#he’s always willing to bleed for the winchesters but now he can’t.........

[keiththecat]

Trading Hurts

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader (You)

Summary: You're a lifelong hunter, and you help out the Winchester brothers, saving Sam's life and risking your own. Your fast feelings for Sam scare you and you run away. What will happen when you run into the brothers again?

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, hurt/comfort, medical procedures, cursing

Author's Note: Hello friends! Second ever fic here. Had to show some love for the other Winchester brother too! As always, Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.

AO3 link here

“Sam! Look out!” Dean yells as he sinks his silver blade into the heart of the werewolf he’s been wrestling.

Sam is standing over a werewolf he just killed. He turns around to see why Dean yelled, feeling claws tear the flesh on his left side as he turns. His right hand goes to the wound, his knife falls from his left hand, and he makes eye contact with the wolf as it roars. The roar quickly turns into a look of confusion and hurt before the wolf collapses in front of Sam. Behind the wolf, you are left standing in front of Sam, smirk on your face and blood-covered knife in hand, “Hi, I’m Y/N. Looked like you could use some help.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’m Sam.” Sam says, still holding his side. Damn, she’s gorgeous, he thinks to himself.

“Not a probl-“ you’re cut off by a werewolf suddenly behind you, grabbing you by the neck and throwing you into a nearby tree. Everything goes black. 

The next thing you know, your eyes snap open in the back of a car. Your head is propped up by something warm and you feel like you can’t breathe. Your body is in so much pain, it feels like you’re on fire. You start to panic, willing your body to move to find a way out.

“Hey, no, you’re okay,” Sam’s face comes into view above you. You realize your head is propped up on his lap and he’s trying to hold your arms down so you don’t flail around. “I need you to look at me and take a second, Y/N.”

You try to calm down. You look into his hazel eyes and your mind tries to catch up. Well, you think, if this is how I go, at least I get to look into a touch of Heaven first. 

You try to remember how you got here. “Right,” you start, voice raspy, “werewolves. Winchesters.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrow, “You know who we are?”

You nod and then wince when it causes a jolt of pain like lightning through you. 

“Sorry, right, not important right now,” his voice continues, “you’re injured pretty badly. We’re on our way to the hospital to get-”

“No!” You cut him off. “Please, no hospitals.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam takes your hand in his, then makes eye contact with his brother who’s driving. “No hospital.” He looks back at you, “Can we at least take you to our bunker to-“

“Sammy,” Dean warns. “We don’t even know her, you want to take her to the bunker?”

“What other option do we have, Dean? Cas is busy and not answering. She’s injured because she saved me!”

“Uh, hello? I’m right here.” You interject awkwardly. “You can just drop me at my motel room, I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse alone before.”

“No, we’re taking you to our bunker and doing what we can to fix you up. It’s the least we can do.” Sam leaves no room for argument. Dean grumbles under his breath in the front seat but keeps driving.

You try to mentally take stock of your injuries. Hm, you think, definitely a few broken or at least bruised ribs. Probably a concussion. I feel wet and sticky so I’m sure I’m bleeding somewhere but must not be too bad since I’m still alive. For now, at least, I guess.

Sam continues holding your hand and mindlessly running his fingers through your hair until the car eventually stops and is shut off. Dean gets out of the car first, “I’ll get stuff set up in the infirmary.”

Sam eases himself out from under your head, then turns back toward you. “Can I, um-“ he reaches his arms toward you.

“Carry me? I can probably walk.” You start to sit up, but you’re hit with a tidal wave of nausea and fall back to the seat. You take as deep a breath as you can manage, pushing the nausea away as best you can, “Okay, maybe not. Would you mind?”

“No, no, not at all,” he insists. Suddenly you’re in his arms, he’s walking, and you’re wondering what kind of muscles he has hidden under all that plaid. He laughs under his breath a little, cheeks and ears turning red. You realize you must have wondered out loud. “Sorry,” you say, turning to hide your face against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Probably the best compliment I’ve had in a while.”

He makes his way to what you assume is the infirmary. Dean is setting out supplies for bandages, stitches, and wound cleaning next to an old cot. Sam gently places you down on the cot. “Are you okay with me checking out your wounds and cleaning you up some?”

You respond in the affirmative. Dean is standing a few feet away, leaning against another cot, staring at you. “So how long have you been a hunter? What’s your deal?”

“Dean,” Sam says, and fixes him with a look. “Can’t this wait?”

“It’s fine, Sam,” you touch his arm. You lean forward, reach over, grab shears and hand them to Sam. “Start with my back, it hurts the worst.”

Sam looks at you for a moment, then gets to work cutting your shirt open from behind. He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “How’s the damage back there, Sam?” You ask.

“Well, you’re definitely gonna hurt for a while. I’ll have to stitch a few wounds back here, and you’re already bruising.” He prods his way down your back on each side, “Feels like a few broken ribs, too.”

You realize you’ve had your eyes closed, relaxing to his voice even as he delivers the news. “I figured. Just do what you can please.”

Sam starts cleaning and stitching what he can. You explain that you’ve been a hunter since birth, your mother dying in childbirth and your now deceased father raising you in the hunting life until he died when you were barely a teen. Then you tell them how Bobby Singer has treated you like his own. 

“How come we’ve never ran into you before then? We’re at Bobby’s all the time.” Dean asks, still seeming skeptical.

“I haven’t been back there in years. Even when I was there, I stayed for a few hours max. I keep busy,” you explain, “I didn’t grow up in one place, so it always felt weird to stay stagnant. Felt dangerous.”

“Like things could catch up to you if you stopped moving,” Sam says quietly from behind you, his large but gentle hands continuing to sew a large gash down your back from the tree. You nod as best you can without making the pain worse.

“Alright,” Dean says, “you can stay as long as you want. At least stay until you’re healed. The place is warded, you’ll be safe here. You got this, Sammy?”

“Yeah, we’ll be good.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go clean the blood out of Baby and hit the hay.” Dean leaves, throwing a wave over his shoulder.

“Baby? I assume that’s his car?” You ask.

Sam laughs lightly, “yeah.”

Silence passes between you two, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Sam finishes with your back, and then you feel him gently place something over your back, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment. You’re hit with a wave of his smell, and you realize he placed his plaid shirt on you. He comes around in front of you, now in a short sleeve black V neck that lets you see exactly how ripped he is. Holy muscles, you think, so that’s how he carried me so easily.

“I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. You seem to be okay mentally so far, but let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

You laugh a little, looking away shyly to break your stare, “yeah, sounds good to me. Thanks, Sam.”

“No, thank you for saving me.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, do you need stitched up too? He scratched you before I got him, didn’t he?” You reach for his side, mentally smacking yourself for forgetting.

“No, no, I’m okay. Not deep enough to need stitches, I don’t think.” He brushes you off, glancing down at his side where the shirt is torn, long but thin scratches peeking out underneath. 

“If you say so. But seriously, thank you. You definitely saved me back there.” You say, slowly getting yourself up. He reaches out to place a hand under your elbow, helping to steady you once you’re on your feet. Your hand falls to his bicep, and you bring your other hand to rest on his chest. “Damn, you’re built like a tree. Is that a Winchester thing?”

Sam bursts into laughter, his adorable dimples bracketing the most gorgeous smile you think you’ve ever seen. His cheeks and ears are turning red again. “Aw, is Samuel blushing?” You tease.

This was the start of your crush. Except you couldn’t even call it a crush, you were instantly head over heels in love with the taller Winchester. It hit you like a hurricane. So sweet, attentive, selfless, and that’s not even mentioning his smoking hot body. Silky chestnut hair, deep hazel eyes full of emotion. But instead of giving in to the temptation and telling him how you feel, you left just two days later. You couldn’t bear the thought of being rejected by him, or of being so close to him but so distant at the same time. So you asked Dean to drive you while Sam was out on a run, not wanting to have to say goodbye to him. Dean took you back to your motel and your belongings, leaving you with nothing more than a “call if you need anything” and his number. You’ve kept in contact with Dean, mostly sending memes and jokes to each other, and doing your best to not ask about his brother. Turns out Dean has a knack for dad jokes, sending you at least one a day, more if he thought you were having a bad day. You’d consider him your best friend, even though he’s really the only person you talk to anymore besides Bobby on occasion. Dean has come a long way from his skepticism when you burst into their lives, considering you like the sister he never had.

Now, four months later, you have run into the brothers again. You’re in a small town in Missouri hunting some vampires, when you spot the Winchesters walking into a diner.

“Hey, tall and taller, got room at your table for one more?” You call out.

The brothers turn around, confused. Dean’s eyes lock onto you first, and he opens his arms for a hug. “Hey, loser, what are you doing here?” He asks. 

You jog a few steps, falling into his arms for a few seconds. “Hunting some suckers. Guessing you’re here for the same?”

“Actually yeah, wanna save little Sammy’s ass again like last time?” Dean jokes, his eyes lit up in mirth.

Sam shakes his head, lips pressed together, rolling his eyes. “That was one time, it won’t happen again. And since when are you guys close? You disappeared months ago, Y/N. We haven’t heard from you.”

“Yeah, sorry, I, uh, got called away for something,” you lie, hoping Sam won’t notice and Dean won’t call you out. “Dean and I have kept in touch though.” You playfully hit Dean on the shoulder.

Sam tries not to feel hurt that you have talked to his brother all this time but not him. And you’ve clearly talked enough to get close, Dean doesn’t hug just anyone.

“Well, come on,” Dean says, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “I’m starved.”

You all make your way inside, sitting at a booth. The boys sit on opposite sides, and you debate who to sit next to for a moment too long, then you slide in next to Dean. Sam notices your hesitation, but buries his face in the menu.

You all order and eat your meal, sharing stories about all the hunts you’ve had in the last few months. 

“No wonder we’ve had it easier recently, Dean. You didn’t tell me Y/N was taking care of so much,” Sam says.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” Dean says, mouth full of pie. “Asshats got ganked, people got saved.”

“Yeah but we could have helped out more.”

“I was fine, Sam. I like keeping busy, remember?” You say, then turn to Dean, “Speaking of, do you know yet where we’re looking here?”

Sam speaks up before Dean can, “actually yeah. We’ve narrowed it down to two warehouses on the outskirts. We’re planning to go check them out after we get a room.”

“Perfect,” you state, looking at Sam. “You boys wanna ride together from the motel since we’re all going to the same place?”

“Sounds good,” Dean says.

You all get up and leave, piling into your cars and going down the street to a motel. The boys get a double room to share like always, you get a neighboring single. You go into your respective rooms to gear up for the hunt.

“What the hell, dude?” Sam says as soon as the door is closed behind Dean. 

“What?”

“Y/N is who you’ve been texting all the time? Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asks, clearly hurt.

Dean looks at Sam for a moment before understanding crosses his face. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Here, you want her number?” He pulls out his phone to pull up her contact and passes it to Sam.

“No, that’s- well, yes, but-“ Sam stumbles over his words.

“Look, it’s not like that with us, Sammy. We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Oh.” Sam lets that sink in and runs his hands through his hair.

“Yeah. So relax, she’s all yours. At least, she hasn’t mentioned being with anyone. I’d doubt she had time for it with the constant hunts she’s had. She’s worse than either of us have ever been with needing to keep moving.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Sam says, saving her number in his phone and giving Dean’s back to him. 

“Well?” Dean asks.

“What?”

“Text her. Say it’s in case we get split up or something. Make up an excuse. Give her your number or I will.” Dean insists.

“Okay, okay, get off my back about it then, yeah?” Sam says. Dean throws his hands up in surrender, turning away to rummage through his duffel.

[Sam 5:55PM : Hey, it’s Sam. Dean gave me your number. Wanted you to have mine just in case]

A full minute passes, and Sam wonders if she will even respond. Then his phone dings with a notification.

[Y/N 5:56PM : Got it. Good thinking. You boys ready?]

[Sam 5:56PM : Yup, meet you at the Impala?]

[Y/N 5:57PM : Sure thing, Sammy Boy ;)]

Well, Sam thinks, I guess the winky face is a good sign? Maybe she does like me?

“You ready, Dean?” Sam asks, heading for the door.

“Let’s do this,” Dean says, grabbing Baby’s keys.

*

Half an hour later, you’re all sitting in the Impala outside the second warehouse. The first was empty except for rats and dust, no signs of bloodsuckers ever having been there. 

“Safe to assume this is it then, huh?” You ask, leaning forward between the boys and looking out the windshield. 

“Yeah. We all ready?” Sam asks.

You and Dean respond “yeah.” You all get out of the car, grabbing your machetes and forming a plan. There are three entrances to the building, you will all split up and take one. You’ll meet in the middle, and then go to the upper floors together. You nod at each of the brothers, and you all go your separate ways to enter.

The front door creaks open, and you slowly make your way inside. The day’s last light is filtering in through the windows. You have a flashlight in your back pocket but you’re trying to draw as little attention as possible. You make your way down the hallway, which opens into a large center room. As you come through the doorway, you hear grunts and sounds of fighting from the hallway to your right. That’s the door Sam came in, you think and your heart drops into your stomach when the noises stop but Sam doesn’t emerge. You start toward that hallway, and you’re met with five vamps carrying Sam’s unconscious body. They notice you, drop him, and advance on you before you can move any further.

“Dean!” You yell, starting to fight them off. You can’t keep track of where they all are, you just know that they are surrounding you and landing more hits than you are. Your back, arms, sides, and stomach are all taking hits and you struggle to get the upper hand. You manage to block a few hits and decapitate two of the vamps in quick succession, as you hear Dean’s footsteps thundering closer. That’s when you notice a large vampire standing over Sam. 

You fight even harder now, desperate to help the brothers and save Sam. You manage to shove one against a metal pole before cutting its head off in one swing. You kick one in the abdomen, surprising it and knocking it over. You drop to your knees, straddling the vampire’s chest, and swing your machete down on its neck. An arm from the other vamp you’re fighting snakes around your neck, choking you and pulling up into the air. With your body weightless and hanging in the air, you swing an elbow into its sternum and a heel into its knee. It lets go long enough for you to drop, turning as you go to swing out and cut its head off.

With these five dead, you can turn to help the Winchesters. As you run over, the vamp throws Dean a few feet, with Dean landing on his back and sliding across the floor. Jesus, you think, he looks even taller than Sam. You run and launch yourself at the vamp, knocking it back a few steps but not knocking it down. Glancing around the vamp, you can see Sam starting to come back around to consciousness. The vamp manages to grab you by your throat, lifting you into the air. You try slashing into its arm with your machete, but the grip it has on your throat doesn’t let up and you’re starting to see spots.

“Dean,” you manage to rasp out, your machete falling from your hand as you grow weaker,” get Sam and get out of here.”

Suddenly the vamp’s hand goes slack, its head rolling down and onto the floor. You fall to the floor, gasping and coughing for air, your hand on your neck. Sam is standing over the dead vamp, machete in hand.

“You okay, Y/N?” Dean comes up behind you.

You nod, still coughing.

“Sam?” Dean asks.

“I’ll be fine, it was just a good hit on the head.” He kneels in front of you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nod again, “Guess we’re even now, huh, Sammy Boy?” 

The boys help you up and out to the car. You all ride back to the motel in silence. Dean is first out of the car and heading toward the rooms, leaving you and Sam behind in the Impala.

“You’ve got some blood on the back of your head,” you say.

Sam’s hand goes to the back of his head, coming back red. “Oh. Huh.”

Another moment passes, then you get out of the car and head to your door. As you’re unlocking it, you realize Sam is standing behind you. You glance over your shoulder at him. “You okay?”

“Would you mind helping me clean it? The blood on my head, I mean. I’m sure you’ll be more gentle than Dean would.”

“Sure, Sam. Come on in.” You open the door and head in. He follows and closes and locks the door behind him, checking the salt lines.

“Have a seat wherever, I’ll grab some supplies,” you say, heading into the bathroom for some warm water and a washcloth.

When you re-enter the bedroom, Sam is sitting on the edge of your bed, looking out of place. You crawl onto the bed behind him on your knees and start cleaning the blood from his hair as gently as you can.

“So, um,” Sam starts, “why did you stay in touch with Dean?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I just texted him one day and we hit it off. He’s pretty funny.”

Sam’s hums in response. You furrow your brow, “should I not have?"

"No, it's fine, I mean-," Sam stutters, "I just- um, maybe we can keep in touch this time?"

You’re taken aback, and you’re glad you're still behind Sam because you’re opening and closing your mouth like a fish for a moment. “Uh, yeah, Sam. I’d like that.”

“Can I, uh, ask you a question?”

“Of course, Sam.”

“Did I do something to upset you last time? At the bunker?” When you don’t immediately answer, he continues, “Because I thought we were getting along and hitting it off and then I came back one morning and you were just gone.”

“No, Sam,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder and moving around so you’re in front of him. “You did nothing wrong. I got called away for something.”

“Okay,” he say, but he looks like he doesn’t believe you. Really, he looks like a kicked puppy and you can’t stand it. Fuck it, you think, I can’t have him thinking he did something wrong and looking at me like this. “Okay, I wasn’t called away. I, um,” you sigh. “Ilikeyouanditscaresme,” you rush out, avoiding eye contact.

A moment passes where nothing is said. You’re still looking away and you bring your thumb to your mouth to chew on the nail. He brings one hand up to pull your hand away from your face, and his other hand rests on your cheek. “Look at me, Y/N.”

You follow his command, meeting those hazel eyes, your heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of your chest. “I like you too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

You put your hand on top of his on your cheek. “Really?”

He nods, smiling and giving you a glimpse at those adorable dimples. He brings his other hand to your cheek, his large hands now framing your face, and he’s looking into your eyes for permission. You nod, and then his lips are on yours. You feel like your brain has short-circuited, and it takes a moment for your lips to move to match his. His tongue licks your lower lip, again asking for permission, and you gladly open up to let him inside. Wow, you think, this is earthshattering. 

You both pull away, keeping your foreheads together.

“You’ll have to teach me how to do this,” you say.

He opens his eyes, confused.

“This ‘feelings’ thing,” you explain, “I’ve never really done this before.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll always have your back.”

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #female reader #supernatural #sam winchester x you #sam x you #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester #mention of castiel #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fic #sam x y/n #pov you #keiththecat

[mothgardens]

“You’re Losing Me” By Taylor Swift is THE later season Destiel song, specifically from Castiel’s perspective.

If somebody has already said this then… uh, uh, uh- :3

Immediately, the first lines suit the two of them SO well:

Dean not understanding why he and Sam were set up for the fate that they were: Michael and Lucifer, Cain and Abel 2.0, Angel and Demon. Cass was there to tell him that he doesn’t always get it either. Take the bench scene from 04x07 for example:

“You misunderstood me, Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.”

“I’m not a hammer, as you say, I have questions; I have doubts. I don’t know what is right or what is wrong anymore.”

Cass was always willing to explain and guide, even in times when Dean had lost almost all hope. He and Dean used to appreciate the world for its beauty and delicacy. Now it’s over and Cass sits in The Empty (the dark).

Dean became so complicated and angry as the seasons progressed. He was always so contradictory and Cass kept getting confused and lost. He got kicked out by Dean and barely even knew why. He didn’t know if everything they had become had been tossed out.

He kept rising from the ashes metaphorically and literally. Metaphorically, when he was kicked down by Dean (or anyone for that matter), he would get back up and continue to help the Winchesters for the greater good. He was stronger than he got credit for.

Dean’s anger and isolation made it nearly impossible for either Cass or Sam to communicate with him. He turned them away, got angry, broke things, drank too much, or acted plain arrogant. Eventually Cass was getting fed up (rightfully so).

Cass and HIS CANON GLARE- when he gets so angry that he glares instead of speaking because that spoke louder. Because he knew Dean wouldn’t listen to a damn word he would say.

Dean once called him a brother, but now he said that the only constant in their plans ‘s downfalls seems to be Castiel:

“The plan changed Dean, something went wrong, you know this, something always goes wrong.”

“Then why does that something always seem to be you.”

All Cass wanted was to talk, instead Dean turned it into his fault completely and blamed him for things out of his control (Mary, Jack, Rowena…).

Their air was always thick with loss off hunters, loss of battles, loss of hope. It was full of indecision of how to move forward when all possibilities seemed like dead ends.

Each time that they were in a situation that they felt stuck in Dean would be mad. Dean would take that anger out on Cass as if his presence at all was an imposition.

Dean never realized truly how much he loved Cass until Cass was gone to The Empty, for good.

THIS BRIDGE WAS FUCKING WRITTEN FOR THEM AND I WILL NOT ACCEPT A DENIAL OF THIS STATEMENT ‼️‼️

They were THE sad song for ELEVEN years. Eventually when Dean almost killed Castiel’s son in front of him, that pushed Cass over the edge. That was enough. Cass had given him everything. Cass rebelled against heaven for Dean, he lost everything for Dean. He dealt with Dean’s hot and cold temper for YEARS without complaint, only compassion.

“AND ALL I DID WAS BLEED AS I TRIED TO BE THE BRAVEST SOLDIER !! FIGHTING IN ONLY YOUR ARMY FRONTLINES DON’T YOU IGNORE ME”

That lyric IS Castiel. Prove me wrong, you can’t.

Cass always wanted Dean to just see him, and in the glimpses Dean did, Cass was his happiest. But, as the seasons progressed Dean stopped outwardly appreciating Cass at all. All he showed him was frustration and anger.

1. “Do something, babe, say something” is versatile. Early season Dean would say it to early season Cass. It is also 15x03 Cass saying: “I tried to talk to you over and over again, but you don’t care. I’m… dead to you.”

2. “Lose something, babe, risk something” Early season Dean to early season Cass.

3. “Choose something, babe, i got nothing” LATE SEASON CASS TO LATE SEASON DEAN !! Specifically 15x03 (again <3) when Cass says “Jack’s dead. Chuck’s gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.” HE WAS SAYING HE HAD NOTHING LEFT.

This song is just so Destiel coded and I cannot keep this in my head or I will explode.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE if u have imput reblog or whatever and talk about it because lyrical ships are SO important to me.

#supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #spn s15 #spn #spn s5 #sam winchester #chuck shurley #destiehellers #i actually dunno what that means <3 #this show is making me insane

[woundlingus]

Okay, Unfinished Business 13x20 THEE Gabriel master thesis of episodes for his characterisation tells me one very important fact about him, and that’s that he is an unreliable narrator.

This is perhaps not even his fault, years and years of suffering the worst kind of abuse it’s hard to think clearly about much at all, let alone the intricacies of what happened to put you where you are and trying to understand other perspectives. It’s hard when you’ve spent a near decade (or undisclosed amount of time being shifted between Earth and Hell) with only the worst kind of torture at the forefront of your mind.

Or maybe, he does know. He is the trickster in every way that matters regardless of if he’s the original Loki or not. I’d find it pretty hard to believe that the trickster who haunts Sam Winchester’s nightmares would be unaware of the irony of his situation and the symbolism of his own torture, I imagine that makes the punishment all the more humiliating and bitter. Gabriel is also a show boat. A peacock. He’s always paraded himself around as tough and unknowable, he’s also a known liar and both of those traits work together to create a very convincing story in whatever episodes story it is he wants to tell. But he is a liar.

What sounds better? Gabriel ran away to hide under the skirt of his pagan friends?

Or, Gabriel was living a luxurious life where he was pampered and beloved;

(That’s right, the pornstars obviously)

That these so called friends wined and dined him, fed him his fill, and then when he was at his most vulnerable after they’d made well sure he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down- THEN, and only then, did they strike out against him. He could have never seen it coming. The ultimate betrayal.

Gabriel can’t keep his story straight the whole episode. He opens with a bold faced lie (can you spot the resemblance to any other lies so far?)

He knows this looks bad. He’s already so fragile, and he knows the Winchesters want him for his grace so I can’t imagine him knocking on their door for help was a decision he came to easily. So these two men who are bigger than him, stronger than him, and have a bone to pick with him, bring him into their motel room while he’s bleeding his guts out and can barely stand. He peacocks. I’m fine, “you should see the other guy”, wink wink. God forbid they know he’s weak, god forbid they think he’s any more pathetic than they already do.

He’s guarding his very fragile ego right now, frankly, it’s the only thing he has left.

I don’t doubt for a moment that Loki’s POV is any less clouded by his own personal prejudices and ego, they’re very much the same after all. Loki was in that cave, Gabriel did rescue him.

These are facts. That doesn’t change that Loki freed Gabriel from a cave of his own and saved him from his family as well.

They are equals in this fact. But neither willing to admit to it. Loki I understand, he’s given very little time to plead his case and so he gets right to the point. I saved Gabriel’s life, he killed my father.

Gabriel however, has plenty of time to explain himself and wastes it spinning a story in which he can both simultaneously look cool and still find himself to be the ultimate victim in. He wastes time keeping the Winchesters in the dark and it could have cost them their lives when they ran in after Gabriel without the whole story. Lucky for them, no one here cares about the Winchesters lol Loki is as occupied with Gabriel and he is with Loki. But they could’ve been hurt!

I’m not saying Gabriel doesn’t deserve catharsis, that he shouldn’t get to kill Loki and his children. I don’t need to, Gabriel does-

Maybe that was the tricksters best trick so far, that Gabriel managed to warp his own memories and perception of what happened to fuel his own survival, and now that he’s out and the world is real again he can’t make himself let go of what he had to tell himself. That Loki was unnecessarily cruel. That Loki snapped out of nowhere. That his closest confidant sold him out for money of all things. He can’t let himself remember it was more complex than that, he tells himself he needs this, because if he doesn’t he’ll have to admit that under all this peacocking and lying he is that weak and broken and scared. If Gabriel has to sit down with the reality that he’s never going to be that cool and sexy guy who gets everyone he wants and couldn’t care less, he’d probably want to kill himself (which is what really starts to get him down in the following episodes because guess what, killing Loki didn’t fix anything he’s still broken, :( always will be)

I think he believes if he can lie hard enough, this fabrication could be real. It can be real to him at least, so he doesn’t have to face the humiliation of either admitting to his own stupid naïveté and he didn’t see the obvious coming, or that he knowing and wilfully begged Loki for a place by his side and got throw down hard for his cowardice. But it’s not like there’s anyone left to contest his story now.

#this is so ramble-y I’m so sorry 😭 this probably doesn’t make a lick of sense but it’s plaguing me #gabriel spn #supernatural #spn #supernatural s13 #supernatural 13x20

[pinbitch]

huh. like obviously billie should have been death til the end, last cosmically powerful being standing and all that. that’s indisputable. but cas as death? i’m listening

#supernatural #castiel #ideally god!sam darkness!dean death!cas #but the show was never gonna end that way thank fuck #it’s just a compelling alternate universe #death!cas would also be fun with canon #he’s always willing to bleed for the winchesters but now he can’t......... #now he has to let them die

[watermelonlipstick]

Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment. 

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone. 

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

           Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

           “You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

           “Hey, come on—open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

           You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

           “Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

           “Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

           Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

           “If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

           “Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

           Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

           His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

           The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

           “Dean, look at me.”

           He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, “please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

           “Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

           He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

           “I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

           “It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

           By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

           “And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

           “I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

           You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

           You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

           It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

           You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

           “Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

           Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

           The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

           “It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

           But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

           Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

           It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

           “We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

           “I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

           He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

           “What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

           “She’s going to wake up.”

           And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

           By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

           After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

           At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

           “It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

           “She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

           “DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

           Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

           “Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

           Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

           “What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

           “Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

           “I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

           Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

           He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

           As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

           When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

           He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

           “I don’t want to hurt—”

           “I’ll be fine. Please?”

           Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

           Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

           “Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

           “I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

           You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

           “You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

           “Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

           Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

           The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

           “Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

           “Sorry for scaring you.”

           “I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

           There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

           Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

           “You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

           The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

           “Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

           Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean one shot #dean x reader #dean x sam x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean oneshot #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester one shot #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn oneshot #spn angst #dean angst #dean winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural #dean reader insert #dean winchester reader insert

[calaofnoldor]

Winchester Welcome

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 3,878

Summary: Everyone’s ecstatic about the impending birth of your twins, but since when do these things ever go off without a hitch for the Winchesters?

Warnings: labor/birth/complications (but nothing too graphic), potential medical inaccuracies, slight angst, bit of language, dean being an awesome big bro? 

A/N: this is part 2 of ‘Dean, Don’t’ (though i think it can be read as a stand alone) which was very kindly requested by @carryonmywaywardbucky, so if you don’t like it, you can go take it up with her (jk!). also, i’m so sorry, i don’t know where all this angst/drama came from 😬

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Sam had one foot up on the bench seat and the other planted firmly on the floor of the Impala. He had managed to maneuver you between his legs, where he could offer comfort and support in whatever form you needed.

With one hand pressed against the side of your colossal baby bump, Sam could feel your stomach tense up each time a contraction came, and he always urged you to breathe through them. His face would be nuzzled within your hair, while his other hand kept itself busy rubbing along your neck, shoulders, arms, back, and hips. Indeed, the man had become remarkably handsy ever since you began to show and you unwittingly loved it, even now, in the throes of labor.

“Ugh, Sam!” You grabbed his wrist in a moment of frenzied pain.

“I’m here, baby! I got you, it’s OK.” Sam burrowed his nose into your neck in consolation, and you were beyond glad he had decided to join you in the backseat, despite the tight quarters.

As the blur of buildings and trees whizzed by, your contractions intensified in both strength and frequency. “This hurts more than that time I got shot,” you groaned miserably.

Sam laughed but continued to offer gentle susurrations in his low, soothing tone, lips grazing along the shell of your ear, whilst his doting, reverent fingers brushed the hair away from your face before travelling downwards to work their magic along the base of your spine.

Although Dean tried to grant the two (soon to be four) of you some privacy, he was still able to hear every whisper of love and encouragement Sam uttered your way. He knew that there was nearly nothing his brother hated more in this world than to see you in pain and figured Sam had been doing a pretty awesome job so far, considering. And you, of course - as proven countless times before - had the pain tolerance of an indie wrestler, and Dean had never been more aware of or impressed by the fact than right now.

On this, your boyfriend agreed wholeheartedly. “Breathe, baby. You’re doing so good,” he commended with pride as you huffed through yet another massive cramp, your hands laid protectively across your distended belly.

But something didn’t feel right. Your contractions were growing closer together at an alarming rate, though no one cared to vocalize it, and although you were tempted to pull your usual shit of swallowing your discomfort in silence, you reminded yourself that this time it was about more than just you.

“Ohhh,” you finally let yourself moan aloud, “Sam, I think you might have to check me.”

“Check you?” Dean asked from the driver’s seat; his voice was a little higher than usual.

“To see how far she’s dilated,” Sam replied for you. “Baby, I can’t do that unless Dean pulls over. Do you think we should stop the car? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you rasped, “There’s just a lot of pressure and it feels like there’s no break between the contractions anymore.” The string of words left you panting, and you leaned further back into Sam’s embrace.

“What’s the sitch, guys? We stopping the car or should I keep driving?” Dean questioned as he turned his classic rock down a little lower.

“Keep driving,” you confirmed weakly.

Dean complied but made a point to meet Sam’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. They shared a brief moment of wordless, brotherly communication, after which Sam nodded resolutely, his jaw set and eyes ablaze with a mixture of fear and rigid determination.

As the tension in the car mounted, however, the tension in your body seemed to fade. You felt awful for becoming so depleted this early into your labor. You hadn’t even given birth to one of the twins yet, and already you were feeling drained. How could you possibly carry on this way? But all these thoughts quickly disappeared when the weariness became too much.

“Y/N?” Sam looked down at you with furrowed brows. He could feel your body growing limp within his arms.

“Sammy, I don’t feel so good,” you whispered hoarsely. Dean would have thought this was a very normal thing to say during labor, but the change of tone in your voice alerted him to something more.

Sam too, was immediately alert. He scanned your form and noticed two terrifying things right away: first, there was blood on your pants and second, your eyelids seemed to be drooping involuntarily.

“Y/N? Baby, stay with me,” he pleaded as he gave your shoulders a light shake, “Come on, wake up Y/N!” But the darkness was beginning to take over, and you could no longer respond.

“Dean, she’s bleeding,” Sam spoke as an urgent aside, his heart pounding wildly inside his chest.

Dean could tell his brother was beginning to panic, just as he always did when your well-being was on the line, and he knew he needed to remain calm for Sam. “What? OK, just hold on, Y/N/N! We’re almost there.” Dean’s lead foot pushed even harder against the gas pedal.

Behind him, Sam held you tightly in his arms, filling your ears with delicate murmurs of reassurance, desperate for you to wake up. “Come on, baby. You promised me. Just hang on a little longer. You’re gonna be OK.” But even as he said this, he saw more blood seep through your pants. “Dean, drive faster!”

About to tell Sam that he was already going thirty over the speed limit, Dean made the wise decision to shut up and simply put the pedal to the metal, his face a mask of absolute focus.

It was only a matter of minutes, during which you drifted in and out of consciousness, before the Impala screeched to a halt in front of the hospital’s emergency entrance. Dean scrambled out of the car at lightning speed and ran around to open the rear, passenger-side door for you.

Likewise, Sam wasted no time lifting you into his arms and bounding out of the car, practically sprinting towards the reception area. It was an impressive feat of strength, even for Sam, but Dean knew his little brother would have moved mountains for you and those babies if he needed to.

A nurse was there to greet Sam upon his frantic and rather rowdy entrance.

“Help! I need help! My wife’s in labor with our twins, and she passed out on the way here! Her water already broke a-and she’s bleeding!”

The two of you had created fake identities when you decided on a hospital birth, concerned about the chances of complications for delivering twins (and big ones at that), and Sam had never been more grateful for the foresight. He had suggested you go with the credentials of husband and wife to make things easier and ensure the hospital would give him all the privileges of a marital status. Fortunately, despite his hysterical state, Sam hadn’t even hesitated when he called you his wife; the word just seemed to roll off his tongue naturally.

Meanwhile, Dean glanced at his beloved car for a moment, its keys left haphazardly in the ignition. There was a slight grimace on his face as he faltered, considering whether he should go park his Baby in a more legal location or let her get towed and head directly to you and his brother. When he looked back towards the ER and saw your head lolling against Sam’s shoulder, he made his decision. Sam needed him, and Dean would be damned if he didn’t fulfill his lifelong job as the solid and unwavering base of support for his baby brother at this pivotal moment.

“We need a stretcher over here!” The nurse hollered out before turning back to Sam, “OK sir, can you tell me when your wife’s water broke?”

Sam blanched for an instant. He couldn’t focus on anything but your unconscious form. “Um… it was before we left, about, I don’t know-“

“About an hour ago,” Dean supplied as he strode up to his brother’s side. “And we noticed the bleeding around fifteen minutes ago.”

Sam nodded appreciatively, his eyes still wide and frenetic. A stretcher suddenly appeared next to him and he reluctantly laid you down on it, opting to grasp for your hand instead. Dean was busy informing the doctors of your situation, but Sam couldn’t hear any of it.

“OK, let’s go!” a male doctor called out. “Get an OR prepped just in case. Tell them we’ve got a female in active labor with twins, possible placental abruption.”

Trotting alongside your stretcher as the hospital staff pushed you down the hall, one of Sam’s large hands still held on firmly to yours while the other wiped the hair away from your face. “Baby, if you can hear me, please just stay strong, OK? Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time.”

As if you had heard his prayers, your eyelids began to flutter open. Sam nearly collapsed with relief, but he willed his legs to continue pumping, his eyes never leaving your face. He waited as you tilted your head this way and that, trying to make out your new surroundings.

“S-Sam?” Your voice was still feeble, but Sam had never been happier to hear it.

“Oh, thank god! I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he choked out in a sob.

“Where are we?”

“The hospital. Dean got you here in record time. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He repeated. “Just stay awake for me, OK?”

You tried to nod, but you weren’t sure how well it translated since every muscle in your body felt utterly exhausted.

“She’s regained consciousness. Let’s bring her to the delivery room first.”

As soon as you were wheeled in, an oxygen mask materialized before you, and despite your weak protests was promptly attached to your face. Regardless, you barely got the chance to take a few deep breaths before the contractions began to pick up exactly where they left off.

Yet it seemed like an eternity until the urge to push finally and abruptly overcame your body. You gasped, mouth forming a wide “O”, as you felt your first baby descend swiftly through the birth canal.

“What? What is it?!” Sam inquired hurriedly in trepidation.

“She needs to push,” the doctor answered for you. “Alright Y/N, on your next contraction, I want you to put your chin to your chest and bear down for me as hard as you can, you understand?”

Your answer was a resounding growl as you squeezed your eyes shut and gave your first push of many.

Sam never left your side and he never let go of your hand. He could only marvel at your strength as he tried desperately to provide what little physical and moral support he could. He wanted so badly to kiss you but with the mask in the way, his lips could only settle upon your sweaty forehead.

It took hours, but eventually…

“The baby’s out; it’s a boy! Time of birth - 2:37am.”

Sam was granted only a second to rejoice, his iridescent eyes lighting up at the sight and sound of his firstborn entering the cruel world.

“The mother’s hemorrhaging!” a nurse bellowed and Sam instantly paled, his gaze returning at once to your fatigued figure on the bed.

“We need to get the second baby out now! Call the OR, tell them we’ve got an emergency C-section coming in,” the lead doctor commanded in reply.

Sam watched helplessly as the blood drained from your face and your eyes refused to open yet again. “No, no, no! Please, baby. Please don’t do this to me. Stay with me, Y/N. I need you. Our babies need you!” Sam pleaded for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Damn it!” he cursed as the tears began to fall. Sam rose to his full height, his hands balled into tight fists as he pumped them erratically through the air. His imposing form might have frightened some of the nurses if they hadn’t seen the look of horror and anguish that engulfed his features, or witnessed his unequivocal love and devotion to you throughout the labor and delivery process.

Sam forced himself to heave deep breathes as he observed the medical professionals bustling about your room, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Where’s my baby? At least tell me my baby is alright?” he demanded in a shaky tone to no one in particular.

“Your son is just fine, sir. They’ve taken him to the NICU to get checked up but from what I saw, he’s a big and healthy baby boy,” one of the nurses provided with a cautious smile.

“My son…” Sam breathed, looking back down at your unconscious form, “Our son… Did you hear that, baby? Oh, god!” He wanted to take you in his arms, to simply will the life back into you, but the doctors were swarming around your bed, poking and prodding at your still swollen abdomen.

“Sir, you need to back up and let the doctors do their job.”

Sam’s chest puffed up on instinct and he was about to retort when Dean, who had been watching in vain from afar, was suddenly there to hold him back. His hands gripped Sam’s biceps from behind and he pulled his brother back with all the strength he could muster, but Sam would not budge. Dean had no choice but to come around to Sam’s front and push against his inflated chest with both hands, while eyeing his little brother with a pointed look that told him to listen to the nurse, that there was nothing he could do right now to help you.

When Sam finally relented, he could no longer hold back his sobs. He had never felt so helpless, so useless. Dean managed to pull him into a waiting room before he broke down completely.

“Hey, you listen to me.” Dean’s ‘big brother voice’ was in full effect, “Your girl in there, is one hell of a fighter. We have seen her go through hell and back both with and for you, literally. And I know you’d do the same for her, Sammy. And so does she, alright? So I know for a fact that Y/N is gonna be fighting with everything she’s got to get back to you and your family. Just like she always does. I mean, hey, she’s practically a Winchester, right? And since when have we ever let death get the best of us?”

At his brother’s last point, Sam’s heart jolted in his chest. You really were practically a Winchester. And he’d loved the way it felt being able to call you his wife and being referred to as your husband in return.

The next hour passed at an agonizingly slow rate, with Sam and Dean fidgeting silently in their seats through most it.

“Mr. Windsor?” When the doctor got no response, he tried again, “Family of Y/N Windsor?”

At the sound of your name, Sam vaulted off his chair, realizing he’d nearly missed his calling. Hurtling towards the doctor, Sam almost miscalculated his braking distance. “I’m here! That’s me, I’m her husband!” he burst forth breathlessly.

“Well I’m here to tell you Y/N’s out of surgery. The C-section was a success, and she should be waking up shortly. Oh and congratulations, you have another son.”

“Wait, so she and the babies are OK?” Dean checked from his spot behind Sam.

“Yes, we have no reason to believe she or either of the babies are in any further danger.”

Sam released the largest breath known to mankind. “C-can I see her? Can I see them?”

The doctor sent him a smile and a nod before giving them your room number. Sam was off like a bullet with Dean hot behind his heels, but when they reached your door, the older Winchester elected to stay back a little, wanting to permit your new family some time alone first.

You were just coming to your senses when Sam walked in. Adjusting your bed to a seated position, you looked up to find him staring at you, “Sam?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he exhaled before falling to his knees at your bedside. “You scared the shit out of me, baby. Please don’t ever do that again.” Sam buried his head in your thigh, so you ran your fingers lovingly through his soft chestnut locks, allowing him a moment of reprieve.

When he raised his head to face you, his eyes were red and cheeks stained with tears. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a confused look, “What do you mean? Are the babies OK?”

“Yeah, they’re fine but the doctor said your complications were most likely the result of previous injuries and the fact that you were carrying big babies.”

You huffed a gentle sigh, “Baby, we both knew there was a higher risk associated with a multiple pregnancy. And of course my hunter background wouldn’t be any help. But how is any of that your fault?”

Sam didn’t respond with words; he merely fixed his watery puppy dog gaze upon yours, which just about caused you to break down with him, but you had promised yourself to always denounce this type of behavior. “Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you? I never wanna hear you apologizing for things you can’t control. And I especially never wanna hear you apologize for any part of who you are, because I am so completely and irrevocably in love with that person that it hurts me just the same, do you understand?”

Sam nodded and you wiped the tears from his cheekbones, beckoning him to stand back up, though his head was still pointed down.

“Hey, I’m OK, alright?” You grabbed his hand, waiting until his shoulders visibly relaxed before adding impatiently, “Now when do I get to see my babies? Please tell me I can see them now.”

“Y-yeah, lemme go bring them over.”

You nodded enthusiastically, feeling a surge of energy flow back into your body at the thought of finally meeting your twins. So when Sam returned, wheeling two hospital cribs through the door, you were virtually bouncing with anticipation.

“You were right, baby.” Sam shot you a handsome little smirk.

“What?”

“We’ve got two boys.”

“Really?” You gasped, the emotions finally catching up with you after all the hardships you’d faced in the past twenty-four hours.

“What? No ‘I told you so’?” Sam teased lightly.

But you were much too in awe for that. “No, just… gimme,” you pouted, holding your arms out expectantly.

“You sure?”

“Sam, if you don’t hand me at least one of my babies right now, I swear to Chuck-“

“Alright, alright, no need to bring God into this,” Sam chuckled, sliding your firstborn carefully into your eager and waiting arms.

“Oh my god, he’s perfect.”

“Yeah? So is this little guy,” Sam had picked up the other infant and was beaming fondly down at him.

You spared a glance at them and giggled at the sight.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… he looks so small in your arms.”

Sam’s entire being exuded radiance, “So what are we gonna name them?”

It wasn’t long before you called for Dean and he strolled somewhat nervously into your room.

Cradling his eldest son in his arms, Sam sent his brother a warm and proud smile, “Dean, we’d like you to meet Robert John and…”

“Lucas Dean Winchester,” you finished, gesturing to the baby boy in your arms. “Well, Luke and Robbie for short.”

Dean’s emerald eyes grew wide and a little wet. He looked back and forth between you and Sam as if to confirm what he had heard was true.

You smiled at him, nodding. “You’ve always meant the world to Sam, and if I’m honest, you mean the world to me too. And I am beyond certain that these boys will grow to love you no less than either of us. Besides, none of us would be here if it weren’t for you.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, and you knew he needed to process his emotions.

“That’s awesome,” he said, though you knew he meant ‘thank you’.

“You wanna hold them?” Sam asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Dean grinned back, then looked toward you.

You held back a laugh, “You wanna start with your namesake, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah!” Sam shot him a mini bitch face, “Sorry, I-I mean, heck yeah!”

Snorting, you carefully handed Dean the bundle of blankets in which Lucas Dean was wrapped.

“There’s just one more thing I wanna say,” Sam’s voice brought your attention back to him.

You gave him a curious look and he seemed to almost blush under your gaze, which only confused you further.

“Y/N, I never thought I’d get to have all this, but you’ve made me so unbelievably happy, and I know it shouldn’t matter, but there’s been something ruminating in the back of my mind ever since we got to the hospital- no, actually ever since we made those fake IDs.”

Now you were really lost, eyeing him perplexedly. You looked over to Dean for some help, but he seemed not in the least bit surprised. In fact, he appeared to be perfectly content, paying zero attention to you and his brother and cooing happily at baby Luke as he bounced him in his arms.

“Baby,” Sam continued, “I know you’ve never really wanted or cared about this, and I know we can never make it a hundred percent official, but- Y/N, will you marry me?”

It was a good thing you were no longer holding any babies, because Sam’s question took you completely off guard.

“W-what?” you stammered, staring at him with large eyes.

Sam chuckled and looked down at Robbie, “I think your mom heard me just fine, don’t you, buddy?”

Your mouth stayed open for some time as you tried to absorb it all.

“Any time now, Y/N. Any time,” Dean interrupted without glancing up from Luke.

“Y-yes!” You finally replied.

“Really?” Sam asked again.

“Yeah! Obviously! I mean, who else would I marry but my incredible, brilliant, tall, and gorgeous baby daddy?”

At this point, Sam had passed Dean his oldest son, helping him balance both babies in his arms, before rushing back over to you. He took your face in both hands and kissed you like it was the first and last time. You leaned up to reach him and run your fingers through his shimmering tresses but you refrained from taking the kiss too far, figuring you’d save Dean the torture given all he had just done for your family.

“Well, alright! Two Winchesters coming in, and five going out. Nice work, Sammy!”

You released Sam and sent Dean a bitch face of your own.

“But- I mean, none of this would have been possible without you, Y/N/N,” he quickly amended, “I mean, who could forget that you nearly died bringing these two to the world? What’s that, the third time you’ve cheated Death now? That alone is enough to make you an official Winchester in my books.”

“Well, technically we’re all Windsors in this hospital.”

A/N #2: thank you for reading! ...i’m thinking of turning this into a series of sorts, like a collection of stories about sam and reader’s lives after the twins (because i’ve got iDeAs brewing), would anyone be interested? ❤️ also, here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com:

tagging some peeps who seemed to enjoy part 1 :) @carryonmywaywardbucky @girl-next-door-writes​ @sams-sass​ @swiftlymoniquesblog @austin-winchester67 @idreamofhazel @hoboal87 

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester x pregnant!reader #sam winchester x you #daddy!sam #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fluff #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #one-shot #series #they chose family #fanart #redbubble #lexicolor #text #my writing

[herstarburststories]

Shut up

Kinktober day 6: face sitting

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: You find a way to shut Dean up.

Warnings: oral sex (female receiving), hate/love relationship, making out, hint of daddy kink, consent is sexy, mentions of humping

Dean Winchester gets on your nerves sometimes.

No, scratch that. He always gets on your nerves. You don't know what irks you most about him: the stupid, lopsided smirk; the constant teasing sarcasm in his words, if he were incapable of taking anything seriously; or, maybe, it was how he was so impossibly gorgeous even when he was bleeding out. 

Dean irritates you more than any other being, from the poor excuse of a president of your country to the stupid demons that you face from time to time.

So, it's good to finally shut up his mouth. Even better, you’d put it for a good use for once.

His green eyes glow as he looks up to you, naked body impatient on the mattress as he nibbles on his bottom lip in anticipation. Dean's cock is already completely hard only from making out and some humping. It’s so easy to get him all worked up for you.

You throw your shirt away, and Dean lets out a quiet grunt his response. His idiotic lips are parted slightly as he watches your boobs. You aren’t wearing a bra. Fuck, he just wants to touch you, but for right now, this isn't about him. Well, not directly. This is about how furious you are because Dean Winchester has no right to make you feel like a high school girl discovering how a crush felt. You were always surrounded by a light-hearted feeling that made you want to do a dumb thing like kiss him in the back of a bar or jump in front of a bullet to save his ungrateful ass.

How did you, of all people, develop a crush for Dean? Dean is Dean -- a selfless, cocky son of a bitch. Come on, you're smarter than that! You’ve gotta be a masochist. 

Nonetheless, you get rid of your pants and underwear, pussy almost dripping for this idiot. The Winchester whimpers at the sight, licking his lips. The only thoughts revolving around in his head are: I need to taste you.

You glance at him, the beginnings of a smile lightening your features. The big, bad hunter certainly doesn’t have the usual arrogant look on his face now.

You still have your boots on when you climb on top of the bed, and Dean doesn't seem to care one bit. If anything, his livid, forest-green orbs catch a glimpse of you, naked and climbing on top of him, only wearing those fucking boots. He gulps, not remembering the last time he’s been this turned on. He is a goner.

You place your hands on his shoulders, and you're sitting on his legs. The wetness of your needy cunt makes a mess there. Part of you wants to ride his thigh, rubbing until you achieve your share of relief. You have a thought or two about just taking his length inside you — how couldn't you? The tip of his hardness is pressing against your belly, his desire palpable from the precum sluicing your skin. When Dean groans, it's almost silent; animalistic, even. He grabs your hip as if you were his. God, you want to be, but not today.

Dean leans in to capture your lips in another savage kiss, but you pull back. He gives you a confused look. “You okay?”

You know he's going to stop if you tell him to because Dean's a decent man. The thought just turns you on even more. “Come on, Dean. Your thigh’s a hot mess because of my pussy. I think I'm more than okay.”

Once again, he offers your that signature, lopsided grin. It’s filled to the brim with confidence. “Well, sweetheart,” he breathes, and you groan at the stupid nickname he gives to every single woman he meets through the road. Son of a bitch. Fucking womanizer. “What's it to you, then? You want me to get on top of you so I can fuck you nice and slow?” You are about to laugh at his face over the implication of being dominated by him, but Dean's fingers slide into a clandestine meeting with your clit, carefully caressing it as if you were lovers. All you can do now is sink your nails into his skin and moan, shamefully loud. “Or you want to ride my thigh? Come without even touching my cock, all for daddy?”

That wasn't your plan, but it felt so good. If Dean's fingers are that heavenly, fucking his cock might turn you into a goddess, but you can’t.

You aren't going to give in that easily. He tried to give you orders through the whole hunt. Sam might have a high tolerance for his control-freak brother, but you don't. You're going to teach him a thing or two about shutting the hell up.

You push his hand away, your body aching as if you broke a bone. Yet, you persevered as you took a deep breath and grinned impishly at Dean.

“You talk way too much, Winchester.” Your fingertips trace a line from his jaw to his neck, trailing down his chest; always following his foolish, adorable freckles. You catch a glimpse of goosebumps rising under your touch. It only causes your smirk to go wider. Dean is glaring at you with slightly raised brows, and you push him to lay on his back.

His cock twitching is proof enough that he enjoyed that.

You press your warmth on his length, retracting your hips when he tried to get inside you. Dean lets out a beautiful, frustrated grunt.

“Y/N…” Now that's better. He's groaning your name, fully aware only you are giving him pleasure. This is personal, this is dwindling, it's everything you both have been craving.

“You talk too much, Dean. Always trying to boss everyone around or joking as if you don't take anything seriously.” You're basically climbing on him now, your pussy enjoying the small relief of friction from Dean's hips, his stomach, his chest. You opt to sit there. “Someone should shut you up.”

Dean wishes he could answer. He wants to smirk at you, bring up other teasing comments only to get more of this. You were frisky and dominant -- everything his body and soul begged for. Yet, he can't bring himself to do anything other than lean his head forward in an attempt to catch your pussy with his lips. You smell so good. He can't wait to taste you. He just wants to eat you out, but you pull away from him with a laugh as if you found amusement in his suffering. Fuck, he’s getting even harder

Dean is so touch-starved for anything you're willing to give him.

You rise from his chest, your wetness leaving him soaked. He can't complain, though. Not when you blessed him with the sight of paradise.

That's it, Dean decides. I'm dead and in heaven… Again.

Because you're over his head, literally. Knees to the mattress on each side of his head, your pussy is right on his face, so appetizing and wet all for him.

“Y/N-” he tries, but you are quick to stop him. It’s a good thing. He'd probably make a fool out of himself from begging to let him touch you, just a little.

“Shh, sweetheart. Just shut up.” Dean barely catches a glimpse of pleasure for that before you sit on his face. “Now eat me out.”

Nevermind, this is his heaven.

You bite your lower lip, trying to regain some composure as you coil your fingers around the bedpost, nails pressed so strenuously into the hardwood there that you wouldn't be surprised if you left marks carved there. What else are you supposed to do? Dean doesn't waste any time when you sit on his face, eating you out like you’re a fucking meal and he’s a starving man. His chin and lips and nose are all wet from you.

This man really loves women.

“I knew that pretty mouth of yours could go to good use, baby,” you mumbled amidst his pornographic groans, grinding your hips down to ride his face. Dean shoves his tongue inside your warmth, finding comfort between your tight walls. “Mmh, Dean. Yes.”

He pulls away, but only because he needs to breathe. Dean nibbles on your inner thigh, smirking when you whine for him. So gorgeous and delicious. He gets your clit between his teeth carefully — this isn't supposed to hurt.

You inhale sharply, looking down to catch him in the act. He looks so hot like his, eating you out with his viridescent gaze fixed on your face as if you were his grand enlightenment. You look like everything he never thought he could have when you were like this: sitting on his face and giving yourself to him, glancing at Dean with your hands fixed on the headboard and tresses of your hair falling on your face.

After this, he has to kiss you some more. He just has to.

For now, though, the hunter is more than happy eating out his prey. He enjoys every aspect of this. You taste as if you were made to be this good for him. The tip of his tongue brushes your G-spot, and he can't wait for you to come. 

The idea of tasting your orgasm makes his cock ache deeply in the best ways possible. Dean's freaking sure he's about to come untouched because of your needy cunt.

He licks your clit before enveloping you with his lips, sucking on you at your neediest. You begin to lose your cognitive senses, melting into a screaming mess and pressing your pussy closer to him. Dean's almost suffocating, and he couldn't be happier. 

Your thighs tighten around his ears, a cry leaving your lips as Dean focuses all his attention on your clit. He only pauses to sink his tongue into your warm wetness before coming back to your sensitive spot.

You clutch the bedpost as if you are holding onto dear life as you come all over Dean's face. He tries to catch all of you — not because he doesn't want to get dirty, but because he ain't gonna miss one single drop of your juice. 

You taste so fucking good, much better than anything he has ever put on his tongue. Dean is an addict now, and he can't get enough of your cunt, your cum, or you.

He licks you clean, getting the most he can of you, and you whine through the intense sensation of freedom that comes with it. Fuck Dean and his spoiled tongue.

You get up with trembling legs. Your hand slides to find his hard cock and offer what relief you can, but you just find milky come on his stomach.

Did he come only from eating you out?

Holy fuck.

You make the mistake of looking at his face after that realization. He's breathless, glancing at you and licking your juices off his lips. He looks flushed and satisfied, smirking with dimpled cheeks. You can see your come on his chin and nose. “Remind me to never stop talking if this is how you're gonna shut me up.”

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[spn-romantica]

So I watched SPN for years, right up until the end of S11, when they brought back Mary. I heard that S15 would be the last season, and I was like ‘oh ok I’ll rewatch (for like the 8th time) and finish SPN then’ BUT THEN 15x18 happened and I was violently pulled back into the SPN fandom. I still haven’t caught up fully watching yet, but I’ve read so much discourse now...and I have thoughts. Hypotheses currently. I’ll wait to finish the whole show for real to call any of this theories but, I wanted to record my thoughts.

They’re about Chuck. As a villain. Which weirds me out. As an antagonist? Sure. As evil? No. Can’t envision it. I just finished my rewatch of S5 and, damn, but if Chuck is the ultimate villain, S5 reads very differently. :0

But I recently saw a post comparing Dean’s reaction in 1x18 (I believe) to his in 10x05 (for sure) about when someone mentions his mother’s death. In 1x18, it’s Sam when they were children and Dean gets angry. In 10x05, it’s a group of high school girls and Dean just bops his head along to the song. The post was framing it as 10x05 not understanding Dean’s thoughts about his mother, but I think that both episodes understand Dean. When Dean is a child, the trauma over his mother’s murder is still fresh. By 10x05, the event is 70 years in the past. Of course it still affects Dean. Of course. You never really get over something like that. But I’d argue that after 70 years, Dean has moved through the stages of grief to acceptance. It still hurts, but like an old ache, not a fresh, still-bleeding wound.

Interestingly, 10x05 is when we see Chuck, after a long absence. He’s watching the play, probably happy that someone loves his work enough to even make a musical, but he is also watching the Winchesters. The actual episodes of the show, aka the books Chuck writes, are what Chuck knows/cares about regarding the Winchesters. Despite being God, I’d argue he doesn’t pay attention to every second and all the little minutia of the boys’ lives. So, here in 10x05, we have confirmation that Chuck is around to see that Dean has healed from his mother’s death.

Later, in S11, Dean acts as therapist/life counsellor to Chuck/God, regarding Amara and Lucifer. And it works! Dean teaches God about family and about healing. Why does God listen to Dean Winchester, a random human? Perhaps it is because of S1-5. Perhaps it is because Dean and Sam were part of God’s test, as God himself describes it in 5x22.

What was the test? Was it God’s experiment about choice and free will? About freedom vs peace? Or, perhaps, was God trying to understand sibling relationships? He and Amara are two faces of the same coin. They are siblings, but with very different outlooks and it caused a rift between them, caused Chuck to seal Amara away before she could destroy his creations. Chuck regretted this, but saw it as a necessary betrayal. But then, some time later, Chuck’s angelic children experience their own betrayal and sibling rift. Lucifer tries to turn the angels against God, rebel and reject God. He makes demons, for sure, and maybe even Hell. But why? God figures that Lucifer was maybe jealous of the new baby (humans) like others in the show postulates. Or maybe Lucifer had beef specifically with Michael, because humans are little more than amoebas from an angelic perspective. Aside from Castiel, Anna and a handful of other angels, angels consistently view humans as humans might view dust mites. Maybe humans were the cause of the rift between Michael and Lucifer, but it was Michael and Lucifer’s relationship that needed fixing in the end, regardless.

So God is left with the sad conclusion that maybe close siblings will inevitably betray each other and be unable to forgive and heal. He wants to heal with Amara. But he also wants Michael and Lucifer to be able to heal. (It doesn’t occur to God that maybe Lucifer’s problem was never with humanity or Michael; it was with God.)

So God has research to do, to see if it’s possible for siblings to experience such deep betrayal and still heal. He turns to his little hairless apes, the only sentient species on Earth with potential to parallel the angels. He starts testing siblings. Cain and Abel are first up. Needless to say, but the betrayal was too strong and left no room for healing. But on down the line of Cain, God continues testing. Eventually, we come to Sam and Dean.

God has scheduled Michael and Lucifer’s family counselling session for 2010. All the data up to this point says it can only end badly. Maybe it’ll half-kill the Earth, but it’s finally time for Michael and Lucifer to meet and for one of them to die. God isn’t happy about this conclusion, but it’s what the data says. So, finally, the last test subjects, the last in the line who will be the vessels for Michael and Lucifer’s showdown, arrive. Sam and Dean Winchester are to be the last sibling test. The conclusion seems foregone at this point, but there is no point in cancelling the last bit of the test after so long, so it continues. God watches. And Sam and Dean surprise God. Siblings after siblings had failed for millennia to heal. Betrayals too strong, healing too little, too late. But Sam and Dean. no matter how badly they hurt each other, find a way to come back together and heal. They don’t give up on each other, despite millennia of data to the contrary. Still, the angels and demons push and push at Sam and Dean until their rift is as wide and as deep as Michael and Lucifer’s, as God’s and Amara’s (in late S4). It seems, despite the brothers’ best efforts earlier on, it’s all for naught.

But there is a further element of randomness, something God couldn’t foresee. Castiel. God hasn’t had occasion for romantic love in his own experience, so he is entirely blind to what choices Castiel is likely to make. He provides an element of randomness to the experiment, an essential part that gives Dean the ultimate chance to go back to Sam and begin to heal (4x22).

Throughout S5, Sam and Dean heal. There is hurt, still, of course, but they love each other and forgive each other. By 5x22, they’ve surprised everyone. Even the angels have given up on turning them against each other, and have shrugged and settled for using Nick and Adam as the vessels for the showdown. Sam and Dean passed their test. They were siblings who betrayed each other and healed from it. God reconsiders how family counselling will go with Michael and Lucifer. He figured it would be the Apocalypse, the end of the problems between Michael and Lucifer, as one of them dies, as had always happened before. But, Sam and Dean showed God, that though it is rare, it is possible to heal. So God gives Sam and Dean an out. He gives Sam the strength to seize back control from Lucifer, should things go south.

Finally, the showdown arrives. Michael and Lucifer meet. They talk things out. To God’s surprise, Lucifer reveals that he never had a problem with Michael. He had forgiven Michael long ago. But Michael couldn’t forgive Lucifer. He had to be a ‘good son’ and do what he thought God wanted him to do. But Michael didn’t realise, that God doesn’t give orders. Free will all the way, baby! But the whole thing comes as a surprise. Apparently, all this time, the problem relationship wasn’t siblings, it was parents.

Oops.

Good thing God had a back-up plan.

Sam throws himself and Lucifer (and Michael and Adam) into the Cage. Michael and Lucifer have an eternity to figure things out between each other now. But that’s beside the point. The point is, now, that God has to start testing all over again. Not how to fix sibling relationships, but how to fix parent-child relationships.

God restores Castiel, perhaps for a few reasons because God exists outside of time, but originally it may have been just for one. He likes Castiel. He is impressed that Castiel invented free will for himself, broke free of angelic programming (multiple times over), and did it all for love. It’s novel. It’s interesting. God might even think it’s sweet. But God has had time later, and thought about it, and he has a plan. And Castiel is essential.

But Dean Winchester is the key.

Sam and Dean’s relationship with their own father has been strained, but both boys find a way to forgive John his flaws and failings, and love him. Whenever they do get a chance to see him again, post his death, they don’t hate him. They’ve healed. John’s relationship with Sam and Dean is one point of data, Abraham and Isaac another. There are many data points that God can reflect back on and consider.

But as S6 through S10 roll on, God watches Sam and Dean and Castiel. He even watches Crowley and Rowena for another data point. Dean is his main focus, however. (This is a little meta, but as the story focuses more on Dean than Sam post S5, it ties in. Prior to S6, both Sam and Dean were essential - the sibling test. Now, post S5, the parent test, Dean is the most essential. Of course, Sam and Castiel are important too. But Dean is key.)

Dean is a good father. He was a good father to Sam, even when he was only 6 years old himself. He was a good father to Ben. He was willing to die for Bobby John. He’s always good with kids. Not only that, but Dean is blunt enough, brave enough, and crazy enough to tell God to God’s face what he thinks. God needs Dean’s advice, his perspective and opinion on family relationships, but he also needs to see what Dean would do if he were in God’s shoes.

[Edit (1/04/21): After seeing Michael and Lucifer (mostly) heal, and after seeing Sam and Dean heal their relationship, God finally has hope for him and Amara. So God logically wants to retrieve Amara from her prison. But how? Well, he could just wander on up to Cain and do it himself, but what would Amara say? “So I see you’ve come crawling back, eh, Chucky?” She wouldn’t be impressed with God. She wouldn’t understand, because she’s hopeless too. SO how to give her hope? How to make her see that she and God can be okay again? Why, stick her near Dean Winchester, of course! So God sets things up for Dean to get and lose the Mark of Cain, thereby ensuring that Amara will feel a connection to Dean and stick around him/keep him alive long enough for Dean to work his life-coach magic.]

In S11, God and Amara heal their relationship because of the hope Sam and Dean gave God, and also the direct advice Dean gives God. God and Lucifer, not so much.

God needs more data. He needs to see what Dean would do. In comes Castiel’s relevance. God sets things up so that Lucifer can have a son. A nephil. Jack. And God points Castiel in Jack’s direction, trusting Castiel’s ability for unconditional love to keep Jack alive long enough for the experiment. Castiel becomes Jack’s father. But Castiel will never betray Jack, the way God betrayed Lucifer. And, besides, Castiel isn’t the target of this experiment. But it is Castiel’s relationship with Dean Winchester that provides the link needed to get the experiment rolling.

Because Jack is Castiel’s son, he is therefore Sam and Dean’s nephew. Except, God has been watching Castiel and Dean. And, frankly, their romantic love for each other is so obvious even God cannot miss it. Through Castiel, Dean sees Jack as his son too. He loves Jack, exactly like a son. In this way, Dean parallels God, and Jack parallels Lucifer.

But God knows Dean would not easily turn on any child, let alone his own child. So God had a plan for that too. One that Amara helped him with.

They brought back Mary Winchester.

Mary is the one person in existence whose loss would hurt Dean enough to spur him to action. So, she was brought back to die. It was a matter of only a few years of gentle prodding to get everything in position. Jack causes Mary’s death. Dean is faced with a horrible decision. If Jack can kill Mary, what’s to say that Sam and Castiel wouldn’t be next? Mary’s death is like everything beginning all over again for Dean as well. Her first death set off a chain reaction, a series of unfortunate events that spanned decades and nearly caused the ruination of not only Dean’s life, but Sam’s and John’s and even the world. That scar, which had healed as well as it could after 70 years, that God saw was healed in 10x05, has been violently opened up again. It’s the only thing that could force Dean’s hand, that could get him to betray Jack and try to kill him. If Jack had killed Sam or Castiel, it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Both Sam and Castiel had died and come back so many times, and while it would hurt Dean and make him doubt Jack, their deaths would be a sacrifice that Dean would feel obligated to respect, to give Jack a second chance like they would both want. (And God has been laying the groundwork for Dean, convincing him that Jack is evil, will be evil like Lucifer, can’t be allowed to live. All things God has thought about Lucifer over time. Was Lucifer inherently evil? Was their rift inevitable?)

So, here it is. The big test. Will Dean kill Jack? Will he betray Jack and cause an unhealable rift? Or will he find a way to heal, like he did with Sam against all the odds?

And, once again, Dean impresses God. He refuses to kill Jack.

But now we’re in the endgame. Sam, Dean and Castiel are aware that Jack’s life was only on the line because of God. It’s not something they can forgive, or understand. They’re all God’s guinea pigs, and while he loves his guinea pigs, he knows he’s hurt them in the name of science, of knowledge. or healing, and God can’t undo what he’s done. Free will is linear, after all. So it is time for the Winchesters, Castiel and Jack included, to be done with God. God is done with them, too. It’s time for them to be free and at peace. The experiments are done. God has decided not to kill Lucifer. He has decided to try to heal. He can get Lucifer out of the Empty and talk and try to fix things. He has forever to fix things, now that he knows he can. (The last element of this, Jack forgiving Dean for trying to kill him, is something I have limited knowledge of, but I am under the impression happens so... To be added in the edit once I finish the series.)

But the only way the Winchesters will be able to rest, is if they think God, the last and greatest villain, is out of the way. They know they’ve been manipulated their whole lives, first towards the sibling experiment and now the parent experiment, so they need to think God is gone so they can feel secure in their free will once more. Truthfully, God never took their free will. He set them up in situations, maybe even gave a bio-chemical nudge of anger (Dean) or attraction (Sam and Eileen) every now and then. But the choices were always theirs. Still, God knows they won’t see it that way. So he sets things up so that they can defeat him.

He lets them win. He wants them to win. They cannot defeat God, after all. It’s not God’s time, and Death is the only one who can claim God in the end, as the two embrace as friends and walk to the next existence. But the Winchesters need this, and so God allows it. A last gift, to the beings who have been such help, hope and inspiration to him.

With an eye for an eventual S16, 15x20 is written to be ‘an ending’ but also one that could easily be reframed as a bad dream.

For example...

Unfortunately, after Jack, suped up on a extra Grace God lent him, restores the Earth and expends all the Grace (”giving up the mantle of God so that their is no God, no plans, only Free Will”), and Dean, Sam and Jack head back to the Bunker to regroup and gather the ingredients to do the spell to rescue Castiel from the Empty, they’re jumped by monsters who are angry with how much God has fucked with them on behalf of the Winchesters. 15x20 is all a djinn dream Dean is trapped in.

16x01 is Dean waking himself up from the djinn dream, Sam and Jack escaping their own monsters, and then the end of 16x01 is Dean saying something about waking Castiel up from his own dreams in the Empty. The rest of S16 sees the boys save Castiel, reunite with Eileen, start a monster-hunting Bobby Singer/Men of Letters-esque organisation, Dean and Castiel getting together and getting married on Valentine’s Day, Jack getting to live a normal life, going to school, making friends, etc.

If their is no S16 ever (which would be criminal), then 15x20 makes no sense, unless it is plainly a recount of an old, hopeless ending written by God. However you spin it, 15x20 is not the way it seems (like owls).

All things being said, God is an antagonist, but he’s not evil. He’s an asshole, sure, but he never once worked against the Winchesters, never bet against them, never tried to erase or end them. He wanted them to win. He wanted to see the fruits of free will be love, second chances, hope, forgiveness, healing, and happiness, not just betrayal, pain, selfishness, jealousy, disappointment, and hopelessness.

Why is the ending he shows Becky ‘hopeless’? Because God is. He has spent his long existence losing his most loved family members. Amara, Lucifer. How can things end well for God, when they can’t even end well for humans? But Sam and Dean defy the script, again and again. They surprise God, defying the statistics, defying the hypotheses, throwing the experiment into disarray. Giving God hope. Sam and Dean were okay. Dean and Jack were okay. If God had a romantic love, he would find hope from Dean and Castiel being okay. But when God wrote the book he showed Becky, he was writing what he thought would happen. In the end, surely, not even Dean can be enough to hold Sam and Cas and Jack together. But in the end, as we see, as God sees, he is proven wrong and he’s happy to be wrong. He’s hopeful. And he can leave Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack, and all the angels and all the humans, to rule the Earth and the Heavens. He doesn’t need to learn anything more from them, so he heads to the Empty, with Amara, with Lucifer, with Death (Billie or not, Death is there for God in the end), and they can all depart for a better existence of their own.

If you read all of this, thanks! I eagerly anticipate watching the remaining 10 seasons so I can come back and edit the heck outta this, but until then, if y’all have any thoughts, I’d be interested to hear them~

TLDR: God is a morally bankrupt scientist and the Winchesters are his guinea pigs, but he’s not evil and he does love his guinea pigs, even if he could really treat them nicer.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #god #chuck #amara #lucifer #mary winchester #destiel #deancas #this is what i get for living on spn tumblr in a post s15 world while rewatching s5 and having memories ranging from hq to 8bit about s1-s11 #be kind i haven't finished my rewatch/finished the show so i probably have stuff wrong #what if god isn't evil just has no inherent moral compass because he has to teach himself everything #and he's taken to using the winchesters as his guinea pigs/life counsellors

[waywardxwords]

Why’d It Have to be Snakes

Summary: After a tiring hunt, you return to your motel to find an unwelcomed addition. Your fear builds up enough anxiety that you don’t know what to do, so you quickly call Sam. He comes to your rescue, making a few jokes in the process.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,723

Warnings: Fluff!

Your eyelids felt heavy as you pulled open your motel door. You were unbelievably exhausted. You blindly reached for the light switch on the wall and blinked against the poorly lit room after they flicked on. You dropped your duffel next to the dresser and glanced around the familiar layout of the typical motels you shacked up in every night.

Except there was an addition to this room—an addition that made your stomach drop and your eyes widen in complete terror.

You swallowed the lump that had formed against your throat and began to back away until your back bumped against the door. If someone had asked you what your worst nightmare would be, this situation would very well make the top ten.

Your hand reached for your back pocket, your eyes never faltering from the creature before you. His number was the last one you had called. You swiftly slid the iPhone from your jeans and swiped the screen to hurriedly redial his number. You placed the phone to your ear and prayed he hadn’t jumped in the shower yet.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” He had just seen you five minutes before, so it was a completely valid question.

“I’m uh, fine…but could you come to my room for a sec?” Your voice shook a bit as you spoke and you swallowed again as you tried to contain yourself. You watched the thing move slowly, still seemingly unaware of your presence. Or maybe it knew you were there but could sense that you were insanely terrified of it to get any closer.

“Uh, sure,” he seemed confused. “I’ll be right there.”

You both hung up without another word. Your eyes danced over the figure, watching for any kind of sudden movement. Your body jumped and breath hitched at the sound of a knock on your door. Sam Winchester, your knight in shining armor (or, rather, his familiar brown Carhartt jacket).

You moved your eyes away for just a moment to open the door. His hazel eyes searched your face for any sign of danger. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened when he noticed how scared you were.

“What is it?” He reached for your arm and gently moved you aside so he could pass into the room.

You gulped and merely waited for him to see it, seemingly lost for words.

A gentle laugh erupted from the back of his throat when he spotted it. He turned to you with a look on his face that told you he was enjoying this way too much. “A snake? Really?”

You huffed and folded your arms over your chest. “Sammy, come on,” you whined. You wanted to clasp your hand over your mouth as soon as the sound came out. You were never a whiner, but when it came to snakes, all bets were apparently off.

“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands in a surrendering motion. Sam glanced around the room for something to capture the slithering reptile, which was currently coiled up in the corner of the room. “How did a snake get in here, anyway?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t stop to ask it. Just please get rid of it,” the anxiety was making your skin crawl. You felt bad for the way you were speaking to him, especially since he had come to help you. But you literally couldn’t help yourself. Your fear gave you word vomit and unfortunately, you were currently puking all over your hero.

Sam didn’t seem to mind—he was too preoccupied with scooping the snake into the empty wastebasket from the bathroom. The alarmed snake slithered around the basket but seemed to be secured.

You moved clear to the other side of the bed as Sam headed for the door of the room, still shaking his head with a chuckle. “Relax, Indiana Jones. You’re safe.”

He left the motel room door open as he stepped outside with the bucket. Your heart thudded against your chest as you sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to normalize your breathing; it was useless. You found yourself looking around the room just in case this snake had a mate. Did snakes travel in pairs? You weren’t willing to take the risk.

“Alright, you’re all set,” Sam sighed as he reappeared in the doorway with a now empty wastebasket.

“Thanks, Sam,” you finally managed to mutter as you stood up, now clearly embarrassed. Your cheeks flushed as you dropped your head to look at the carpet. A curtain of your hair fell into your peripheral vision.

“Hey,” you noticed his boots come into your line of view and felt his large hands on your shoulders. One hand dipped under your chin to lift your gaze to meet his. “You’re safe, it’s gone.” You could tell he was trying to fight the grin that kept playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes and pulled out of his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he finally busted at the seams with laughter he was trying to contain. “It’s just…snakes?”

“Yes, for the tenth time now, snakes,” you rolled your eyes and plopped back down on the edge of the bed.

“I just can’t get over it,” he seemed thoroughly amused. “I’ve seen you machete a vamp and stab a shifter. But yet you can’t handle a snake?”

“Two can play that game, Bozo,” you stood from your spot on the bed and marched towards him, determined. “Don’t make me show you the clown video on YouTube again.” Sam’s features instantly straightened. Your mouth cracked into a smile.

“Clowns kill people,” Sam’s jaw tensed, but you could still sense the playful nature between the two of you.

“So do snakes, last time I checked,” you raised your eyebrows in debate.

“Touché,” his lips curved into a small smile. You tried to get the image of the snake out of your mind but yet still felt like your skin was crawling all over; the image of the slithering reptile made you squirm involuntarily. “Just remember what Dean always tells me…”

Before he could even finish, you cut him off. “I know, I know. If it bleeds, you can kill it,” you muttered. “Ugh, I just really hate those damn things,” you shuddered, your arms folded across your chest. “I know it’s lame, trust me—I know. I grew up with two brothers, remember? I got made fun of plenty for my irrational fear.”

Sam rolled his eyes and moved to stand in front of you. “It’s not that irrational,” he reasoned when he noticed you really were worked up over this whole thing. “I mean, snakes are a pretty common fear.” He smirked as his oversized palm gently grazed your cheek; his calloused thumb ran just underneath your eye. You closed your eyes at the touch and felt yourself instantly relax from the overwhelming anxiety you had felt just moments before.

“Yeah, well, I guess lots of people are afraid of clowns, too,” your voice was calm and sympathetic to his equally as debilitating fear.

Sam smiled at your small offering of compassion and bent his head to move his lips delicately over yours. Your hand reached up and grasped onto his hand which cupped your cheek.

“Stay?” Your voice was subtle and almost distant. You finally opened your eyes and peered into his hazel orbs that you loved so much. Sam’s gaze danced between your eyes and his jaw tightened in hesitation.

“If I stay, Dean will have us figured out,” he explained carefully. You moved just your eyes to stare at the multicolored carpet below your feet and Sam instantly regretted what he had said. “Hey, how about I lay with you for a little while? Keep the snakes away?” He laughed softly and smiled when your eyes finally gleamed back at him.

“I vote yes,” you leaned up on your tiptoes to reach his lips once more. While you and Sam were still learning exactly what this was, you enjoyed every second you spent in his presence. A drunken night out a bar while Dean was preoccupied with a random female friend led you and Sam to sporadic hook-ups, to subtle moments on hunts where your bodies would discretely brush up against one another so Dean wouldn’t notice, to sober nights cuddling after a long hunt hours after Dean had gone to bed. Neither of you knew what exactly any of this meant, but right now that didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was that you were enjoying each other’s company.

Sam lovingly reached under the shoulders of your leather jacket and pulled the garment until it was off of your arms and tossed on the sitting chair in the corner of the room. He lifted your black tank top and tossed it on top of the jacket. You eyed his plaid button-up and raised your eyebrows.

Sam laughed and with a quick roll of his eyes, he removed the jacket and unbuttoned his shirt to give it to you. “I’m not letting you keep this one. You keep taking my clothes and I’m not going to have anything to wear at all.”

“I mean, I don’t really see what the problem is…” you winked as you pulled the sleeves over your arms and buttoned the shirt up so your cleavage was barely visible. You pulled off your pants and clambered onto the bed.

“Oh yeah, Dean would love that one,” Sam laughed as he climbed after you in just his jeans. The two of you crawled under the floral comforter and below the sheets.

Sam propped up a pillow against the headboard so he could lean against it, ensuring that he wouldn’t fall asleep and owe Dean an awkward explanation in the morning. He grabbed the remote and switched on the TV as you curled up to his side, your face against his bare chest and your arm tucked across his middle. He scooted you closer to him by wrapping his arm around your side and holding you to him. He absent-mindedly played with your hair as he watched the late-night TV program.

“Night, Bozo,” you mumbled sleepily as your eyelids drifted closed in the glow of the television.

Sam grinned as he leaned down to place a kiss on top of your head. “Night, Indy.”

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x female!reader #sam winchester x female #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #sam winchester fluff

[cursed-or-not]

Suptober Day 11: Rock and Roll

Music heard so deeply / That it is not heard at all, but you are the music / While the music lasts

(T.S. Elliot, “The Dry Salvages”)

Cas thinks that of everything humanity has made, music has to be the best.

There have been more impressive creations—buildings meant to reach the stars, codes of law that formed the first societies— but not all masterpieces last.

Humans have never stopped making music.

Cas has always appreciated it for its longevity, but he doesn’t truly understand it until he pulls Dean Winchester from Hell.

It’s a process. At first, Dean can’t make sense of Cas’s voice, a voice that doesn’t sound like music but like martyrdom, like Heaven and holy wars, but slowly, Cas starts to understand the pitch that Dean lives in.

He doesn’t realize that Dean is starting to understand him, too, until later.

“Don’t ever change,” Dean finally tells him, and Cas thinks this was the first time their music converged.

…

They’re sitting in a bar, and Dean is wincing. Cas still doesn’t understand entirely, because he knows Dean likes this song, but Dean keeps saying something about cover bands and bleeding ears, and Cas just smiles along.

“You’ve been quiet,” Dean accuses after another string of complaints about the band, and Cas tilts his head in confusion.

“I don’t want to talk over the music,” Cas says simply.

Dean’s expression holds something soft but fleeting.

“Yeah, well, this isn’t music.”

Dean’s words just confuse Cas further.

“I thought… you liked this song,” Cas says, wracking his brain for the memory of this playing in the car.

Dean shakes his head.

“No, no, no,” he begins, “If you think this is the same as what I made you listen to, then I didn’t teach you very well. Trust me, there’s a difference between a classic song and a shitty garage-band cover of it.”

“Oh,” Cas says in response. He still doesn’t understand.

“Oh?” Dean prompts, seeming to notice Cas’s confusion.

“It’s just… wouldn’t you rather hear a bad version of a good song than nothing?”

Dean considers the question.

“I mean, on principle, no. But you might have a point,” Dean responds. “I guess I’d have to really like the song.”

“And this one? Do you like this one enough?”

Dean thinks about it before responding, “You know, I guess I do.” He huffs a laugh. “I guess music is music, no matter how shitty.”

Cas looks at Dean through startling blue eyes and tries not to think cursed or not.

…

Sometimes, Dean wishes he could hear everything that Cas does.

He wishes Cas spent less time marching to his own beat, to the orders he hears on angel radio, to the music only he can hear.

They try to share it with each other, sometimes. It’s why Cas spent so much time trying to make Dean understand and why Dean spent so much time on a mixtape. But sometimes, they just can’t find it in themselves.

This time, it’s about the nephilim.

Cas is convinced that Lucifer’s son will do something good, something great, even, and Dean isn’t willing to take the chance of him doing the opposite.

It’s hard to be angry.

He knows Cas isn’t lying to them about the future he believes in. When Cas talks about this kid, about the future he saw he could make, something in Cas’s expression turns so hopeful that it makes Dean ache.

It’s not that Dean doesn’t think Cas believes he’s doing the right thing; it’s that Dean can’t convince himself of it.

Whatever brave new world Cas thinks will come from this kid— Dean just can’t see it.

Cas hears music that no one else does.

…

When Cas dies, Dean doesn’t listen to anything for weeks.

The cassettes in the car stay untouched, the records unplayed.

There’s a boy with the blood of Lucifer who they have to save now, too, but Dean doesn’t care because he couldn’t save anyone when it counted, so what’s the point now?

Jack doesn’t know music. It’s not even that he doesn’t know good music; he’s never even heard the bad kind. Someday, someone might teach him, might show him how to drive with it playing and hum it while he fishes, but for now, he doesn’t ask, and no one offers. Dean doesn’t talk to him.

Jack misses Castiel, too. He’s the father he never got to meet, his unknowable savior, and maybe, just maybe, Cas could have taught him. Now, though, everything is silent.

They don’t know where angels go when they die. No one knows, Sam told him, but all that Jack knows is that it has to be somewhere, and he just wants his father.

When he cries out, the universe hears.

Somewhere, there’s music still playing.

…

It’s Thanksgiving, and the bunker buzzes with life.

They don’t do this, don’t celebrate normal holidays, but with the end of the world looming over them, now’s as good a time as any to start.

It’s not just them. Jody and the girls agreed to come, and they’ve made a mess of the kitchen, but no one seems to mind. Garth brought his family, too, and the babies have been looking wide-eyed at the bunker since they arrived. Eileen is due to arrive any minute.

There is happiness in the air, but Dean is terrified.

He knows about the deal.

Today isn’t the first day he’s known, but it’s brought up a whole new wave of fear and grief.

Giddy voices sing from the kitchen, and it’s a song Dean knows he recognizes—something by Pink Floyd—but he can’t bring himself to hear any of it. He’s standing in the doorway of his room, anger preventing him from joining. He feels like he’s living with one foot in and one out.

Cas stands across from him.

“Dean, I know why you won’t join,” Cas says, and Dean lets out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

Cas’s brow furrows, and he asks, “Are you angry?”

Dean shrugs, but the way his shoulders move jerkily answers the question.

Cas begins, “I know you think this will make me happy enough to—”

“That’s not the only thing, Cas!” Dean interrupts, and anger has seeped into his voice.

Cas stays silent, waiting for Dean to continue.

“It’s— yeah, I’m worried that today’s gonna make you happy and you’re gonna die in the middle of eating a piece of pumpkin pie,” Dean says, frustrated. “But what about the next time? And the time after that? Are we just gonna make sure you’re always miserable so you don’t die?”

Cas looks at Dean with sadness written on his face.

“Well,” Cas begins, and the calm of his voice contrasts starkly with the sharpness of Dean’s, “I think I’m safe at least until we beat Chuck.”

Dean makes a sound of disbelief.

“So, what then?! We just keep trying to find a way to dust God, and we ignore that it’ll probably kill you?”

Cas blinks.

“Yes,” he responds, and Dean’s face twists with anger.

“If you’re not gonna be around when we save the world, then what the hell are we even fighting for?!” Dean shouts.

Dean’s voice is loud, too loud, and now he can hear a baby crying from the other room. He’s not sure if it’s baby Sam or Castiel, but in the next moment, Jack’s voice filters in from another room where they left him watching the twins sleep. He keeps his voice soft and soothing.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay. It will be okay,” Jack says gently, and Dean can’t see him, but he’s sure Jack is holding the baby as he speaks. In the next moment, the crying has stopped.

The music from the kitchen is still playing.

“Them,” Cas answers then, and any frustration has melted from his voice. “We’re fighting for them.”

...

Some days, it all comes back to the mixtape.

It doesn’t matter what else there is; it doesn’t matter that there’s still God to fight or a deal to cheat, and it doesn’t matter that there’s fear and grief or anything other than love. On days like this, it all comes down to the music between them.

They’re in the car together, and they’re on the second to last song of the mixtape, but Dean doesn’t think he’s heard a single word of it.

It’s not that they’re speaking over it; every time they play the mixtape, Cas listens like he’ll never get another chance, but just because there are no actual words drowning it out doesn’t mean there’s nothing distracting Dean.

Something hangs in the air between them that’s louder than the music, and when Dean finally catches Cas’s eye in the passenger seat next to him, the notes all shatter.

“Cas—”

“I know.”

It’s a simple response, and Dean almost has to laugh at it because of course Cas knows.  

Before Dean can tell him anything else that he already knows, and before he’s quite sure what he’s doing, Dean’s pulling the car over.

If Cas already knows, then—

“Cas, can I—”

“Please.”

And that’s all it takes.

There’s a moment of waiting, a break before the chorus, and then they meet in the middle.

It’s soft where they come together, but it’s not so tentative that Dean doesn’t feel his heart race. Neither intends to waste a second of this, and when they draw back for air, their cheeks are flushed.

“I’m sorry,” Cas blurts as they pull away, and for the life of him, Dean can’t imagine why he’s apologizing.

“You’re sorry?” Dean questions, still not quite trusting himself to string too many words together.

“The mixtape,” Cas says, still breathing heavier than usual. “You made me the mixtape, and I never got you anything in return.”

Dean almost laughs at Cas’s sincerity and timing, but when he responds, Dean’s voice is low and just as sincere.

“Don’t say you never got me anything,” Dean breathes, and then he pulls Cas in for another kiss.

It’s short and gentle, but Dean already can’t imagine how he’s gone so many years without this.

“Kisses aren’t an actual gift,” Cas says skeptically, but the way he leans closer to Dean takes away some credibility from the statement. “Not like the mixtape.”

“Cas, I hate to say it,” Dean responds, “but you’re better than rock and roll.”

It doesn’t matter that the song’s almost over, or that they still have a world to save, because Cas’s hand is in Dean’s. Maybe there’s the Empty waiting around the corner, but here, there is music. 

For now, this is enough.

#suptober20 #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #castiel #dean winchester #spn fanfic #spn #Supernatural #the empty #mixtape #so this isnt my best writing but i.... poured my heart n soul into this #my suptober stuff #mine

[gayjoealwyn]

I am so much happier now that I’m dead. Technically missing, soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying cheating oblivious husband will go to prison for my murder. Dean Winchester took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That’s murder. Let the punishment fit the crime.

To fake a convincing murder, you have to have discipline. You befriend a local idiot, harvest the details of her hum-drum life and cram her with stories about your husband’s violent temper, secretly create some money troubles. Credit card, perhaps online gambling. With the help of the unwitting, bump up your life insurance. Purchase getaway car.. Craigslist.. generic... cheap... pay cash.

You need to package yourself so that people will truly mourn your loss and America loves pregnant women. As if it’s so hard to spread your legs. You know what’s hard? Faking a pregnancy.

First... drain your toilet. Invite pregnant idiot into your bunker and ply her with lemonade. Steal pregnant idiot’s urine. Voila! A pregnancy is now part of your legal medical record. Happy Anniversary. Wait for your clueless husband to start his day. Off he goes.. and the clock is ticking... meticulously stage your crime scene... with just enough mistakes to raise the spectre of doubt. You need to bleed.. a lot.. a lot, a lot. A head wound kind of bleed. A crime scene kind of bleed. You need to clean... poorly, like he would. Clean and bleed. Bleed and clean. And leave a little something behind. A fire in July? And because you’re you, you don’t stop there. You need a diary. Minimum 300 entries on the Dean and Castiel story. Start with the fairy tale early days. Those are true and they’re crucial. You want Dean and Castiel to be likeable. After that you invent. The spending, the abuse, the fear. The threat of violence. And Dean thought he was the hunter. Burn it just the right amount. Make sure the cops will find it.

Finally, honor tradition with a very special treasure hunt. And if I get everything right, the world will hate Dean for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I’m ready... I’ll go out on the water with a handful of pills... and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body they’ll know. Dean Winchester dumped his beloved like garbage. And she floated down past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women. Then, Dean will die too.

Dean and Castiel will be gone. But then we never really existed. Dean loved a girl I was pretending to be. Cool girl. Men always use that, don’t they? As their defining compliment. She’s a Cool girl. Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrin loving manner and then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes. So, evidently, he’s a classic rocker with a praise kink. If he likes girls gone wild, she’s a mall babe who talks football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Dean Winchester, I knew he wanted a cool girl and for him, I’ll admit, I was willing to try. I wax stripped my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Mel Gibson cowboy movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size 2. I blew him... semi regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it... Dean teased out in me things I didn’t know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter, sharper, I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams.

We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest people we knew. And what’s the point of being together if you’re not the happiest. But Dean got lazy. He became someone I did not agree to marry. He actually expected me to love him unconditionally then he dragged me, penniless, to the naval of this great country and found himself a newer, younger, bouncier Cool Girl. You think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? No fucking way. He doesn’t get to win!

My cute, charming, salt of the earth Kansas guy. He needed to learn. Grown ups work for things. Grown ups pay. Grown ups suffer consequences.

#I'm proud of this actually... #enjoy #supernatural #destiel

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 17: Hurt/Comfort & Whump

the time has come | @elizaeverafter

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1068 Main Tags/Warnings: no archive warnings apply, non-graphic pet death, angst with a happy ending, hopeful ending, established relationship, married castiel/dean winchester, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: The second Dean walked into their home, he should’ve picked up on the fact that something was wrong. Looking back on it, it was so silent that it was suffocating. There was an unnatural stillness, like their house knew something bad had happened and was trying not to involve itself.

Beautiful | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1367 Main Tags/Warnings: human!cas, hurt/comfort, injured cas, first kiss Summary: “How long has he been sitting there?” Dean starts; he’d been watching Cas and hadn’t heard Sam behind him. “Five hours.” Dean practically spits out the words. “He won’t eat. He won’t move to a more comfortable chair. He won’t even take his damn pain pills. And he can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, I know what a broken collar bone feels like. He’s just so--” ***** In which Cas, now fully human for several months, has been injured, and Dean has to Use His Words to comfort his friend.

Teardrops For You | @envydean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1500 Main Tags/Warnings: Grief, Character Death, Established Relationship, Funerals, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean and Cas holding each other, Sadness, slight fluff, Angst, Car Accidents, Nightmares, Cuddling, Holding, Crying, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Summary: The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her.

Soup & Syrup | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: General Word Count: 1548 Main Tags/Warnings: best friends to lovers, getting together, sick Cas Summary: Cas started feeling sick two days ago, throat raw and hurting, every part of his body in pain as if he’ll burn up with fever any second. Then he had to cancel his and Dean's weekly study date in the library this afternoon, to stay home and take a quick nap that accidentally ended up four hours long and left him groggy and sweaty and weird. Dean has been sending him texts, five since he cancelled earlier, and as soon as Cas felt awake and present enough to respond, he called. This is where they are now, around 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He didn’t really stop to look at the clock before he called Dean, but — well. He was just hoping Dean would be awake, maybe out with friends. He was just hoping that maybe, maybe, Dean would come by and dote a little on him. Just because having his best friend around always makes him feel better. Not because he craves Dean’s presence, his palm on Cas’ forehead and his hands tucking him in beneath his blanket. Absolutely not.

The Admission | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1720 Main Tags/Warnings: season 13, all the feelings Summary: Castiel finds out Dean threatened to kill Jack. He also finds out how broken Dean was when he died. So, naturally, he confronts him about it. A sort of fix-it coda, in or after 13x06.

Knowing | @unexpecteddreamz

Rating: General Word Count: 2013 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Demon Dean Summary: Of all the things Castiel might have expected to see, this was the last... It might well be the last thing he ever sees! Castiel is ""Always willing to bleed for the Winchesters"". Sam doesn't know how to fix what is broken. Dean is having nightmares. How did everything go so wrong so fast?

The Snow's Captives | SargentMom573 (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2126 Main Tags/Warnings: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Sick Castiel, Caretaker Dean, Cabin Fic Summary: Dean was not going to make it alive down the mountain in a week’s time. Why? Because Cas was going to kill him, that’s why.

Skin Wars | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: General Word Count: 2319 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Artist!Dean, Model!Cas, body painting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas protecting Dean from himself, shy!Dean, introvert!dean, Baby, graffiti artist!charlie, artist!Balthazar, art critic!Crowley, TV host!Anna, Skin Wars AU Summary: Dean, a traditionally trained artist, is competing for $100,000 in the reality body painting TV show, Skin Wars. He’s lucky enough to get paired with a friend as his model, Cas, for a particularly personal challenge. Dean feels his painting isn’t up to snuff, but what will the judges think?

Take Me Home | @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2683 Main Tags/Warnings: Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Non-con/Rape outside of Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, TW: Mentions of Non-con/Rape Summary: “I want to go home.” Dean let out, in a strangled voice. “Of course -” Cas reached for Dean’s hand, prepared to fly them away. Dean pulled away his hand, and rested his head backwards, against the seat. It seemed impossibly long before he finally asked. Unsure, as if somehow he still felt like Castiel could deny him anything. “Could you drive?”

Cold Comfort | @noiproksa

Rating: General Word Count: 3232 Main Tags/Warnings: Sharing Body Heat, Hypothermia, Huddling for Warmth, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Banter Summary: Dean and Cas are trapped in a room with temperatures well below zero. When even sharing vessel heat doesn’t seem to help anymore, they need to do whatever it takes to keep each other alive. (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Exodus | @spnsmile

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3365 Main Tags/Warnings: Explicit, noncon, hurt/ comfort Summary: Endverse!Dean comes back alive. He comes back to the camp to find he was gone for almost a month and that Castiel now serves a different captain. Like hell Dean Winchester will let that happen.

save that light | @specsofwings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4779 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Assassin Dean Winchester, Human Castiel, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Whump, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Blasphemy/Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Crucifixion, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Angst With a Happy Ending, Trauma, Healthy Relationship, Hurt/Comfort Summary: He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive— Dean isn’t sure if it’s his brain, if he’s speaking aloud, if it’s Jody, next to him in the car, but he’s alive, Castiel is alive, and then there is darkness.

The Empty's Curse | @cloverhighfive

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5380 Main Tags/Warnings: major character death, angst, fluff Summary: Dean is dying and there is no getting out of it this time. After a round of goodbyes from friends, Castiel takes Dean on one last ride.

Shiver | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5714 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern with Magic, Witchcraft, Getting Back Together, Blizzards and Snowstorms, Car Accident, Snowed In, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, NSFW Summary: In desperate need of his journal to complete a spell, Dean braves a snowstorm to return to the cabin - and the man - left behind. Can a freak accident repair what's been damaged? Or will their lack of communication push Dean and Cas apart forever?

Six Feet Under Water | zaphodsgirl (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 7638 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: This story is inspired by the amazing art of dragonpressgraphics, accompanied by this prompt: "Can be canon or AU (though Canon preferred - see below why) where Cas almost drowns and either Dean witnessed it or rescues him - would love a fic where Cas then has to deal with fear of drowning afterwards - maybe Dean too has nightmares about Cas drowning because of the same experience (bonus if references are made to season 6/7 where Cas walked into the water because of the Leviathans). Loads of angst more than okay as long as story has happy ending"

This Path Is Paved With Kitty Litter | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8392 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Grieving Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Dean Winchester, Veterinary Assistant Dean, Deanna The Kitten, Explicit Sexual Content Summary: The man moved from cage to cage, petting each cat in turn. Dean could hear his sigh from where he was standing. Dean walked over to him. The guy looked up at Dean and again, his eyes made Dean’s knees weak. “Hey, guy, you spend a lot of time with these cats. You thinking about adopting one?” The look on the guy’s face went from sad to stricken. “Uh… n-no, I’m… I’m just looking at them.” The look made Dean’s chest hurt.

After the Fallout | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8832 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War, some body horror, Major Character Injuries, Nightmares, Mutants, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Angst, Conspiracy, top!dean, Bottom!Cas Summary: Its been years since the nuclear catastrophe that decimated the world. From the moment Dean Winchester stepped foot on the surface again, he’s been running from mutant creatures that want to kill him. When will it end?

I'm Thankful I get to Leave | @sheinthatfandom

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11079 Main Tags/Warnings: thanksgiving dinner, alternate universe- human, dysfunctional family, uncomfortable topics, red flags, emotional manipulation, emotional incest, homophobia, ableism, racism, bad parent mary, bad parent john, bobby used to be married to mary Summary: Screw you Columbus now we have to eat at Mary’s pretending to not be the Jerry Springer version of the Brady Bunch instead of getting ready for Christmas.

The Last Thing I Wanted | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11492 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Fantasy, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Whump, Prince!Dean, Concubine!Cas Summary: When Castiel is grievously wounded during an unsanctioned battle, it's all Prince Dean can do to make sure he lives the rest of his life comfortably. However, due to the archaic laws of Terra, Castiel is too lowborn to hold lands, deeds, or titles. What better way to solve an archaic problem than with a just-as-antiquated solution?

Healing an Angel | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12017 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Team Free Will, Wing Grooming, Aftermath of Torture Summary: Cas has been captured by shapeshifters who have been torturing him for weeks. The aftermath is not pretty, but Dean will do anything to get his angel through this and get him to trust them again. To make matters worse, the mastermind behind Cas’ capture is still alive. Will they be able to keep him from coming after Cas again?

Cloned to Perfection | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16298 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural),Dean Winchester,Sam Winchester,Bobby Singer,Charlie Bradbury,Cain (Supernatural),Alastair (Supernatural),John Winchester,Alternate Universe - Future,Marine Castiel (Supernatural),John Winchester Being an Asshole,Canon-Typical Violence,Human Experimentation,Government Experimentation,Genetic Engineering,Clones,Gun Violence,Shooting Guns,Fugitives,Hacking,Government Conspiracy,Blow Jobs,Come Swallowing,Interrogation,Truth Serum,Needles,Brief Mentions of Torture (Not TFW),Alternate Universe - No Monsters,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time,Hand Jobs,Angst with a Happy Ending,Happy Ending,Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer,Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle,Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Summary: For thirty years, Dean’s been in the dark about a bombshell of a family secret. When an AWOL soldier shows up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, he’s shoved into a world he had no idea existed. He never asked to be cloned. He never asked to have his genome edited to make him a super-soldier. He didn’t even know. Now his fate rests in the hands of a ragtag group—Castiel, the AWOL soldier sent as a warning by Sam and Dean’s father; Charlie, an ingenious hacker and Dean’s best friend; and his brother Sam, who’s also being chased by the government for the same reason. Can they pull the rug out from under the military general who’s after their father’s research, or will Sam and Dean be doomed to live the remainder of their lives being experimented on by the military?

He Can't Sleep | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 18970 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Domestic, Case Fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Summary: He’s done soaping up Cas’ hair. He grabs the sponge at his side and starts to scrub at Cas’ skin, up along his arms, his neck, down his chest. When he runs it up his legs, to his thighs, Cas shudders and then there’s a hand cupping Dean’s cheek, cold and dripping water and soap, and Dean falters, looks at him for the first time. “Will you sleep with me?” Cas says. “Tonight?” Dean swallows. He says yes.

One Last Time | @confusedcasishere

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27370 Main Tags/Warnings: Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dom/Sub, Dom Castiel/ Sub Dean Winchester, Lawyer Castiel, Top Castiel/ Bottom Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot Summary: After some convincing, Castiel agrees to try out a sex club. He’s nervous and looking for any excuse to back out, until he stumbles across a photo of a beautiful sub with captivating green eyes. Cas has to have him.

Highway to Hell (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Mature Word Count: 31551 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Gabriel Has a Crush on Sam Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester/Omega Gabriel, Alpha Balthazar/Omega Crowley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Dean's life hasn't been great, Biker Castiel, Biker Sam Winchester Summary: Castiel, who shares leadership of the Hells Angels biker gang with his two older alpha brothers, finds out that a rival gang has been encroaching on their territory. During a tense meeting with the Devil's Blood gang in Lawrence, KS, he becomes the owner of a scared, broken young omega named Dean. Having forgotten how to speak after a decade under Azazel's cruel ownership, can the young omega learn to trust his new family, and maybe reconnect with the one he lost?

I Choose You (WIP) | @baby-in-a-trenchcoat7

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 43284 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Destiel, Slight Smut, High School Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: High School AU. Castiel Novak has a dirty dream about the captain of the baseball team, Dean Winchester. Dean has a dirty dream about the nerdy Novak boy who hangs around the art room a lot. Castiel becomes Dean’s tutor, and the two soon learn that keeping their relationship platonic is harder than they thought. As their relationship develops, the two have to fight to overcome their problems while doing everything they can to stay together. Rated Explicit for sexual scenes.

Emergence | @ellis-park

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 58862 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon fic, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, amnesia, graphic depictions of violence Summary: Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there. A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

Forbidden Fruit (WIP) | @amyoatmeal

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 95427 Main Tags/Warnings: professor student au, stripper au, age difference, top!castiel/bottom!dean, unrequited castiel/balthazar, unrequited dean winchester/aaron bass, dean winchester & charlie bradbury, threats of noncon/sexual abuse, threats of violence, mentions of past trauma/abuse, angst Summary: Castiel Novak is a respectable, if not a little boring professor at his university. He lives a comfortable, financially stable life with his cat in his modestly-sized apartment. It would appear he has everything he needs, including an over-eager friend and colleague, but when fate tempts him with a seemingly familiar new student by the name of Dean Winchester, Castiel's comfortable life threatens to get turned on its head and things start to get a little juicy.

Stay With Me, Sweetheart | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 108710 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean/Cas, Dean/Lisa, Past Dean/Others, Past Cas/Others, Kid Fic, Serious Major Character Injury, Car Accident, PTSD/Panic Attacks, House Fires, Past Minor Canonical Character Death, Minor OC Death, Past Emotional Abuse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Referenced Top Dean/Bottom Cas, Explicit Top Cas/Bottom Dean Summary: “Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.” As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.” A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV. When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship. Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there?

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #destiel #hurt comfort #whump #day 17

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Nightmare In A Dream (Part 1)

Summary: Six months after reuniting with the Winchesters and her brother, things are going good for the reader. She and Dean are happily together and occasionally stay with her brother, Matty, and Sam, who has been getting him used to normal life. Life appears to be heading in a good direction when the past has a way of creeping up again and dropping a bombshell on them all...

Pairing: Serial Killer!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Square: AU!Dean

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: mature (language, angst, death/murder, drugging/kidnapping, family drama)

A/N #1: This is a spin off of A Dream In A Nightmare and takes place ~6 months later. It’s recommended that fic is read prior to this one...

A/N #2: Written for @spndeanbingo​

_____

“Good morning,” said Matty as you came downstairs with Dean. You’d taken to staying over the vacation house Matty and Sam were permanently staying at over the weekends and a couple times during the week, even if Dean had to make the drive back home for work. “I made breakfast.”

“Thanks, Matty,” you said, heading for the fridge to get out some orange juice for the three of you.

“Smells good. Sammy’s really been doing a good job teaching you how to cook,” said Dean.

“He’s really good at it. He’s super smart at like, everything,” said Matty, dishing the food onto plates. Dean sat down at the kitchen table, Matty quiet before he brought the food over and took a seat himself. He glanced at the front door and you saw the worried look on his face.

“He’s just out on his run. He’ll be home soon I’m sure,” said Dean. Matty nodded and you brought over the drinks, starting to eat your meal. Dean picked out a piece of eggshell and pushed it to the side, Matty staying tense for the rest of breakfast.

“I’ll cleanup,” he said when you finished, your plate gone before you could blink.

“Matt,” said Dean. He swallowed from where he stood at the sink, glancing over at the table. “You can stick ‘em in the dishwasher. It’s why we have it,” he said.

“Oh. right,” he said.

“Breakfast was great,” said Dean. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Of course,” he said. Dean sighed and leaned over to you.

“I don’t think we should do this today,” he whispered.

“He needs the push,” you said quietly.

“He’s already upset about the eggs,” mumbled Dean.

“He needs to learn that part of life is being uncomfortable,” you said, smiling when Matty came back to get the glasses. 

“He was kidnapped for a good portion of his life. I don’t want to scare him,” said Dean.

“Neither do I. Sam’s gonna be a little late and that’s that. He needs to be his own person,” you whispered.

“Guys,” said Matty as he shut the dishwasher. “You realize I can hear everything you’re saying.”

You and Dean shared a look, Matty walking back over with crossed arms.

“My hearing is pretty good. I can’t exactly unlearn that skill,” he said. “I know I still get scared about stuff I shouldn’t, like accidentally leaving egg shell on a plate, but please don’t play games with me. I can function without Sam or you guys here. I know I’m not exactly normal like you guys but I’m doing my best.”

“Okay. We uh, we were going to have Sam come home an hour later than he normally would to see how you’d react,” you said, your brother pouting. “You’re doing so amazing with everything, Matty. But people are late sometimes and we wanted to see how you’d react.”

“We can’t use the kid gloves forever. It’s not fair to you,” said Dean, giving him a nod. “But we can be upfront about trying those things in the future.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” he said. “I’m not a kid. I might be a little behind for my age and I don’t understand some things but I’m 21 years old. Please treat me like an adult.”

“Alright,” you said. “You can’t blame us for wanting to give you some of your childhood back though.”

“Yeah but who in this house had a childhood? We all had shitty versions of it. Sometimes I feel like I was the lucky one out of us four if I’m being honest,” he said. “If you want to get me out of my comfort zone, alright. I’m willing to try too. Just don’t lie to me about it.”

“I think we can agree to that,” said Dean. You hummed and forced a smile.

“You guys cool if I go take a hike in the woods this morning?” he asked.

“Yeah. We have to run back into town, do a few things around the house,” said Dean. “We’ll be back for dinner?”

“Sounds good,” he said. Twenty minutes later you were dressed and in the car, Matty walking into his usual spot in the woods around the house.

“You think he has a point? That we’re all fucked up?” you asked, Dean pulling out of the driveway.

“Probably. I’m a serial killer after all,” he said. 

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe we’re the ones that need to be watched and not him.”

“He didn’t say that and while none of us has had great lives, we had freedom. Matty didn’t but he’s never killed anyone either. We all got shit to deal with. He needs more help right now is all,” said Dean. He reached over and held your hand, getting a small smile out of you. “We don’t have to do this today.”

“I haven’t killed anyone since Lewis. I’m nervous,” you said. “Even if this guy deserves it.”

“He’s a bad guy. He’s a monster. We kill the bad guys. James Smith deserves to go. He needs to go,” said Dean.

“I know.”

“If you don’t want to do this, it’s okay. I can handle it on my own,” said Dean. “I’m the one that likes it. You’ve always been forced. It’s different.”

“You don’t enjoy killing. You enjoy protecting people. That’s the part you like,” you said. He didn’t say anything as he continued to drive. “You were forced too.”

“I pushed a guy in high school and accidentally killed him. That girl? She thanked me for stopping him. No one forced me to go out and find other bastards to get rid of. That was all me. That’s not normal.”

“I disagree,” you said. He laughed and you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Who on earth forced me to kill any one of those people? Who?”

“Lewis.”

“Lewis forced you. You had no choice. You had no choice because of me. I-”

“A psycho became obsessed with you when you were a kid. Was that your fault? Was it?” you asked. He was quiet and pulled over on the side of the road. “Was it?”

“No. But the choices I made, that my family was forced to make, that got your parents killed and your brother killed and your other brother lived in a hole in the ground for a decade because I didn’t let him have me. If I had, Sam and my dad could have come out of hiding. Those things? Those are on me. Killing? That’s on me. I killed the people I could find, the ones I could go after because Lewis? He scared the shit out of me. He still fucking does. The only thing I was forced into was ruining your life,” he said. “You’re not going after James Smith today. You’re not killing anymore if you don’t want it. I’m fucked up. Not you.”

“I don’t think either one of us should be doing anything today besides going home to the house and taking a quiet day for ourselves,” you said.

“You’re right. I’m not focused. We’ll hold off on it,” he said with a sigh.

“Can we talk about what you just said at least?” you asked.

“What’s to talk about?”

“Us and Sam and even your dad when he drops by, we have all been focused on getting Matty healthy and okay. I know he’s far from perfect but he’s getting there. My brother probably isn’t going to have a normal life. He knows it and we know it. It’ll be quiet and probably a little lonely but he’ll be safe. We need to take a day to talk about you.”

“Talk about what?” he said. You stared at him and he gave it right back, throwing up his hands. “No really, what? I want to know.”

“Maybe...maybe we shouldn’t kill people at all anymore. It seems like it’s stressing you out,” you said.

“Did you literally hear the words that just came out of your mouth? Seriously?”

“All I want is for you to be happy and lately you’re on edge. I don’t think you ever sat down and dealt with what Lewis did to you and you need to.”

“Are you my fucking shrink now?” he said, scoffing before he was back on the road. “If you have shit you’re going through, that’s fine. Don’t project it onto me or some crap.”

“What is your problem?” you said. “I want you to be okay. That’s it.”

“I am okay. Problem solved.”

“Don’t fucking go back to treating me like I’m some kind of prodigy or something.”

“Oh, you mean the time you were working for Lewis to fuck me over?” he said. 

“Fuck you. Stop the fucking car,” you said. He quickly pulled over again and you got out, the other door opening behind you. “I’m walking back so you can go on and fuck off.”

“Y/N,” said Dean. You didn’t look back, a hand on your arm quickly, Dean stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry. I’m fucked up. I’m more fucked up than Matty ever could be. I don’t...I don’t want you to love me. It’s why I’ve been pushing your buttons lately. You can have the house with Matty and Sam. Or the one back home. I don’t care. Just keep it. Just stay away from me. You’re better off without me.”

“What are you still scared of?” you asked. You spun around, Dean looking past you with a quick glance down. “What?”

“I think Lewis is back,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

“Dean, I killed him. I saw him bleed out.”

“You thought you killed him before you passed out,” said Dean.

“The police have the body. He died. They buried a body,” you said.

“I know they did. I dug it up a week ago with my dad,” he said with a sad smile.

“Dean. Who was buried?” you asked. He shut his eyes and you put your hands on your head. “No, no, no. No, he’s dead. No, please no.”

“It was a different guy. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up and then yesterday at work I got a strange phone call, just a little humming before it hung up. I got one from a different number a week ago too which is what prompted us to check the body. I think they know that we know. James Smith...I think Lewis had another backup plan and this guy was it. He’s around our age from the profile we did so it makes sense. I think there were always two plans and I think James Smith helped Lewis survive and recover. Or if Lewis didn’t make it, James is intent on coming back for me revenge. It’s why I want to get rid of him and yesterday.”

“This is going to sound like a horrible thing to even say,” you said, running your hand over your face. You glanced over to Dean and saw him shake his head. “I know it must have crossed your mind too.”

“Matty is not James Smith,” said Dean. “I triple checked the timelines. Matty was with Sam the whole time they were stuck in the cellar and once they got out. He never left his side. There’s no way it was him who helped Lewis.”

“What if he still fucked with my little brother’s head?” you asked. “He was there for ten years. Ten fucking years and we all always thought it was a little weird he wasn’t a shriveling mess.”

“You’re about to get really mad at me,” said Dean.

“For what?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and you saw it was on speakerphone.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Matty from the other end.

“What is going on?” you asked.

“Dean told me about his suspicions with Lewis. He and Sam questioned me about it earlier this week. Every so often, I thought maybe there was another person there. I never saw them. I always thought it was you which is why I never said anything. But I learned more about where you were at certain times and it couldn’t have been you. The guys wanted to make sure I wasn’t pretending. I don’t blame them for that. It got kind of intense which is the real reason I was timid this morning. They freaked me out some but I’m okay. I know they’re on my side.”

“Why the Hell didn’t you guys tell me about this?”

“It was my decision,” said Dean. He leaned back against the car and closed his eyes. “You’ve always been the protector. I wanted to take care of you for once. I wanted you to not know he was back.”

“We are going back to the vacation house. Now,” you said. “Matty, I want you back from your hike and tell Sam to get there wherever the hell he is.”

“I’ll see you guys in a few,” said Matty before he hung up. You threw up your hands, Dean not bothering to look at you.

“Never keep me in the dark again,” you said. He nodded and headed back into the car. “Dean.”

“I understand. I’m sorry.”

“I know why you did it but this is too big. Let’s get back and pronto.”

Half an hour later you were sitting on the couch, Sam coming downstairs after his shower. There was a knock at the door and it opened, Dean standing up and giving a nod down the hall. John stepped inside and headed straight for the kitchen, cracking open a beer from the fridge.

“It’s ten in the morning,” you said. He chugged it down and gave you a bitchface. “Oh I am not in the mood today, John. Don’t even start your shit.”

“Start my shit? Kid, I don’t care what my boys think about you. I still don’t trust you and I never will.”

“I saved their lives.”

“After handing them over to that scumbag. You’re no saint. I know where your priorities lie. Dean’s judgement is too clouded to see it but I-”

“Enough,” said Dean, shooting his father a dirty look. “You two don’t get along and that is fine. But we’re all on the same side. We need to figure out what our next move is. Together.”

“I told you to keep her in the dark,” said John.

“You got some trust issues there, John?” you shot back. He walked over to you and leaned down into your face.

“You threw my boys to the wolves for your brother. I know where your loyalty is and it’s not with them. It’s with him,” said John. Behind him you saw Matty gripping the pillow in his lap, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“You’re upsetting, Matty. I won’t apologize for protecting my brother. I’ve already talked about what I did with Dean and Sam and it’s their forgiveness to give, not yours,” you said.

“You will do anything for your brother. If you betrayed us once for him, who’s to say what you wouldn’t do for him now?” said John.

“Dad. That’s enough,” said Dean. 

“She and that fucked up brother of hers are working for Lewis or this James Smith guy. Even if they aren’t, they will. She’ll pick him over us in heartbeat. I’m not throwing away everything, all of the sacrifices we’ve made as a family, for people that are going to betray us,” said John. He walked around the coffee table and grabbed Matty’s arm, pulling a zip tie out of his coat pocket.

“What the fuck is your problem?” said Sam, pushing John away. You were out of your seat, Dean pushing Matty back towards you.

“Keep them secured until we deal with Smith and potentially Lewis. When they’re dealt with, those two can be on their merry way,” said John. 

“No one is doing that,” said Dean, turning to face your brother. He was behind you, clinging to your shirt like his life depended on it. “Matty. Look at me. No one’s doing anything to you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. You grabbed his hand and he squeezed it far too tight. “I don’t…”

“Come on, Matty,” said Sam, giving him a soft friendly smile. “Let’s go take a hike. You didn’t get to take it this morning really.”

“I don’t…” he said, Sam smiling before Matty nodded. 

“Sammy, you need to-”

“Fuck off,” said Sam back at his father. Sam took Matty’s hand and quickly went out the back deck with him, the pair crossing the yard and into the woods.

“How the Hell can your brother think that-” said John before Dean grabbed him and shoved him against the closest wall.

“Do you have any idea what you just did to that poor fucking kid? He’s been getting better. It’s been three months since he’s been that scared. Even when Sammy and me questioned him he was still okay. This place is supposed to be safe for him and you had to go and fuck that up. That could have been Sam. It could have been me. His life got fucked up because of the Winchesters. You threaten him or Y/N ever again and I’ll add you to my fucking hit list,” said Dean.

“The only reason that kid made it this far is because he fell in line with Lewis.”

“The only reason he made it this far was because of her,” said Dean, pointing over to you. “You think we had a fucked up life? Try listening to hers. In case you forgot, she saved Sam and me. She risked her brother’s life for us. She tells me that Lewis made me this way, that none of it was my fault. That what I turned into isn’t my fault. That I should take the day off so we can focus on me, help me deal with the jacked up shit in my head. She’s a fucking saint I don’t deserve. None of us do. If you can’t respect her or Matthew, if you can’t protect them the way they protect us, then you can get out and never come back. Sammy and me don’t need any more angry men trying to control our lives anymore.”

“You need to grow up!” shouted John. Dean took a step back and John shook him off. “All I have ever done is protect you and Sam. All I-”

“I told you that Lewis was watching me. I was a kid and he scared me. He hurt me. He hurt you and Sam and mom. My mother is dead because you couldn’t stop him. Sam had his life destroyed because you couldn’t stop him. I don’t know how to be normal because of you. You couldn’t even protect me after the fact. I lost friends, people I cared about, because you couldn’t stop that monster. I’ve spent my life alone. I can’t be alone again. I won’t,” said Dean. 

“Fine. I’ll handle it myself,” said John. He started to head down the hall when he paused. “I’ve never been perfect but I kept you both alive. If you want me gone from your life, fine. I’m gone.”

“Dad,” said Dean, John getting out of there quickly. “Dad.”

John walked straight over to his truck and got inside, Dean barely getting to the driveway before he was out on the road.

“Dad!” yelled Dean but John was already driving off. You waited on the front porch, Dean standing there for beat before you went over to him. “Why doesn’t he want me?”

“He’s scared for you and Sam. It was a fight. It’ll be ok-”

“He always leaves me alone,” said Dean quietly. “I don’t think he even likes me. I think he pretends for Sam.”

“Dean-”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m too old for this anyways. I’m going to make up a sandwich for Matty for later. He likes those on bad days,” said Dean as he headed for inside.

“I don’t get along with your dad, Dean. But if I was in his shoes, I’d probably be wary of us too.”

“Half hour ago you were pissed at me for keeping the truth from you and now you’re trying to make me feel better? Why?”

“Because I know you did that so I wouldn’t be scared and your dad, despite how he goes about it, was trying to do the same thing for you and Sam.”

“I’m sorry about earlier and Matty. I think it might be better if I go back home and try finding out more there,” he said. You took a deep breath as he went inside and threw your head back.

“Somebody up there please keep an eye on him for me today.”

Four Hours Later

“Hey, Matty,” you said, knocking on the door to his room. You peeked your head inside the master and saw him on bed watching TV, Sam looking at something on his computer. “I brought up some cookies I made.”

“Thanks,” he said. You put the plate down on the nightstand as Matty tucked his legs up under himself. You sat on the edge of the bed, Sam looking over the top of his screen at you. “I’m okay. I don’t need two babysitters.”

“I’m sorry about John,” you said.

“Matty was okay once we got outside,” said Sam. 

“I’m better now. I just really don’t want to ever wear a pair of those zip things ever again,” he said. You nodded and he took a cookie off the plate, his sleeve riding up to show a few scars on his skin. “Y/N?”

“Sam? Can I ask you and Matty to do me a favor?”

“What’s up?” asked Sam.

“Dean owns this house. It’s in his name. There’s a possibility Lewis knows about it. Or Smith does. Can you take my brother somewhere safe while we deal with this?”

“Y/N. You-”

“Matthew,” you said, watching him swallow. “You are never being hurt like that again. Sam will keep you safe. I know you trust him to do that for you.”

“Yeah. I do. But if someone is out there, if there’s two guys out there, you need all the help you can get. I know enough to know what I need to do if I start having a panic attack. I will go somewhere with Sam but then he’s gotta head back to help. I can cook for myself. I can be alone and not freak out. You need Sam more than I do,” he said.

“Matty, I’m not comfortable leaving you-”

“I spent most of the past ten years alone. I can survive on my own for a while,” he said.

“He has a point, Y/N, and Matty’s capable of handling himself. I’ve taught him a few things asides from schoolwork and cooking. He knows how to shoot and throw a few punches,” said Sam.

“Alright. But I want him someplace he can move if he needs to and get help, get around other people,” you said.

“I’m not supposed to go out in public yet,” he said.

“You may be forced to if something went wrong. Are you okay with that?” you asked. He nodded and you took a deep breath. “Sam, did you pick up the other thing yet?”

“I’m supposed to this afternoon,” said Sam.

“Get it on the way,” you said. “It’ll be good company for him.”

“Company?” asked Matty.

“We got you a dog. A german shepherd. She’s been away at training. Us three thought you might like her. She’s some responsibility for you and some comfort. She can protect you in a worst scenario too,” you said. “It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I always wanted a German Shepard.”

“I know. You were supposed to get one that year for your birthday before everything…” you said. You shut your eyes and sighed. “Matty, I’m-“

“Don’t say sorry. You didn’t pick this,” he said. “I’ll be okay. I promise. You guys go get Dean and figure it out. Please.”

“Okay,” you said.

“If you see John...tell him I’m not mad. He got scared too. I know a thing or two about that,” he said. 

“We will,” said Sam. He looked over at you and gave you a smile. “I’ll go start packing the car. I have a safehouse up North a bit I think’ll be good. Nice little cabin, perfect yard for Maggie.”

“Do me a favor, Sam, and spend the night with him?” you asked.

“Of course. I’ll come and meet up once Matty’s all settled in,” he said.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said before he left the room. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’m sure. Does my dog have a name?” he asked.

“Maggie. She’s sweet,” you said. “You’re gonna have to feed her and clean up after her and take care of her though.”

“I got it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll lay low. You be careful too. Don’t fall for any of his tricks.”

“I won’t. I’m gonna see you in a few days. Maybe we can take Maggie with us and go to the beach or something,” you said.

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Alright. Sounds like a plan then,” you said. You gave him a hug, Matty returning it with a tight one of his own. 

“Thanks for protecting me again,” he said quietly. 

“Always. I’m going to pack up the rest of the cookies for you to bring with you, okay?” you said.

“I know you’re scared too,” he said. “Promise you’re gonna come back.”

“I promise, Matty. A few days from now this’ll all be over.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spndeanbingo #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #serial killer!dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean reader insert #dean x #dean winchester x you #au

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Secrets We Keep - Part One

A/N: This one just sort of came about tonight so I’m making it up as I go as opposed to my usual outline methods.  

Summary: You met the Winchester’s a little less than a year ago when they came to town for a case.  You’d had one or two moments of, shall we say, closeness with the youngest Winchester, and more than your fair share of arguments, too.  But this time may just be different. 

Part One

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Her expression of disgust and disbelief stared wildly at me.  Eyes wide and her mouth just slightly agape.

 “No,” my voice remained confident and unfazed. “I’m not. But you are if you think I’m going to leave you here. You need to go.”

 “Go? This is my home!” the woman was shouting at me.

  “Yes, it is.  Your home. The home that you invited me to and begged me to save you from.”  I attempted and failed to keep my volume in check, but all I wanted to do was shake the stubborn and ignorant woman in front of me until she understood the danger she was in.

 I took a deep breath and steadied myself, pressing my right hand to my forehead and squeezing the bridge of my nose gently.  “Look,” I began, my voice more even keeled and calm. “I can help you.  But I need you to leave.  Get your family and go out. Just for the night.  I know what I’m doing but I can’t do it with you here. It’s too dangerous.”  

Her blank stare was all that answered me.  “Listen Karly, you called me for a reason, yeah?”  She nodded her head.  “Trust me,” I said, enunciating the words.  My hands were pressed together as if joined in prayer and I bent my arms to point my fingertips at her.  Her rapid blinking told me the words weren’t getting through to her.  “Great, come on.” I grabbed her arm and began walking her down the sidewalk.  

We had been standing on her front porch arguing for what seemed like forever but in reality, only amounted to about ten minutes.  She had called me three days prior, asking for help.  Her house had become a nightmare.  She’d always heard footsteps in the house when she was the only one home. Small things would be missing from the places that she’d put them.  But lately, the events had turned hostile.  Her and her husband had a newborn baby girl and almost as soon as they brought her home, things started going more than wrong.  They heard not only footsteps, but malicious voices over their baby monitor.  They’d done their best to ignore them and convince themselves it was impossible, but then the baby started waking up screaming, covered in bleeding scratches that she couldn’t have given herself.  Enter me.  

Karly was in shock. That I knew.  But shock I could deal with.  Willful ignorance was another story.  We stepped up to the front door of her SUV.  I shoved her into the passenger seat and even went so far as to buckle her seatbelt for her.  “Stay. Here.” I told her, pointedly.

Running in the front door and propping it open, I yelled her husband’s name.  “Greg! Time to go!” He had been the levelheaded one.  The more accepting of the two of them when confronted with the truth.  Ghosts were real. Poltergeists were real.  And there were people like me who went around the world taking care of them.

Greg walked towards the front door; the baby wrapped in his arms.  “Where’s Karly?”

“She’s already in the car. Get your family and get out of here.  I’ll let you know when it’s safe.” Their diaper bag was already packed and slung over his shoulder. “Way to be a boy scout.”  

I listened as I heard Greg turn the engine over and pull out of the driveway.  Almost instantly, the front door slammed in front of me, and it was clear that it wouldn’t be opening again until the job was done.  

I bolted for the basement door.  It had been locked tight and it took all my strength to pry it open at the cost of a few chunks of the wood surrounding the locking mechanism courtesy of a few well-aimed salt-filled bullets. I made it down three or four of the steps before being slammed against the unfinished and crumbling brick wall at the end of the stairs.

“Oh, dick move, Casper.” I struggled to pull myself back to standing, noting the more than slight twinge of pain coursing through my shoulder.

A grey figure appeared just a few feet in front of me.  A young boy, maybe ten-years old, with rage in his hollow eyes. “You don’t belong here,” his raspy voice said accusatorily.  Black blood, old and ghostly, flowed from his mouth, trickling down his chin and dripping down, staining his translucent shirt.  He held his hands up to me, pushing me back against the wall again.  

“You don’t belong here!” He was screaming now with his hands grasping at the air, moving closer towards me. His nails were broken, and his fingers dripped with more ghastly blood. The eerie skin that covered him was bruised and broken in more places than not.  I managed to reach my hand into my pocket, firmly grasping the ring of solid iron held within it.  I tossed it towards him and watched as he faded away and the force holding me up relented.  

I knew the boy’s story. He had lived in the house long before Karly and Greg moved in.  Abusive parents, gross neglect, and a lifetime spent living in the basement, clawing at the locked cellar door, before starving to death beneath the stairs. His body had been cremated, but he still haunted the home getting angrier and angrier with each passing day.

I ran to the cellar door that I knew lead to the backyard.  Still locked as it always had been for him; both in life and death. “Come on, come on,” I pleaded, searching the door and its frame for any sign of remains. It had been painted multiple times, but there were still deep scratches in the wood.  There had to be something there.  I could feel him pulling his energy back together as the room turned cold and my breath started coming out as a fog.

There wasn’t much time. And what little I had was running out quickly.  “Screw it.” I pulled my Zippo lighter out of my inside breast pocket and held it up against the door.  The paint quickly sizzled away, and the wood took to the flame almost immediately. The gun, still tucked into the back of my jeans, had half a mag left and each round was chalk full of rock salt.  I opened fire at the door and watched as it burned away.  The tell-tale screeching behind me was almost deafening but it reassured me that my hunch was right.  The ghost boy was fading away.  

My legs turned to jelly below me and I quickly fell to my knees, breathing deeply and allowing the fear to overtake me as I always did. Each job ended the same way for me.  The fear and stress, suppressed up until the job was done, took over.  And I allowed it.  For a minute or two, never longer.  I breathed, covering my face with my hands, until the putrescent smell of burning wood, paint, and human fingernails overwhelmed my nose.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to focus and collect myself once more before lifting my eyes to the cellar door on flambe. “Oh shit!” I yelled, quickly getting to my feet as I rushed to put the growing flames out.  The door was almost entirely turned to ash and the flames were quickly spreading to the brick surrounding it.  

I burst through the burning embers and ran for the side of the house for the garden hose, making quick work of putting out the blaze.

The cell phone in my pocket vibrated and I pressed the green answer button before holding it up to my ear. “Yeah?” I asked, breathlessly.

“Hey,” the familiar voice crooned at me.  “Been a long time.”

“Uh huh,” I answered, realizing who it was.

“Look, uh…” He hesitated. “Sammy and I are coming into town.  Thought we’d stop by if you’re around.”  I knew what that meant.  

“That’d be great, Dean. I’m a little busy tonight.  When do you get in?”

“Tomorrow.  Round noonish.  I know he’d love to see you.”  I smiled silently.  

“Dean, does he even know you’re making this call?”  It was his turn to be silent. I rolled my eyes.  “I’ve got to finish up with some work quick.  But I’ll be around tomorrow.  Stop by whenever.”

“You got it, sweetheart. See you then.”  I hung up the phone and shoved it into my pocket.

“Great,” I said out loud, to nobody but myself. Dean and Sam had breezed through my hometown a year or so ago.  They’d introduced themselves as FBI agents, but that façade quickly lost traction when I watched them shoot the local MD with silver bullets as his bright green eyes and sudden large jagged teeth murderously leapt towards me.

“Back to normal.”  

I sent a text off to Karly letting her know her home was safe again, if only slightly damaged.  I’d seen and done much worse for a case. I had a five-hour drive ahead of me to make it home before Sam and Dean got there. And a lot of lore, newspaper clippings, and weapons to hide before Sam and Dean arrived.  Keeping my night job a secret was becoming more than a full-time job.

Part 2

Tagging from previous like-age:

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[cassiecasyl]

how the most dangerous thing is to love

prompts used:

Suptober Day 22: I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so Whumptober Day 7: I’ve got you + Alt 10: Nightmares Poem Prompt: “I would know him by touch alone, by smell. I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the Earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.” - "The Song of Achilles" by Madeline Miller

warnings: temporary character death title take from Achilles, Come Down by Gangs Of Youth

Read on Ao3.

✯

in death is where we met so death can’t do us part you were damned in debt way down hell’s town at the start

but in touch we were found corrupted & lost, fallen in love heavenly cursed & profoundly bound angelic faith & human weakness, twelve years of star-crossed allegiance 

✯

“Kill him, Castiel,” Naomi’s as it echoed through his mind, joined then by Hannah’s, and it tasted like betrayal. The answer was a quick defiance, something he didn’t even have to think about. Never. 

“I will not hurt Dean Winchester,” he stated proudly, narrowing his eyes at the angel in front him. She sighed exasperatedly, disappointed like a parent in their child. Castiel blinked. Something seemed off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“I thought I’d fixed you,” she spouted, bashfully. It was the feeling of falling, Cas then realized, the fear and uncertainty he felt when he truly fell from heaven that he now experienced. Rejection. 

Pain snuck into his body, bruises and cuts were painted on him, one by one, by invisible hands. The scenery was broken and shifted to something else. Castiel was laying in an old church now, so different from the clinical whiteness of Naomi’s office. “I will cure you of your human weakness,” Ishim promised, so sure of himself that this was the right thing to do. 

“No,” he weakly defended, but it only earned laughs.

Ishim stepped away, revealing an equally beaten up Dean. Their eyes met, and next to fear was a promise. We’ll get out of this. It was something he admired humans for: their devoted belief that everything would turn out fine. It was even found in humans like Dean, who had been through apocalypse after apocalypse. It was humanity’s unstoppable determination. 

Ishim tsked and shook his head at their wordless conversation. Then, he walked forward and grabbed Dean’s by his hair. With one swift motion, his blade slit Dean’s throat open, and Castiel felt like he was pulled away, down under, into hell. His hope was bleeding out, dying, and he had to return where he did not belong to. Not anymore. 

With a startled gasp, he awoke. Warm arms stalked around him, pulling him into a hug. “Nightmare?” Dean asked, wide awake yet sleep in his voice. Castiel only nodded, searching and listening for the hunter’s steady heartbeat. It was the soundtrack that would calm him down. Dean was safe and alive, defying every threat thrown at them, always. Castiel had to believe that. 

The dream’s imagery faded, leaving only dull hurt in the angel’s gut. It was okay, though. Hearing the constant thumping of Dean’s heart, he could breathe. Its cold was defeated by the hunter’s body heat, into which Castiel readily melted. Here and now, he wasn’t Eurydice anymore, who looked at her lover's face in her doom, as his dream had suggested. He wasn’t Romeo anymore either, finding his love dead. Here, Castiel was safe. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Dean asked, suppressing a yawn. Castiel hummed, looking for the words in the fields of his mind, and if they wanted to come. 

“You are not a mistake,” he simply said, leaving Dean to his own assumptions. It was the only thing the doubt had infected, that hadn’t been washed away by warm cuddles yet. It was dark in the room, but their shared body heat underneath the blanket was all Cas needed to feel content. 

The memories still echoed through his mind, riddled with ideology he once assigned to. Dean could be a liability, Cas could agree to that, but he was more than willing to take that chance. In their eyes though, he was corruption, causing a respected angel to step out of line. It was rebellion, betrayal, and above all, human. 

Castiel smiled into Dean’s chest, pulling him closer. Here was where he belonged, it was plain as day to see. Heaven mourned the loss of a soldier, and the staging of their grand play, but Castiel would never dare to regret his decision. He felt the power their love brought, even underneath the disguise they tried to put it into. After all, if it truly was weakness, what had they to fear?

Tag List: @luciferstempest @nightmare-in-plaid @starrynightdeancas @gnbrules @aniridescentdreamer

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[yummypi314]

Having narrowly escaped Zachariah’s wrath, Castiel teleports Dean to an abandoned road. They are safe, for now. Relief washes over him, but under that feeling is a sense of unease. He is disobeying. What he is doing is wrong. But why? Why should he think that protecting Dean Winchester goes against God’s plan? Fighting to save the world, that’s an angel’s purpose. As Heaven’s shield, he swore to defend humanity. For now, that means stopping the Apocalypse, even if he must betray his brothers and sisters. His mind scrambles, trying to sort out what is right and what is wrong, Having never experienced doubt or uncertainty before, he is unsure of what he should do. But he has to make a choice because he has come to the point where he must decide on which path he should take. But the road ahead is unclear, the map long gone. He’s been lost for awhile now, ever since he pulled the righteous man from Hell.

“Perfect timing Cas.” Dean gives him a smile and with that smile, Castiel’s conviction returns. He is following Michael’s sword, this is his destiny.

“We had an appointment.” Castiel responses as he manages to cling to a glimmer of hope in the future.

Grabbing Castiel’s shoulder, Dean stares intently into Castiel’s eyes. “Never change.” Dean’s touch generates a rush of feelings, feelings Castiel doesn’t understand and can’t yet name.

But before Castiel can response, a sickening voice comes from Dean, “Always so naive.” Slowly, Dean’s features begin to change. His warm smile morphs into a sinister sneer. From inside his jacket, he withdraws an angel blade and plunges it into Castiel’s side. The pain sears through Castiel and grace oozes from his body. He lets out a loud wail of pain as he grabs at his open wound and collapses to the ground.

Dean cackles and his face transforms into Jimmy Novack, the same face Castiel has come to think of as his own. Jimmy's mouth spits the words, “Always so gullible, so willing to believe.”

The scene of the abandoned road fades away and is replaced with nothing. The memories come flooding back. Castiel is back, he is back in the Empty.

On the ground, which isn’t even really the ground, Castiel curls around himself in pain. Tentatively bringing a hand to his side, he feels the tear in his shirt where the blade pierced his body. He draws his hand away and see that he isn’t bleeding, even though he can still feel the dull pain. Surveying his clothes, he spots other tears and he remembers how each tear corresponds to other memories that have turned against him.

The Empty, still wearing Jimmy’s face, lays down next to him, and the Empty’s breathes out frosty air on Castiel’s skin. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut.

Unfazed, the Empty continues to cackle, “You would think you would have learned by now. Your life was never meant to be a love story. But no, you keep making the same mistakes over and over again. You just keep forgetting the lessons I want you to learn.” The Empty reaches out and lays a hand on Castiel’s cheek and the icy cold burns against his skin. "But don’t worry, I’m a very eager teacher, even if you aren’t a willing student.”

Images flash through Castiel’s mind. Memories infected with deceit and betrayal. It has been months, or years, or maybe an eternity since Castiel submitted to the Empty to save Dean and to save the world. Since then, he’s been subjected to his own personal form of torture. A manipulation of his memories until he doesn’t know what is real and what is fiction. But through it all, Castiel has clung to his faith in what he believes in and in who he believes in.

Castiel’s eyes open to blank out the false memories and now all he sees is the Empty’s face, mere inches from his own.

“Castiel,” The Empty spits out his name, drawing out each syllable. The Empty’s voice whispers, not needing to be raised due to the closeness and the silence. “You have become a thorn in my side. Not only did you wake me up. No, no, no, just when I was so close to finally getting some rest, your son had to make it so loud in here.”

The Empty winces, trying to block out noise that Castiel can’t hear.

The Empty speaks, “So many things, too many things, are now awake and I don’t know if they will ever go back to sleep.” With a quick, fluid motion, the Empty stands and picks Castiel up by the throat, “And for that, I am going to make you suffer, in ways you can’t imagine.”

#SPN #spn fanfic #spn fix it #spn fic #ao3 #AO3 fanfic #supernatural #post canon #post canon fix it #post season 15