#john winchester is trash | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sammysmaddy · 3 months

Text

Normal (Winchesters x Reader) - Part Seven

Summary: Growing up as the baby of the Winchester family led you to be constantly guarded. Soon enough, you start to learn what's normal between families and what's not.

Characters: Dean x Sister!Reader, mentions of John x Daughter!Reader + Sam x Sister!Reader

Warnings: incest, sistercest, angst, fluff, kissing, oral (fem. receiving), talk of manipulation

W/C: 3.3k+

A/N: Ouch! My heart hurts.

Normal Masterlist

Masterlist

"Where's Dad?" Was the first thing Dean heard when he woke up alone in his bed.

Dean squinted his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight that flooded the bedroom, and continued lying there. Dean did his best to mentally prepare himself for the day ahead of him.

"He left a note: Be back in a few days. Keep your sister safe and keep your brothers out of trouble," Y/N read aloud, sighing and tossing the piece of paper into the trash.

Sam nodded his head, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat at the table with Y/N.

"What time did you get home? I can see your under-eye bags," Sam teased and Y/N rolled her eyes, giving him an unappreciative smile.

"Probably around four. We got food," Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not feeling the need to go into further detail. "You were snoring so loud I had to cover my ears." She poked back and it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. "And your back was so sweaty you soaked my shirt."

"I think you mean my shirt and also, that bed is only meant for two people," Sam huffed out and she gave him a small smile. "Dude, you slept in so late," Sam commented when he looked over to see Dean sitting against the headboard.

Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes, his head pounding from the surplus of sleep that he wasn't used to. When he looked at Y/N, she gave him a soft smile.

"What time is it anyway?" Dean asked in a mumble.

Dean went to move the comforter off of his legs but stopped himself when he realized that his body had other ideas. Dean shifted uncomfortably, now fully aware that he had awoken half-hard in his boxers- normally something he could satiate, but both Sam and Y/N were already up and at it.

When Dean's eyes looked back up to see if anyone had noticed, hoping that nobody would, Y/N's eyes shied away and a blush arose on her face. Of course, she'd be the one to observe Dean's situation.

"It's almost noon," Y/N answered in a soft voice. "Why don't you get us lunch, Sam? I'm hungry." Y/N turned her head to look at Sam, who in return nodded, and then turned back to Dean.

Y/N gave Dean a wide smile and if Dean were more awake, he would have been able to discern the deviousness behind it.

The second that Sam made his way out of the motel, Dean stood up and began to make his way to the restroom. He hoped to situate himself with a cold shower.

"Where are you going?" Dean heard from behind him.

"To the bathroom," Dean knew he was being blunt but he was too sleepy to have this conversation with Y/N right then and there.

Before Dean could make it any further, Y/N grabbed his arm.

Dean sighed to himself, feeling guilty for the way his cock throbbed at her touch. But Dean was determined to set things straight and that meant not giving in to his desires.

"What?" Dean snapped as he turned around.

Dean watched as Y/N's eyes grew wide, surely she was shocked by his reaction. Dean took a deep breath, immediately regretting his tone.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Dean frowned, trying his best to un-tense his body.

"It's okay, Dean," Y/N gave him a small smile.

Dean watched Y/N's eyes as they traveled down. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he pressed his hand into his evergrowing boner, trying to conceal its presence.

"Why are you covering yourself?" Y/N asked, looking back up at Dean.

Dean battled himself internally. Though Y/N's question solidified his belief that she was just too naive to understand, his body wanted nothing more than to pick her up and fuck her until the next morning.

"Uh, I don't know," Dean wasn't sure what to say as his cock throbbed in his boxers. "I just didn't want you or Sammy to see, I guess."

Dean's body tensed harder than ever before as Y/N's eyes flickered up and down. It felt sick, but there was a part of Dean that was insanely turned on by her innocent nature.

"Dean, I can help," Y/N suggested quietly.

Dean's eyes screwed shut tightly as his body continued to react to his little sister. As he attempted to summon up the courage to reject Y/N's advances, her hand grabbed his wrist, removing his hold on his pulsing member.

"Y/N, I don't think-" Dean began to say but felt his throat constrict as Y/N placed her small hand on his growing cock.

Dean's neck craned as Y/N held him in her hand. He knew that he was near the point of no return and Y/N touching him like that would only lessen his chances of doing the right thing.

"Why are you so afraid?" Y/N frowned as she searched Dean's eyes.

Dean stayed silent as he examined Y/N's beauty, trying his best to gain the boldness to stop her from holding him in her hand.

"I don't want to overstep but you haven't stopped me, De. I've wanted you for so long and I just- you only seem to love me enough when you're drunk." Y/N said in a small voice.

It became blatantly obvious to Dean that his little sister wasn't just some sex-crazed girl who did things for her own pleasure.

Sexual favors were her sense of self-worth, it was how she showed those around her how much she loved them. Maybe she really believed that in order for someone to love her, she had to give them things.

"Love you enough?" Dean asked, his eyebrows furrowing as Y/N looked up at him with soft eyes and an innocent gaze.

It hurt Dean that Y/N could even suggest that he only loved her when he was drunk- that was far from the truth.

"Sweetheart, I love you more than anything," Dean replied honestly, using his large fingers to lift her chin up and swipe away one of her tears.

Dean's heart was breaking every second that passed and the last thing he wanted was for Y/N to be hurting.

"People you love, they're not always going to want to love you in that way." Dean tried to explain, hoping that she would understand.

More tears streamed down Y/N's face and Dean felt his heart race faster- Fuck.

"You don't want me?" Y/N asked him directly, her eyes becoming glossier and redder.

Dean hadn't thought through his plan well enough on how to tell her. He didn't know how to explain that everything she was feeling physically was natural and a beautiful thing- or whatever they said in the movies.

Dean also didn't know how to explain that it wasn't acceptable to feel those things for family, he wasn't even sure Y/N would understand if he did tell her. Especially if Dean didn't stop her before she went any further with him.

Then there came the thought of upsetting her further. Y/N always had a special place in Dean's heart, and it was killing him to see her so sad.

If she knew that what John had taught her was wrong, immoral even, Dean couldn't even begin to picture how she would feel. There was no one in the world that Y/N trusted more than John and her brothers, and Dean couldn't bear to think about how much it would break her heart if she ever learned that John was manipulating her to his benefit.

She'd be crushed and Dean didn't want to manage the repercussions that would follow- she'd never trust anyone again, maybe not even Sam.

She had no sense of people skills and an extremely vague understanding of right and wrong. John had always taught her that family comes first.

Nobody could ever blame her but Dean wasn't sure that Y/N would ever be able to recover from something as strange as this.

Dean had to make a decision- to tell her or not to tell her, and unfortunately, he had to make that decision within the next few seconds.

Ultimately, the only thing that mattered was Y/N, and Dean couldn't deny how happy she had been the past few months. Dean also couldn't deny how well his body reacted to her, how much he had thought about her in the past few years, and how much he was aching to kiss her swollen lips.

The truth was, nobody would get hurt if Y/N never knew how bad it really was.

"I do. I really do, Y/N," Dean admitted, in a quiet voice because he knew there was no going back.

Dean couldn't tell if he was feeling more guilty or relieved that he could finally let go, and he watched as Y/N stared into his eyes like she was searching for something.

"I'm just trying to help because I love you," Y/N said, raising her hand and tracing her fingertips over Dean's lower stomach.

Dean was the most aroused he had ever been in his life, but he wanted to do it right. That started with taking care of Y/N.

A flip had switched in Dean's mind.

Yes, Dean wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone in his life, and he wondered what her mouth would feel like, but he also wondered how often Sam and John would return favors.

By the looks of it, Y/N definitely seemed to be a giver- she hadn't come onto Dean in a way where she expected something for herself. Maybe, she didn't prefer it. Maybe, she had yet to experience it for herself.

If Dean was going to do this, he was going to make Y/N feel like she had wanted him to feel. He wanted to spoil Y/N like the princess she was and he wasn't going to settle for anything less, she needed to be loved too.

"Relax, sweetheart," Dean told her, gently grabbing her wrist and placing it at her side.

Concern flooded her eyes and she looked damn near ready to cry again. Before she could, Dean let go of her wrist and held her flushed cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb over her plump bottom lip.

He took a second to admire her face, watching and feeling how she leaned into his hand as if she gained some sort of comfort, and spent an extra few seconds looking at her rosy lips.

Dean felt like he was in high school again when he looked at her. He felt the butterflies in his stomach. It felt like Dean had been crushing on the hottest girl in the school for an eternity and that this was finally his opportunity to kiss her properly.

All of Dean's negative thoughts about everything seemed to wash away. Y/N wanted him and he wanted her, nothing could take this away from them.

Y/N sat there looking pretty as Dean's face lowered onto hers, his lips stopping half an inch away from hers. He felt her breath against his skin.

When Y/N tilted her head upwards, Dean expected her to be rough and needy, maybe she'd bite or her teeth would accidentally scrape against his- but exactly the opposite happened.

Y/N was gentle and her lips were softer than Dean imagined and when she began to slowly kiss him, Dean felt no hesitation to kiss her back. It was like she was in sync with what Dean was thinking, maybe she wanted to take it slow and savor it too.

Dean found himself becoming the needy one as their lips perfectly overlapped each other and he began to pick up the pace.

Dean felt Y/N relax into him as she brought her hands up and placed them softly on Dean's hips, rubbing small circles with her index fingers. He loved how perfect and natural it felt to kiss her, how she instantly knew just what he needed, and how good it felt after dreaming about it for so long.

•••

Dean was more nervous than he had ever been with a girl. He felt the need to have sex like he was still a virgin. Dean didn't know if he had ever really loved any girl that he had been with, and if he did, it didn't last long and it sure as hell wasn't as strong as the love he felt for Y/N.

Dean was also very aware that this wasn't something that he could ever come back from. Especially if John ever found out.

Dean could never leave the family business and he definitely couldn't leave Sam or Y/N, but he knew that if it continued after this, he wouldn't hesitate to call Y/N next time he ended up drunk and alone.

Dean justified this in his mind. He loved Y/N, more than any girl in the world, all he wanted was to care for her- and she was willing, even if she didn't know it wasn't socially acceptable.

Dean tried his best not to think about that. The selfish part of him wanted to get a piece of the pie before he spoiled the game, and he wanted to pleasure her so much that she would never want to stop no matter what.

Y/N laid across the bed, her ass barely on the mattress, and Dean began to kneel down on the floor. He remembered how much he had wanted to eat her out at that very first party, and licked his lips before wrapping his hands around her thighs and pulling her to the very edge of the bed.

Dean pushed Y/N's legs back so that her knees hit the comforter, allowing him full access to her already dripping heat.

It didn't take long for Dean to delve into her heat, eager to suck everything he could out of her. Dean felt his heart race, knowing how wrong it was but as soon as he tasted her, he knew he wanted to taste her every day for the rest of his life.

The combination of Y/N's hands running through his hair and the way it felt to dig his fingernails into her soft skin was nearly lethal. Dean took turns alternating between suckling and licking strips up her slit, making sure to pay close attention to her bundle of nerves.

Y/N's moans got louder and louder with each different motion of Dean's eager tongue, tugging on his hair and pulling him impossibly closer to her core.

By the time Y/N's legs were shaking underneath Dean's grip, he had let go of his hold on her and brought a finger up to her dripping hole.

Dean was surprised by how tightly his finger fit inside of Y/N, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind as her moans got louder. He loved the way she sounded under his influence and felt his erection growing more painful as he continued to be untouched, but that was the least of his worries.

Dean just wanted to make Y/N feel good. He needed her to cum for him.

Curling his finger upward, working in and out of her tight hole, Y/N arched her back with each swift movement. When Dean felt confident enough, Dean began working in another one of his fingers, loving the way that she gasped aloud and her breaths got heavier.

"Fuck, De, don't stop," Y/N practically begged and Dean began to make his movements faster, waiting patiently for her climax to hit.

When Y/N went silent for a few seconds and rolled her eyes to the back of her head, Dean began to suck on her sweet spot again. Dean knew she finally had her release when he tasted her sweetness on his tongue.

Dean rose from his knees, seeing the tired smile displayed across her cheeks, then hovered over her and began kissing her again.

It was slower this time, less eager, and Dean could feel as she tried to catch her breath. Y/N smiled into the kiss, causing Dean to smile, and he lifted his face just an inch above hers.

"What about you, Dean?" Y/N asked, and Dean looked down, remembering that his situation wasn't exactly fixed. "I can help, you know."

"Sammy will be back any minute," Dean sighed, not even knowing how long Sam had been gone at this point. "Maybe next time we'll do something that involves both of us," Dean smirked and she giggled.

"Like sixty-nining?" Y/N questioned and Dean nodded his head, liking the sound of that, but that wasn't exactly his idea.

"That sounds good too, and we can take our time, but I want to feel you wrapped around me," Dean kissed her but suddenly stopped as Y/N stopped smiling and stared up at him with wide eyes.

"I've never done that before," Y/N seemed embarrassed and looked towards the headboard.

Dean lifted himself a little higher, his arms fully extended now, and gave her a puzzled look.

"What?" Dean asked, confused and more aware that he was hovering above his actual sister. "I thought- with Dad and... so you and Dad never?"

"No," Y/N seemed scared to admit it, almost as if she were ashamed to confess that she was still a virgin. "Daddy says I'm not ready yet."

"Oh my God," Dean couldn't even put his guilt and shame into words as he felt his erection rapidly fade away.

"What's wrong?" Y/N sat up as Dean pulled his jeans on. She seemed to be confused by Dean's sudden need to rush.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. We should have never done this," Dean replied hastily, needing to be as far away as possible from everyone at the moment.

"What? Why?" Y/N questioned and Dean wanted so badly to give her the answer, but he felt so ashamed of himself that he didn't think he could do it the proper way.

"I shouldn't have touched you. I shouldn't have let you touch me. What we just did can never happen again." Dean avoided eye contact with her, fuming within his own head.

"Dean, you can tell me what's on your mind," Y/N came up to him, sweetly touching his arm.

Dean shoved her arm away, grimacing when he noticed she was still naked. It his own sister that was naked in front of him and he had just gone down on her.

"I can't do this right now. I can't be around you, move out of my way," Dean snapped at her, not thinking about how instantly Y/N's tears would fall from her face.

Dean couldn't think about it, because he was the problem.

Dean pulled his shirt on, and grabbed his shoes, working at a fast pace to put both of them on.

"We shouldn't have done that."

"Why, Dean? Because it's wrong?" Y/N sniffled through her tears, speaking softly like she didn't want to scare Dean away.

"Yes, Y/N. What we just did was wrong, how do you not know that?!" Dean raised his voice at her as he finally had the guts to look into her eyes.

Dean knew he was being erratic and that he was hurting her, but this was better for the both of them.

"What you're doing with Dad, what you're doing with Sammy, what you just did with me- it's all wrong. No family should ever do things like that together."

"I don't understand," Y/N said quietly, looking down as she reached for Sam's shirt and pulled it over her head.

"Maybe you never will, but we will never do anything like that ever again," Dean grabbed his wallet and began making his way toward the motel door.

"Where are you going?" Y/N asked, still crying softly to herself.

Dean didn't turn around or respond before he stormed out of the room, heading as far away as possible.

•••

Next Part

•••

Tag List ❤️

@hobby27 @writethelifeyouwant @deeranger @deans-baby-momma @deans-number-one-fan

39 notes · View notes

wilsonthemoose · 6 months

Text

Watch Out For Sammy

Written for Week 2 of the Dark!Dean Event: "The things I'm willing to do or kill... it scares me sometimes."

"Watch out for Sammy," said his father as he hefted his duffle and walked out of a hundred different doors in a hundred different towns.

Dean thinks of that often. And he's thinking of it again, standing at a crossroads.

Teen and Up Audiences | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Major Character Death

Corpse (brief and non graphic description), Spider (brief mention), Season 01, Season 02, All Hell Breaks Loose, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst

Here's how this will end: one half-drunk night, Sam Winchester will call his father's phone just to hear it go to voicemail, just to hear his voice. He will hear his brother instead, saying "John Winchester is dead."

It will be the first quiet doubt.

It goes something like this: he's standing over the dazed, half-conscious form of Jake, he's walking away, he's walking towards his brother.

He's waking up in blood-stained clothes.

He's grieving. He's drunk. He's dialing a number from memory at a rusty payphone.

"Watch out for Sammy," said his father as he hefted his duffle and walked out of a hundred different doors in a hundred different towns.

Dean watched him as a child, taking his first steps toward him, making paper airplanes in a motel parking lot, doing crosswords by the window, running laps under the midday sun.

He watched him across crowds and under day-old newspapers in California. Watched him juggle several jobs over the summer, pick trash off a highway (a volunteer but if Dean could have walked up to him and said hello, he would have started with a lousy joke about convicts). He watched his lamp left on during exam week and watched him buy asprins in drug stores, play volleyball on the lawn.

Dean stayed at shitty motels and picture-perfect for-sale houses with camp beds and a phone number to call if shit went sideways.

And when it did and he called, with something like a hundred miles between them and a burning apartment and a dead girl, his father answered, cut him off before he got more than a word out, said "I know. I'm sorry," and hung up.

And that was all.

Years earlier, on Sam's 17th birthday, scraping a whetstone along the edge of a blade, his father had said, almost as if he were wondering aloud (except he wasn't the type to voice his thoughts unless he meant to) that Sam would always need someone watching out for him.

(Dean had spent the day ribbing Sam about being all grown up, ruffling his hair and baby-talking him until he'd brushed Dean off and gone out for the day.)

Dean had muttered ascent with a shrug and in the days, weeks, and years following, had watched his father's oppressive watchfulness, and realized, uneasily, that he had meant it.

Sam had been a sweet little thing, still slightly jaundiced and too small to do much more than look and smile the first time their mother had transferred the bundle gently into Dean's arms.

Dean had sat still as he could, holding his arms stiff where his father had positioned them ("You have to be careful with his head,") and had decided, with childlike sincerity, that he would never let anything happen to his little brother.

He'd somewhat failed at that. In a hundred scratches, scrapes, and stitches. A hundred different monsters and as many close-runs, but he'd kept Sam alive, and when he did get hurt, Dean had been there with a first-aid kit, and, when Sam was older, a smuggled flask of whiskey.

They drove for hours at a time, for months, chasing cases across the states and a father more elusive than any ghost.

Sam slept badly, tossing and turning, waking breathing like he was still in that burning room.

Their father never answered another call or voicemail, but he turned up, once or twice, worked a case with them, and left as abruptly as he'd come.

"Watch out for Sammy," he'd still tell Dean in way of goodbye.

He wasn't given to asking questions. He hadn't been raised to it. "Shoot first, ask questions later," his father had drilled into him and Dean was nothing if not an effective soldier.

But there was something in the way John treated the two of them. The way he'd give Dean the gun and send Sam to guard the victims (what's a shield except the thing you don't mind getting hit, Dean would wonder). The way he trusted Dean, the way he didn't trust Sam. The way he'd come back smelling like whiskey and suspicion, the way he'd look at Sam, the way he'd question him, coaxing and concerned for years at first, then harsh, interrogative, about everything from what he'd been dreaming about to why the ever-loving fuck he'd sympathized with a werewolf several months back.

"You never ask questions," his father had said over a drink with half a smile and something of a challenge.

You'd never answer had flashed through Dean's head and lingered like a doubt. "I don't need to," he'd said instead.

Dean wasn't given to asking questions, but he knew how to get an answer when he needed one.

Slit a throat, hold out a chalice to catch the blood, ask a question.

Tie down a demon, drown it in a tub of holy water, ask a question each time you let it come up for air.

He knows. Yellowed eyed demon, special children. His father's hand curled around the neck of a bottle, cigarette-yellowed nails white as he stares at Sam.

If Dean failed as a child, let a striga get too close, let a werewolf take a nasty swing, let Sam's head connect with asphalt that one awful morning in Iowa, he fails all the worse as an adult. Sam dies in his arms.

He once asked Sam what he'd really wanted when he'd gone away. Normalcy? Safety? You know what happens to normal people. You know how safe they are.

Tracing his thumb along a line of stitches, Sam had answered, hesitantly, slowly, "It was never going to end. Dad's crusade— it would end with all of us dead."

They lay him down in a little abandoned cottage just outside Cold Oak.

Sam looks small, suddenly, bangs askew, collar turned up, but with the wound hidden under him, Dean can convince himself Sammy's just sleeping. He looks peaceful, younger than he has any right to be, innocent, like the years of hunting haven't yet left their mark on him. Like he'll sit up any minute now and go after their Dad to make sure he doesn't kill that kid.

A large spider crawls off the wall and over his folded hands, it's near Sam's collar by the time Dean springs up from his chair and beats it away.

He stands at a crossroads, buries a box in the ground, waits five long heartbeats, and turns

Red eyes flash, long white arms unfold to hang by her sides, "Hello, Dean," she says.

"I'm here to make a deal," he says. "My father for my brother."

Her teeth flash in a smile.

"I'll always watch out for Sammy," Dean tells his father instead of goodbye.

#spndarkdean2023 #“The things I'm willing to do or kill... It scares me sometimes.”#Supernatural fic #Dean winchester #Sam winchester #Fic tag

28 notes · View notes

michaelmilligan · 7 months

Text

Do you think that as a kid, Adam watched Hercules like, religiously? Back when he didn't know who his dad was, and a part of him thought, well maybe he's someone cool and important. Someone who couldn't be with me because it might put me and mom in danger, so he had to leave us.

But once I prove myself to be awesome, he thinks, once I fulfil my destiny, dad will come back and he will tell me how much he loves me.

And then he meets John Winchester and throws the movie into the trash can.

#Listen. I just think. *incomprehensible noises*#Adam Milligan

21 notes · View notes

postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 1 year

Text

A non-exhaustive list of scenarios:

- The Winchesters leads to the original Supernatural canon. Likely, John loses his memories of his hunting adventures with Mary and the gang (possibly losing all his memories of Carlos and Lata and Ada and everything). My spec in this case: a desperate Mary is responsible for erasing John’s memories, as she wants a safe hunting-free life and the only way to get that is for John - who has fully embraced the hunting life - to forcibly be taken out of it. Millie dies. The others possibly die, or are forgotten by John and get out of Mary’s life because they don’t agree with her choice, or something like that. Dean is in heaven, possibly browsing heaven to go get Carlos and Lata and reuniting them with Mary and John so that they can be together again in the afterlife. (Dean says #polycule rights.)

- The Winchesters leads to the original Supernatural canon, ending up with John and Mary in heaven, but Dean is somehow able to give his parents a second chance, going back to their youth and be able to live their life as they want instead of the way god and angels and demons wanted, finally free thanks to Dean (Dean says #polycule rights). My lil cute idea for this scenario: he tells Mary “if you have a son, don’t call him Dean, because there’s already one Dean Winchester, the cool uncle that drops by sometimes to visit” and she replies “what if I want to name my son after his cool uncle :)”. Okay, this might be cool for a fic. But the show could make something similar to this, somehow. Also, possibly, the ending of the show opens the path for a Dean-focused narrative where he goes and fix his own life (get Cas back and whatnot).

- The Winchesters does not lead to the original Supernatural canon, but somehow rewrites it retroactively. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey etc etc. Dean somehow heals the past of his family, possibly giving also Henry and Millie a happy ending, and Samuel and Deanna a second chance where they just . . . don’t die, nothing weird happens to them ever again, and they and Mary heal and reconcile. And that’s it! Dean knows what happened in the original timeline, but he says #polycule rights and shoves Chuck’s version into the trash can. Too sugary? Maybe, but maybe we need something wholesome and gentle for once. And again, Dean fixing is family is the first step to go and fix his own life (in a gay way).

- The Winchesters does not lead to the original Supernatural canon, but is a sort of alternate timeline. De facto this is not very different than the previous one, because, well, rewriting the past in a way that still allows Dean and everyone else to exist with their own past is basically to create an alternate timeline, so the difference would only be in how the show frames it. So, basically, Dean says #polycule rights and writes his own AU. Well, an AU where the characters are free to make their own choices. Which is what Dean is a fan of.

- What we (and Dean) know as the original Supernatural canon is actually false, and Dean is dicovering the truth. So it’s not an ontological rewrite, but an epistemological rewrite. Maybe John did know about hunting all along, but for some reason did not discose that to his sons. Maybe he promised Mary that, even if she died or anything, he would not let their kids know about her past as a hunter, or something like that.

- What we know as the original Supernatural canon is false. Dean is somehow fourth-wall-breaking telling us the truth to us. (Unlikely, imo. I think Dean is out-story talking to us but also in-story talking to someone.)

- The Winchesters does not lead to the original Supernatural canon, but it’s still just as tragic as the original canon or worse. Aka the evil scenario. Please no.

- The Winchesters leads to the canon of Apocalypse World. Well, that would totally suck. But also why would that be an option. And Dean’s role in the show would make no sense. So, nope.

- The Winchesters is another one of Chuck’s alternate worlds, one of the ones he destroys in season 15. Also a sucky option that would make no sense. Again, nope.

#feel free to add or discuss #spn spec #spn meta #spnwin #spn #my spn thoughts

83 notes · View notes

minefield-of-a-ninja · 1 year

Text

28 DAYS: CHAPTER SEVEN

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter warnings/tags: mentions of underage sex work

Words in this chapter: 3,100

Author’s notes: Allegedly, the Dean v. Dean scene from “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” was supposed to be John v. Dean but JDM couldn’t make the schedule work. That got me thinking about how else I could use that pivotal scene in this AU. You’ll see that scene sort of sprinkled throughout this chapter.

Thanks for your patience as I adjust to my new work schedule. I have the next two chapters as well — they just need some marinating and beta-ing.

Many thanks to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for pre-reads and for being my friends.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I do hope he makes it.” Rowena waves as she, Gabe, Dean, and Meg watch Crowley make his way to the exit.

Crowley turns before walking out the door, tossing Rowena a nod before flipping two backward Peace signs to either side of her, effectively telling Dean, Gabe, and Meg to fuck themselves.

“Rude,” Meg murmurs into her coffee as Gabe wraps an arm around Rowena’s slight shoulders.

“Ya know, Ro, statistically, only three-tenths of us make it,” Gabe says. “So it’s better for us if he doesn’t.”

Meg does a spit take of coffee while Dean barely keeps his own in his mouth to swallow. “Fuckin’ savage, Gabe,” Dean chuckles, slapping Meg on the back. “Breathe through it, sweetheart.”

“That smarmy dick — affectionate,” Gabe pretends to assure Rowena that the insult is meant with the best of intentions, “deserves the very best.”

Rowena turns and sniffles into Gabe’s embrace.

There’s a lot of affection within their small group. Dean’s stopped questioning the fraternizing rule, though, because Meg does wonders for the tension in his neck and shoulders with her tiny little hands.

“I’m gonna hit the gym. Anybody wanna join? Dean-o?” Meg tosses her empty cup in the garbage before arching and stretching to make her spine pop and crack.

Part of his recovery from addiction and his injuries is structured and supervised exercises. It’s done nothing for his persistent hard-on, but it helps with boredom, anger, and the satisfaction of succeeding at something, even if it’s not much.

Dean turns his back on Gabe and Rowena’s canoodling. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Ten?” Meg claps her hands together enthusiastically.

“Yep,” Dean answers, dumping his cup into the trash before they go their separate ways — Meg to the women’s sleeping quarters and Dean to the men’s.

It’s been 10 days since the fire. It feels like weeks to Dean. He read once that it takes 21 days to create a habit and 90 to make it stick. He always thought that seemed arbitrary, but he’s starting to believe it because his day-to-day here is quickly becoming routine.

When he gets to his room, he finds Jack in bed with Red Hood Arsenal Vol. 1, covered in candy wrappers.

Dean arches a brow as he yanks his drawer open. “You ever get outta bed this mornin’?”

“Not really feeling social today,” Jack murmurs, gnawing on a piece of chocolate and nougat.

Dean digs around for a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt for the gym. “Well, ya should eat somethin’ real before they close the kitchen.”

He shoves the drawer closed before turning to face his roommate.

Jack keeps his eyes on his comic as he replies. “You’ve only been wearing that sign for a day. Have you already forgotten my eating habits are none of your business?”

Dean drops his eyes to the sign around his neck as he tongues the back of his teeth before roughly grinding them.

“Nope. Haven’t forgotten.” His stomach tightens and flips, and his face starts to heat. “Ya know... I just-”

“Still none of your business.”

Jack’s tone, assertive nature, and blunt words make Dean tense. He wants to yell. Yelling relieves tension for him. Punching things also relieves tension, so Dean decides to keep his mouth shut and get dressed to work out, even if he can only punch with one fist right now.

He passes Billie’s office on his way to the gym. Her door’s open, so he pokes his head inside. “Hey.”

She silently and expectantly looks up from her desk, pen frozen in her hand.

“Just...” Dean juts a thumb over his shoulder as he steps fully into the doorway. “Headed to the gym. Thought I’d say hi.”

Billie raises her eyebrows and chin before nodding. “Well, hi.”

Her less-than-enthused response further agitates him. “Man, I’m just pissin’ everybody off today,” he mutters.

“You’re not pissing me off.” Billie carefully sets her pen aside before pushing her chair away from her desk. “Come in, Dean.”

Dean walks inside, feeling rejected. It’s uncomplicated when he thinks about the reality of the last 15 minutes. These people are practically strangers, Jack’s a 17-year-old kid, and Billie’s a fucking shrink so he shouldn’t give a shit what they think. Yet these perceived slights would’ve sent him straight to a bottle of pills or whiskey and searching for pussy outside these walls.

“Your door was open. I just thought I’d say hi instead of just walkin’ by like you don’t exist.” He walks over to her designated visiting area and takes a seat.

“And that’s very kind of you.” Billie settles in one of her chairs across from him.

“So then why’re you just like ‘hi???’ like I’m annoying you,” he asks.

He fully realizes that he sounds like he’s trying to start a fight, but he does nothing to dial it back.

“You’re not annoying me. I wanted to be sure you didn’t need something first.” She pauses. “Did something happen with Jack or Meg?”

Dean shrugs. “Jack acted like I tried to set his stuffed dragon on fire when I reminded him the kitchen was about to close.”

She isn’t making notes right now, which relieves Dean. “Can you expand on that?”

“Well, he brought up my stupid-ass sign.” He flicks the sign making it flop against his chest ineffectually.

Billie nods, appearing to also curb a smile of amusement, which lightens his shit mood for some reason. “That’s what the sign’s for, Dean.”

He scoffs. “To repeatedly remind me that I’m a pain in the ass?”

Billie narrows her eyes and sighs. “No. The signs serve many purposes, none of which are to remind you that you’re a pain in the ass. They help maintain boundaries and remind everyone to focus on themselves and their own recovery.”

Dean chews the inside of his cheek. “So, if the 17-year-old kid I’m rooming with starves to death, I’m just supposed to keep my eyes on my own prize.”

He’s being dramatic. He knows he’s being dramatic. It’s a great outlet, though, with the absence of his other sorely missed vices.

“First of all,” Billie begins to count her retorts on her fingers, “Jack isn’t going to starve to death-”

“I’ve never seen him eat anything but candy!” Dean cuts her off with exasperation.

“Dean.” Billie drops her hands in her lap.

“Sorry.”

Expressing his frustrations and regrets isn’t something he’s comfortable doing because he never learned to do it any other way than physically fighting, fucking, or getting wasted. That’s not BIllie’s fault; it’s just facts.

Billie calmly begins again. “He will not starve. Nor will he learn to feed and care for himself adequately if we don’t let him figure that out on his own.”

Dean sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Can’t save everybody,” he mutters.

“Correct,” Billie answers. “What else?”

“I need to focus on my own recovery.”

“Yes.”

He brings his gaze back to hers. “Sorry for...” He waves his hand in the air as an explanation. “Barging in, whining...”

“No apologies necessary. You aren’t whining, you have questions. Bucking the system demonstrates healthy curiosity.” Billie peers at him above the tent of her fingers. “You know, some might assume, as a Marine Corps veteran raised by a Marine Corps veteran that you’d follow orders without a second thought. But you don’t.”

Dean stares back quietly. He and Billie have made progress. He trusts her to do what she says she’s there to do. The problem right now is she’s probing a scab he isn’t willing to expose.

“Well, I got people who look to me for answers — my team, my kid.”

Billie nods. “Yes. And you’ve amassed a group of people here who also see you as a leader, and as a natural leader, it’s important to be mindful of your intentions and of the impression you leave on others.”

“When you say it like that, I feel like a fuckin’ asshole.”

Billie shakes her head. “You’re not an asshole. Go to the gym.” She motions to his outfit as she stands. “During our scheduled session this afternoon, we can talk more about that.”

As he gets up and walks to the door, Dean’s chest feels heavy even as his heart spits and sputters.

The gym doesn’t help clear his mind or calm his anxiety. He’s stuck in the spiral of memories from his last argument with John.

“I’ve been back for five days, Dad, can I just get my bearings before you start-”

“Your brother is leaving, and you won’t lift a finger to stop it. All you’ve done is whine about how you’re gonna miss him when he leaves!”

“He got a full ride.”

“And you’re gonna what, help him pack?! Came back from that war as mindless and obedient as an attack dog — good soldier and nothin’ else.”

That’s fucking rich, coming from John, who only ever treated Dean like a soldier. Dean learned so much more about life and relationships over there than John ever taught him.

“That’s not true.”

“No? What else ya got, then, kid? Your car? That’s mine. Your favorite leather jacket? Mine. Your music? Mine.”

John’s ever-panning searchlight of fury has all but lost Sam and is fully focused on Dean. While Dean doesn’t love being under his dad’s scrutiny, he hopes that his presence buys Sam a few more minutes to get his shit together and get out.

“Your entire fuckin’ personality is me and that kid brother of yours.”

Dean’s slumped against the living room wall with his dad looming over him, red-faced, sweating, and spitting rage.

“You’re fuckin’ obsessed with keeping us here. Sam was built for somethin’ better-”

“I’m obsessed?” John rapidly blinks, clutching his left arm. “How the fuck did you handle not havin’ little Sammy on your heels in Afghanistan? You got nothin’ outside of this family, and you know it.”

“You’re fuckin’ drunk and high.” Dean shakes his head and pushes away from the wall. “You need to sit down.”

“Listen here, you ungrateful little shit-”

“Yell all you want, I’m still leaving!” Sam strides into the living room, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.

Dean takes a step forward, and John takes a step back.

“All that shit you dumped on me about protecting Sam? That was your shit.” He pokes a finger into John’s chest. “You’re the one who couldn’t protect your family, and now that we’re adults with our own fucking lives, you can’t handle it.”

“Keep talkin’, asshole.” John is panting heavily, and his face is turning darker red. “You think you know what it’s like to raise a kid-”

“Yeah! I do!” Dean walks John right back to the couch where John drops to sit. “You were never fucking here for Sam, I always was. All you ever did was train me, boss me around — Daddy’s blunt little instrument — I was never your kid.”

“Oh, please...” John groans, his words slurring as he squeezes his arm harder and he drops his chin to his chest.

“But Sam... Sam you doted on. And now he’s leaving. Talk about what’re you gonna do now, huh? What’re you gonna do, John?”

“Dean...” Sam’s voice is hollow.

“Geez, what happened to you between finally gettin’ rid of that cranky old queen and now?” Meg asks.

Dean breathes and grits his teeth as he mentally counts his wall push-ups. “It’s a whole thing.”

He doesn’t want to get into John with Meg. Not right now. The thought of getting into his history with his dad at all makes him feel like jumping out the window.

Meg furrows her brow and nods. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dean shoots her a look, thinking she’s teasing him. What he finds when he really takes her in, though, is so raw and delicate that he can barely stand to look at her.

“Yeah, I’m my own worst nightmare.” He completes his wall exercises and eases to the floor for the rest.

“Don’t do that,” Meg says. She stands over him with her hands on her hips.

Dean tosses his hands in the air in surrender. “I’m kidding. OK?” He starts his hip stretches and the pain carries a signal of satisfaction and success to his brain.

“No, you aren’t.”

Dean groans at the stretch. “What’s with you? This is our thing. The self-deprecation thing.”

Meg sighs and drops to the floor beside him to do some of her own exercises. “Dean, you’re one of our 2.1.”

Dean shakes his head. “What?”

“I did the math; three-tenths of seven is 2.1.”

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes so hard they take his whole body with them. “Are we including Crowley in that seven?” He goes back to carefully lifting and stretching his hips.

“Yeah... better odds for the rest of us that way.” Meg twists her spine so she’s facing Dean with her knees pointing in the opposite direction.

Dean snorts, and Meg chuckles as they watch each other try to get better.

Then her face softens as well as her voice. “You’re gonna make it, Dean. Because you’re a fuckin’ badass.”

Dean swallows back a lump from trying to form in his throat.

“You’re here because of a blip.” She rolls her watery eyes. “You are better than this. You’ll come out on the other side stronger because you’re already so strong.”

Dean draws a shallow, shaking breath. “And what about you?” He’s almost afraid to ask, but she doesn’t disappoint.

Meg smirks. “I figured out one thing about this world — just one.” She twists back to lie flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling as she pulls each knee into her chest. “You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life.”

Dean nods, rolling to his side. “Sex work and heroin didn’t give you the kinda order you wanted?”

Meg chuckles and switches knees. “At one time, my pimp’s mission was it for me. But things change, right? We learn, we grow... Now?” She turns her head to look at him again. “My cause is getting sober.”

Dean purses his lips. “So you and I’re the lucky two?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He wishes her insistence that he’s so strong made him feel that way. Instead, he feels like there’s a light shining on his weaknesses. If there was a way for him to be all the good things people claim to know about him and nothing else, maybe he could finally stop hearing his dead dad’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he’s worthless.

“We’ve been here for over an hour.” Meg sighs then rolls away from him, to her side, and up onto her hands and knees. “Let’s go eat and chain-smoke before group.”

She hops to her feet before reaching out a hand to help Dean up. He smiles softly before accepting her offer.

“Do you feel akin to Jack?” Billie asks.

It’s their scheduled session in the afternoon. Dean is exhausted. There’s so much talking and listening and correcting — yourself and others.

“I’m old enough to be the kid’s dad, so I guess? Things’re different than they used to be.” Dean shrugs.

“For who?”

Dean drops his head to the back of the chair and sighs.

“You’ve had a long day, I know,” Billie says, and Dean rolls his head to the side and peeks at her with one eye.

“Therapy and recovery aren’t quick and easy.” Billie shakes her head. “If they were, everybody’d do it. Right?”

Dean snorts. “I guess.” He sighs again, this time much less dramatically, then sits up straight in his chair. He clears his throat before moving forward with what he knows he has to talk about.

“Sometimes… we didn’t have what we needed— Sam and I— because Dad was... whatever and wherever, and I did things. For people.”

Billie nods.

Dean is surprised to find her unsurprised by his confession. He thought his juvenile records would be sealed no matter what. Maybe she just knows because she’s a brain doctor.

“I wasn’t a hooker.”

“OK.”

“I just did what I had to do.”

“I understand.”

“Like the time I stole bread and peanut butter from the 7-Eleven and got thrown into a boys’ home.”

Billie nods.

“And the time I let the PTA president suck my dick for dinner five nights a week for Sam and me.”

Billie narrows her eyes slightly, still listening, still not taking notes.

“Or an extra hundred in cash for clothes for the kid who grew outta mine the second he turned 16 just to let the guy on the corner watch me eat out his wife.”

Dean wipes at his nose and then looks out Billie’s windows.

“Thank you for telling me, Dean.”

Dean nods and swings his gaze back to Billie. “It’s just... Meg says I’m this badass, gonna pass outta here with flying colors, and Jack... thinks I’m a nag.”

Billie bobs and shakes her head. “No one’s just one thing.”

“Are we having the ‘not everyone is thinking about you all the time’ conversation?”

Billie smiles. “While you were your little brother’s hero, you were someone else’s prey.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, and he looks out the windows again.

“While your daughter sat broken-hearted on one side of town, you single-handedly carried Cyrus Styne to safety.”

Dean closes his eyes and lets a tear roll down his cheek. “So what’s in between?”

“It’s not about other people’s perceptions.”

Before looking back at her, Dean drags his hand over his face. “Then what’s it about?”

“You had to eat and care for your brother, right?”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“What about Emma?”

Dean flicks his gaze up to Billie’s.

“Do you see a likeness between Emma and the teenage boy you saved from her high school?”

Dean smirks. “Besides the fact that was her high school?”

Billie smiles and nods. “Besides that.”

“You think I’m avoiding her.”

Billie tilts her head. “Are you?”

“Dean. Hi. How are you?”

“Hey, Lydia. I’m... OK. Is Em around? She blocked me on her phone. I really need to talk to her.”

Lydia is quiet on the other end of the line for a beat. “Just a minute, OK?”

Dean watches the clock on the wall above the phone tick by almost a full 60 seconds before Lydia’s phone is unmuted. There’s a bit of muffled shuffling at first, then...

“Hi, Daddy.”

Chapter 8

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

#au dean winchester #dean winchester is saved

47 notes · View notes

schizosamwincester · 21 days

Text

Hello! Welcome my sideblog! If you want to see me post about not Supernatural, my main is @drowninginredink.

If you're not going to read this introduction, it/its please, yes I am actually schizophrenic, and beware, incest lies ahead. The rest is below the cut.

I am watching SPN for the first time and am currently on episode S1 E21. I told myself I was going to wait until I finished S2 to start this blog... and then until I finished S1... and then my queue hit 100 posts and I realized I should just start it already. That said, don't worry about spoiling me. Trust me, I've already been all over SPN tumblr. And yes, I am already headcanoning Sam as schizophrenic despite having not yet gotten to the part where he actually hallucinates. Pretty early on, I'd seen enough from the fandom to know that Sam was going to give me ~feelings~ as a schizophrenic, but Home was what sold me on it. The way he responds to the vision is exactly like my experience of delusions. It's like having blinders on. You can't think about anything else and you need to figure it all out and fix it right this minute. It's urgent and obsessive in the same way Sam was. His body language, too, was just perfect, down to just what he did with his hands. I look at Sam, especially Sam getting visions, and I see myself. So. Sam Winchester is schizophrenic. Not in some "Sam hallucinated the entire show" way (God I hate those theories) or that none of the supernatural stuff is real. Everything we see is real, but Sam's brain also pulls some shit of its own.

Sissy - trans femme!Dean x John

Fics:

Sober II/samjohn

Webweaves:

less words/wincest

Father/deanjohn

San Cristóbal/Sam

All the posts about my pet headcanon are tagged "#schizophrenic sam winchester." Creative, I know. The occasional solely schizophrenia related posts are tagged "#schizospec education." Queue tag is #hallqueuecinations and oh boy do I have way too much stuff queued. I do tag ships so you can filter them out if you want to, but like... I am a johndean and wincest person. If you really don't want to see that, you should just leave.

A very important note, given the name of my blog: schizo is a slur. I reclaim it a lot. I was diagnosed by people who want to change the definition of schizophrenia, and so for a long time, I was explicitly told not to call myself schizophrenic. That's bullshit. My symptoms aren't quite traditional, and I am at the more mild end, but as per the current DSM? I'm schizophrenic. But because for a long time I got told "you're schizo-spec, but not schizophrenic," the word I associate myself with more than anything is schizo. I try to actually write out schizophrenic when I'm on this account, but in real life, I usually don't. But if you are not anywhere on the schizophrenia spectrum, you should not say it (unless you're tagging me). I don't want my handle to give anyone the idea that you can go around calling Sam a schizo. I can. You can't.

My purpose isn't directly to educate about schizophrenia, but I know that the general cultural perception of it misses a lot, so just by shouting about how I headcanon Sam as schizophrenic, I will accidentally teach you all things. In light of that, there will be the occasional reblog of not at all SPN related awareness posts, and my asks are always open. You all have my permission to ask rude and personal questions about it that you should not ask strangers. Schizophrenia is basically a special interest of mine at this point. I am very open about stuff, not so much because of desire to educate or what have you but just because part of my schizophrenia is having very little filter. I will say that if you ask me about the delusions I've had, you're going to get an incomplete answer because going into them too much can be triggering. Everything else is on the table, though.

My banner is from this webweave (which I made).

And once again, I am very much johndean trash, with a strong love for samjohn. I do certainly partake in my fair share of wincest as well, but really, I'm here for The Dad Ships. Point is, this blog is very much not an incest-free zone. I'd say that I'm sorry, but I'm not. You're watching The Incest Show. What do you expect? If you do not like that, block me now and move on.

Fun fact: my birthday is November 5. No wonder I eventually broke down and decided I needed to see what SPN actually was.

3 notes · View notes

silverspleen · 8 months

Text

@savestate

Once again I must stress that this was very early Warframe in 2012/2013/2014, I had no lore, because this will all be vaguely wrong and also I had like... Six frame choices (hyperbole). Operators did not exist. Kubrows did not exist they released right before I stopped playing.

Good news I brought old af art as a treat to soothe everyone's ire.

SO obviously:

Dean - Excalibur. Straightforward. He kills things good and simple. My favorite frame for my favorite Winchester. I imagined him muted greens and browns.

Sam - Loki. Sam is a smart and cunning boy he gets the frame for smart crafty guys. Blues and browns, same/similar tone of brown as Dean and also muted.

Cas - Volt. He's a shiny bright angel he gets shiny bright electricity. Very clean and crisp blue and white.

SO so Dean and Sam were like, Grineer allied/created/corrupted because Daddy John Winchester was a Grineer in my AU, because he is trash, and basically was like "ah, my two huge sons who are Great At Killing they must avenge my dead tenno wife (basically a woman like Lotus, no one is sure how Dean and Sam work genetically but they do!), who was killed by other tenno, this is normal to want" which obviously does not work out long run. Cas was allied with a group of Tenno that were just. All the Supernatural angels. They were also not the good guys. They all rescued each other in the orokin ruins and became Team Free Will and went off to cause problems for every other faction on purpose. I did not get to the demons.

This AU was not as developed as the Lovecraft AU, which was big.

OH ALSO all of the tenno angels were deeply beautiful beings, and Dean and Sam were pretty but also so grungy since they were also grineer and everyone like, noticed. I DID write descriptions I DID talk about how they were beautiful and elegant but also like, looked Wrong to other angel!tenno.

And Lucifer would make a great Nidus.

#I would make a great Nidus #someday I will play Warframe again but also MMOs uuughghghghg long games uuuuuuughghghh #warframe #supernatural #john is an interesting character and all BUt we all know he is a Bad Man

10 notes · View notes

spncompostheap · 4 months

Text

These Days

(Inspired by Misha Collins’s poem of the same title)

Cas Novak meets Dean Winchester two weeks after his sixth birthday in first grade. Having never been terribly good at making friends, Seeing Dean on the first day of school inspires Cas to try getting it right that much harder this time. Although their friendship starts off a bit rocky due to Dean’s general unfriendliness, Cas quickly learns that Dean’s whole tough guy routine is mostly just a cover for his overwhelming shyness.

One day during lunchtime, when Cas tracks Dean down on the playground, he is unsurprised to find the other boy sitting alone. With a rehearsed monologue playing inside his head, Cas musters up the courage to approach Dean, hoping to convince him why they should be friends.

After reciting the words under his breath a few more times, he approaches Dean. He almost misses what the other boy is doing until they're suddenly face to face.

“Hello, Dean, I’m Cas Novak and-”

When Cas looks up to greet his potential new friend, his broad smile fades quickly upon realizing that Dean is elbow-deep in the trash can, trying to snag someone else's sandwich. Dean ducks his head, clearly embarrassed, until Cas offers his lunch box as an alternative.

“Here, have mine,” Cas says.

“Dad always packs me too much, anyway. Or at least that's why Mom says I’m getting so fat-”

“You're not fat, Cas,” Dean says, his voice unexpectedly gentle as he peeks inside Cas’s lunch box.

“But this is a lot of food… Could we maybe share it?”

“Certainly, Dean,” Cas says, scooting up close next to the other boy.

Together, they share peanut butter fluff sandwiches and Capri Suns and talk about comic books for the rest of recess. From that day on, Cas brings food for himself and Dean to share every day, and before long, the two have become inseparable.

***

Third grade is challenging for Cas when his parents’ marriage abruptly falls apart without warning. By mid-November, the yelling, screaming, and slamming of doors gets so intense that Cas is beside himself over how to cope. Sneaking around the kitchen at night, Cas steals as much food as he can carry. Eating becomes the only thing that helps him feel more in control, calming some of his inner chaos, if only temporarily.

For the next few months, whenever his parents' arguing becomes too loud, Cas goes on autopilot, and his stomach becomes a black hole until he’s so full that his worries evaporate. Soon, Cas’s mindless eating becomes a nightly occurrence. But even when whole loaves of bread, jugs of milk, and cereal boxes go missing overnight, no one seems the wiser.

By Springtime, everyone in Mr. MacLeod’s class notices how chubby Cas is getting and feels the need to point it out to him. Dean is the only one who focuses on the more subtle changes in his friend's behavior, like how uncharacteristically quiet, sad, and withdrawn he’s become.

As time passes, Dean becomes increasingly determined to help his friend and invites Cas over to his house after school. The two spend hours watching movies, playing video games, and enjoying each other's company. Dean is relieved that Cas doesn't comment about his small, dingy apartment or complain about his younger brother Sammy constantly being underfoot. Dean is relieved when he sees Cas starting to relax a little until John comes home early and ruins everything.

"Jesus, Dean, can’t you do any better than hanging out with this fat loser all the time?" John slurs, hovering in the doorway and reeking of alcohol.

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Dean feels caught in the middle. While he wants to defend Cas, he's also keenly aware that any kind of talking back will make matters worse. He knows firsthand what a mean drunk John can be.

Cas looks down and remains silent, but Dean can see the hurt in his eyes. Slowly standing up, Dean feels a surge of anger and wants to say something - anything that might make Cas feel safe again. Instead of lashing out, Dean turns to Cas and watches him closely. At the first sign of tears, Dean realizes there's nothing he can even do because the damage is already done.

After a tense moment, John grumbles something unintelligible and retreats to his room, leaving Dean and Cas alone once more. Dean sighs, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. He hates seeing Cas treated this way, especially in his own home. Turning to Cas, he offers an apologetic look.

"I'm really sorry about that, Cas," Dean says softly.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm used to it. My mom says the same kind of things all the time."

They stop hanging out as much after the incident with John, but Dean remains fiercely protective of Cas at school. It becomes widely known all across the playground that anyone caught teasing Cas about anything will have to deal with Dean personally.

***

Although his parents officially separate at the end of fifth grade, Cas’s appetite only gains momentum over the summer. Snacking almost non-stop from June through August, Cas is officially the biggest kid in middle school by the time fall hits.

On the first day of sixth grade, Cas gets bullied in the cafeteria about his ever-expanding waistline.

"Hey, piggy-piggy, did you eat the entire lunch lady today?" Gordon Walker says, oinking and grunting in Cas’s direction.

Cas tries to brush it off, but Gordon physically blocks his path, so Cas can’t walk away.

"He’s almost too fat to function," Kubrick Jones says, grinning like an idiot while all the other kids giggle.

Feeling embarrassed, Cas retreats to the boy’s bathroom to be alone. Dean notices his absence almost immediately and goes looking for him. When Dean finds him, Cas has locked himself inside a bathroom stall and is already bordering on inconsolable.

"Please, tell me what's wrong?" Dean asks, leaning in close enough that their foreheads touch.

"Everyone’s making fun of me, Dean," Cas says softly, averting his eyes to tug down the hem of his t-shirt self-consciously.

"You can’t let them get to you like that, man. They're all just assholes who thrive on being as mean as possible," Dean says, wrapping an arm around his friend.

"And besides, I like your new look; you're kind of turning into a tank," Dean says, smiling.

"I mean it, seriously, Cas. You're so damn sturdy these days, I bet nothing can stop you."

Cas looks up, surprised by Dean’s words. He had always believed that his weight made him weak, but hearing Dean's reframing of things fills him with a newfound sense of empowerment.

"You really think so?" Cas asks, the hint of a smile flickering across his face.

"I know so," Dean says, pulling Cas into a quick hug.

"You're my best friend, and I wouldn't want you any other way."

Cas feels way more confident in his skin for the rest of that year. He doesn't let the bullies' words bring him down anymore, and he even occasionally starts standing up for himself.

***

Once his parent’s divorce is finalized in eighth grade, Cas's dad, Chuck, attempts to reconnect with him using fast food, baked goods, and candy to win his son's affection. Always encouraging Cas to overindulge whenever they spend time together, what begins as a novelty quickly loses its appeal.

One day after school, Chuck drives them both to an all-you-can-eat buffet. Cas hesitates, getting out of the car, remembering how much he’s already eaten, but doesn’t want to disappoint his dad. Looping around the restaurant, Cas loads up his tray with a mountain of french fries, chicken strips, and miniature desserts. But the moment he sits down beside his father, Chuck's mood changes as he looks over at his son and frowns.

"Don't tell your mother I let you pig out so much, okay? She won't let me hear the end of it about how fat you're getting," Chuck says.

Cas feels a pang of hurt inside his chest; he already knows he’s overweight without Dad reminding him. He just wants to enjoy this time together without being made to feel guilty about something beyond his control.

"Sure thing," Cas says while shoveling food into his mouth.

"Have you ever considered going out for any sports, Cas?" Chuck asks, his tone filled with misguided concern.

"Sports?" Cas asks, tilting his head to the side out of confusion.

"Yeah, you know, like football, basketball, soccer? You'd probably be pretty good at it once if you slimmed down a bit.” Chuck suggests.

"Umm, I guess so," Cas mumbles, looking down at his suddenly empty plate. Despite feeling uncomfortably full and the painful sensation of elastic biting into his waist, Cas forces himself to stand. Because maybe just one more serving, regardless of what will distract him from the unpleasantness of their conversation.

As they finish their meal and leave the restaurant, Chuck nods, pleased with himself for offering his son such valuable advice. Meanwhile, Cas can't shake off the feeling that he failed to meet expectations again. Longing for a simple way to make his dad proud that's not contingent on his physical appearance.

***

Cas becomes increasingly fixated on his size and appearance. He spends numerous afternoons at the library, immersing himself in research about nutrition, diet, and weight loss, desperately hoping to uncover some way to shrink himself just enough to impress his dad. Unfortunately, the more Cas learns, the more overwhelmed and discouraged he becomes. Finally, the information overload of conflicting advice leaves him spiraling into a destructive cycle of binge eating and shame.

Cas surrenders to his cravings without restraint, seeking the comfort only food can provide. Before long, he’s outgrown most of his wardrobe, and seeing his own reflection fills him with dread. The person staring back at him has become an unrecognizable stranger, constantly reminding him of his failures and everything he hates about himself. As his body continues to expand without consent, Cas’s self-esteem suffers a devastating blow. Consumed by a profound sadness and despair, he withdraws completely, unable to face his dad, let alone anyone else.

Despite all of this, Dean refuses to give up on their friendship. When Cas stops answering his calls, Dean knows something is wrong. So, armed with the spare house key given to him for emergencies, he takes matters into his own hands. Showing up uninvited, Dean forces his way into Cas’s personal space. Ignoring how much his friend has changed, Dean snuggles beside Cas under the covers of his bed. They lay together in the darkness, not saying a word, every day after school for a week.

Eventually, when Cas does find his voice enough to speak, Dean listens without judgment, trying to understand the depths of his friends' grief. After another week of hiding in bed, Dean gently suggests they go outside.

“Because it’s springtime out there, Cas and all the flowers and birds are doing their thing, and I know how much you used to enjoy it.”

"I don't know, Dean,” Cas says, unsure if he's ready to face the outside world again.

Dean looks at Cas reassuringly and says, "Hey man, I get it. Shit can be scary, but I'll be right there with you. Who knows, maybe trying something new will make you feel better."

After a moment of contemplation, Cas nods slowly. "Okay, but please understand if I need to return inside."

With Dean by his side, Cas finds the strength to leave his room and go for short walks outside. Cas notices a subtle change in his mood with each step they take. The fresh air and gentle movement help him feel a little better each day.

#supernatural fanfiction #destiel #deancas #wip #tw disordered eating #tw: implied/ referenced alcohol abuse/ alcoholism #dean winchester #cas novak #childhood friends

5 notes · View notes

laf-outloud · 1 year

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CsH6JYItyWJ/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Some of Jensen’s Instagram Post replies:

“Wish them the best but honestly the whole cast felt forced and yes even the level of “inclusivity" in the characters y supernatural magic was the seamless chemistry between the characters and not just the main ones! Plus the plot was a lot more solid... Maybe it's saved and it gets better idk”

“We love u Jensen and the idea behind this new series but the acting FOR ME was just not there....Favorite episode was the last one where u made a cameo with our fellow Idit bobby ©  missed seeing you guys. . Perhaps if u get renewed there will be more of u and maybe #savethewinchesters”

“I loved Supernatural. Actually I love still. But the show The Winchesters needs to end. It is so very woke. That's my issue with it. Maybe next time don't go full woke to don't go broke again”

“@jensenackles love to love this show, but it's lacking something..good lucky always tho”

“The Winchesters were Sam and Dean period. That's why people was not interested in that other series.”

“I loved supernatural, I loved the chemistry between you, jarad and all the others but this show for me was a bomb. No chemistry and poor story”

“Seems like there were a lot of directions to go but this one didn't land with the fans I think. Sorry man”

“Honestly I rather have a real sequel or prequel done and not save this one this one wasnt even OUR John and marry”

“Yeah I have to agree with the general consensus of evervone's comments, I loved the idea but it didn't really hit the mark for me, I know it was to reveal other twists and turns throughout the seasons connected to SPN and the whole going back in time ect ect but it wasn't for me and like everyone said the Winchesters are Sam and Dean • no matter what spin off they do this is what it all boils down to #samanddeanforever) I would like to see a Bobby and Rufus spin off that would be awesome...if produced and directed properly a and directed properly”

“Jensen, the homie. I love you, but it didn't look good” (translated)

“Hey Jensen take the loss buddy, you had a whole season, time to move on to bigger things”

“Nah the show is absolutely trash”

“It just didn't feel

"tough "enough to be the lead up to Sam & Dean”

“Nah the show wasn't any good”

“Jensen blink 3 times if you need help”

“Jensen honey let it go please”

Mist of the comments that are negative about TW are very level headed. Most of these people aren’t just “antis”. Of course there was pleanty of fawning or supportive comments. But the majority I saw just want the show to end.

I think Jensen doesn’t really care himself about TW anymore, but he let/made the cast go ahead and make this video to look like an effort was made. I honestly think he’d rather it just go away at this point.

If they're really hoping executives review the SM posts, they'll find that and so much more on Twitter. For a fan campaign to be successful, it usually involves universal support, which TW just doesn't have. (Not that I think the fan campaign for a show that failed in all aspects would even work).

I really think this is just Jensen pretending to care, and quite possibly acting out of jealousy that Jared's show is still going and his isn't. (Why else would he try and hijack SM during Walker?) It's too little, too late and he knows it. Guess he's going to have to actually feel what it's like to fail. I hope he learns from it instead of being bitter about it.

#ask box #anti jensen #anti spn prequel

7 notes · View notes

queenmayor23 · 1 year

Text

Grand Piano III {Dean Winchester X Male Reader}

this one's a little angsty

Moments later, Dean wakes up in his back seat. He looks out the window to see dust being kicked up by the spinning wheels and rows upon rows of corn. TJ can see the confusion on Dean's face through the rearview mirror.

TJ: Shut up. We're almost there.

TJ pulls into a gravel driveway leading to a brick shed and a matching house next to it. The corn almost acted like a magical portal to the hidden property. TJ parks and shuts down the engine. He gets out, walking to the door of the house.

TJ: Hurry up if you want me to help.

Dean gets out of the car and follows the rock walkway to the porch, where TJ holds the door for him.

TJ: All the way down and hang a right.

Dean: After getting punched in the face, I don't trust you walking behind me.

TJ: That's hilarious. Either you walk in that kitchen, or I send my dogs after you, and you'll never see John or Sammy again.

Dean took the safer route and began walking. Staring at the back of his ex-boyfriend's head was the only thing that kept TJ from killing Dean right there and giving him time to process the mixed emotions.

TJ: Sit.

Dean sits at the kitchen table while TJ digs in the freezer. He pulls out some frozen peas and an ice pack, tosses the peas on the table next to Dean, and closes the freezer. TJ fixes himself a glass of whiskey and downs it like water. It was a taste he was just getting used to, even though his trash can would say differently. He fixes another glass and a separate one for Dean, walking it over to him.

TJ: Dean...

TJ struggles to find the words he wants to say. Was it "I hate you and want you dead," or "Why come back now just to ruin the sliver of happiness I just found" or maybe "I loved you, and I thought you loved me, but I guess I loved for both of us"? But the real question looming in TJ's mind was, "Why don't you love me?". But TJ didn't get to ask any of those questions before Dean spoke up, holding the peas to his cheek.

Dean: "Spirits of Vengeance", huh?

TJ: I bought the lounge a month after the mission with you and John. I was so mad.

Dean: He's your father too.

TJ: Was he? I've been alive twenty-seven years and have seen him a grand total of five times. I was ten when he introduced me to hunting. He had me chasing demons, poltergeists, and other unnatural creatures to prove myself to him.

Dean: It was your choice to start hunting.

TJ: He made me think he would love me if I eliminated all the monsters. So after graduation, I packed up and rode around the country on a hunting tour, and my mother hated me for it. She warned me of what kind of person John was, but I had to realize that he was the real monster on my own.

Dean: Dad was a hero!

TJ: He was my hero too, but I grew up Dean.

TJ walks back to his kitchen counter, smashing the ice pack on his knuckles.

Dean: I need you to help me find him. I don't want to drag Sam back unless I have to. At least that's what Dad would've wanted.

TJ: Did he leave any clues as to what he was hunting or where? This wouldn't be the first time John went on a bender and forgot to tell his puppy dog.

Dean: What are you talking about?

TJ: Amherst. Clifton. Laredo. Mesa. He's always missing, then a week later, after you search the continental US, he pops up and is fine.

Dean: How do you-

TJ: Sam knows how to say thank you.

Dean: Wait, Sam? Does he know?

TJ: No. All he knows is that I'm the idiot who doesn't know how to say no to his brother.

Dean sighs in a mixture of both relief and frustration.

Dean: Dad has never been gone for this long. He's in real trouble if he's not dead by now. I can't do this alone.

TJ: Yes, you can. You don't need John to limit what you can do. He's just an anchor that slowly drowns you until you feel like there's no more hope, and by then, you're dead or mentally unstable.

Dean: Yeah. Well, I don't want to do this alone.

TJ: You still haven't told me what he was hunting?

Dean: Oh, right. Let's see. Where the hell did I put that thing?

TJ reached into his back pocket and slid out the tape recorder.

TJ: Looking for this.

Dean sees the tape recorder and nods his head.

TJ: Found it when I searched your car. I listened to it, and he sounds like he could be Winchester wasted or actually in trouble.

Dean: Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About two months ago, they found a guy's car, but he'd vanished. Completely MIA.

TJ: Kidnapping?

Dean: Yeah, well, there was another one in April, then December of '04, '03, '98, '92... ten of them over the past twenty years- All men, same five-mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I got that voicemail a few days ago.

TJ: Wait, why weren't you with him?

Dean: I was working my own gig in New Orleans.

TJ: Aww, he let you go on a trip by yourself?

TJ mocks Dean and takes the ice pack off his fist, feeling the melted ice.

Dean: I'm twenty-six, dude. Can you stop that?

TJ: I know you're twenty-six. We're nine months apart to the day.

Dean's face scrunches up.

Dean: How did I not know that?

TJ: You never asked.

Dean has a dumbfounded look on his face.

TJ: The message had an EVP saying it "can never go home" I ran into something like that about six months ago. It came after Richie, but there wasn't a body because she was cremated for cost-saving measures. So we sent her home.

Dean: How?

TJ chuckles, looking around the room.

TJ: This house wasn't always brick, and I'm not stupid enough to build it out of straw. Jackson drove his truck right through the middle of what was a bedroom and dining room. House caved in, Richie bought Jackson a new truck, and I started laying bricks that same weekend. The baseboards, door frames, and ledges are hollowed out and filled with salt, and everything wood is primed with mountain ash.

Dean nods his head, taking in the information about the house. Then, Dean takes a breath and asks the question.

Dean: So, are you and Jackson a thing, or what's your situation?

TJ smiles, looking up.

TJ: Jackson and I are in a business relationship. He helps me out at the lounge and around here while I'm out hunting.

Dean: What does he get out of your "business relationship"?

TJ: A slightly more than minimum wage paycheck every other week and a hunting buddy.

Dean's eyes widen, and he takes the now-thawed peas from his cheek.

TJ: What? I wanted to give him more, but he wanted the money to go into the lounge. I told him I had to give him enough to get groceries, pay his bills, and get gas. He only has truck insurance because I listed his truck as a company vehicle. There was this time before when we were a thing. He proposed, and I said no. But we're still as close as we were then, just as friends.

Dean: Can I ask why you said no?

TJ: I'll give you one guess.

Dean contemplates open-mouthed. When it shuts, it shows TJ that Dean realizes the answer.

TJ: Jack wasn't heartbroken for himself but for me. The whole town kept telling me I was insane for holding on so tight to you, but Jackson knew I needed a friend to help me, and he became that friend. He got me to stop answering your calls because he knew I would halt my world just to help. Just to hear from you when you and John get into another situation. Come on, Dean, I knew John didn't think you were calling me. You never called me by name when you called, you said my trigger word, and I turned into a mindless drone for you.

Dean: I don't have a trigger word for you. What do you mean, a trigger word?

TJ: Let's keep talking and see if it comes up. It's been almost two years since I stopped answering your calls, and now you want to check on me?

Dean: I thought what got Dad either got you too, or you took him.

TJ: So you thought I took John for what? To have tea with him, sit down and gossip about my ex-boyfriends. Oh wait, my first boyfriend didn't love me and milked me emotionally dry, then I found out he's my half-brother. After that, my second boyfriend and I broke up because I was still hooked on my first boyfriend. Yep, that casual conversation with a man I've spoken to five times in twenty-seven years.

Dean: No. I didn't mean it like that, alright. I was running out of options, and you were the first person that came to mind.

TJ: Do you hear yourself? You only think of me when you have no other choice. Is that how you truly see me? A last resort? Nobody else wanted to go on a wild goose chase with you, so you're stuck asking me for help.

Dean: Baby, I'm trying to keep you safe. To do that, I need you with me. I'll deal with Dad later, but I need you.

Chuckling came from TJ's mouth.

TJ: There it is.

Dean: What?

TJ: The word. Baby. But it's not going to work this time. Dean, you are welcome to stay for the night, but you need to leave tomorrow. I'm done.

Dean sat silently at the table, not knowing TJ's next move but also baffled at two simple words he thought he would never hear from TJ, "I'm done". TJ turned away from Dean and gathered, from his refrigerator, fresh produce and some rabbit meat to cook dinner. He cooked in silence, Dean not saying anything. TJ handed Dean a beer with his meal and filled his own glass once more. They ate in silence. After dinner, TJ washed the few dishes and escorted Dean to a guest bedroom.

TJ: Sit tight while I get you some clothes.

TJ leaves and returns with clothes and towels for Dean to shower with.

TJ: There is soap, toothbrushes and toothpaste, and hair products galore in the bathroom across the hall. Go crazy.

Dean: Thank you. And I honestly mean that.

TJ: It's just what a friend would do. If you need me, I'm upstairs, the third door on the right. And I have my own bathroom, so I'm not going to sneak up on you and stab you in the back.

Dean chuckles. TJ goes upstairs to his room and gets ready for a shower himself.

#dean winchester x tj chase #gay #dean winchester x omc #dean winchester #queenmayor23 #supernatural #angsty #read me please #toxic winchester men #this is my world now not your world #supernatural x male reader #mention of wincest #bts fic

10 notes · View notes