah, even in s1. watch 2.01 again, watch the episode where john is possessed by azazel, the dream root episode, I think it’s 12.22 that speech with mary, but like, especially on my rewatch, I cannot read their relationship as anything other than at that point neither one of them liked each other. something happened in between sam leaving and dean coming to get him, and dean went searching for john out of obligation and an excuse to see sam.

you can’t convince me that john liked dean. of course he loved him, a familial obligation was deeply ingrained in that man, but I don’t think he liked dean at all. I think dean reminded him of mary, I think he thought dean was too soft, and to be completely honest, I don’t think he liked that dean listened to him so easily. john wanted to be in charge, obviously, but he’s such an antagonistic fuck always looking for a fight with somebody, that it probably bothered him that dean didn’t really push back. john didn’t think he was assertive enough, dean just didn’t want to be used as a punching bag, and I’ve always figured there was some sort of blowout after sam left between the two of them and they didn’t really talk much after that. “it was the worst night of my life” is what dean called the night sam left for stanford, and while his little brother leaving would’ve been devastating, I don’t think that alone would qualify it (in season 5, mind you, after hell and the hellhounds and everything) as the worst night of his life. I also think that’s why john was such a POS in s1 when they found him, giving dean shit for the impala, y’know. god, I really fucking hate him lmao

nobody seems to agree with me on this, but sam is very much his father’s son, and that’s why they never got along. the two of them were so much alike (and so self-centered) that they couldn’t help but butt heads together because they both wanted to be the center of attention, and also just enjoy picking fights. and like, I think this is a big reason why dean has a harder time being honest with sam than sam has with being honest with dean. because dean sees john when he looks at sam, and sam just sees dean. and sam’s like “why don’t you talk to me dean” and dean probably just hears his dad making fun of him for being honest or talking about his feelings or yelling at him.

familial/generational trauma genuinely makes it hard to interact in meaningful and productive ways, I get it, believe me I do, but sam is just so... cruel sometimes? and I think dean really worked his way through a solid portion of that trauma by the end of the show, and I don’t think sam ever really did.

Dean: All right, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing.

SAM [very softly]: No, Dean. I wouldn't. Same circumstances...I wouldn't. I'm gonna get to bed.

see, when I say sam is cruel, this is the shit I’m talking about because that is a bald faced lie and sam knows it. he said it specifically to hurt dean. he didn’t mean it, and he fucking knows that, but he knows that it will devastate dean to hear that, so he says it.

anyways, sam fights dirty all the time. it’s 2024 now and I have no notes for past me, she was right.

#wank for ts //#character hate for ts //#not really even I just know somebody's going to read it as that lmao #clearing out my drafts weeee #personal

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 7 months

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Comfort in an Abandoned Theatre

Summary - Part 38 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Meanwhile in the alley…

Dean waits as patiently as possible pretending to mess with something under the hood of Baby. The longer he waits the more impatient he gets. He just wants to bust into the club, drag his wife back to the hotel and forget the werewolves even exist. But he pushes that desire deep down and reminds himself why he fell in love with Y/N in the first place and that she can handle herself just fine. After what feels like an eternity he sees the backdoor of the nightclub open. He quietly closes the hood and pulls out his gun, checking the silver bullets are loaded. When he cautiously glances back over at the person who emerged from the door his eyes land on your lifeless-looking body in his arms. His heart instantly sinks and all he wants to do is shoot, but he knows he can’t risk hitting you or the man using you as a human shield, or hurting you in retaliation. So instead he just watches hopelessly as you’re led away in the opposite direction down the alley. He knows Jason’s waiting on that corner, so as soon as the coast is clear he jumps in Baby and follows from a safe distance with the lights off. He spins his ring around his finger, trying his best to calm himself down as he watches the man get further away with you.

Then all too quickly the sound of a gunshot sends him into a panic. The werewolf sprints off dragging you with him. His speed alone is the last bit of proof Dean needs. He can feel his blood almost boiling as he loses sight of the werewolf and you. He slams his hands on the steering wheel in frustration, shouting, “Son of a bitch!” He sees Jason run out from around the corner with his hands up, then he spins around and sees Mark with his gun in his hand by his side. Dean’s face says everything they need to know, he’s beyond angry.

Mark cautiously walks towards Dean and Jason. “He put something in her drink. She was fine and then she quickly wasn’t. It went downhill real fast in there.”

“So what you thought you’d come out here guns blazing? You could’ve shot her! Or worse you could’ve hit him and caused him to turn her! What were you thinking?” Dean shouts.

“I was thinking I’d kill the werewolf, because that’s why we’re here right? Or did you forget that this is a hunt, Winchester?” Jason spits back. Then under his breath he adds, “This is exactly why I didn’t want to work with a Winchester.”

Dean nods and then storms back to Baby. “Then you’d better just stay out of my way!” He slams the door shut and speeds off down the alley in the last direction he sees the werewolf go. He drives up and down streets looking for anywhere that looks like it could house a pack of werewolves. Among all the highrise buildings and shops, nothing looks even remotely like an average werewolf den.

After an hour of driving around and no leads, he returns to the hotel. He pulls out his laptop and tries to track your phone. It pings at a theatre building about a block back from the beach. When he searches the building online he finds out it’s been shut down and abandoned for years. He slams the laptop shut and sprints back down the stairs to the car speeding as fast as he can to the theatre. He pulls a park out the front and sends Sam a quick text with his location and the word ‘werewolf’. He puts his phone on silent so as not to give himself away, grips his gun and gets out of the car as silently as possible. It’s been years since he’s taken on a hunt like this alone; he can feel his heat racing as he approaches the decrepit building. He silently peers between the boards on one of the front windows searching for any signs of movement or light; proof that you’re actually in there, alive and still human. He can’t see anything, it’s pitch black inside, but as he turns to make his way to the next window he hears a small howling sound. Almost like a puppy that’s been left home alone all day, it’s sad and a little weak.

Sons of bitches are breeding! He thinks to himself as he peers in another boarded-up window. Still no luck. It’s just too dark. Damn werewolves and their ability to see in the dark!

He looks up at the dark sky and crescent moon high above him, before glancing back down at his watch: 1:25. With hours till sunrise and the desperation to find and keep his precious wife safe pulling at his heart, he makes the decision to go in blind. He can’t wait the four to five hours required to get light, with the hope that they’re nocturnal. Anything could happen in that time, and each worst-case scenario is filtering through his mind as the seconds pass.

With his gun full of silver bullets, and drawn with the safety off he tries the door handle carefully, trying to keep quiet. To his surprise, it isn’t locked. He steps inside quietly, shutting the door behind him with care. Inside he notices the floor is carpeted, helping to cushion the fall of his heavy boots and hide his footsteps. Barely being able to see a foot in front of him, he tunes into his other senses. Listening for more howls, movement, and voices. Smelling for the rank, metallic scent of blood, rotting meat, and the distinct and comforting smell of your floral perfume hoping it hasn’t been covered by the scent of mutated dog. As he ventures further down the hall his eyes start to adjust to the darkness making it ever so slightly easier to see and keep him from bumping into anything and making noise. He sees a wide-open doorway to his left, almost like the entrance to a movie theatre or concert hall. He notes the protection a room like that would give a pack, especially one with children, but also the danger of the limited exits for himself as he stalks through the doorway. Keeping his aim steady in front of him, he cautiously makes his way through the dark corridor, noting the lines of stepped-up seating above him on either side.

Suddenly, an aching pain shoots through his body as someone lands on top of him, causing him to land on his back on the carpet, which isn’t as soft as he hoped. He tries to fight off the man, approximately the same size as himself but his gun is knocked out of his grip. He fumbles around trying to reach for the silver knife in the waistband of his jeans but his hands are pinned above his head. As he looks up at the attacker’s face he notices the sharp fangs on display. He doesn’t need to look at his hands to see the claws, he can feel them cutting into his wrists. He gathers his strength and kicks his legs out, distracting the werewolf enough so that he can rip his hand free. With his free hand, he immediately rips out his silver knife and stabs the werewolf in the side, overpowering him so he can get on top. He slides his knife out of his side and stabs him in the heart, watching as his body goes limp. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he stares at the wolf’s features; they’re familiar. He pulls his knife out of his chest, wipes it clean using the wolf’s shirt and then stands over him.

“That’s for taking my wife, you son of a bitch!” He says.

He turns to inspect the room further, searching for you in the darkness when he hears the same sad howling from earlier again. He takes a few steps forward, collects his gun inspects it carefully and then calls out gruffly, “I hear you! Come on out!” When he doesn’t hear or see any movement he rounds the corridor and ascends the stairs checking each row carefully. As he approaches the back of the room the howling is replaced with a sound that is halfway between a low growl and sob, but it’s still quiet. He sees a subtle movement in his peripheral vision and focuses on the back row. In the dark, he can make out a small shadowy figure. It’s shaking. He aims his gun towards the figure as he gets closer. From the end of the row, he can finally tell the figure is a small child, he assumes from their tiny stature they can’t be more than five years old. He replaces the safety on his gun and stows it in the pocket of his jacket as he slips into a chair at the end of the row slowly.

“Hi. My name is Dean, I’m here to help you, what’s your name?” Dean asks softly.

The child just shakes their head and looks at the floor silently.

Dean tries again, “Was that other man trying to hurt you? Did he take you away from your parents?”

The child shakes their head again. Then eventually groaks out in a tiny voice, “Is he dead?”

Dean slowly nods his head, watching the child intently as they resume their howling and sobbing.

Shit! The gears start turning in his head as he watches and listens to the child.

“Was he your dad?” Dean asks.

The child nods sadly. Dean watches them as he weighs up his options. He knows this pup is a monster, but they’re still a child. He puts his hand on the handle of his gun but can’t bring himself to pull it out. Werewolf or not, it’s a child. If they grow up and start killing people he can always come back and finish the job, or some other hunter can. He stands up.

“Have you seen a woman in here? She came here with your dad earlier tonight.”

The child nods and points towards the other end of the row. As Dean follows the child’s direction he can’t believe he didn’t notice you there before. He takes in your limp body sprawled out over a few seats. You look so uncomfortable but also unconscious so he guesses you can’t feel or hear anything. Cautiously, he gets up and squeezes past the child to get to you. He pulls you into his lap so you can be more comfortable, even if you have no recollection of it. He just knows if you stay all contorted like that you’ll wake up with all sorts of aches and pains. He lets your head rest on his shoulder as he holds you close to his chest. He breathes a small sigh of relief as he fills your warm, steady breath fan out on his neck and feels your steady pulse.

He watches cautiously as the child crawls over the chairs to get a little closer. Up close Dean can tell from her feminine features that she’s a little girl. Her face is soft and cherubic, with delicate, rosy cheeks, a petite button nose, wide, innocent, yet red-rimmed and tear-filled eyes, and a natural, gentle pout that gives her an angelic appearance. Her skin is soft and smooth, with a subtle hint of childhood freckles across her nose and cheeks. If not for her being a werewolf he would say she’s beautiful. He almost feels bad for stabbing her father, but as he holds your limp body in his arms he tells himself he did the right thing. Not having any of the right words to comfort the child, but also not wanting to leave them alone he stays silent. He just sits there and holds you waiting for whatever that monster put in your drink to wear off.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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aheavenlycreature · 7 months

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So, I’ve had this idea for a fic for a very long time. Maybe one day I’ll actually have the discipline to sit down and attempt to finally write the damn thing, but I still wanna share it and get it out there in some capacity. Hell, if any of you reading this want to steal it and write this for yourselves or get inspired by this in some way, please feel free to!!!

Anyways— we always see Dean react to Cas’ death but Cas never sees the aftermath/fall out from it because well duh– he’s dead but the deaths are also very quick like the stabbings from angels or the Empty swallowing him whole pretty quickly after the love confession. Even when Castiel was stabbed with the spear, even though it was a little slower– it was evident that it wasn’t by much.

But, what if Castiel was suffering from a poison that would take days to kill him. Maybe even weeks?

I had this idea where it’s set in season 13 with the apocalypse hunters because that was the best way I could come up with for why this sort’ve poison even exists in the first place but like I said, if you wanna steal it this idea you come up with whatever origin for the poison you want.

But the gist is the poison was specifically designed to kill angels in the most brutal way possible by turning their own grace into something deadly and essentially becomes the poison. The worst part– once the grace has been corrupted like this it cannot be extracted from the angel.

So their grace is killing them slowly and burning them from the inside out and feels like torture the entire time because it’s basically like if your blood was replaced with acid. You can’t do anything about it other than to wait to die.

And Cas starts suffering from this– likely from an enemy who hates him or just hates angels in general and sees them all as threats to humanity. Point is, Cas’ grace gets corrupted from this and Dean has to witness Castiel slowly die in front of him.

This has never happened before. Cas has never been sick to begin with, let alone this kind of sick where they know it’s gonna end in death. Dean’s freaking out and trying to figure out a way to save him.

(In my head, there is an elixir Rowena cooks up to save Castiel but they have no clue on whether it’ll work or not and worst of all– it feels like acid for Castiel to drink and there’s a lot of it. Too much of it. Like an entire gallon or MORE for Cas to drink like this and Dean pretty much has to force him to get it down because he doesn’t want Cas to die and if there’s a chance this thing will work, he’ll try. But he hates seeing Castiel in even more pain from taking this medicine.)

Anyways, it’s hopeless and Cas is getting worse and worse. Eventually Castiel knows his time is coming to an end and things are only gonna get uglier for him. He says his goodbyes to Jack, not wanting Jack to see him get worse. He says goodbye to Sam.

And Dean stays by his side, even laying down in bed with him despite the sweat and odor. He doesn’t care because this is Cas and he’s not leaving his side until the very end.

With Cas dying as slow as he is, he confesses his love for Dean and he doesn’t want Dean to say anything about it. Because however Dean answers, anything Dean could say in response to that, won’t make him very happy.

And based on how Dean’s been acting throughout Castiel’s sickness, the way he’s never seen Dean act about anyone– Cas thinks maybe, just maybe Dean does feel the same way back and that’s terrible. Because the idea of Dean loving Castiel back when he is on death’s door, will not make Cas happy.

But he still confesses because all he wants is for Dean to know he’s loved and deserves all the things he thinks he doesn’t.

Cas dies.

Dean sobs.

Dean doesn’t leave Cas’ side, still holding him like he did when he was alive. It’s horrible. Feeling Cas’ skin go from searing hot to cold. It’s the worst thing he’s ever experienced, feeling the life leaving Cas’ body. All evidence he was breathing only minutes ago. Hours ago…

Cas comes back to life somehow. But now with the knowledge of how much Dean cares, how much he really cares for him and that’s something he doesn’t want to ignore.

#castiel #dean winchester #destiel #supernatural #spn #castiel spn #deancas #casdean #feel free to steal this if ya want

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thegettingbyp2 · 2 years

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I have a request for Dean Winchester where the reader is really mad at someone and he has to hold her back so she doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s vague but I love the idea of reader being a badass.

Short Fuse

It wasn’t a secret to anyone that you had quite a short fuse; if anyone annoyed you or hurt someone you loved, you were the first person to confront them about it. So, when you met the Winchester brothers, it wasn’t long before they learnt about this trait of yours. Sam would always try to hold you back whereas Dean found it hilarious and would sometimes even encourage you, much to Sam’s annoyance. Usually when you would get mad at someone, you would have your moment and you would leave relatively unscathed. However, it wasn’t every time that the subject of your anger was Lucifer himself.

You had been through a lot of crap the past couple of weeks; you had lost Cas and you were still trying to convince Dean that you could trust Jack so it was safe to say that tensions were running high all around lately. So, Lucifer turning up on top of all that was the last thing that you all wanted.

‘Come on, guys, I just want to meet the little guy. He’s my son after all,’ Lucifer whined as he stood in the control room of the bunker, Sam and Dean acting as barriers between him and Jack.

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ you said, already starting to sound annoyed as you rounded the corner and saw the stand-off. You made your way down the couple of steps until you were on the same level as the boys, stopping next to Jack and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, Jack’s hand coming to rest on top of yours.

‘Oh, look who’s decided to join us. The tail of the group,’ Lucifer said, unimpressed. You felt your blood begin to boil underneath your skin at his words and the only thing that stopped you from launching across the room at him was Jack’s hand on yours.

‘He thinks he can come in here and take Jack,’ Sam said, filling you in. You looked over at Dean whose eyes were glued to Lucifer, not moving his gaze for a second.

‘I didn’t actually say take, that would be a bit too much effort. I’m all for the arrangement where I come and talk to him whenever I want, you know, show him the ropes and in return, you guys, just let me.’

‘We’re not letting him go anywhere near you. He has the chance to actually be a good guy so there’s no way we’re letting anything get in the way of that’ Dean replied straight away. It surprised you when you heard Dean defend Jack straight away when he still wasn’t completely sold on the kid.

‘I’m his father, it’s my right to know my son!’

‘Cas is his/my father,’ you and Jack said at the same time, overlapping each other.

‘Castiel? Seriously? The guy who was stupid enough to get himself killed on the day Jack was born all because he wanted to protect a bunch of humans,’ Lucifer said distastefully. As soon as you heard him speak ill of Cas, you couldn’t help yourself as you flew across the room, fully prepared to lay a hit on Lucifer, who was grinning at the knowledge that he was able to get you so angry, his eyes glowing bright red, prepared to inflict some damage himself.

Before you were able to reach Lucifer, you felt Dean’s arms wrap around your waist and chest as he held you back, knowing that it wouldn’t end well if you got within arm’s reach of Lucifer.

‘Looks like you’ve got a guard dog there,’ Lucifer said casually, loving the fact he was had made you so mad.

‘Dean. Let me go,’ you said, struggling to get out of his grip but getting absolutely nowhere, instead, only being pulled closer into his chest.

‘(Y/N), come on, you know you can’t. He’d kill you and you know it,’ Dean murmured into your ear, his words coming out in stages as he was putting all this strength into holding you back.

‘You heard what he said about Cas, he can’t just get away with it,’ you said helplessly as you still struggled but felt yourself quickly tiring out.

‘He won’t sweetheart,’ Dean said close to your ear as he felt you calming down slightly. You saw Jack walk around Dean’s front, standing in between you and Lucifer which made Sam step closer to Jack, shielding him.

‘(Y/N), we’re going to bring Cas back. I know we are so it doesn’t matter what he says because we’re going to get him back,’ Jack said and the amount of hope that you heard in his voice made you give up fighting Dean’s hold as you let yourself go limp in his arms.

‘So, I’ll let you guys handle that, and I’ll come by to pick Jack up in the week?’ Lucifer piped in before leaning around Sam to look at you. ‘I’ll see you around, (Y/N),’ he said with a wink before he clicked his fingers and disappeared. As soon as he was gone, Dean’s grip left your body and you stumbled forward slightly, managing to catch yourself before you hit the floor.

‘You okay? You calmed down?’ Dean asked, staring at you.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Sweetheart, I am all for letting you take care of yourself, you know that. But not when it comes to the friggin Devil,’ Dean said, trying his best to sound stern but failing when he burst into laughter, everyone else quickly following suit.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural

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septnanis · 3 months

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canopy

a Destiel post-canon fix-it bit

Once Cas gets back, they orbit each other like a binary system. Always close but never getting close enough to speak the unspeakable. They spend the first few weeks in the bunker marinating in the awkward silences and equally awkward conversations before Dean has had enough.

He is a forty year old man who has faced down every thing from suburban ghosts to the creator of the universe and he feels almost embarrassed how he can’t strike up the nerve to talk to Cas.

So Dean packs a bag, walks to Cas’ room and tells him to suit up, get his shit and meet him in the garage in an hour. Cas just gives him that look that reminds Dean that Cas is a million year old celestial creature and Dean is a little human speck. It makes him grin all the way to the garage.

Cas shows up fifty minutes later, packed bag in tow. He’s wearing jeans and a dark blue henley covered by a chambray shirt that makes Dean’s mouth dry up because Cas looks handsome and capable and like a Winchester.

“Where are we going,” Cas asks, likely out of curiosity because Dean knows it won’t affect his decision to come along. “A hunt?”

“Hunt what?” Dean asks right back at him. “We, my angelic friend, are going to reap the rewards of killing God and go wherever the hell we want.”

With those words, Dean sits himself in the driver’s seat and pulls the door shut with a satisfying click. Cas joins him in the passenger’s seat and moves about until he’s sitting at a comfortable angle.

“We didn’t kill God,” Cas says. “We… deactivated him.”

Dean starts the car and turns to grin at Cas. “You didn’t do anything,” Dean says. “You were chilling in the Empty.”

Someone else might have been offended at the obvious dig, but Cas just grins back at him.

—-

Several weeks on the road and Dean has never felt free the way he does now. They’ve been to more than a dozen roadside attractions, some more bizarre than others. Cas likes the particularly strange ones, asks even stranger questions.

Dean gives the cheap motels a wide berth and gets the rooms in nice hotels.

In Vermont, he fishes out his phone while Cas is pumping gas and looks for a bed and breakfast. One, because he thinks it’s hilarious and two, he’s really always wanted to stay at one that wasn’t haunted.

“How do you feel about canopy beds?” Dean asks without looking up.

Cas clears his throat and puts the gaspump back. “Seems a bit redundant, a bed with a roof inside a building with a roof? But I guess it’s… cozy?”

Dean does look up at Cas, his finger hovering over the Book Now button. The man is all big blue eyes and heather grey sweatshirt and Dean is in love with him, probably has been for years.

“Would you like anything?” Cas asks as he starts walking towards the station to pay.

Dean shakes his head and hits the booking button like he’s on a mission.

When Cas comes back out, he puts a cold bottle of water in Dean’s hand even though Dean didn’t want anything.

“You need to hydrate yourself,” Cas says and turns to walk away.

“I love you,” Dean says. It stops Cas so abruptly it’s like time has stopped. “I’m… I’m in love with you. And we’re at a gas station which is a stupid place to say this but here we fucking are.”

Cas turns back to Dean and looks apprehensive.

“Before the Empty swiped you,” Dean keeps going because this once in a lifetime momentum and even he knows he’s on a one way street now. “You told me all these great things about me. And if anyone else had told me I would’ve laughed my ass off at them. But I actually believed you.”

The apprehension in Cas’ eyes remains steadfast, his whole body language like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You told me you loved me,” Dean says. “And then you were gone. Didn’t even give me a chance to think about it, much less figure out that… you’re it for me too, Cas. You’re loyal and you’re brave and kind and maybe the most stubborn, toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

Thankfully the apprehension makes way for what looks like a spark of hope in Cas’ eyes. It reminds Dean yet again that this is a million year old celestial creature, hiding out in a human vessel, inexplicably in love with this little human speck.

“I love you, Castiel,” Dean says. He shrugs, because there’s nothing else he can think of to say.

Cas smiles at him so beautifully it becomes clear pretty quickly there’s nothing else he has to say.

—-

Later, Dean pulls the covers up over their heads and kisses Cas for what feels like the hundredth time. He decides he’ll never ever get tired of it.

“Under the covers, under a canopy, under a roof,” Dean says, smiling wide. Cas eyes are the color of the sky once the sun has set in the minimal light. “How’s that for redundant?”

“It’s cozy,” Cas says. He runs his knuckles over Dean’s face.

This is freedom, Dean decides. This is peace.

Also available on ao3: canopy

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel

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quietwingsinthesky · 5 months

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prev post samifer version of that curse scenario where lucifer is the one cursed. play with me in this space, yeah? let us take the torture in the cage as the product of the cage itself, lucifer’s actual involvement in it either nonexistent or minimal with no agency — his own torture being made into a tool to inflict so much pain on sam as to make any connection they have forever tainted by it. when sam gets out of the cage, he goes through all of the canon aftermath, including hallucifer, the obvious face of his trauma whether or not lucifer wanted anything to do with it, and lives with it for years until lucifer finally gets out again and they have to go through the slow and horrible process of coming to terms with everything. but crucially: they ARE coming to terms with it.

they’re finding that they can still have a connection, even if the idea of sam being lucifer’s vessel again is enough to make him lock himself in the bathroom and make himself puke again and again like he can purge the memory of being filled with power, demon blood and angel grace both. even if lucifer freezes up whenever sam makes the slightest sound of pain while they’re in the same room, even if all he did was burn his finger on a hot pan while lucifer wasn’t even near him. they’re working on it.

and then lucifer gets cursed. and the curse lowers everyone’s inhibitions around him to zero. (maybe he’s still an angel and that means he ends up getting stabbed seven times before he’s even gotten to the kitchen to make sam coffee because dean will follow him around and attack him. casual and constant violence, you know. or maybe he’s human, and it’s genuinely dangerous for him to even be in the bunker around other hunters or castiel or anyone at all, because they will try to kill him.)

but the worst of it is when it comes to sam. for both of them. because sam “i’m dealing with the devil being the face of my trauma just FINE guys im handling it so well i have no lingering resentments” winchester really thinks that he won’t be a danger to lucifer. that if he is, it actually reflects on him and his failure to Deal With It. because he would never want to hurt lucifer, would never want lucifer to feel as scared and in pain and trapped as he did in the cage, not when he knows that it wasn’t even lucifer’s fault that he did, right?

and then when they’re alone, cooped up in a cabin far away from everyone else for lucifer’s own safety, lucifer has to fight sam off when sam immediately tries to handcuff him down and start torturing him. the curse fucking with sam’s head until all he can think is how, just once, he needs lucifer to understand, he can’t forgive lucifer completely until lucifer understands, if he hurts lucifer enough then it’ll be fair.

even better, imagine the aftermath of the curse being broken (maybe by cas & dean & whoever back home working on it, breaking it at the worst possible moment for sam & lucifer) and sam being flooded with guilt over the fact that he did this, thinking that having the impulse to at all must mean he wants to deep down, what a monster he is for it. (or maybe worse, feeling almost. satisfied. vindicated. even if only for a moment, even if only a little, staring down at lucifer when he’s cuffed and bleeding and curled in on himself trying to get away from sam.) sam having to be the one who takes care of lucifer’s injuries that he caused <3 and who knows how long it took for the curse to be broken, maybe they’ve been at this for hours or days or weeks, maybe sam doesn’t even know because time started blurring just like it did in the cage (or they both forgot that they weren’t in the cage anymore.) and it obviously isn’t anywhere near the length of time that they actually spent in hell, but still.

#i think it should be at least a few days or so because i think sam should have been leaving lucifer like that to go out and call dean and #get groceries. the minute he’s out of sight of lucifer he doesn’t want to hurt him anymore but the curse keeps him from realizing that what #he’s doing to lucifer (still locked up and hurt) is wrong #anyway. starve that devil so that he can be fed up later and taken care of #esp if lucifer is like. very newly human. and has been with the winchesters for all of it. presumably that kind of hunger. even that kind of #physical human pain. that’s all so new to him. and it keeps coming and coming from sam.#do you think lucifer believes he deserves it. just a little. for everything. goes limp under sam’s blade when he realizes there’s no escape.#stops fighting like a shocked dog in a harness.#just takes it.#yayyyy lucifer & sam whump my beloveds #spn #samifer #lucifer spn #sam winchester

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