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inkskinned · 3 months

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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

#nosebleed club #sorry stephen not ur fault #just like. thinking #writeblr #spilled ink #warm up #every time nat is like - oh let me get that for u #im like .... this is a trick right like ur gonna be mean now bc u did something nice rn #so obviously if ur being nice now either u did something mean and im about to learn about it #or you're going to BE mean #or ur gonna hold this over my head forever and i'll never get a nice thing ever again?#and every time nat is like .... babe i just actually like u #lesbian jesus story is 100% real btw. she also told me not to be an event planner #literally changed the shape of my life

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zepskies · 6 months

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OMG I KEED A PART 2 TO SAM HAVING A CRUSH ON DEANS GF

Like idk maybe say Sam didn't listen to Dean and tried making a move on reader? Like ofc he wouldn't ever do that *I don't think* but in this hypothetical scenerio it happens

Hey hun!

Oooof, that's hard. You guys really like this angsty love triangle stuff, huh? 😂 I genuinely think Sam would rather saw off his own hand than hurt Dean that way. But this is like, the only thing I could think of on this one. 😅

See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,100

Imagine: Sam crosses the line.

Goddamn witches.

That's the last coherent thought Sam has, before his mind is no longer completely his to control.

Well, it's still his mind. His body. But the careful door in his mind and in his heart, reinforced with steel and chained shut with titanium, combo-coded, locked and loaded, now has broken hinges.

Thoughts he hasn't allowed himself to think for months are pried open, with a sick kind of enjoyment in pain.

You're his brother's girl. Sam can't help but love you. He wants you. And now, he might be able to have you.

The witch is dead, but the spell she just hit Sam with remains. He's not dead, so that's a plus.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, slightly breathless. You're the closest to where he's sprawled on the ground, so you go to him. You touch his arm, and he can't help but clamp down on your hand. He looks at you with the thinly veiled eyes of a hunter as he smiles. Because your concern reaches the deepest parts of him.

"I'm fine," he says.

But Dean reads the hunger in his brother's eyes. He's subtle in the way he grasps your shoulder and Sam's (noticeably tighter).

"But what happened? How do you feel?" you ask, trying to take stock of what you're all dealing with here.

"I uh...feel fine, actually," Sam says. He rolls his shoulders. His gaze focuses on you. Dean holds him back from getting off the ground.

"Get the book. See if there's a way to fix this," Dean tells you without taking his eyes off Sam.

Sam tilts his head at Dean, the beginning of an angry frown on his lip as you rush away to find the witch's spell book.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice. (He literally doesn't have a filter anymore.) "Afraid of what might happen when she actually has the chance to choose?"

Dean's lips purse as his eyes darken. "This isn't you. And when you wake up from this, you're either gonna hate yourself for even thinkin' what you're thinkin', or you're gonna have one hell of a headache."

Sam stares back incredulously. He scoffs. "What're you gonna do, kill me?" They both know that's not happening.

But that's also when Dean knocks him the hell out.

When Sam wakes, it's to you stuffing tissues in his bloody nose. He groans a bit. He looks at you and still wants. But when he looks down at himself, he's in the bunker, handcuffed to the war room table.

You look worried for him as you go back to your side of the table with the book. Dean is oddly nowhere in sight. Sam thought he'd be watching you (and Sam) like a hawk.

"Dean'll be back in a sec. He's trying to get ahold of Rowena," you supply. "But how're you feeling? What's the spell doing to you exactly?"

Sam rolls the kinks out of his neck and removes the tissues, even though his entire face radiates with pain. His brother once promised to break his nose, and he did just that.

"Basically? I think it took away my inhibitions," he replies. More like threw them in a blender and put his deepest, headiest desires into overdrive.

You frown. "Like a really bad bender, or a truth serum kind of thing? But why would he punch you out for that?"

Your gears are turning rapidly, weighing out all the options. You always were smart. Sam leans forward slowly. Noting your thread of wariness, his face softens. He doesn't want to scare you...

He sighs. "Listen...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

He reaches out a hand. You're looking at him in frozen surprise. His curled fingers brush your cheek. He leans in toward your face.

But you flinch and pull away.

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask.

Sam should've known, but it still hurts him. His jaw clenches. The spell takes away his self-preservation, however.

Just as he might've tried with words to finally confess the depths of his heart, the door creaks open.

The sound of Dean's heavy boots approaching makes him flinch. But Sam looks over with an unrepentant stare.

Dean glances at Rowena, nostrils flaring. "Fix him." He gestures at Sam before he joins you on your side of the table, resting a protective hand on your back.

Rowena shoots him a droll look. "Only because you asked so nicely."

"I don't need fixing!" Sam argues, glaring at Dean. His voice echoes on the bunker's walls. "You're just afraid of what happens if she knows the truth!"

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest. Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat. Dean turns back to Sam.

"Don't do this, Sammy. It don't end well for you," Dean says.

"Like hell," Sam retorts.

"Okay, sleep now, dear," Rowena says. And with a wave of her hand and a haze of violet, Sam's world once again blackens.

When he next wakes, he's in his own bed. Not restrained. He indeed has a massive headache, and it's hard to breathe through his still broken nose. He groans and turns, and his brother is there.

When the overwhelming guilt sets in, Sam knows he's himself again, with all the careful walls around his heart put back in place. Rowena must've broken the spell when he was unconscious. Dean can see the truth in Sam's eyes.

"There he is," Dean remarks dryly. "Our giant Jekyll and Hyde."

Sam inhales deeply. "Dean..." I'm sorry doesn't quite cut it.

"She knows," Dean says, after a moment. "Obviously."

Sam nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He hesitates to ask the next burning question, because part of him knows the answer.

"It doesn't change anything."

Sam's head turns at the sound of your voice. You stand in the doorway, with your arms crossed despite the disheartened look on your face. Your eyes meet his, steady and sad, but firm.

"I know," Sam says, with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry...for all this."

"It's not your fault," you reply. Spell or no spell, the way he feels is not his fault.

You step into the bedroom and go to Sam's bedside, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. That hand smoothes up his neck, and your fingers briefly thread into his hair. Another silent conversation passes between you and Dean, the way only lovers that close can accomplish.

After a beat, Dean nods and gets up out of his chair. He thumbs at your cheek; it's both an answer to your unspoken request and an endearment. Then he pats Sam's shoulder before he leaves you and Sam alone in the room.

Trust. That's what that is. Dean trusts you, and now that the spell has worn off, he trusts Sam again.

Sam meets your gaze. As awful as he feels, he still loves you. He knows you know by the way your gaze meets his.

All he wants to do is touch you.

To apologize, and to touch you.

He hates himself.

You shake your head. "I love you, Sam. As my friend. My brother."

"I know," he nods. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," you reply. "You just have to respect that."

"'Course, I do," Sam nods again. You would've never known, if not for the damn spell.

You surprise him by taking his hand. Yours is soft and warm and kind.

Always kind...

But never truly his to hold.

AN: GAH! The Angst. You could bottle it. 😩

Want to know what that conversation was like between Dean and the reader after she "found out?"

Read It Here: You and Dean talk about Sam's feelings.

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#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #Sam crosses the line #being deans one exception sequel #sam in love with deans girlfriend #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam and dean #angst #unrequited love #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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pagannatural · 2 months

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2.03 Bloodlust

-Sam flirts with Dean by telling him (and the Impala) to get a room. Meanwhile he’s looking at Dean like this and the two of them are, literally, getting a room.

-Sam tells the bartender “we’re looking for some people” and the bartender says “sure, hard to be lonely.”

Sam blinks wide, grimaces. Dean looks at him, assessing. Sam looks down and then at Dean while he says “yeah, but, um…” slowly, then he regroups and pulls out a fifty, “that’s not what I meant.” There’s a sexual implication to being lonely and looking for someone at a bar, and the brothers share a very loaded look about it. It’s like this bartender accidentally hit on a truth.

Sam has been lonely for Dean. He’s been trying to get Dean to talk to him and spend time with him since their dad died, and Dean has been shutting Sam out emotionally. Sam knows Dean is lonely for him too, even though he won’t say it.

-Sam notices something is off when Dean says he’s been itching for a hunt. He and Dean also make prolonged eye contact after Dean kills a vampire and his face is spattered with blood, and Sam notices Dean is unsettled. They give each other strength just by staring into each others eyes. Sam’s always paying attention to Dean.

-Dean also notices right away that Sam’s off and asks him if he’s okay. Noticing Sam, for him, is less watchful and more like noticing the orbit of his own moon. Gravity’s off, something’s up with Sam.

-Sam went from correcting Dean every time he used Sam’s nickname to “he’s the only one who gets to call me that.” It’s so possessive, like he’s saying I’m his not yours. Dean notices and smiles to himself. Then he says “Sammy remind me to beat that buzzkill outta you later” you’re gonna do what to him later?

-Sam’s development from telling Dean he has to let him go to identifying him as the only one who can use his nickname is also the change from Sam seeking distance to Sam acquiescing to being Dean’s.

-Dean tells Gordon a story about killing a monster at 16 while Sammy waited in the car. He didn’t need to mention where Sammy was, he wasn’t a part of the story, but he has a condition* that makes him talk about Sammy to strangers whenever he’s not there (*wretched, soul-crushing love).

-Dean tells Gordon he always thought of his dad as indestructible. Now he’s questioning everything about his dad’s teachings and realizing the version of John in his head is not the only one.

-Sam says he sees through Dean’s fake smile and knows how Dean feels, because he feels the same way. When Sam says that Dean’s behavior is “an insult to [John’s] memory,” Dean kind of nods and raises his eyebrows like “you have no fucking idea” before punching Sam in the face.

-For once, Sam is way off about Dean. He has no idea how Dean feels or what he’s dealing with. The idea of insulting vs honoring John’s memory is complicated for Dean right now. He’s seeing Sam being protective of John for maybe the first time ever and I can just imagine Dean thinking, I raised you, and the man you finally want to respect as your father asked me to kill you.

-Dean looks regretful after he punches Sam, like he’s realizing he took it too far, and Sam looks hurt and taken aback, his eyes searching to and away from Dean and his mouth open. And then Sam tells Dean, “you can hit me all you want. It won’t change anything.”

There are some potential layers to that.

1. They’re arguing about something else here, at the same time—whether or not vampires can choose to act ethically or if they’re inherently evil. Sam implores Dean not to kill them, believing the former. Dean wants killing to be black and white due to Dead Dad’s Last Words reasons. Hitting Sam won’t make the issue any clearer.

2. Sam’s words could be interpreted as “you can hurt me all you want and it won’t change how I feel.” About Dean. Or “whatever you do it won’t change the way things are.” Between them.

3. Sam has been begging Dean to give him something real and emotional, he’s been pushing and pushing him to get a reaction, escalating and becoming more desperate. Now Dean has responded. He’s hurt Sam, but that means he’s touched him out of uncontrollable emotion—or better yet has chosen to inflict his feelings and needs upon Sam’s body. The pain is better than nothing.

It’s hard to be lonely.

-When I first saw this scene I was shook. Dean hit his baby brother! My best guess is that Dean has never punched him like this before, outside of the context of sparring. I might be wrong about that, but the way Sam accepts the punch and turns slowly back to Dean with that disbelieving look felt too significant. I thought Sam was going to feel betrayed or scared, but Sam’s resolve strengthens, he gazes after Dean, and then he follows him.

And then things go right back to normal between them.

-Another thing Sam is missing is that Dean trusts Gordon partially because Dean can identify with Gordon. Gordon said he hunts vampires because vampires killed his sister, and Dean trusts another protective brother.

-Sam tracks the nest and Dean says “you’re good. You’re a monster pain in the ass, but you’re good.” Just like that they’re reconciled. Sam’s face is probably still throbbing, it’s been like 3 minutes.

-When Gordon pulls a knife on Sam and admits he killed his sister himself, it’s over for him. Dean is not having any of that.

-Dean punches Gordon in the face in front of Sam, then moves really close to Sam to tell him they can leave now. It’s like he wants Sam to see what he’ll do to anyone who threatens him. Dean is the only one who’s allowed to hurt Sam. He also asks Sam to punch him to get him back, so he clearly feels guilty.

-Dean’s true nature is a huge theme in this episode. He’s trying to understand who he is. Gordon tells him that he was “born to hunt” and “a killer like me.” John wrote the same things about child-Dean in his diary.

At the end of the episode, Dean tells Sam that he has the instinct to kill and would’ve killed the vampires. That’s how he was raised, it’s what John told him to do. I love how Dean is a caregiver and a killer in equal measure, he takes naturally to both violence and nurturing.

Sam reminds him he made the right choice. Dean says “yeah cause you’re a pain in my ass.” He made the decision because of Sam. He’ll kill for Sam but he’ll also decide not to kill for Sam.

Sam says “I guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass then.” Dean thanks him and gazes at him intently. Even here, notice the mention of their connection being painful.

Sam is now agreeing to stick with Dean not because of what John would’ve wanted but because he’s accepting his role as Dean’s guiding light, the one thing that gives him a sense of purpose and good.

Dean’s purpose is not killer or caregiver, but protector. He’s guardian of Sam’s soul.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #wincest #spn 2x03 #every episode I think this analysis will be shorter and every episode I’m humbled

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k-slla · 5 months

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New Traditions

A/n: There is no plot, just reader having some special birthday party with the Winchester boys

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (you know to be smarter than them, right?), strip poker (I just had to include the gif above🤤), alcohol consumption, language

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader x Sam (NO WINCHEST)

Word count: ~1.8k

My Masterlist

All mistakes are mine! Hope you'll enjoy!

You opened your bedroom door and were faced with bright light coming in from the hallway. Your room was dark and since bunker had no windows, you had no idea for how long were you out from the werewolf hunt.

You put on a large sweater, that once belonged to Dean. Something sweet smelling pulled you towards the kitchen. Dean got no sleep again, you thought, when you heard Led Zeppelin blaring in there. You entered the kitchen and was stunned by the view. Dean, in his gray Henley and jeans, which was a sight for sore eyes already, was rocking a black apron with some floury handprints on it. "So, what you're baking, babe?" You spoke up, when you realized he hadn't seen you enter. It might have been your imagination but you could swear you saw the big bad hunter flinch.

"Hey, look who's up!" He swiped his hands clean into his apron and came to give you a hug. "Happy birthday, sweetie!" You got bit confused. There was no way in hell you slept almost two days straight. "What time is it? How long was I out for? My birthday was still two days away, when we got back." You let go of him and another thought crossed your mind. "And how did you know when my birthday is? I haven't told you that!" He just shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, of course I know when's your birthday. Come on."

He took off the apron and literally dragged you out of the kitchen into the library, where Sam had put up some colorful banners. "Oh my god, you dorks. You didn't have to do that." You laughed. "Happy birthday, Y/N!" Sam came over to give you hug. "Thank you, Sammy!" You looked at the table and saw three shot glasses, bottle of whiskey and a deck of cards. Boys have something planned for the night and you suspected that Dean was behind this. You looked at him expectantly. "Dean, what is this?"

They looked at each other and Sam started talking, carefully choosing his words. "Oh, uhm, Dean kind of talked to me. About what you've been trying together and I- well, if you're okay with that of course- I'm, how to say, -intrigued." He smiled at you mischievously. Oh, you did not expect that. You and Dean have been having occasionally someone join in your bedroom but you didn't think he'd be interested to do this with his own brother. Well, they'd not be doing it together together, Dean definitely didn't swing that way, but still it surprised you. But you can't deny, you have been wondering about how the other Winchester would be in bed. Once you drunkenly mentioned it to Dean and you see now that he hadn't forgotten that. "Well, that's why the bottle is here you know. I kind of figured we'd all need some liquid courage. And cards for strip poker. But, Y/N, you know that whatever you say, goes. No questions asked." Dean guaranteed your say-so. "Let me just say that this wouldn't be the first time for us to share." He added sheepishly. Your eyes went wide."What? You haven't told me that." Sam stepped in. "It was years ago. It doesn't matter."

Your shaking hands moved to the bottle to pour yourself a shot of whiskey. "I- Are you-uhm .." You started rambling and downed the shot. You couldn't believe you were actually considering it.

"Can I just say, you two are not quiet when you fuck, you know? Of course I've been thinking of you, Y/N. Wanting to hear you scream my name." Sam said tantalizingly. You looked at Dean again, wide-eyed. "I told you that you can't keep quiet." He smiled. "Well, Sammy, if you're wondering right now, what she's thinking about, then I can assure you, she's interested."

"Thanks, Dean!" You elbowed him into the ribs. "What? You told me that yourself!" He defended himself. "Yeah! In confidence!" You huffed out.

Looking between the boys, something suddenly shifted between you three. With some newfound courage, you sat down and poured another shot, now for all three of you. "Both of you are into it?" You eyed them seductively, motioning them to sit down at the other side of the table in front of you. They nodded in sync. You couldn't even believe yourself. "Alright, then. Let's play some poker. Winner of the round chooses loser's piece of clothing to remove."

Four rounds in, all of you had lost your shirts and you also your pants. Boys definitely had an advantage. You had seen them both shirtless before, so you felt a little shy first time in front of Sam only in your underwear to be honest.

"Shots!" Both called out at the same time and bursted out laughing. You did two shots in a row. These last two definitely had more effect on you. "Hey, guys! Guys!" You called over their drunk bantering. Dean stopped shuffling the cards. "I think we can all tell who lost already, am I right?" You stood up, with a slight wobble in your legs you didn't know if it was from the alcohol or from the anticipation of what was coming next.

You walked over to their side. Both turned around in their chairs, looking up at you. "Dean, baby, do you maybe want to show your brother what he's joining into?" In one swift move, he was up from the chair, lifting you up to the table. You locked your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to your heat. He crashed his lips onto yours and his fingers slipped into your underwear, massaging your clit painfully slow. You could taste the whiskey on his lips and it was totally intoxicating you. You knew your first orgasm would arrive quickly. "You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are. No idea." He panted between kisses. "Sammy, tell her. Isn't she beautiful?" He pushed two fingers into your waiting pussy and your mouth opened in silent scream when he started to move them, thumb still rubbing your clit. "Oh, she's definitely gorgeous." Sam said next to you, hand caressing your calf. You felt like you couldn't hold back any longer. "Fuck, Dean!" You squealed out as you were getting higher and higher. Suddenly he pulled his hand out of your panties and you felt empty. "No, no, no, no, no." He said laughing and pulled your hair to turn you more towards to Sam. "Tonight you won't get off this easily. I want you to show Sammy how perfect little slut you really are and go suck him off." He whispered into your ear and you felt you pussy clench at his words. "Yes, sir."

You jumped off the table and kneeled in front of Sam. "Didn't I tell you she's a good little slut for me, huh?" He got down next to you and his hand returned between your legs. Your trembling fingers tried to open Sam's belt. He wanted to help you but Dean interrupted. "No, Sam, she's a big girl, she can do it herself. Or if she can't, she knows the consequences." He pinched your clit and you yelped. His moves quickened and you had to shut your eyes. You finally managed to get Sam's pants opened and pulled down his boxers. His cock jumped free like from a cage. He was glorious. He had a bit longer, leaner dick than Dean. You hoped for sure that at the end of the he'd be pounding balls deep into you. For now you wanted to get him aquainted with your mouth. You slowly licked him from the base up to the tip, where a bead of precum caught your lips and you moaned at the salty taste, lowering yourself down on him completely. You looked up at Sam to see his eyes closing. His lean fingers instinctively snaked into your hair to move your head in his rhythm. Dean stood up to admire you from the side. "Oh, baby, you are really hungry for some Winchester's cock, arent you?" When you didn't first answer him, his hand came down to you ass with a moderate slap.

"Answer me, Y/N. Do you need some more cock in you?" He slowly started to pull down your panties. You tried your best to answer, but almost choking on his brother's dick really made it hard. You mumbled and tried to nod your head. He came behind you and removed your underwear completely, freeing your tits from the bra too. You could feel your slick almost dripping down your legs. "Fuck, you really are ready for me." He said quietly as he rubbed his cock between your folds before pushing it completely in. He filled you up completely, perfectly. He started to thrust hard and deep into you so your eyes rolled back and you couldn't hold back moans, which only made Sam pull your hair tighter. This feeling of pleasure, that now totally overcame you, wasn't comparable with the other times you had two cocks filling you up. This felt special. You didn't want to lose this. You started to suck Sam's cock harder to get him over the edge. Which came quite quickly after that. His cum spurted onto your tongue and his grip in your hair got loose again. You swallowed it all and were now panting hard, when Dean roughly pounded into you. One of his hands took it's place in your hair and he pulled you up, back against his chest while the other snaked around your hips to your clit again. "Oh, sweetie, I don't think I can hold on longer. You want to cum together with me, all over my cock while I fill you up? Hmm?" He asked, out of breath. No complete words escaped you but you tried to mumble in agreement. "Dean, please, uh, fuck..." you couldn't finish your sentence as his fingers started to rub you faster. You felt yourself becoming undone in front of him. With few last fast pumps he sank deep into, filling you up, as you incoherently screamed whatever you could think of in that moment. He held you still close when you calmed down.

When he let you go, you slowly slid down onto the floor like a puddle. "Give her a minute and she'll be ready for round two. You'll see, Sammy. She's insatiable." You heard Dean laughing. You slowly got up from the floor. "Guys, this is like the best birthday gift ever! This should become our birthday tradition, so all of us would have something to wait for." Sam and Dean looked at each other, grinning ear to ear in silent agreement. "Alright, I need food, before I could continue." You said determinedly, walking towards the kitchen, not bothering covering yourself up.

Tags💕 : @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @alternativeprincess94

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean smut #sam smut

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pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

Text

Everything

Summary: Dumped by her boyfriend, Y/N goes home with her tail between her legs, praying that her roommate, Dean Winchester, isn’t there to witness yet another failed relationship. But fate doesn’t work that way, and what seems like the universe conspiring against her might actually be what she’s needed all along.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, language, douchebag ex, Dean’s a bit of a dick at first, insecurities, heart to heart, frenemies to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry. This summary is awful. I hope you enjoy whatever this is 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

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The rain pours down, and thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. You laugh bitterly at how the weather reflects your mood. Rain soaks your hair and clothing, your feet sodden and squelching; the stilettos you’re wearing offer zero protection from the torrents of water falling from the sky and running down the sidewalks.

You’re grateful for it, truth be told. At least this way, no one knows the mascara that runs in black streams down your cheeks is from the tears you’ve been crying over that asshole. The asshole you’ve been dating for two months who just dumped you at your local bar while sitting next to his date for the night.

Fuck, how did this become your life? How did you become this gullible, desperate woman who keeps falling for these kinds of men? Men who date you and sweet talk you, saying all the right things until they get what they want from between your legs and then leave you for someone prettier. Someone younger.

Maybe the asshole’s right. Maybe you are the type of girl to have a fun time with, not the kind to take home to meet someone’s mother. But fuck, that hurts to admit and fuck, you lose more of yourself with every asshole that spews those kind of lines to you. If you’ve said it once, you’ve said it a million times. You’re done with men. And this time, you mean it.

You turn the corner onto your street and stop in your tracks. Dread settles in your stomach as you see your roommate’s car parked on the side of the road. He just had to choose tonight of all nights to stay home, didn’t he? That’s all you fucking need right now. You consider turning around and walking away. Hell, he wouldn’t miss you. You were meant to be staying at the asshole’s place anyway.

But, this is your home. Well, the place you live, at least, and you need to go there eventually. Might as well get it over with. Your lip trembles, knowing you need to face the one person you really don’t want to right now, especially in this state. He already thinks you’re pathetic enough as it is.

You walk up the stairs, dread settling heavily in the pit of your stomach the closer you get to the door. You cast up a silent prayer that the only reason Dean is home is because he’s got female company over. At least then, you can get in, grab some whiskey and get to your room quietly and unnoticed.

“Hey, what are you doing home so early? Thought you were staying at Chuck’s tonight?” Dean says from the couch, not even turning to look at you.

“Yeah, well, plans change. Why are you here? Thought you’d be chasing some skinny ass, barely legal bitch at the bar.” Your tone conveys pure disgust, and you curse yourself for it when he turns to look at you. And, of course, he laughs.

“What the hell happened to you?” he buckles, scanning your absolutely hilarious appearance. “You look like someone threw you in the river and left you to claw your way back out again!” Dean laughs, and you huff, desperately trying to stop the fresh batch of tears threatening to stream down your face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Dean, there’s a torrential downpour out there.”

“Yeah, that explains the puddle at your feet, but not the rest of you, bitch,” he laughs, and that does it. You know he’s not being serious; you constantly hurl insults at one another, and it doesn’t usually get to either of you, but this time, it hits differently.

“The only reason I kept you around so long is because you’re like a bitch in heat. Always needing to be fucked. But that’s all you’re good for, and it grows old pretty quickly.”

Your eyes water, and your lip trembles. A sob escapes unchecked, and you wish the floor would open you up and swallow you whole. “I’m going to bed,” you mutter and turn to walk away.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean says, his face softening into concern.

“What, Dean? What? You wanna laugh at me more? Call me a bitch again, huh? Look, I know you don’t like me, but you know what? A little compassion can go a long way. Some humanity might make me actually believe you have a heart.”

Your mind replays every conversation you’ve overheard Dean having about you with his brother, his friends, and his conquests, and your heart sinks to the floor at how true your words are.

“Who? Her? She’s just my roommate. Baby, you don’t have to worry about her. We’re not even friends, and she’s not my type. She’s basically my live-in maid. She cooks and cleans for me and pays me for the privilege.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what happened?” Dean asks, stepping towards you, frowning when you step back.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffle.

“Come on, you’re upset. Talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me like you always do? We're not even friends, Dean. Stop pretending you give a damn about me.” The hurt furrowing his brow surprises you, and you scoff. “Don’t look so hurt, Dean. I’m only repeating your words back to you. I’m the live-in maid, remember?” you turn and walk quickly to your room, slamming the door.

Whiskey will have to wait until Dean’s gone to bed.

It’s been quiet in the main section of the apartment for over an hour now. It’s probably safe to assume Dean has gone to bed, and you can get the whiskey you’re so desperate to drown yourself in.

Leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom, you pad down the hall in your bare feet, trying to be as quiet as possible. Dean is a light sleeper, and he’d complained before about you waking him whenever you get up in the middle of the night suffering from a bout of insomnia.

“I was wondering when you’d come out,” Dean’s voice makes you jump as it rings from the small dining table by the kitchen window. He’s sitting in the dark, with just the moon’s light shining enough to see his silhouette. “I was getting worried,” he states, sipping from a tumbler.

“Oh, so you do have a heart?” you respond. It’s a bitchy comment, and you know it, but you’re in defence mode after Chuck. “Might want to show it once in a while.”

“Nah. Makes me look weak,” he chuckles. His joke caught you off guard, and you let out a little huff of laughter. “See? I knew I could make you smile!”

“Barely,” you quip back and sit across from him, grabbing the whiskey bottle and filling the empty glass Dean must’ve put on the table for you.

“What happened, sweetheart? You left here tonight looking stunning and happy, and when you came home—”

“I was crying, and you called me bitch,” you state, watching Dean’s head drop.

“Not my finest moment, I admit,” Dean says as he reaches for the bottle and refills both glasses. “I didn’t know how upset you were, and I was only teasing you. If I’d known that it wasn’t just the rain that made your mascara run, I’d never have said it, and I hope you know that.”

“I really wanna believe that, but you’re always saying hurtful things,” you say, draining your glass.

“The things you said earlier,” Dean nods. “I didn’t mean… look, Y/N, you’re a beautiful woman, and some of the girls I bring home get jealous, you know? I say those things to keep them sweet.”

You nod, thinking it’s a fair excuse. Dean does have a lot of women over, and you’ve pulled out the sting from more than a few of them.

“As for what I say to Sam and my friends, well, they tease me about living with a pretty girl and don’t believe me when I say we’re just roommates,” Dean continues. You have to admit that was also sound reasoning. It didn’t excuse it; he was still a dick, but you understood it a little better.

“It’d just be nice if you stopped for a second and thought of me as a person with feelings before you say those kinds of things in front of me,” you say, filling your glass again.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise I’ll work on that,” Dean agrees, and you notice he’s watching you intently.

“What?” you ask, feeling uncomfortably exposed under his gaze.

“What happened with Chuck,” Dean asks again.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you sigh.

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you whine and hit your head on the table.

“Come on,” Dean says, topping up their glasses again. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise whatever it is, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“I got to the bar, and Chuck was there with another woman. He told me we were over and that Anna was his date for the night. Then, to rub salt in my wounds, as I was walking away, he told me that all I was good for was a great time in bed. Always up for anything, like a bitch in heat.”

“And then you came home, and I called you a bitch. Y/N, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dean takes your hand in his, and you can see that it’s a genuine apology, and he really does feel awful about it. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re worth so much more than that?”

“I don’t think I am. He’s not the only guy to tell me that,” you shrug. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m done with men and dating.”

“You don’t mean that. You think I don’t know about all the romcoms you watch on Netflix? All those girly books you read.”

“Yeah, well, a fat lot of good they did me. I’m starting to see why people are boycotting Disney Princess movies because they’re filled with romantic disillusionment and give a false idea to women that their Prince Charming exists somewhere out there.”

“This is more serious than I thought if you’re losing faith in the Disney Princesses!” Dean chuckles, and it makes you smile slightly. “Seriously, though, I think this is more about the men you date than you, sweetheart. They are way out of your league.”

“I am not out of anyone’s league, Dean. If anything, it’s probably the other way around,” you huff a bitter laugh.

“I’m out of your league,” Dean says quietly.

“You have that backwards. I’m the one out of your league. You’re gorgeous and charming, and I have seen the girls you bring home, and they are the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. I can’t compete with that.” The words spill out of you before you can stop them, and you think Dean might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell when the only sliver of light comes from the moon shining through the kitchen window.

Dean laughs, and it takes you aback slightly. “I have called you beautiful or some other variation of it several times tonight, and not once have you picked up on it. Those women are hot, sure, but you… You are on a whole other level of hot. You are stunning and so much classier than they will ever be.”

You scoff at his words, not believing them but not wanting him to know they affect you. You know Dean’s type, and it is definitely not you. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better, Dean.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. There’s a reason Sam and Cas and Benny are on my case so much about you, and it’s because I really, really, like you—”

“So, all the insults and barely tolerating my presence was what,” you smirk over at him, “you pulling my pigtails and pushing me over in the playground?”

“When you put it like that…” Dean cringes. “I guess it was. Look, you’re hurt and sad, and we’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m not going to push you to tell me if this is one-sided, but I will talk to you tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

The warmth of the sun wakes you, and you stretch in its gentle heat. You’re not nearly as hungover as you should be, and for that, you’re grateful. Dean had some interesting things to say last night, and you’d rather your brain was running at full capacity.

Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen, mindful that Dean’s door is closed, so it’s likely he’s still sleeping, and start the coffee machine.

You busy yourself with clearing up from the night before. You rinse dishes, put them in the dishwasher and put the almost empty whiskey bottle back in the cupboard. You grab your and Dean’s favourite mugs and place them next to the coffee machine.

Taking the cleaning spray, you spritz all the surfaces and wipe them down while patiently waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“How did I manage to find the only person in this city who likes cleaning?” Dean’s groggy voice sounds from the doorway, and you smile.

“Morning, Dean,” you say as you pick up the coffee pot and fill his mug. You place it on the breakfast bar and fill your own before hopping onto one of the stools and making yourself comfortable.

“Morning, sweetheart. Thanks,” Dean says as he picks up his mug and takes a sip. “So, about last night…”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and now that my feelings are out there, I can’t sit on this any longer,” Dean pauses to take another mouthful of coffee. “I meant what I said. I like you, Y/N. I’m sorry if anything I did when I was in denial of my feelings hurt you. And I’m sorry for pushing you away and making you think I hated you so you wouldn’t find out how I really feel.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say,” you say. “I used to like you in that way, but with how you were with me, I turned it off because, for the past year, I’ve been thinking you don’t like me, and I don’t know if anything is still there for you.”

Dean nods, looking a little deflated by your words, but it’s clear he accepts them. “Can I at least try and make you get it back?”

“I don’t know—“ you begin, but Dean cuts you off.

“Please, Y/N. One date is all I’m asking for,” Dean begs, and you feel your resolve waning. You know you still have feelings for him.

“I’ve seen the girls you bring home, Dean. And I’m nothing compared to them,” you try. It’s your last bit of fight, the last time you’ll be able to give him an out from this.

“You’re everything, Y/N. And I mean that. You are smart, funny, kind, beautiful… you’re everything they weren’t. Please,” Dean begs again. “Just one date. Let me prove it.”

“Okay,” you nod with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Dean says, breaking out into a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you, Dean.”

“Awesome!” he grins, looking like he just answered the million-dollar question. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#everything #au dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #au dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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artist-issues · 9 months

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Screentime For the Prince

You know how in the original Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, each character's true nature is revealed by what they choose to treasure?

You know, Grumpy treasures safety because his true nature is vulnerable, the Queen treasures beauty because her true nature is ugly, and Snow White is the only one who's treasure is as true as her nature: pure love?

And how the Prince only gets around 5 minutes of screentime, and in those 5 minutes, proves that he A) treasures Snow White's true nature of pure love and B) keeps his promises?

Well, I was thinking. In the new Live Action, they're basically writing in a different male character in place of the Prince and not focusing on any kind of love story. So it's not actually "Snow White." But what would a good, faithful, beautiful adaptation of Snow White look like? (You know, one that actually does adaptations correctly--like Cinderella 2015?)

What should they be doing with the Prince?

I have a general idea below.

I mean, they can't introduce him in the same way they did in the classic animation. Obviously modern people aren't used to so much nuance in their big-screen fairy tales anymore; 5 minutes of screentime isn't enough, we prefer Mr. Darcy & Lizzie Bennet-levels of couple-building interactions, at least. And that's okay.

But it means we have to fill in a lot of the blanks about where this Prince comes from and why he values Snow White's "pure love nature" so strongly.

So I figure, in my head, it might look something like:

The Prince (let's call him Walther, German for "Walt," since basically everybody who worked on the original movie agrees that it was Walt's big brain child, and the popularized "Ferdinand" is not only fan-made but makes me think of a kindhearted bull) is the heir to a neighboring kingdom's throne.

Prince Walther isn't King yet, not because his parents are still King and Queen (they're dead,) but because tradition states he can only take the throne once he's come of age. Prince Walther's like 17, turning 18. So instead, his kingdom is essentially run by this council of busybodies, with one Regent holding the throne until he's old enough to take it. Something like that.

(the picture is of Dean Stockwell who's the son of the original voice actor for the Prince, I think someone who looks like him ought to be cast.) Prince Walther experienced pure love from his parents, who treated him like a normal boy and didn't place much emphasis on courtly manners or politics when raising him. But then they died tragically, leaving their honest and innocent son to be raised by a bunch of old people who put way TOO much emphasis on those things.

Because everyone in Prince Walther's court has had to handle being next-door neighbors to the Wicked Queen's country. They're all super political, and afraid of appearing weak, and therefore, very insincere. That's what I'm saying.

Everyone he interacts with on a daily basis never comes out and says what they really want. Nobody is genuine. He lives a life of hearing words like, "good morning Your Majesty, I hope you slept well. The Grand Duke could certainly stand to sleep better; the poor fellow looked run down at breakfast." but learning that what they actually mean is, "The Duke is getting old and ineffective and when your birthday passes you should decree that he give his land and resources away to me."

And he misses the genuine love the court used to feel from his parents' kind, simple way of ruling. No political games, no complex feuds. Plus, he misses the personal love they shared as a family, genuine, uncomplicated. He missed the days when people just say what they really want, unafraid, so that their rulers can take care of their needs.

Then there's the problem of why Prince Walther's in the Wicked Queen's realm in the original movie--that's not his territory, if he has his own kingdom.

So I think it would be neat and interesting if the Queen wants Walther's land. Maybe she invited his parents, way back when, to a kind of audience to negotiate an alliance. Then she got jealous of his mother's beauty, maybe even tried to seduce Prince Walther's father, and assassinated them both when he rebuffed her. Oo, maybe even the Huntsman (her FAITHFUL Huntsman) helped her do it all those years ago.

But she didn't realize they had a young son, so she couldn't just raise her hand and say, "Hey Neighboring Kingdom, it's too bad your monarchs both mysteriously died--don't worry, I'll be your new leader" because Prince Walther's council suspected foul play (they always do, they're suspicious people) and were preemptively like "NO NO WE HAVE A PRINCE, WE HAVE A PRINCE! We're fine, we don't need help, everything's fine."

So she sort of had to stew on that. Maybe she even tried a couple more halfhearted attempts to get their throne, and they just never worked out--then eventually her attention was occupied by how much older her stepdaughter was getting, and how much prettier.

Anyway, Prince Walther asks for an audience with the Wicked Queen; he's about to become King, and he knows that the council fears their neighbor, and he sort of wants to go over and size the next-door ruler up for himself. So he rides over with a little delegation of the members of the Court he can actually tolerate the best, and is visiting.

It's not fun. They're only there for a day, but the Wicked Queen is definitely scary. For one thing, she's unnaturally beautiful and everyone he brought with him is either stupefied in her presence or terrified. He himself is very confused by her; he's an open-hearted guy, with a touch of naïveté even though he was raised with good intuition and doesn't trust the Queen. All audiences with her are full of all the formal, double-and-triple meaning conversations that he hates back home; except worse, because she makes everything seem more sinister.

So after a particularly weird conversation with the Queen where he can't decide if she was flirting with him or threatening his kingdom, he goes for a ride around the courtyard to clear his head. And what should he hear, like a breath of the freshest air since his parents died?

A pure, beautiful voice. A young girl singing--and not just singing about anything, but singing about what she really wants. Genuinely. Her heart's fondest desire--and it's not power, or land, or even freedom. Just love. She's singing loudly, like she doesn't care who might hear such a vulnerable longing.

And he climbs over the wall and sees this scullery maid. She's absolutely beautiful, even though she's dressed all in rags, and he loves the picture of her: sharing her heart with doves, who feel completely safe with her, and not having to worry about what anyone thinks of her.

He sort of eavesdrops on her for a little bit, and in this part of the movie, maybe we learn how impulsive he is. He just jumps over and tries to join in. Maybe it's even a little funny. And we can stretch out the feelings behind the part where Snow White runs from him--that feeling of her being unsure of a stranger, not because she worries about what he thinks, but because it's so surprising that anyone is taking notice of her so abruptly at all. And she doesn't know him.

Maybe he asks to extend his stay at the Queen's palace and keep negotiating or whatever, but he really just wants to get to know the scullery maid better.

Then the romance is sort of still fast, but built in a way that the audience can sink their teeth into. The Prince and Snow White have a few more mutually-agreed-upon meetings, not necessarily hiding them, but just in breaks between courtly audiences with the wicked Queen. They're both enamored with each other: she's never been treated so kindly by anyone and his whole faith in pure, innocent love and uncomplicated, genuine people is being restored just by talking to her. They bond chiefly over missing their parents.

Eventually he learns that she is the Queen's daughter--maybe from the Huntsman, maybe from Snow herself in an innocent way. He's stunned that she's treated so poorly, but the second he learns it, he confesses that he loves her and he wants to take her away from there. Plus, this solves the whole "will my kingdom go to war with the Wicked Queen or be allies even though we can't trust her" diplomacy thing--Snow White is her heir, so it would be a beautiful twist of Providence that the girl he has fallen in love with can also be the alliance of peace for the kingdoms through marriage.

Snow White accepts his proposal, but she's afraid for a moment that her stepmother won't allow it. The Prince urges her not to be afraid: he'll take her to his castle and they'll be happy no matter what: he promises it, he gives her his word, he encourages her not to worry because he won't let anything stop him. It's lovely. She finally has someone she can gift her superpower of pure love to, and someone who can treasure her like she deserves.

Problem is, the Queen overhears this last conversation, right after learning that Snow White is the new "Fairest of All" from her mirror, just like in the original film.

So while the Prince is convincing his council that he's proposed to Snow White, the Queen's largely-unknown secret stepdaughter, and is going to reveal the fact to the Queen tomorrow, the Huntsman and the Queen herself are plotting the assassination attempt that eventually leads to Snow running for her life and living with the Dwarfs before she ever gets the chance to see her betrothed again.

Then the movie unfolds largely the same way it did, but with more dialogue and nuance strengthening the original's main themes: Snow White is pure love in nature, and that's everything the Prince has been missing, and he fulfills his promise which she has total faith in. And along the way, the Dwarfs learn to care more about protecting an innocent girl than they care about protecting themselves, and treasuring a person over jewels. Grumpy in particular. And the Queen dies because she's a jealous witch who's self-love has twisted her into something ugly.

Basically, what I'm saying is, there's a way to make the Prince compelling for audiences who are now used to more fleshed-out interactions in movie couples. Just give him a background that is longing for pure, uncomplicated, innocent love. Then when he runs into Snow White, who's never been treasured and valued since her parents died, they give each other everything they've been longing for--and then they have faith in one another when circumstances, both funny and sinister, force them apart.

It's like the Notebook (just in story structure)--you build up romance in the first act through a few poignant scenes, but then the rest of the movie is about waiting for that romance to be fulfilled.

Anyway. I guess I could've said all this more succinctly, but I was kind of making it up as I went. 🤷‍♀️

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motherofdragonflies · 8 months

Text

The Elevator Game: A Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Written by: @motherofdragonflies / bexgowen

Art by: @xfancyfranart

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 95,000

Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Choose Your Own Adventure Style, Psychological Horror, Canon Divergent, Post 15x03, Case Fic

Summary:

The game is simple.

Get in an elevator, alone, and follow the rules. If you follow them correctly, the elevator will rise and when the doors open, they will open onto a world that is not your own.

When his brother goes missing after investigating the death of a teenage girl in a hotel in St. Louis, Dean Winchester is dismayed to discover it involved an internet legend called “the Elevator Game”.

He’s even more dismayed when Castiel—who walked away weeks ago and hasn’t been returning Dean’s calls—shows up, also looking for Sam.

Dean doesn’t want to work with Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t seem thrilled about working with him, either. Can they put their differences aside when they discover that Sam disappeared after playing the Elevator Game? Will Dean and Castiel play the elevator game and travel to the Other World themselves? Will they find Sam before it's too late?

The choice, dear reader, is yours. You are in control of the story.

But choose wisely, for once you play the Elevator Game, things may never be the same again.

Excerpt:

“Where did Ali hear about the game?” Sam’s voice asked.

“She, uh, she loved scary stuff. Horror movies, urban legends, that kinda thing. I think she found it on reddit, in one of those scary story subreddits? I don’t know, I don’t…I don’t like that kind of thing. But, um, she was always talking about wanting to try it but you need a tall building and we’d never been anywhere anyway tall enough until…”

“Until that night. Did you tell the police?”

Lilah scoffed. “I told them. They didn’t believe me.”

“Lilah…what do you think happened?”

“I... I think…I think it worked.”

The audio file ended, and Dean sorted through the rest of the papers from the envelope Lilah had given him. The first page was a print out from a true crime subreddit: Dean recognised it as one that Sam checked constantly. His brother had highlighted a post on the page, one consisting of a single line that was posted four days after Alison and the others had disappeared:

Ali Bleaker played the elevator game.

Frowning, Dean turned to the next page and found that it was an article from a website called “The Ghost In My Machine”, titled “The Most Dangerous Games: The Elevator Game Revisited.”

Dean snorted at the title but read on:

"Some people know it as ‘Elevator To Another World’. For others, it’s the ‘Elevator to Hell’... But no matter the name, this peculiar…game, I suppose—although there’s nothing playful about it—it always said to have the same outcome, as long as you follow its rules to a T: By riding an elevator alone, visiting a handful of floors in a particular order as you go, you can transport yourself to another world entirely."

Dean stared at the words on the page.

Another world.

“Jesus, Sam, tell me you didn’t.”

Once upon a time, Dean might have dismissed the claim of ‘another world’ as something out of a science fiction story. But having visited several other worlds, Dean knew that alternate realities, multiverses—whatever you wanted to call them— were real. He doubted that something as simple as riding an elevator could take you to another world, but the idea wasn’t as far-fetched as he once would have believed it to be.

Snatching up his computer, Dean quickly pulled up the phone tracking site that he’d bookmarked and searched for the location of Sam’s phone.

He was not at all surprised when the map showed Sam’s phone was at The Millennium Hotel, where Alison Bleaker had died.

Going up at @deancashorrorfest this October!

#deancashorrofest #destiel #horror #choose your own adventure #fic promo

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vanillanaps · 8 months

Text

Second Place | Dean Winchester

Request - Can I request an angsty spn imagine where Sam is in love with deans gf but she definitely only sees him as a friend/brother because she is head over heels for dean?

A/n - I normally don’t write about love triangles because I don't like them so this was definitely out of my area of expertise. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and it's angsty enough for you!

Category - Dean Winchester x Reader, Angst

Warnings - Pinning on sams end, fluff for reader and dean, kind of told through sam's pov, my first dean\spn fic so be nice, not proof read as always, thamk :p

Word Count - 1.3k

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There was never a time in Sam’s life when he didn’t come second place to his brother. That just came with the territory of being the little brother to Dean Winchester. The man who could get anything, everything and whoever he wanted with just a single look. After a while, he didn’t mind it though. He accepted his fate and made peace with it, but the one thing he could never let go of was coming in second place to Dean when it came to You.

The three of you had been as thick as thieves growing up. Your father and John Winchester had been best friends and hunting buddies, so naturally the three of you were always together. Your father would leave you with Sam and Dean as he and John went off hunting for the night. You being older than Sam, yet younger than Dean, naturally you clicked with Sam a little more during the young stages. Preferring to hang with him as Dean had grown more off putting and to himself, that's when Sam’s crush started on you. He loved that you were the one person who put him above Dean.

It was movie night? You’d choose to sit next to Sam and share your snacks with him. Long car rides in the back of the impala? Naturally, your head would fall over onto Sam’s shoulder as you slept. Starting new schools together? You’d cling more to Sam’s side as you were shy and nervous. Feeling as if he’d be the one to shun you from all those wondering eyes. Never once did Sam have the courage to speak up about his feelings towards you. Assuming that if he did and you didn’t feel the same, your bond would be ruined and you wouldn’t be his best friend anymore. Maybe he could live with just knowing that you’d put him first–until you didn’t.

It was your 17th birthday when everything changed. It had just been the three of you, sitting at the small hotel table with a cake and candles Dean had stolen from a nearby grocery store. You had hoped that your dad and John had made it back in time to celebrate, but they didn’t. So Sam and Dean took it into their own hands to cheer you up. They sat and sang happy birthday to you, loudly and obnoxiously to get you to smile.

“Thanks guys.” You smiled softly. You gave Sam your usual best friend hug. Your arms wrapped around his waist and his arms went around your shoulders. Only lasting for a moment, he always wished they lasted longer. But then you went to hug Dean. Sam’s heart dropped at the small difference in the hug. It was your arms around his neck, and Dean’s arms around your waist. A small rock was added as Dean’s arms loosened and lowered a bit more than Sam preferred. He watched as Dean whispered something in your ear, causing you to smile and hide your face into his neck.

It was then that Sam knew he was once again placed second to Dean, in the one way he wished, he hoped, would never happen.

YEARS LATER

The hotel room was thrown open as the three of you walked into the door. Defeat written all over your faces. Tonight, a hunt went terribly wrong. The person you had been trying to save had ended up losing their life anyways. Of course you knew that you couldn't save everyone, but nonetheless did it bother you when the creatures of the night won.

“I’ll get the kit.” You mumbled, after making sure Dean had gotten to the bed. He had been hurt the worst tonight, throwing himself in the line of fire.

Sam sat on his bed, watching you move about the room gathering the supplies you needed to tend to Dean’s wounds. Sam was hurt too and he’d known you’d get to him eventually, but even all these years laters, he was wishing that he was first on your patch up list. He sat with envy in his eyes, as you worked on Dean’s wounds. Hating the hushed whispers between the two of you that he couldn’t hear. It should've been him making you laugh in your saddest moments. Truthfully, he held resentment towards Dean for taking his best friend, his life long crush from him without a second thought.

“Sam?” You called to him, pulling him from his thoughts, “You okay?”

Clearing his throat, he sat up and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I'm okay.”

You gave him a soft smile, sitting down in front of him, “ ‘Kay, let's clean that wound, yeah? I think you only need a butterfly band-aid.”

He nodded, letting you get to work on his small forehead wound that he could've cleaned himself, but he loved when you did it. He tried his hardest not to stare you in your face, but he couldn’t help but notice your beauty. Even with all the dirt and sweat on it from the previous couple hours. To Sam, you never have a bad day. To Sam, you were the most beautiful woman in the world and he was pissed that he missed his chance with you. Maybe, just maybe had he not let his thoughts get the best of him when he was younger, you’d be his and not his brothers.

“What’s on your mind, Sammy?” You asked him with concern laced in your voice.

Sam’s green eyes glanced around the room, Dean not in sight, before they met yours. Was this his chance? Would he be able to redeem himself and spill his true feelings to you? How would you feel? Did you feel the same? Would you leave Dean and be with him like he truly felt like should've been since day one?

“Y/n..” Sam started, his heart beating out of his chest as he was getting ready to spill his feelings out to you, “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for years.”

Your eyebrows jumped in curiosity, wondering what the hell Sam could have been keeping from you for years. Yet, as soon as Sam went to spill his guts, the hotel room door had opened again and Dean reentered the room.

“Got some more towels, we’ll need them.” He stopped in his tracks, looking over at the two of you, eyebrows furrowed, “Am I interruptin’?”

You looked back over at Sam, who now had an unreadable expression on his face, “Sam?”

His eyes shot back and forth between you and Dean before he swallowed his words, clearing his throat with the shake of his head, “No, no, I–uh, I was just gonna say thank you. For everything you do for me—and Dean.”

You smiled widely, “Oh, of course, Sammy. You’re like a little brother to me.”

At that moment, Sam could swear that he actually felt his heart shatter into pieces. Y/n’s words had crushed any hopes he had of her feeling the same about him. A brother, a little brother is what he’d always be to her.

He watched as she got up, making her way over to Dean, taking the towels from him, but not before she leaned up on her tippy-toes to give Dean a kiss. In Dean fashion, he wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned into it, deepening the kiss as if it was the last time he’d kiss her. Pulling away the couple whispered a plethora of ‘i love you’ and ‘i love you more’ before Y/n wandered to the bathroom so she could be the first to wash tonight off of her.

“Yo,” Dean called, cracking open two beers and passing one to Sam, “You good?”

Forcing a thin smile on his face, he accepted the beer, taking a long swig of it, cringing at the stale taste of it, “I’m great.”

Sam Winchester, always coming in second place.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester angst #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester fic #sam winchester imagine #spn fic

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rustys-lodge · 7 months

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Requested by anon : Hey could I request a spn fic? With Dean and Sam and a little sister reader, and it’s during one of their big fights (like one where they ended up parting ways for a while, like when they fight about John in season 1, or about how to kill Lilith later in the show, or whichever one you want), and they have to make her pick who she goes with? And she’s like super upset cuz she doesn’t want to pick between them.

Warnings : just angst

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After a lot of ear-deafening yelling, Dean and Sam decided to split ways. One could not stand the other anymore. But who could both of them stand ? You.

So there you were, in the dead of night, ONCE again, in the middle of a family breakup.

"Come on, baby. You know i'll--i'll take better care of you." Sam took a pleading step towards you, to which you responded with a step back.

You couldn't do this anymore. Each one of them using their "kindness" towards as leverage.

"I won't come home drunk to you, every night." He shot a deadly look to Dean. Ouch.

Overwehlmed. And devastated. You huffed.

Your brothers are fighting, again. And they're both trying to get you to come with them. You'd be flattered, but they're fighting over you. And it's getting somehow claustrophobic. And you're close to fuming.

"You know that i won't leave you...Come with me." Sam sounded more convincing than Dean, who...hasn't said a word in a while. That is until Sam spoke again, causing a scoff to break Dean's silence.

"You won't leave her, you mean like the first time...Oh wait ! the second too. And the th-"

"I'm here you ffuckers." A sudden shout erupted from your throat and your eyes furiously dart from one boy to the other.

"He-"

"Oh shut up, Dean. Now's not the time to play big brother, alright ?" You grimace and Dean drops his eyes to the floor, nodding to himself.

And before it fully quieted down, Dean spoke.

"You know what, kid ?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden change in your brother's voice. Not that he yelled or anything. But a sudden seriousness laced his voice. A sudden acknowledgement of the situation, if you may say.

He sounded done.

"I got it ! We're both fuckups and you're not sure which fuckup to choose." Dean lifted his head slightly, heading for his pre-prepared bag. He "You want to go with me ? fine. You want him ? Fine as well. You want to go alone ? Might as well do that." He raised his chin in disappointment.

"I'll be at the bar, and if you're not there in an hour. I'm gone, Y/n." Dean looked you straight in the eyes. "Gone." Before marching towards the door, not one single peek back.

You staggered back until you plumped on the bed, bouncing on the latter as your back hit the covers.

you took a deep breath in, because there you were, suddenly drowning in a sea of thoughts. Because who would you choose ??

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Short and angsty because we love short and angsty ! Who would you choose ? ❤️❤️❤️⚘️⚘️⚘️

#supernatural x reader #winchester sister #winchester daughter #little winchester #sam winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #sister!reader #daughter!reader #sam winchester x daughter #dean winchester xdaughter

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hauntedpearl · 1 month

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because I process everything through dean and cas. i think. i think dean doesn't know what love is really supposed to feel like. the forever kind of love. the kind he thinks cas feels.

i think it felt like heat and hunger when he was twenty three and there was this girl with the dangerous smile and a look in her eyes like she could kick his ass and he better know it. and I think it felt like something that didn't quite fit right but fell across his shoulders all the same when he was with Lisa and he thought, well, it keeps me warm, this, whatever it is. it keeps me happy.

but then there's cas and he can't put his finger on what it is he's supposed to be feeling. and he thinks it should be big. after the dungeon and death and the empty and everything. after. after. he thinks it's supposed to make the world feel different. he thinks it's supposed to do something to his bones, the way cas talks about it. and it doesn't. and dean thinks, maybe, he's not meant for things like this. maybe it's just that he's empty. maybe cas is missing out by choosing him. and it's selfish, but there's something in there, and he can't let go, because it hurts, hurts like a heart attack, and he'd know because he's had a few. and he thinks, whatever it is, this broken, bent, useless thing, it wants him to stay still, for once, and he listens.

and it's the little things, i think. it's how he knows to spear tomatoes off Cas' plate or maybe it's how he knows to make time to tie his tie for him when they go out. how he switches the radio in the car to whatever cas wants to listen to — knows a frown means pop music, and a sleepy heaviness in his eyes calls for the oldies and there, that soft light, that makes dean think of the summer and the sea, that's when he knows to pick his own favourite mixtape.

i think it comes slow, this realisation, that there isn't dean's life anymore, not really. it's deanandcas' life, and they fit together, seamless, and dean's been worried about how he is not enough, but he thinks about how he's slotted into place here, in Cas' arms and his home, and his habits, and he thinks. he thinks maybe that's what it is supposed to feel like. or maybe it's what it feels like to him. and it's not a feeling that lifts his feet off the ground, but it's this soft thing in his chest, something like his mother's hug when he was young, truly young. like watching his infant brother's fingers curling around his pinkie for the first time. like walking into a house and seeing a place where your shoes are supposed to go, putting them there, almost unthinking, your mind already on the food at the table. like the smallest shift in your being. a settling of sorts.

he doesn't think he loves cas like cas loves him, doesn't think he could if he tried. cas' being is the breadth of the world and his love is bigger than that. it's hard to compete with that sort of thing. but dean's heart is full, and he thinks he fits nicely, at the center of it, this big, wonderful, impossible thing. thinks he makes it happy, too. thinks maybe that's kind of the whole point.

#from the drafts #hahaha....*softly* what the fuck #i do not. remember writing this #doe's writing adventures #spn posting #destiel stuff #dean is some flavour of aroace to me #anyway. ANYWAY. I THINK. sometimes you fall in love and it doesn't feel like the movies znd you're like maybe that's sth wrong w me #but maybe love is this big all encompassing blanket snd you're always in it so you don't alwYs notice it big like that ykwim

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deanwinchesterscherrypie · 7 months

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Inescapable

Kinktober Day 1: Dom/sub

Summary:

(Inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift) Dean, Cas, and Sam go on a small local ghost hunt while you stay at home. While you get the bunker prepared for them to come home, you can't stop thinking about your dom. Dean specifically ordered you to not be thinking of him while he's gone, but you can't help it. You miss him, and when he gets home, you think you'll show him just how much.

Words: 3,919

Kinks: Dom/sub, Rope play, light degradation, teasing, spanking, punishment

Relationship: Dom Dean/Sub Fem Reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (only in the first paragraph), mentions of a knife, smut, cunnilingus, p in v sex, fingering, dominant dean winchester

Notes: Read here on ao3! Full Kinktober Masterlist. I hope you enjoy :)

Dean. Cas, and Sam left Friday evening for a ghost hunt. Apparently, Old Man Milton only comes back once every 7 years on his daughter’s birthday to kill young men that sexually assault or harass young women. His daughter died by a violent sexual assault and was found in the basement of a fraternity house. He searched for the boy that did it to her, but the college covered it up. Now, he’s coming back for justice. You told Dean that they shouldn’t do anything. If it were your hunt, you would have left it alone. Those guys deserved to die, in your opinion. And maybe that makes you a bad person, but honestly, you’ve literally been to hell and back. You don’t really care if wishing a painful death on rapists is a bad thing.

The only reason you didn’t attend this hunt with the boys is because the whole topic was just a little too triggering for you. Dean suggested you stay home, and Cas agreed that the emotional trauma it brought up wouldn’t be worth getting rid of the ghost. Sam offered to stay home with you, but Cas isn’t the best hunting partner when it comes to these small hunts. So, Dean asked if you’d be alright and insisted that Sam come with him. Cas is always one call away if you need anything, and you know that.

On Sunday morning, you get ready to start your day with brushing your hair, doing your makeup, and picking out an outfit. You don’t have much to choose from, because it’s laundry day you’re washing all of the boys clothes along with yours. It’s kind of annoying that they expect you to do their laundry, and you pointed out once that you thought it was misogynistic to expect the only woman in the home to do laundry. But Dean came back with the argument that you were only doing laundry when they were out on a hunt without you. If they were the one staying home, they would do the laundry and you wouldn’t mind. Sam offered to do his own, but it didn’t actually bother you too much. You think that Dean’s just saying it to get you to do it, but you let them have it because he said it with a really cute face and puppy dog eyes. And they do so much for you that doing some laundry or cooking a meal isn’t going to kill you. You don’t exactly like falling into gender roles, but something about them being so appreciative every Sunday night when you make dinner and have them change into clean clothes is so sweet.

So, you pick out your outfit: a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s flannels because it’s the only thing that smells like him, but doesn’t have blood on it. You take his load to the wash first, because you know when he gets home, you’ll make him change into clean clothes. You put on some music first. You listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin while he’s gone because it reminds you of him. Before he left, as always, he told you not to think of him too much. In a normal relationship, that would be sweet. A request. But in yours and Dean‘s relationship, it was a demand. Every hunt he went on scared you, every time he left the bunker, a chill ran down your spine. You wondered if you would ever see him again. You try not to think like that, and he demands you don’t think of him at all. You don’t listen. You never do. He knows this, and he’ll punish you when he gets home. That’s sometimes why you think of him. You enjoy the punishment. It’s nice when he takes control when he gets home.

You finish putting his clothes in the laundry and go to the kitchen to prepare dinner for when they get home. It’s your week to prepare dinner on Sunday night. Every Sunday, you make everyone have a family meal at a table. Hunters don’t get to have a normal life, so this is as normal as it gets for you. You don’t have long before they get back, so you pull out all of the necessary ingredients and set them on the counter. Normally, you’d also be doing some research while they were gone. But this hunt specifically was one that lacked research and needed more gumption than Dean could ever gather. As you’re swaying to the music in the kitchen, the song “Dress” by Taylor Swift plays through your phone speaker. This song reminds you of Dean, but in a way that’s more playful than sexy. He likes Taylor Swift, your favorite artist, but he won’t admit it. Sometimes, you catch him listening to her in the shower, but he thinks you don’t know. Sometimes, you see him adding a song of hers to his playlist. As the lyrics ring through your head this time around, you can’t help but think about how teasing it would be for Dean to come home to tear your clothes off. He always requests that when he gets home, you are in bed with no clothes. You enjoy this usually, but tonight you’re feeling a little extra.

You prepare the food, so all you have to do is cook them. You make homemade burger patties that need to chill, sourdough bread that needs to chill to make buns, and a pastry crust for the pie. You clean up and grab your keys. Before Bobby passed, he built up a car for you out of some old parts. It was a crap car, but it barely cost you. Bobby had a soft spot for you, so he would fix the car up for you anytime it broke down or something happened. Unfortunately, when he died, you had nobody to fix up your car. It was just your luck that you remembered meeting Dean Winchester, a friend of Bobby’s, a few years back. He and his brother were well known hunters, so you didn’t think he would have the time to help. But any shop would tell you that the car was more to fix than it was actually worth. They said it was unsafe and shouldn’t be driven. They didn’t have the memories you had with that car though. So you gave him a call, and you were lucky that he was in the next town over just finishing up a case. You two haven’t left each other alone since.

You head toward a town close by to find exactly what you are looking for. You stop into a few stores before you find exactly what you wanted. A short, white sundress, complete with a cherry print scattered across the fabric. You check the price tag because unlike other hunters, you try to earn honest money when you can. You save as much as you can and invest some of it. The dress is on sale, which just lets you know it’s meant to be.

You check out and head back to the bunker to get ready and prepare dinner. When you walk inside, you hear a ding on your phone. You pull it from your pocket to see a text from Dean.

We’re on our way home, Sweetheart. About an hour out. Be ready. - DW

It’s funny that he signs his initials with every text, but it’s his thing. It’s how you know it’s really him. He told you to be ready, but you should really be the one telling him to be ready….

Yes, sir.

You go to the kitchen and begin cooking the burgers. Cas doesn’t have an appetite, but he still sits at the table with us. He always compliments the food, even though he doesn’t actually eat it. His description of food is that it “all tastes like molecules” to him. But nevertheless, Sam and Dean still enjoy it when you cook. After the burgers are cooked, you put them on a pan to keep warm and take out the dough. You make some rolls and put them on a pan to bake. The pie will cook while you’re eating, so you go ahead and head toward your bedroom to change.

You put on your new dress and put your hair up with some loose curls falling down. You touch up your makeup a little bit and add some red lipstick. It’s Dean’s favorite and it matches your dress perfectly. You spray on some Tom Ford’s “Lost Cherry” and make your way back to the kitchen. You check your watch and see that it will be about half an hour until they get home, which is perfect timing to go ahead and put in the rolls and start preparing the pie.

Soon, the whole bunker smells like fresh bread and sweet, cherry pie. You put all of the clean laundry in the rooms. You set the table with a whiskey glass in front of both Dean and Sam’s seats and a courtesy glass of water in Castiel’s spot. You put a wine glass in front of your seat, and pull out the rolls to replace them with the cherry pie. You take out all the extra condiments for the burgers and put the sides on the table. The locks of the bunker do a familiar click, and you know it’s game on. You hear the low chatter of the boys discussing the familiar scent wafting from the kitchen.

Sam walks in and sees the set table. He waves the other guys into the kitchen.

“Is it Sunday already? Man, I’m hungry!” Sam goes to pull out a chair before your hand catches his.

“You boys go wash up first. I don’t want blood and sulfur at my dinner table. Your clothes are in your rooms. Dinner in 5.” You smile and pat his hand. He laughs a little before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing a little bit. You smack his chest gently, and he laughs and saunters off to change. Dean’s heated gaze is focused on your legs, or more importantly, how much of them he can see. Your apron falls below your dress, and when you’re turned to the side, he can see that your dress barely covers your ass. He groans low to himself and raises his eyes to meet yours. Cas speaks up.

“Thank you for putting together dinner. I appreciate it.” He smiles awkwardly before the dirt and blood disappears from his outfit. He hangs his overcoat on the rack in the corner and then settles into his spot. Dean’s gaze hasn’t left you, and you know exactly why.

“All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation.”

“Something wrong, love?” You ask with your most precious voice. You know he won’t say anything in front of Cas. He treats him like a toddler, his child that he must watch over. It’s adorable, but at the same time, he watches himself around Cas. He doesn't want him repeating things. Dean doesn’t reply, but his face looks pained. You smile and wave him off to his room to get changed. He obliges, but you can see the tension in his back as he walks away.

“Dean seems stressed. We got rid of the ghost. Why is he upset?” Cas asks you as you make Sam’s plate.

“Because his wife is his wildest dream, and he’s mad he has to eat dinner first.” Sam laughs as he walks out in fresh clothes. He sits at the table and smiles up at you. “I mean seriously, come on, he came home to his wife dressed up with his favorite dinner made and pie in the oven.”

“But why would that stress him out? Shouldn’t he be happy that he has the terribly domestic life he wished for?” Cas asks as you plate the food in front of him. He won’t eat it, but he likes to have a plate to feel involved.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean walks to the table, “can you three stop talking about me like I ain’t here? I am not stressed. I am exhausted from a three day long hunt. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Dean’s gaze shoots up at you as he sits down. You plate his food next, and then, your own. You sit down and everyone eats in silence.

The conversation starts flowing once everyone starts getting full, and then, it’s time to take out the pie. You head over to the oven, which is right next to Dean’s seat, and bend down to get the pie out. Your dress rides up right next to him, so he can see your cunt soaking your white lace underwear. He groans and attempts to cover it up with a cough. You chuckle a little to yourself and set the pie down on the table. You take the boys plates and put them in the sink.

“Sam, don’t forget. It’s your day to do dishes.” You nudge his shoulder. You set out more plates and serve up the cherry pie to Dean and onto your own plate. You are on one side of Dean, so you scoop up Sam’s piece and lean over Dean to place the pie on Sam’s plate. Sam shakes his head and chuckles to himself before digging in. Cas wanders off to the library. You sit back in your seat and take a bite of your pie. Some of the cherry juice drips off of your lip and onto your chest, where Dean’s gaze falls. You swipe your finger across the juice and stick it into your mouth. Your eyes close in ecstasy, and you make a small noise of happiness. Dean has yet another cough, and you open your eyes to watch him. He hasn’t even touched his pie.

“Dean, you haven’t touched your pie?” You ask him sweetly.

“Dude, it’s delicious. You picked the right woman.” Sam says as he goes back for seconds.

Dean nods his head and picks up his fork with shaking hands.

“My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

You all continue to eat before you both hand your plates to Sam to wash. You bid goodnight to Sam and Cas before heading to your room with Dean hot on your heels. You barely make it through the door before he catches your wrist in his hand and closes the door behind him with his foot.

“You disobeyed me.” He states. His eyes pierce yours with pure lust and determination.

“I made dinner.” You counter, reminding him that it was your week to make dinner.

“You know the rules, sweetheart. You know what happens when you break the rules.” A glint appears in his eyes, and suddenly, he begins walking toward you slowly. The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fall backward onto the soft cushioning. “Tell me what happens when you break the rules, love.” His voice commands.

“I get punished, sir.” You let out with a bit of excitement.

“Oh, were you looking forward to this?” He chuckles deeply, “Of course you were. My pretty little slut loves it when I show her who she belongs to and where her place is.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod your head and raise your hips toward him as he climbs in between your legs.

“Oh, do you want me to touch you?”

“Please touch me.” You ask, waiting for his touch.

He chuckles deeply again before pulling his knife from his pocket. You back up a little before his hand comes to the back of your neck to keep you in place.

“Don’t run away from me, sweetheart. You just asked me to touch you.” His smirk says it all. “Do you remember your safeword?” He asks in your ear.

“Yes. Cherries.” You giggle a little at the word and how significant it’s made itself today.

“That’s my good girl.” He says as he places the knife down on the nightstand next to your head. “Sit up.”

You sit up quickly and wait for your next instruction. You don’t always have such an intense dynamic, but you both need intense when you’ve been apart for a while.

“Over my knee.” You shiver at his words, but do as you are told. He lifts the skirt of your dress and rubs over the smooth skin of your ass.

“How many do you think you deserve, darling?” He says to you as he runs his finger over the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“I don’t know, sir.” You say to him while you try to grind your hips into his legs. He lays a smack on your ass, leaving a stinging feeling.

“I think ten is fair. Two for thinking of me while I was gone, four for wearing this slutty little dress, two for teasing me at dinner, and two for grinding yourself against my leg.” You shiver again and nod your head in response. He lifts your chin and gets down in front of your face.

“Words.” He whispers and bites your lip.

“Yes, sir.” You bow your head as he lets go. His fingers travel downward until he reaches the soaking spot in the center of your underwear and presses in.

“Oh, your pretty hole is so wet for me. I can’t wait to use you.” You whine as he retracts his hand.

“Don’t make a sound or I start over. Got it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as he speaks to you.

“Yes, sir.”

He lays the first smack and your body jumps in response. You feel your hole squeeze the nothingness. You know you’re in for it, and you just hope that he’ll have mercy on you and touch you soon.

“Nine more.” You breathe in slowly, preparing yourself for nine more.

Smack. You just want him to touch you.

Smack. You’re getting desperate.

Smack. Soon, you’re going to start begging.

Smack. You don’t know if you can handle more.

Smack. It feels so good, but it hurts.

Smack. Almost there.

Smack. You’re going to come.

“I know I don’t feel you grinding on my leg, do I sweetheart?” He chuckles before laying two smacks back to back. You let out a sound that is a cross between a moan and a cry.

“Tsk tsk, what did I tell you about making sounds?” He asks you gently.

“We- would have to start over.” You whine. “Please Dean, don’t make me.” You beg.

“What did you just call me?” His hand wraps itself around the back of your neck and pulls you toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. He looks back at you with pure satisfaction. You can feel his cock that's been growing beneath you this whole time twitch at the sight of you.

“Two more.” He says, and he means it. You groan lightly, and you hear his light laugh at you.

One. It stings, but he was more gentle than before.

Two. That one is going to leave a mark.

“Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo.”

“Good girl. Sit up.” He helps you forward and reaches beneath the bed. He grabs two pieces of rope that you don’t remember putting there. He smiles mischievously when he sees your confusion and scoots you up the bed. “Arms.”

You put your arms up and he ties each arm to the holes in the headboard. That is not what you were expecting, but you aren’t complaining. That is, until he rips your dress off of your body straight down the middle.

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

“Dean! That dress was new.” You look at him with shock.

“Well, I hope it wasn’t expensive.” He smirks a bit before dragging your underwear down your legs.

“Please.” You push your hips up to him.

“Please what?” He asks, his breath grazing over your slick cunt.

“Please touch me.” You ask.

“My pathetic little slut wants me to touch her pretty cunt? You want me to lick your pretty clit?” He spreads you apart until you’re completely exposed to him and glistening in the dim bunker light.

“Yes, sir.”

And that’s when he takes his change to shove his tongue deep inside your hole. He fucks you with his tongue, occasionally slipping his tongue out of your hole and circling around your clit. You can feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. His scruff scratches the inside of your thighs, and you just want to tangle your fingers in his hair. He flicks your clit quickly and shoves a finger inside of you.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asks as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue feels so good as he continues his gentle assault on your clit. He moves in quick circles. Every now and then, he sucks your clit into his mouth. He slows his fingers and fucks you slow and hard. You like it like this, feeling every bit of him. His fingers curl up inside you to rub on that spot.

“Fuck.” You can’t help the sounds that come from your chest.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby. See, this is what good girls get when they behave.” He taunts you, moving his thumb to your clit and his mouth to your sensitive nipples.

You start riding his fingers harder, chasing the orgasm that his fingers are promising you. You close your eyes in pleasure.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see me when you come.” He says, watching your every emotion. He switches out his fingers for his thick cock. He rubs the tip against your sensitive clit and has you whining for it. He pushes into you slowly, but that’s the only time he’s slow about it. He rams into you and fucks you hard. He is relentless and merciless.

“That’s it, pretty girl, only I can make you make those sounds.” He whispers in your ear. Your arms pull against the ropes, but you’re unsuccessful at breaking them. You buck your hips toward him as you chase your orgasm. He starts rubbing your clit, and you feel it coming on.

“Come for me.” He whispers in your ear as you let loose the orgasm that's been building inside of you. Your legs shake a bit and your back arches off of the bed.

“Good girl.” He says as he slips his cock out and pumps it a few more times before rolling his head back and letting out a groan as he comes on your stomach. You love watching him come at the sight of you.

He reaches forward to the nightstand next to you and grabs the knife. You look at him with confusion until he leans forward to your wrist. You realize he’s going to cut you out of the rope. You hear a scratching noise and attempt to look above you, but you can’t see. Suddenly, he cuts both of the ropes and lets your arms free. You rub your wrists and turn to see what he was doing. On your headboard, there is freshly engraved statement:

Property of D.W.

“Carve your name into my bedpost.”

You put on a shirt of his and snuggle into your bed with him. He cuts the lights out, and as you’re drifting off to sleep, you swear you hear him singing Dress by Taylor Swift.

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chiisana-sukima · 3 months

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Oh when you used to sing it to sleep

@jinkieswouldyoulookatthis and @blue-chimera - thank you both for your kind and thoughtful replies to my reblog of this post. The og post is getting quite long and also I don't want to put too much writing effort into a reblog that's susceptible to disappearance, so I'm continuing here instead.

I agree with you both that Dean's parentification and Sam's continued acceptance of vs rebellion against it as an adult are an important part of their dynamic. Dean's dying words in the finale attest to this beautifully (as well as many other things throughout the course of the show); I love you so much, my baby brother. To a certain extent Sam is Dean's baby and always will be.

I think though to a large extent, the framing by both Sam and Dean of Dean as Sam's parentified elder sibling is a mutually employed, mostly cooperative sanitization of the central and most damaging aspect of the roles they internalized through their upbringing: Sam is a monster and Dean is the tool to "take care of" it (double reading of "take care of" 100% intentional on my part). Because of this, while readings of spn through the lens of Dean's parentification are definitely valid, I do think they sometimes risk distorting or leaving out important aspects of the characters' personalities, motivations, and relationship.

Jinkies, in my fruitless quest to process without reblogging a take I knew the OP wouldn't appreciate, I had listened to the interview before posting, and I think while Jensen is being flip, he's also getting at what he sees as a truth in the brothers' relationship. I think he's right from a Doylist/co-creator/actor's perspective--Sam is the protagonist who we see through Dean, the deuteragonist's, eyes. Dean, as a piece of the narrative artifact, Supernatural, is there to save Sammy in a way that Sam (up to that point anyway) is not a piece of the narrative artifact whose purpose is to save Dean. From a Watsonian/in-universe perspective though, I think he's mistaken, and that his mistake is the reason his take sounds uncharitable, even aside from the flippant part.

It's just not a very convincing analysis imo to frame a character who spends the first few seasons rejecting immoral power, the next few in an arc that ends with him willingly subjected himself to eternal torture for the good of the world, and the one after that intending to sacrifice himself dramatically to rid the world of one particular species of monster but doesn't because Dean asks him not to, as self-absorbed or not particularly concerned with his effect on others, including on his brother. Likewise, Dean holds up well as a parentified older sibling with no sense of internal self and abysmal self-esteem in some ways, but in others not so much. He does have interests and priorities and a sense of purpose outside Sam. They're all over spn every day, much more so in fact than Sam's are. They're just not enough to override his Sam prioritization.

The main place I think this analysis fails on Dean's side though is that he, as an adult, is just not a very good parent. Obviously as a child he couldn't be expected to be a good parent (or a parent at all) and as an adult he's already damaged and so it's understandable that if big brother-ing Sam is how he chooses to spend the rest of his life, he may still not be equipped to do it. But he fails on such a fundamental, obvious level at the the most basic aspects of parenting--providing safety, unconditional love, and preparing your child to go out into the world as an independent adult--in ways that once he's a grown up are absolutely within his power to at least attempt (for example: if he wants Sam to be safer, it would ultimately have failed because of Fate, but the logical thing to do first would be not hunt. Dean could've followed Sam to Palo Alto. He could've told him to go to Harvard Law if he can't tolerate Stanford after Jess dies. Could've refused to support him throwing his life away of a mission of revenge. Bought him his own car, encouraged him to have his own tastes. Told him convincingly that trusting Ruby was a bad decision but Lucifer is still not his fault).

None of that is meant to be insulting to Dean though, because I don't think that parenting Sam is Dean's real job--even from Dean's perspective--and I don't think his real job is palatable enough that it would be better for either of them if he admitted what it is head on. What his and Sam's real jobs both are imo is being a container for Sam. On Dean's side, this means holding Sam in his arms with love or if that's not enough, holding him in the panic room, which, from this perspective, is also an act of love. Substituting his judgement for Sam's is an act of love. Not encouraging Sam to hold his own interests first or to grow towards independence are acts of love. Given the nature of (what I believe to be) Dean's actual job, they are effective and competent acts of love undertaken under impossible circumstances, even if the results are sometimes pretty horrific. Because they're still better than the alternative.

Likewise on Sam's side, doing his job well means being a model monster--go to an Ivy, exercise, eat healthy, cultivate empathy, don't have desires of your own, hold yourself to an impossible standard, suppress your anger, kill other monsters when they get out of line. And in the moments he can't manage all that--because who can?-- submit to Dean. When he does those things, he's succeeding at his job, and while it would be nice if "let your brother hit you" or "jump in the Cage with Lucifer" wasn't his job, in the world of spn, it is. He is right to be contained by Dean and wrong to have opinions or priorities of his own unless Dean approves them first.

I do think this sometimes ends up looking like Sam has better self-regard, because Dean's job is to "take care of" Sam, and Sam's job is also to "take care of" Sam. But actually they both have absolutely abysmal shit self-esteem. "I should submit to eternal torture because it's my fault someone else is going to do terrible things he could choose not to do if he wanted" is not the thinking of a person with healthy self-regard. The reason neither of them could fill a thimble with their self-esteem or healthy boundaries imo is because neither "monster" nor "blunt instrument" is a person. Neither of these roles is better or more healthy than the other. Fundamentally, if you don't see yourself first and foremost as a human person, then your life is going to suck horribly. And neither of them see themselves that way.

#spn meta #sam winchester #dean winchester #my meta #discourse in the linked post #long post #i am ofc like all of us to some extent projecting #some of you have been fortunate enough to not have had a monster to fail at 'parenting' and it shows

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mirkwoodshewolf · 1 year

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Creepy crawlies; Jack Kline x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay so this is a cute little drabble/small fic requested to me just recently by an anon who wanted some Jack Kline fluff. Took me two days but I came to this idea in the end so I hope you enjoy it anon as well as the rest of my lovely readers.

Warnings: Fluff, bugs, mentions of SPN episode 1x08 BUGS (that episode STILL gives me the heebie-jeebies).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@queensdivas

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

_________________________________________________________

It was that time of year, well the first time we ever had to deal with something like this. And of course Sam and Dean had to bail out on a ‘case’ but I knew my brothers just wanted to get out of doing the one thing that everyone does.

Spring cleaning.

Ever since we found the Bunker and decided to make it our permanent home, this place needed a serious scrub down and clean up. Cobwebs, dust, new bed sheets, incense (mainly for me) to be put up to get rid of the ancient smell. So every spring, I try to ensure that this bunker doesn’t end up like it was when we first found it.

Of course that means my brothers always try to get out of it (mainly Dean I just think Sam prefers to do the minor cleaning instead of what I have in mind). And Cass…..well he chooses to go up to heaven every time I say it’s time clean up the bunker. The only person kind enough to help out around here is my beau Jack.

Using my powers, the bookshelf glowed blue and I lifted it up allowing Jack to vacuum underneath it while I brought in a swifer to swipe off each and every book from any dust bunnies.

“I don’t see why my brothers and Cas always try to bail out on Spring cleaning. I’m the one doing the heavy lifting.”

“I’ve noticed a trend that most people don’t enjoy spring cleaning because it’s so boring to do. That unlike normal cleaning, there’s an expectation for things to be so clean, that you’re supposed to see yourself in the floor. Which I don’t get.” Jack told me as he continued his vacuuming.

“I maybe a neat freak but I’m not Danny Tanner level of tidiness. All I want is to make sure we don’t neglect this place and end up in a dust field again. Seriously Jack you cannot begin to understand just how quickly my allergies began to act up when the guys and I first found this place. Bedridden for over a week, and that was before I got these powers.”

“I’m sorry baby. Had I been born yet, I would’ve stayed at your side to take care of you.”

“And that’s why I love you soo much Jackie-bear. You’re too sweet.” After dusting off the last book and once Jack was done vacuuming, he moved out of the way and I set the bookshelf back in it’s place. I turned and with a snap of my fingers and all the books, notes, files and even Dean’s plates he had left since breakfast all raised up into the air and went to their original places.

“You’re like Mary Poppins.” He said with a smile.

“Well if I am, then that makes you my Burt. Come on, let’s head for the kitchen. Lord knows Dean forgot to do the dishes, again.” He followed behind me and right as we got to the kitchen, there I saw dishes upon dishes stacked in the sink, frying pans still on the oven covered in left over eggs and grease. “That man never learns.”

“Why does he leave his dishes out like that?”

“Cause he’s lazy. Do you mind stacking the dishwasher while I deal with the grease pans and the oven?”

“Not at all baby.” I pecked his cheek while I walked over and wish a twist of my wrist, the frying pans lifted off the oven while the cleaning supplies came out from the top shelf cabinet on the island counter.

While the spray bottle filled with Clorox bleach squirted out a few good sprays and the rag did a throughout wipe down, I focused my attention on cleaning the frying pans of the oils and grease from the bacon and sausages Dean had made for breakfast and tossed the leftover egg crumbs into the trash.

“Do you know when the last time Sam took the trash out?” I asked Jack.

“I believe I saw him collect all the trash last night.”

“Well at least he can keep up with the chores. I swear maybe I could use these powers to control Dean and make him scrub all the toilets in this bunker.”

“As funny as that would be to see, I know you’d never use your powers against your brothers.” He said as he dried off one of my good cups with a towel and set it alongside the rack we had for the special dishware.

“Yeah, yeah. But for real, he should at least have the decency to at least rinse off his pans after breakfast. Grease that sits out for too long stains these types of pans, and it’s a hassle to clean up later.”

“I believe you (Y/n).”

“But at least I’m getting it done, otherwise it’d never—” I paused mid-sentence as my body completely froze. My heart raced and my eyes widened as I stared directly at it. It’s many legs all splayed out making it look like a living dust bunny on pointy legs.

The pots and cleaning supplies fell to the ground with a loud bang and I let out a scream and levitated myself into the air trying to get as far away from the little demon as possible.

“What?! What is it (Y/n)? Are you okay!?”

“Kill it quick!” I yelled at Jack.

“Kill what? Where is it? Is it a demon?”

“Yes now quickly before it gets away!”

“Where is it?”

“Over there!” Jack’s eyes soon glowed and he turned to where I was pointing but as he raised his hand, his eyes went back to normal color as he looked around confused.

“Where did you say it was?”

“What are you blind babe!? I told you over there on top of the oven! Kill it with your powers! Torch it! Torture it I don’t care just get rid of it!” he looked around until he seemed to have found what it was. He walked closer to it and he reached out his finger toward it.

“You mean this? But it looks like a dust bunny or a…..” but quickly it began to move and I let out another scream as I shot myself against the corner of the kitchen.

“Don’t touch it! Those bastards are fast now kill it hurry!”

“What is it exactly?” he asked me.

“A house centipede! Jack I’m not playing anymore please just kill it hurry!” I watched as the demonic centipede stopped crawling and was now just short of reaching a hiding spot behind the fridge. Jack looked between me and the house centipede and a smile came across his face before he started to laugh.

He was laughing. My own boyfriend was laughing at my own misery!?

“Jack Kline stop laughing!” I demanded.

“I’m sorry. Really I am but…..(Y/n), you have fought against real demons, archangels, werewolves, vampires, even my own grandfather. And you’re terrified of a tiny little thing like him?”

“Tiny? Tiny!? Do you see the legs on that monstrosity!? Now for the last time get rid of it before it touches me!”

“Okay, okay.” He went over to grab a cup as well as paper towel.

“What are you doing?!” I hissed.

“Getting rid of it like you asked.”

“Not like that! You can’t show mercy to those little bastards! Use your powers and kill the son of a bitch!” I hissed quietly.

“But you told me that all living creatures deserve a chance at life, didn’t you?” I groaned.

“Well yes but that doesn’t include bugs, arachnids, snakes, or any other kind of creepy crawlies!” Jack rolled his eyes and successfully captured the house centipede and he left the kitchen with it between the cup and paper towel.

A few minutes later he came back and he told me it was gone.

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes, I even took him away from the bunker before releasing him. Now can you please come down?” I let out a soft whimper but lowered myself back to the ground. He came over to me and wrapped his arms around me in a hug, allowing me to rest my head on his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you’re scared of bugs. How did I not know of this?”

“Don’t mock me! Besides you weren’t even there when it happened.” I shuddered remembering that day all too well.

“When what happened?” I took in a shaky breath before telling him.

“A long time ago, long before we knew that angels and God were even real, my brothers and I took a case in some realtor development spot. A neighborhood was being built on sacred Native American grounds. Workers were being picked off one by one, at first we thought it was ghostly activity but it was far worse. The entire place was cursed, and the curse was affecting all the insects in the town. By night fall, a swarm of bees had surrounded the family that was responsible for building the neighborhood over the sacred lands. I—I had never seen so many bees in my life. We had no way of escaping, we were completely trapped and had to last the rest of the night being stung and swarmed by bees. Ever since that day, I even see the shape of an insect and I just go back to that day. A defenseless, frightened child being stung and swarmed by bees and no way of escaping.”

Jack listened intently at every word I had to say. For months after that day, I had continuous nightmares of what happened. Even dreamt that it was other bugs attacking me from wasps, locusts, even spiders and ants. Ever since then I’ve been absolutely terrified of any and every bug in the world.

“Wow, I—I had no idea. I’m so sorry that happened to you. And I’m sorry for teasing you about it. I promise I won’t ever bring it up again.”

“Thanks Jackie-babe.”

“Anything I can do to help you?”

“I could go for some ice cream with chocolate syrup and some cuddles on the couch while we watch the Princess Bride.”

“As you wish.” He said quoting the movie before giving me a peck on the nose. I left the kitchen and brought out the blankets and changed my clothes to my comfy pjs while searching for the movie on one of the many streaming services we got.

When Jack came back with my ice cream, we cuddled up on the couch together, my back resting against his chest with his arms wrapped around my stomach and his head buried into my neck. I ate the ice cream as the movie began, I even offered a couple of bites to Jack as we lay there and watched my favorite comfort movie. Forgetting all about the demon-legged creature that traumatized me moments ago.

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narrynukezankielover · 2 months

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Im at the end of season 7 and I can’t believe how many gay references and jokes there are towards Dean. Once is a coincidence, twice is weird but this many times is intentional. Like all the dick jokes. Thrh obviously choose that name so thrh could make all those jokes but even Sam said are you strightly into dick now? My favourite one so far is Dean telling Charlie how to flirt with a guy. She said she couldn’t do it because he wasn’t her type so she’s saying only someone who likes guys can flirt with a guy but she’s a lesbian so she can’t do it. Dean goes right ahead and tells her what to say. He doesn’t try to get Sam to do it or stutter or anything. I don’t like that Sam laughed at him though.

I’m pissed off that at no point does Bobby or Sam try to talk to Dean about his feelings. Bobby asked him once right after Cas died but Dean is the type that needs pushing and he needed to be pushed. They were both there when Dean was drugged and said Cas is dead. I don’t care and the best thing is I don’t care that I don’t care. So they clearly know Deans biggest problem is Cas. Bobby I can kind of see not wanting to talk because he’s older and thinks talking about feelings is a girl thing but Sam is the one that tried to get Dean to talk when their dad died, when Dean came back from hell and wanted to talk about Bobby being a ghost but this time no. I think Sam thinks he got over Cas dying no problem so Dean should do the same thing. Sam was the one that said to Dean Bobby was right that after Cas died he was wobbly. Obviously he knows what effect Cas dying had on Dean and then telling Dean to not get himself killed and Dean saying I’ll do my best. That’s someone who doesn’t care whether he dies or not. That was the perfect opportunity to talk to Dean but he didn’t. I don’t know if Sam thinks Cas isn’t worth it or if he’s scared Dean will actually tell him his feelings (I think a bit of both).

One of my favourite moments was the parallel/opposite to Cas and Dean with Jeffery. He even said he was depressed without the demon, an alcoholic and suicidal. That sounds like Dean this season. He said he needed his demon back and he would do anything to get him back. Dean needed a husband angel back and would do anything to get him back. If Sam had to be the one that exercised the demon and was the one Jeffery was telling all that to it wouldn’t have had the same effect.

Then the Sam killing Emma thing. At first I was confused as to who I agreed with. Dean did tell Sam that he killed his friend because Sam wouldn’t be able to but then I realized you can’t compare those two because Sams friend was a monster who killed peoples but Emma is a monster who hadn’t killed anyone yet and she doesn’t need to kill people to live. Sams friend had a son who was a monster but he hadn’t killed anyone yet either so Dean didn’t kill him but told him if he did kill anyone he would kill him. If Sam had to let Dean talk to Emma a bit longer he might been able to convince her to leave like she had told Dean she wanted to do when she was lieing to him. Sam normally is the one that wants to talk to the monsters instead of killing them so he obviously just wanted revenge.

Ep 17 is such an amazing episode. Dean goes through soooo many emotions.

First he’s shocked. He’s not sure he’s seeing who he thinks he’s seeing.

Then he’s hurt from seeing Cas with a girl.

Then he’s confused as to way Cas doesn’t remember who he is.

Then he’s jealous when Meg is flirting with Cas.

Then he’s worried about what knowing the truth will do to Cas.

I love that Meg is a Destiel fan. She told Cas that Cas and Dean were the bestest of friends with that smile on her face. That’s the look of someone who knows the truth but is enjoying teasing them. Then Deans eye roll is soooo cute.

I know in the scene where Dean gives Cas his coat back he was supposed to say he kept it because he hoped he would come back to him but even without saying all that you can tell that’s what Dean is thinking. Why else would he have kept the coat. He didn’t wear it so he didn’t keep it for himself but he kept it in the trunk of all the cars.

I also love Dean telling Cas that he did the best he could do. That’s Deans way of saying he is willing to listen and understand why Cas did what he did.

I also love that Dean is pissed at Cas but yet he’s still protecting him. He told Hester (not sure that’s the right name) that an angel let the leviathans (close enough) out of purgatory but didn’t say it was Cas and when Crowley thought Cas was back Dean acted like he was wrong. He might be pissed at Cas but he’s still going to protect him.

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

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Wrong scent

Summary: You’re beta and Dean is scared of hurting you. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Beta!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, mentions of rejection, a/b/o, Sam being a good friend

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“You okay?” Sam softly asks. “Do you want to go back home? I’m a little tired from the last hunt.”

“This is all wrong,” you huff, and shake your head. “Why can’t I be omega? Why, Sammy? I feel drawn to him, and all.” Dean’s rejection is stabbing you like a knife once again. You can barely hold yourself together watching the alpha you love flirt with yet another omega. “Biology sucks.”

“Let’s go home,” wrapping his arm around your shoulders is all Sam can do to offer comfort. “You shouldn’t torture yourself watching him leave with her.”

“You’re right. I should stop hurting myself,” sniffling you glance at your shoes. Simple boots, nothing special. So, unlike the heels, the omega he chose over you wears. “

“It’s unhealthy,” Sam points out. “You are already coming down at the seams, Y/N. Sometimes I got the feeling you are so reckless on hunts to replace the pain in your heart with a different kind of pain.”

“Maybe I do,” you sheepishly admit. “When it gets too much, I need something to distract myself. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No, no…I get it, Y/N. After Jess died I threw myself into every hunt I found. And when I lost Dean for the first time, I went rampant. I killed monster after monster, always looking for the chance to get killed to end my pain.”

“Sammy…I,” you take a deep breath and close your eyes for a moment. “We should go home now. I need to lick another wound.”

“Better?” Sam asks as he watches you snuggle into his pillow. He didn’t want to leave you alone tonight, so he brought you to his room and offered comfort in a comfortless world once again. “Do you need anything else? Maybe you want another blanket.”

“I’m good,” you sigh deeply. The last thing you wanted to do was worry your friend. Now you feel guilty for occupying half of his bed. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”

“We are having a sleepover, is all,” the tall hunter shrugs. “Not a big deal. I would’ve spent my night watching another show or movie. We can just do it together.”

“What do we want to watch?” you watch Sam sit on the bed next to you. He leans his back against the headboard and stretches his long legs out.

“You can choose,” Sam offers the remote control to you. “You’re in control tonight, Y/N.”

“YAY!” You giggle. “Don’t worry, I won’t watch porn with you around, Sammy.”

He chuckles. “I know. You’re not my brother. He has no shame sometimes. What I heard and saw him watch…” Sam shudders.

“How about we watch my favorite movie and yours?”

“Good plan.”

“Morning Sammy,” Dean strolls into the kitchen. “Why did you leave the bar without me? I wanted to go home and you two were just gone.”

“I thought you were busy chatting that girl up,” Sam shrugs. “It was our cue to leave. We didn’t want to be in the way. Y/N didn’t want to be in the way.”

“Y/N?” Dean cocks his head as you walk inside the kitchen, wearing one of Sam’s flannels. It reaches your shin, and you look ridiculous in the too big shirt. “Why is she wearing your shirt?”

“She is here too,” you huff. “Sammy and I had a sleepover last night. We watched movies, ate junk food, and had fun. Anything else you want to talk about this morning, Dean?”

You grab a mug and pour yourself a cup of coffee. “I-no,” Dean watches you stand next to him as you try so hard to ignore his closeness. “What did you watch, sweetheart?”

“Sam’s favorite movie and mine,” you busy yourself with your cornflakes as Dean moves a little closer to glance at your breakfast. “Don’t worry, we didn’t do anything forbidden.”

“Forbidden?” he furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you snip. “A beta and an alpha alone, on a bed. You never know what happens if we do not follow the rules biology forces on us.”

“Rules…bio—what?” Dean grumbles. He steps closer again to sniff at you. “You smell wrong…your scent is wrong. I don’t like it. You cannot smell like my brother.”

“OH, sweetheart,” you dip your head to look at Dean, “I can smell like I want to. If I want to rub your brother’s scent or any other guy’s scent into my skin I’m allowed to do so. As far as I remember,” you grab your bowl with cornflakes and your coffee, “you were the one rejecting me…”

“What? I—” the alpha follows you outside of the kitchen, muttering under his breath as you make your way toward the library to eat your breakfast. “Dean cave, right now!”

“Yeah…no. How about you take that pretty little omega you met last night to your Dean cave? I have better plans for today. Sammy and I will have another sleepover.”

“You and my brother want to have another sleepover?” his voice just got impossibly lower. “No—no! If you are having a sleepover it’s with me, at the Dean cave. I got the better snacks too.”

“Well, I prefer Sam’s company,” you snap at Dean. “He doesn’t judge me because of my presentation. Sam doesn’t care that I’m only a beta.”

“You’re not only a beta but…” Dean sighs deeply. “I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart. You and I, this would never work out. You know that.”

“Rowena said she can help me,” you rather glance at the bowl in your hand but Dean. “You know…with my presentation.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I always wanted to know how it feels to be omega. She knows a spell to turn me into an omega. A pity you won’t be the alpha I’ll choose…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Wrong scent #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester SPN #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x omega!reader #a/b/o

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