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pagannatural · 15 days

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2.11 Playthings 👭👬

-episode of my life. If you only ever watch one episode of supernatural let it be this one. Creepy dolls creepy dollhouse creepy little girls a lonely Connecticut inn a desperate drunken tousle between the incest brothers. It doesn’t get any better than this.

-Dean gives Sam a hard time about suggesting a case after they’ve been looking for Ava for a month. Dean doesn’t even know Ava, but he’s spent the last month looking for her because it was important to Sam. When Sam doesn’t respond to Dean’s teasing, he backs right off. Dean is controlling and possessive but he is also respectful and considerate because he thinks the world of Sam.

-Dean says Sam’s attitude “is just way too healthy for me, I’m officially uncomfortable now” which is funny because it’s not true that Sam’s attitude is healthy and he will get drunk and misbehave about it, but it checks out that Dean is uncomfortable with healthy dynamics.

-Sam smirks at Dean’s joke in this really cute way. It shows that he still looks up to Dean, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

-the innkeeper mistakes them for a gay couple and assumes they’ll want a king sized bed and Sam says “what? No—no two singles. We’re just brothers.”

Spot the difference between these two pictures

That mighty flustered, genuinely panicky “just brothers” sounds exactly like a “we’re just friends” moment between a will they/won’t they couple and it’s so weird that he says it that way. A normal answer would be “oh this is my brother” and then everybody moves on. But this is a tv show and there’s a reason for this scene to be included in this episode. It highlights that the nature of their relationship as brothers is more layered, and this messy denial tells the viewer that there is a romantic/sexual layer.

Back in Asylum in s1, Dean was mistaken for Sam’s boss specifically to make it clear to the viewer that Dean had more authority in their dynamic at the time, which played into Sam’s anger at Dean. This is a similar way for an outsider’s interpretation of the relationship to shed light on it. Their individual reactions to the assumption that they’re a romantic couple are meaningfully different—Sam is embarrassed and nervous like he’s been caught. Dean is feeling some kind of way.

He looks guilty, like he’s doing something wrong. He played along with people thinking he and Sam were a couple in Bugs and went as far as to slap Sam’s ass and call him honey. He seems pretty comfortable with his sexuality and with people being gay in general, like the joke he made about the only real thing about him being his boobs or the time he sarcastically told a scowling male store owner that his smile really lights up a room. He’s playful, he’s not weird about it (until season 8 but that’s another post). So something else is going on here.

His attitude toward this kind of mistake has changed since season 1. A lot has happened, but I think the point at which things shifted for Dean was that moment in Croatoan when he decided that he was going to stay with and protect Sam when they thought he was infected. The episode was a major turning point for Dean. That’s what pushed him to finally tell Sam what John said, and it was the first time Dean really thought Sam was going to die. It also paralleled the scene from Provenance in which Sam almost puts his feelings for Dean into words. Back then, Dean was able to take control of the situation to avoid Sam’s feelings and his own. In Croatoan, he’s the one forced to consider his feelings and why he would live and die and kill for Sam, and Sam alone. It’s no longer possible for him to ignore the feelings between them. He knows or suspects strongly that Sam has feelings for him, and now he can’t deny that he does too. It’s one of his major conflicts moving forward.

-Dean asks Sam why people always assume they’re gay, saying it’s a “troubling question,” and Sam says “you are kind of butch. They probably think you’re overcompensating” which Dean takes in as though it’s an equally troubling revelation. They look like a couple, and therefore they look queer, from the outside: Sam with his shy demeanor, soft voice, longish hair, deference to Dean in most situations (Dean goes to the front desk, Sam hangs back a little, his body mostly facing Dean), and just general feminine-coding throughout the show. Dean with his cropped hair, gravelly voice, overconfidence, and constant womanizing.

Queer people have this shared experience of never feeling like they’re doing masculinity or femininity correctly, and knowing or realizing that other people can tell they don’t fit in, but not really being able to name what they’re doing wrong. Sam is too feminine and Dean is too masculine and when they’re together they read as a gay couple.

Croatoan drew attention to this too, but again, it’s not really about coding them as lgbt, it’s about coding them as queer and incestuous in a gothic, monstrous way. They are Other and it’s in their blood just like the monsters they hunt.

-Dean has Sam pretend to love dolls, to further underscore his feminine role in their relationship for the viewer. It would be so cute if Sam really did love dolls as a kid.

-Dean tells Sam not to look at porn in their room, apropos of nothing.

-someone else dies. Shot of Sam, damsel, gazing out the window of his tower as the body is carried out and Dean talks to the innkeeper.

Dean goes into their room, where Sam is sitting facing away from the open door in a way that feels foreboding, like something is wrong. It’s similar to the shot of Rose a little later in the episode, with her in her chair facing away from the door.

Sam is drunk because he couldn’t save the guy who died, and “the more people I save the more I can change.” He’s afraid of becoming corrupted and at least some part of him believes that he will (that he already is) and needs to make up for it.

Sam says Dean has to watch out for him “and if I ever turn into something that I’m not you have to kill me.” He argues that John said Dean has to and Dean says “Yeah well dad’s an ass” which is a very bold thing for Dean to say about the dead father he once idolized. He obeyed John to keep Sam safe, and he’s finally letting himself be angry with John.

Sam says even now everyone around him dies. He says “please, Dean, you’re the only one who can do it. Promise.”

So Sam is drunk and in crisis over believing that he will become evil, in this episode that makes sure to emphasize the sexual undertones in his relationship with his brother, in an interaction that looks charged and erotic. He’s begging his brother to kill him rather than let him fall, holding onto Dean’s shirt and pulling him down toward him, his eyes locked on Dean’s.

Dean says “Don’t ask that of me” but Sam gives him the puppiest tear-filled eyes so Dean lies, he says “I promise.” At this point Sam is sitting on his bed and Dean is leaning over him, Sam grasping his shirt to keep him close and keep his attention.

Sam looks at Dean’s lips, says “thank you,” inhales, and grabs Dean’s face in both his hands, his thumb near the corner of Dean’s lip. It looks like he’s trying to kiss Dean. The fact that he inhaled rather than exhaled also just makes it feel more like a lead-up to something rather than a conclusion.

Dean pushes Sam away, closing his eyes as if conflicted, Sam still holding onto his face. It’s a little aggressive. Dean has to shove Sam off of him forcefully.

Dean pushes Sam onto his back on the bed, where he watches him turn to his stomach and nestle into the mattress, arching his lower back with his face in the pillow. Dean puts a hand over his mouth and traces his lips, his eyes dragging over Sam’s body.

Just describing the basic mechanics of this scene makes its eroticism clear. Dean touches his lips after Sam looks at them in a gesture loaded with restraint and tension. It’s another of those scenes that usually happen between romantic leads: the woman gets drunk and confesses something and/or needs to be taken care of and the man treats her respectfully but not so respectfully that he isn’t a little seduced. Dean could have let Sam kiss him (or do whatever he was going to do), but he has so many reasons not to: fear of hurting him, of Sam leaving him, of betraying his role as his savior and protector. Dean’s self worth comes from loving Sam, so if he loves Sam Wrong he feels worthless.

And that’s to say nothing of the fact that Sam is begging Dean to take ultimate control over his body by deciding whether he lives, and deciding whether he’s good or bad. His fears are soothed by the idea that whatever happens he can be Dean’s, he can belong to his brother. He’s okay with dying only if it’s by Dean’s hand. His whole life he’s felt something was wrong with him, so if it’s true and Dean confirms it, he is the only one who can kill it. The corruption in Sam (in both of them) has already been heavily linked to blood and their relationship and now Sam is verbalizing it—No! We’re just brothers. Why does everyone assume we’re gay? Sam holding Dean’s face, drunk, saying there is something wrong with me and it’s your responsibility. Please, you’re the only one who can do it.

-Sam is throwing up the next morning. Dean says something gross about a sandwich in an ashtray that makes Sam gag and say “I hate you” and Dean says “I know you do.” The way Dean says this sounds like he really thinks Sam hates him, which came up in Asylum as well. After last night, this has to have something to do with Sam’s feelings for him and the fact that Sam thinks Dean is the only one who should kill him. He thinks it’s tied to Sam hating him and his self-hatred for loving Sam wrong.

-Maggie tells Tyler “I can’t leave this haunted house and you can’t leave me.” Sam and Dean can’t leave the haunted house that is their life because they can’t leave each other.

-Maggie tells Rose “you’d do that for me?” which Sam has basically said to Dean, and “you kept me away for so long I thought you didn’t love me any more” which fits both of them at different times. Rose is the little sister choosing to die so that Maggie doesn’t have to spend eternity alone, and saving Tyler. It’s a creepy, haunting ending that parallels Sam and Dean. The sisters play together forever in a haunted house and the brothers drive off to hunt together out of the haunted houses and motels and backroads they were raised in.

#wincest #samdean #supernatural #spn meta #sam and dean #spn 2x11 #playthings

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theshippirate22 · 6 months

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I have a theory

listen up bitches (gender neutral) (affectionate) i’ve been cooking this for an incredibly long time and i’m very very excited to share it but it is gonna be long so i’m putting it under a cut

my theory is that there has been a new set of archetypes created by popular m/m media either in canon or coding and i would love if it was more widely recognized by a distinct name so here we go:

I present to you: The Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill Boyfriends™️ Theory

i need to preface this by saying that i am absolutely not an english major or expert but i have done so much analysis that i’m 98% positive i’m on to something here

so usually mlm ships- at least in my experience- get boiled down into typical Grumpy x Sunshine, Golden Retriever x Black Cat, or like. Babygirl x Badass. and i hate that because those are like really watered down hetero romance stereotypes and i think queer people deserve to get our own archetypes instead of trying to force queer characters into prepaid boxes but that’s a story for another day so:

basically, all content with widely accepted mlm ships (even if they are more in coding than in canon) has this pattern with the ship that fits into Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill

(name pending- open to suggestions)

Boyfriend No.1 of course is the epitome of Mirrorball by Taylor Swift (i know, i know. bear with me here). He’s constantly trying to prove himself and his worth and usually he’s driven to hide or overcome 1-3 specific and intense insecurities/character flaws. He often has innate loyalty to a system or person who has repeatedly abused/neglected/abandoned him and thinks that this treatment is a result of his own character rather than a reflection of the abuser. In relation to the plot and audience, this is the “more dangerous” of the two because he’s so desperate to hold onto the status quo that he’ll often act in a way that makes things more difficult for himself, often by leaving Boyfriend No. 2, sacrificing himself, or doing “the wrong thing.” He also commonly has an older male figure that is breathing down his neck constantly, haunting his perceived inadequacies, and fueling his self-loathing. He’s constantly mischaracterized because he’s either boiled down to “the silly one” or a visage of his trauma and the people that relate to love these characters are usually extremely sad people. Usually this character is also the “mean girl” of the couple.

Examples of the Mirrorball boyfriend: Dean Winchester, Aziraphale, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Spriggs, Sherlock Holmes, Eddie Munson, Mike Wheeler, Prince Rupert, etc.

Boyfriend No. 2 then, is the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend, based of course, on the song by the same name by the perfect Kate Bush. He’s the one that’s seen The Horrors™️ and gained a layer of cynicism that Mirrorball doesn’t have. He was once loyal to something that used/hurt him but he rejected it and used his newfound freedom to restructure his entire personality and reach his much higher potential. Usually, he has passed so far from having a few insecurities to perceiving himself as utterly worthless and unlovable but he’s so convinced that it doesn’t even haunt him, he just goes with it and usually comes off looking overly-confident or cocky. This is The Bitch (affectionate)™️. There’s probably a scene of him covered in blood. This is The Girls’ favorite blorbo and ultimate whump. He tends to be really good with kids and he’s the kind of character that would and often has to CLAW a life out for himself by his fingernails.

Examples of the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend: Castiel, Crowley, Ed Teach, Black Pete, John Watson, Steve Harrington, Will Byers, Prince Amir, etc.

unfortunately i haven’t seen a lot of popular queer stuff so if you can think of other mlm or mlm shaped characters that fit into these archetypes please please please tell me

i’m specifically curious about:

-Hannigram (Hannibal)

-Buddy (911) (@criminally-obsessed if you would mind weighing in but obviously no pressure)

-Lokius (Loki) (@henderdads same thing)

-Any of the marauders but specifically WolfStar

-Stucky (MCU)

-RWRB (i’m so sorry i don’t remember the guys’ names)

-Nick and Charlie (Heartstopper)

-What We Do In the Shadows has one I think?

-literally anyone else please and thank you 🙏🙏 love you all

if you want like explicit examples of each piece for a character lmk for sure because i could talk about this all day long

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it-was-too-cold-always · 5 months

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We're Not in CW Anymore - 1

The reader gets blasted into another universe - one where Sam and Dean Winchester are real people, real hunters, and really fucked up. To her surprise (or horror), Dean has been getting glimpses of her life in his dreams and is completely enamored with her. It's nothing like the cable-friendly CW show that she knows and loves.

Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: language, violence

Chapter 1: The Good News Gabriel Brings

One minute, you were reading your very spicy romance book on your couch. The next, you were sitting in some diner off the highway, book still in hand. You looked around, wondering if anyone noticed you appear out of thin air. Not a single person was looking towards you. Okay, this must be a dream, I dozed off while reading, you thought. If I'm right, I won't be able to read words. You opened up to a random part in the book, and sure enough, you could read every single smutty word on that page. Fuck. What just happened?

"More coffee, sweetie?" The waitress pulled you from your downward spiral. You accepted, though you'd rather be drinking something a little stronger. You took a sip, letting the warmth fill you up. You looked down - you were no longer wearing your oversized sleep shirt. Instead, you were wearing skinny jeans, brown boots, and a gray tank top with a blue flannel layered on top. Very autumn lumberjack, you thought. It was much more appropriate than your sleep shirt though, given the dreary weather outside. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, surprised to find a signal. You were more surprised that you had your phone at all, and even more perplexed when you saw your purse sitting on the booth next to you. You peeked inside - thank god, your inhaler. You're gonna need that because the panic will surely set in soon. You scroll through your phone and find your messages are all gone. There's no logs of calls or contacts. Everything has been wiped. Great. You pull up the news to see if you can get your bearings a little. You weren't quite sure what else to do - after all, you've never teleported before.

You were too focused on your phone to notice a 1967 Chevy Impala pull up to the diner. Nor did you notice the two gigantic men walk through the front door as the bell jingled. But one of these men clocked you almost immediately. His face turned pale and he stopped in his tracks. "Holy shit," he breathed. The taller one looked at him like he was nuts, but before he could say anything else, the shorter (but still really tall) one found himself walking towards you. "Dude, what the hell?" His buddy was following him to your booth.

"Hey. Hi. Um, can I sit here?" Real smooth, dipshit, he thought to himself. You looked up at the man speaking to you, not really registering what he said. This man was a spitting image of Jensen Ackles. In fact, they could be twins. However the man standing in front of you had his flannel sleeves rolled up enough for you to see a tattoo sleeve and a myriad of scars peppering his skin. The man who appeared behind this man looked exactly like Jared Padalecki. "Am I being punked?" you asked. The two men look at each other and sit down in your booth, facing you. They look intrigued, waiting for you to keep talking.

"I wouldn't really say 'punked,' but I really had some fun with this one." A dude appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to you, looking like Richard Speight, Jr. Okay, what the actual fuck.

"Gabriel? What the fuck are you doing here?" the guy who looked like Jared asked. Okay, we got Sam, Dean, Gabriel...what's next? Cas? You look out the window to see the Impala and your stomach flips.

"Listen, I don't have a lot of time for you bozos, so pay attention and don't interrupt. Y/N, this is Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean, this is Y/N. Yes, like the show Supernatural, I know, whoop-de-do, let's get to the juicy parts, alright?" Gabriel looks almost irritated with his little speech.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam's patience was wearing thin already.

"What did I say about interrupting? You're a bad listener. As I was saying, Y/N comes from another universe. Dean, I'm sure you're quite familiar. Y/N, you get the gist of it, but it's not exactly like the CW show. This is more real-life, nitty gritty, not at all rated PG-13. There's a lot of shit from the show that didn't happen in this universe. The writing really went to shit after Kripke left, but that's just my opinion. I digress. Y/N and Dean are soulmates, don't ask me how they ended up in different universes, I'm just here to fix it. So boom, problem solved, have fun figuring all this shit out." Gabriel acted bored but seemed to be amused by this situation.

Your head was spinning. Supernatural. Real life. Alternate universe. Soulmates? You stared down your coffee cup as you tried to wrap your head around the situation. It was hard when the entire time, you could feel Dean staring at you. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he walked into the diner. You thought they were attractive on the show, but in real like they're so gorgeous, it's intimidating.

"Why would you do Dean a favor like that? What do you get out of it?" Sam asked. "Nothing from you ever comes out of the kindness of your heart."

"Listen bud, I just know what's gotta happen and I do it. Any other questions?"

"Hold on! You said parts of the TV show didn't happen in this universe. Which parts?" You had to know - Rowena, Crowley, Chuck, Leviathan - was all of this real now?

"Just the dumb parts. All of season 7 basically. That weird attachment Dean had with the Darkness even though she was a kid for a while, creepy if you ask me. The whole Darkness thing never happened, don't know if it will in the future though. The Men of Letters are alive and thriving, Sam and Dean actually work for them as hunters. I don't know kid I'm sure you'll figure it all out." His answer placated you for now. It was still too much for your brain to process. You're sure you'll have lots of questions come up as the day progresses. You turn to thank him, but he's already gone. That leaves you alone in a booth with Sam and Dean Winchester.

Chapter 2

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean x reader #sam and dean #team free will #spn

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serasvictoria · 2 years

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Title: Firsts

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: You ask Eddie to be your first, but unbeknownst to each other your feelings for one another run a lot deeper than expected.

Word Count: 6084

Content Warning: P in V (safe) sex. Loss of virginity. Eddie and Reader are both 18, but it is never explicitly mentioned. Some swearing. One mention of drug use to calm Reader’s nerves. Loads of insecurities and feels.

Notes: A huge thank you to @adrille88 for beta reading and for helping me out with the ending, because I was pretty damn stuck before ❤️

Tagging @blackseapearl @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @istorkyou @quantumlocked310

“I-is this okay?”

Eddie's voice comes out all shaky, completely devoid of the usual mock confidence that he throws in all the time.

It was almost like all the layers had been stripped away completely from the moment that he had parked the van, stripped down right to the bone, until there was barely anything left.

The one who's responsible for it is you and he would like to think that you would be proud of it, too, if you could actually get any words to come out of your throat right now.

You huff underneath him instead, the sharp intake of air almost as wavering as his own, but you don’t reply. Your eyes are squeezed shut tightly and you’re biting on your bottom lip so hard that he fears that you’ll draw blood any moment now.

“Hey.” Your eyes open then, blinking once and then focusing on him. He presses the tip of his nose against yours until you offer him a weak smile. “You back with me?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply. “Sorry, ‘s just-“

“Hurts?”

“K-kinda, but not l-like… it’s just… f-feels weird.” You try to elaborate, but it’s difficult to find the right words to express how you're feeling. You shake your head and throw in a, “Sorry.”

“What for?” That makes him smile, you being all cute and thinking you need to apologize. “If anyone should be sorry, it should be me.”

“Why?“

“For doing this in the back of an old van.” At least that makes you laugh and he’s thankful for it. It’s a lot better than your slightly pained expression of earlier. “I’m serious.”

“Not like we could do this in my room.”

Your mother was almost constantly at home, always hovering around the house, either to clean, cook or keep tabs on what was going on.

Whenever Eddie came over, she was always asking if you wanted lemonade or snacks, constantly standing in the doorway of your bedroom as if she was afraid that the two of you would jump each other’s bones the second that her back was turned.

So your house was very much out of the question.

“Or mine,” he answers.

“Well, we could, but you’d have to clean it first.” There’s some mild discomfort laced through your smile and Eddie momentarily wonders if you're still sure about this, if you're only smiling to stop him from worrying. “I have standards after all.”

“Hey.” He squeezes your hips once in retaliation. “Not nice.”

The only option that the two of you had was Eddie’s van. He would have much rather made it more special, rented a motel room somewhere or something, but it wasn’t like he had the funds to do that.

He had been working at the garage whenever he could to pay for his van and whatever spare money he had left from dealing had gone into buying equipment for his guitar, a new amp for starters, so there wasn’t anything left.

When you suggested doing it in the back, he had been surprised that you had been up for that, but Eddie wasn’t going to complain about it either. Not when the girl that he’d known for years and who he’d secretly been crushing on for about the same amount of time asked him to take her virginity.

Didn’t matter that it was under the pretext of ‘if someone has to take it, I’d want it to be someone that I trust.’ He ignored that small detail, instead focusing on making sure he did it right.

Because it wasn’t like he had any experience himself…

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“You can move.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” He gives a gentle and experimental roll with his hips and you hiss through your teeth. “Bad?”

“N-no. Just need to get-“ Eddie’s still unsure if he should just pull out completely and forget that this ever happened, but the muscles in your jaw tense and there’s this blazing determination in your eyes all of a sudden that makes his heart skip a beat. “Fuck, just keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” you reiterate. “Keep moving.”

Eddie pulls his hips back, out of the warmth that’s surrounding his cock, taking care to move slowly so as not to overwhelm you, because that’s the last thing that he wants. You whimper when he slides back in and he sees it then, a slight uptick at the corner of your mouth, the merest hint of a smile.

“Good?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathe back. “That almost felt nice.”

“A-almost?”

He panics a little, immediately thinking to himself that you might not enjoy this as much as he was.

And he was. He really, really was.

From the moment that his cock had slipped inside your tight, wet heat, it was like he was in heaven. He couldn't even describe how it felt for there was nothing that he could even compare it to.

Eddie had done everything that he could to make sure that it would be good for you, too, even going as far as asking the least intimidating guy that worked at the garage for advice, and getting told that he should make sure that you were aroused and wet first and to make sure that you had climaxed at least once before sticking his dick inside you.

But he was too big, wasn’t he? That must have been the problem here and he should have known that from the moment that your eyes had nearly popped out of your skull when you saw his dick. Even if you had no previous experience and would probably have been intimidated by just about anything, he knew that he was too-

“Eddie.” You run your fingers through his hair, as he reluctantly keeps moving, seemingly noticing his thoughts immediately. That’s what you get when you’re on the same wavelength. No hiding anything from each other. “I-I didn’t mean it l-like th- oh fuck.”

“W-was that-?” You nod before he finishes his sentence. He had managed to hit your sweet spot completely by accident. “I d-don’t even know w-what I did.”

“J-just- ah.” When he pushes himself in deep, it's written all over your face how much you enjoy what he is doing right now, how right he has gotten it. Eddie grinds his hips against yours and he can feel your walls grip him a little bit tighter. “R-right there.”

“There?” He still doesn’t know what the hell he did, his mind too scrambled from having his cock snuggly enveloped in your twitching walls, but as long as you keep making those noises, he’ll do anything. “C-can I move a bit f-faster?”

“Yeah,” you mewl. “Please.”

In all this time that he has known you, Eddie has never heard you beg for anything. Not even in situations where it would be in your best interest to do so you never did, almost as if your stubborn nature wouldn’t let you. He genuinely thought that you would rather die than to be forced to beg.

So hearing you give him permission to go faster, and not just that, but begging him to please go faster, makes his mind go completely blank and he snaps his hips harder than he had intended.

“Fuckkkkk, Eddie.” Thankfully, you don’t seem to mind. From the way that your mouth is opened in a perfect o-shape and how your thighs grip him a little tighter, you really seemed to enjoy that. There’s a flicker in your eye as you tell him, “Do that again.”

“Jesus, fuck, okay.” His next thrust is so hard that he can see your tits moving up and down from the ferocity of the impact and he manages to pull a sound from your throat that he has never heard you make before. “You’re s-so… damn.”

“W-what?,” you ask, but Eddie dips his head down. His lips are suddenly on the column of your throat, licking and sucking, a bit too preoccupied to recall what he had wanted to say. “Oh god.”

“Still good?” he pants against your flushed skin. He’s absolutely relentless now, slamming into you, your walls fluttering around his cock so deliciously, sending him closer to the edge with every messy thrust. “You like that?”

You let out a noise that’s meant to sound affirmative, beyond words yourself now that you’re almost being ripped to shreds by the building pressure inside you. Eddie’s hand, which had been stationary at your hip, simply gripping you tightly until then, moves to where your bodies meet and you clench your teeth when his fingers start rubbing your swollen clit clumsily.

“Please don’t stop,” you keen. “Please, Eddie. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” He presses his lips onto your cheek, to the corner of your mouth, and he can hear your voice breaking over the continuous repeated pleas that keep falling from your lips. “F-fuck,” he grunts. “I’m so close.”

No sooner has he said those words, barely even out of his mouth, that he feels your pussy gripping him tightly. You gasp and your fingernails dig into his back so hard that he thinks that he’ll be covered in marks for the next few days.

He will wear those marks with pride. Hell, he might even get someone to tattoo them on him simply to make it a more permanent reminder of what just happened.

His eyes are on you, even if it’s difficult to keep them open, watching your blissed out features as your climax washes over you. You never looked more pretty to him, something that he had wanted to voice out loud earlier if he hadn’t gotten distracted.

Eddie’s right behind you himself, his cock jolting inside you, buried as deeply as possible, his balls tightening first and then unloading. Your walls are still clamping down on him like a vice, attempting to pull him in deeper, and he can feel his cum pulsing up his shaft in waves. The rush that he experiences is like nothing that he has ever felt before.

Surely, nothing could top this.

Claiming the girl that he’d known for years as his own, being your first, and you being his first as well. He would never ever forget this.

Collapsing on top of you, he feels guilty for crushing you, but he can’t move since all his muscles have gone completely slack. He can’t even pull out. Then again, he doesn’t want to pull out, not even now that he’s softening inside you. It just feels too good.

You stir underneath him, crane your neck and press your lips against his temple gently. When your fingers tangle through his hair, he sighs deeply as you start dragging your digits through the strands, pulling out small knots.

He knows that he has to move eventually, but for now he'll do his utmost to burn this exact moment into his memory, how he feels and how you feel underneath him. He wants to remember every movement, every sigh, every touch… all of it.

Eventually, you nudge his side and he rolls off of you with a groan. He misses the warmth of your body immediately, even if he can still feel it from where your arms are still touching each other.

It's simply not enough.

"So… w-was it…" Eddie starts to say as he sits up and removes the condom from his now soft cock. He ties up the end and places it in the corner, right behind the driver’s seat, hoping that he won't forget to toss it when he's home. "What I'm trying to ask is…" he clears his throat and blurts out the rest of his question. "How was it for you?"

"Weird," you reply and when he looks back at you, you're fiddling with your bra, getting ready to put it back on. "But not as bad as I…" He watches you shake your head and absentmindedly sees you rubbing a hand over your knee. "I expected worse? Not that I thought that you'd-!"

"No offense taken," he laughs. Eddie knew that if not done right, it could be worse for girls. His eyes are still on your hand and they slowly drift up your thigh, ever higher before you manage to cover yourself up. His eyes widen when he sees what happened. “Oh, baby, shit. You’re bleeding.” He reaches for his jeans, pulls his signature bandana from the back pocket and gently rubs it against the apex of your thighs before he freezes and realizes what he just called you. “I uh-"

“What, Eddie?” His eyes are dragged away from what he's doing and then he locks eyes with you. You're awfully close, close enough for him to feel your warm breath on his face. "It's okay… it happens sometimes. Apparently."

Your eyes keep flicking back and forth between his eyes and his lips and all that he'd have to do was lean in just a little bit more, only a couple more inches and then your lips would meet.

But he couldn't.

Because friends didn't kiss.

Even after what had just happened, he was still too cowardly to actually lean in and kiss you, almost as if he would be overstepping some boundary if he did. The kiss to the corner of your mouth was the closest that he'd ever gotten that evening.

"Y-yeah." Eddie pulls his hand away, the bandana stained with your blood, and then he turns his head to toss it right next to where he had put the used condom. "What time are you supposed to be home again?"

"N-nine," you stammer as you finally put your bra back on. "What time is it now?"

Eddie checks his watch and replies, "Quarter past eight so we have plenty of time left." He puts his own clothes on a lot quicker than you get back into yours and he slides back into the driver's seat a mere minute later. "You want a smoke?"

"Yeah, but just a normal one." With his eyes firmly fixed on the rearview mirror, he watches you get dressed, memorizing every inch of your bare skin. "My parents will kill me if I show up high."

"Fair enough." He grabs a packet of cigarettes from the dashboard and sticks one between his lips. "Some other time?"

"Yeah sure." You sound oddly distant, but Eddie blames that on the awkwardness of the current situation. After what you two had just done, it will probably take some time for things to be normal again. If they ever can be. "Light it for me?"

"Sure." He grabs another cigarette, digs his lighter from the pocket of his jeans and lights them both. When he looks back in the rearview mirror, you're almost fully dressed. Your sneakers are in your hand as you step between the seats to the passenger seat. "Thanks," you reply as you take the cigarette from him. "Music?"

"What?" Eddie realizes that he had been staring at you and follows your finger as you point at the radio. "Oh. Music. Sure."

You finish your cigarettes without saying another word, instead listening to a mixtape that you had made the week before with various punk rock songs until it was time to bring you home.

Last Caress from The Misfits was playing when you got out of the van and bid him a good night. It was the first time that you had said anything since asking him to put on some music. Eddie waited a bit longer, until you had opened the front door and entered the house, which was what he always did, before pulling away and heading back to the trailer park.

He ejected the tape fairly quickly after he pulled away though. Something about the lyrics of Last Caress rubbed him the wrong way for some odd reason.

One last caress, sweet death

It simply felt wrong…

*****

Eddie doesn’t see you the entire weekend and he’s too scared to go to your place or to pick up the phone so he can ask you if you want to hang out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this anyway. You had said it yourself, you had asked him to take your virginity because you trusted him. There wasn’t anything more going on there. He had convinced himself that there wasn’t, that the act itself was ultimately meaningless.

On Monday morning, when he was waiting outside your house to come pick you up like he usually did, that was the main thing that was on his mind, but he didn’t want to make things awkward between you by asking you questions that would confirm his suspicions.

You slid into the seat next to him, saying a quieter “morning” than was usual for you, but Eddie does his best not to comment on it. All he does is incline his head in greeting and then his foot is on the gas as he drives to school.

Nothing else is said. Maybe there’s a reason for it, for your silence.

Embarrassment for one, because you can barely look him in the eye. Nervousness perhaps, because you can’t stop fidgeting with the hemline of your shirt. Regret? He hopes not, but who knows.

The silence drags on and you look out the window, alternating from rubbing your shirt between your hands to grasping the strap of your shoulder bag and twisting it around your fingers. You could cut the tension with a knife and you’re unsure how to lift it, not knowing what you could or should say.

You clear your throat and Eddie finally looks at you right before he comes to a stop in front of a traffic light.

“S-s-so,” you finally stammer out.

“So. What's up,” Eddie replies, but his voice sounds all weird. Detached. Angry almost. And he wasn't, not really, but the rational part of his mind seemed to have switched off completely and he is incapable of sounding normal in any way.

“A-are you angry with me?” Unlike Eddie, you don’t avoid the potentially awkward questions now that he has finally opened his mouth.

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” he snaps, but he seems to realize how that sounds and amends himself. “I’m not angry,” he sighs, his tone softer now. “There’s no reason for me to be.”

“Oh,” you mumble as the light turns to green and he starts driving again. “It’s just- I didn’t see you this weekend.”

“We saw each other on Friday.” He notices how you look down at your shoes when he says it and for someone that was able to read every single emotion on your face before, he sure has trouble deciphering them now. “You didn’t call.”

“I-I usually don’t have to,” you reply. “You just show up and then we hang out.”

That was true. The two of you hardly ever called each other beforehand to schedule anything. There were certain times during the day that you kinda kept empty for each other so neither of you had to call to ask “Are you free right now?” It had been like that for years.

“I was busy,” Eddie says. “Maybe I should have told you.”

“Oh no, that’s okay." You seem unusually flustered by this and immediately stare out the window again. "Fine. That’s fine.”

"What is the-" He begins to say, but even though your head is turned away, he can see your bottom lip wobble. "Hey, are you-"

"Fine," you repeat like a broken record, a bit more forcefully and he can definitely hear in your voice that you're on the verge of tears. "I'm fine."

“You don’t sound-“

“Just stop talking!” Eddie visibly flinches when you raise your voice. Okay, you’re definitely crying. “I don’t want to… just don’t say anything.”

Even though he’s close to school, Eddie still pulls over to the side of the road. If he reaches the school parking lot, you’ll bolt out of his van and he won’t see you for the rest of the day, he just knows it. But he’s still far away enough now and you’re too upset to actually get out and walk. He knows you well enough to know that you won’t get out here.

“What’s wrong?” He tries to reach for you, but you turn away. Your arms are wrapped so tightly around yourself and you’re leaning forward as if you’re trying to curl yourself up into a little ball. “Is this about what we did?”

Even though he didn’t want to, he had to broach the subject. There’s no other way around it anymore.

“What do you think?” You wipe at your cheek furiously, the tears falling in full force now. “Enlighten me, Eddie.”

“I told you upfront that we probably shouldn’t do it, alright!” He hates himself for raising his voice as well, especially since you’re so obviously hurt but fuck, he was hurting, too. “But you-“

“Don’t blame me for it! You got what you wanted and then you couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the goddamn phone?”

“I got what I wanted?" He wasn't expecting that response, especially not after you so obviously used him. "You’re the one that-“

“It was an excuse!” you shout. “I knew that you would never touch me like that, so I fucking lied!”

“What?” It’s all he can say as he stares at you dumbfounded. “What?”

“I-I-I figured if I’d offer you that… if I’d let you… that maybe you’d see me in a different light, that you’d think of me as a woman instead of… actually I don’t even want to know what you think of me…" Eddie has no intention of answering, but you hold up your hand anyway, apparently under the impression that he had been about to speak. "But it obviously… fuck, it’s so obvious now… it didn’t fucking work… and it’s not like I can take it back...”

You ramble on, more to yourself than to him by the looks of it, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do. He’s heard you rant before, usually about books or bands or whatever other subject you're passionate about, but never like this. This was pure, unfiltered self-doubt talking and it's a side of you that he was oddly unfamiliar with, because it was a side of you that you had never once allowed him to see.

Part of him knows that he should stop you, before you run out of breath since you’re babbling so much, but another part of him wants to know what you’ll say now that your internal filter seems to be malfunctioning.

“So I ruined everything… and I want to fix it… for things to go back to how they were, you know? But I can’t just… wave a magic fucking wand around and make everything go back to normal.” You hang your head in your hands and he can see your back begin to shake, signifying that you’re close to sobbing. “S-s-so now I’m going to have to… learn to live with that, I suppose… but fuck, I wish I could… really, really wish I could make you-“

“Stop. Fuck, please. You’re not making any sense.” Your mouth snaps shut and you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. “So, here’s what I got from that… that speech. When you told me that you trusted me, that you wanted me to be your first because you trusted me, that was a lie?”

“N-no. Not r-really.” You shake your head and quickly add, “I do. Trust you, I mean, but that’s not why I asked you if you wanted to… you know.”

“So why then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Oh, trust me, babe, it is.” When you were mid-rant, the pieces kind of fell into place and he felt like a right idiot for not realizing it before. “I just wanna hear you say it. And say it to my face.”

He watches you take a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing because right now it sounds like you ran a couple of miles. You close your eyes and repeat it a couple of times.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

It takes a short while for your breathing to even out, but when it does, you look a lot calmer than before. Eddie can see your hands shake and to stop them from doing that, you grip your knees so tight that it's hurting him just from looking at it.

“Okay,” you say softly as you turn to him. Your eyes are red and there are streaks on your cheeks, but you seem to have found the determination to want to do this, to tell him what’s going on. “Eddie.” A shiver runs down his spine from hearing you say his name like that, his mind suddenly filled with reminders of last Friday. “I love you.”

“And that’s why you asked me to f- make love to you?”

“Yes.” You look ashamed of yourself and you don’t seem to catch that Eddie very deliberately said that he ‘made love to you’ instead of ‘fucking you.’ “I shouldn’t have asked you, I’m sorry, and now I ruined everything.”

“Why would that ruin everything?”

“You think that we can go back to being friends after that?” He shakes his head in reply. “See? I messed up.” Your eyes well up again and you rub at them before the tears can fall. “I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you sob and he can see your hand gripping the car door, getting ready to open it and get out.

“Wait,” he blurts out. You sniffle and pause, but your hand doesn’t let go of the handle. “You don’t want to hear my answer?”

“Your answer?” You frown, a brief flash of anger crossing your features because you’re convinced that he’s making fun of you now. “I’d rather not know if that’s okay.”

“No way. You got to say what you wanted so I should get the opportunity as well.”

“Just… be gentle, okay?” You seem to have resigned yourself to the fact that whatever you felt could never be reciprocated, hence why you had even come up with that badly thought out idea to have him be your first to begin with. “I don’t think I can handle much more today.”

“Babe…”

Seeing you like this was breaking Eddie’s damn heart.

All the thoughts that had been plaguing him these last two days seem to have been on your mind as well.

He wonders how many times you had the phone in your hand, ready to call him, before deciding against it. Wonders if you had been thinking of grabbing your bike to cycle over to his place, with the excuse that you’d lost some random thing that you desperately needed right that instance.

Because those were all things that he had been thinking of doing, too. He’d even made it as far as a few blocks away from your house on Sunday before turning around and going back.

The only problem was that now that he had the opportunity to tell you exactly how he felt, and how he had felt for several years now, that he couldn’t find the words.

His entire mind was drawing a blank.

And the longer the silence dragged on, the more your face seemed to fall. He could see every single insecurity written all over it, a million doom scenarios flashing behind your eyes, each one worse than the other.

Eddie wanted to take all your doubts away, but he didn’t know how. For someone that had an answer for almost everything, he sure was struggling now.

“Eddie,” you said softly. “You don’t have to-“

Practically lunging forward, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you instead. It was just the one kiss and when he pulled away, you were staring at him with wide eyes, like your brain was struggling to process what the hell had just happened.

“I um… I didn’t know what to say,” he whispers. “So I just-“

“So you just-“

“Yeah. You don’t mind?”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” you blurted out. “Why would I mind? I mean, I-“

Eddie presses his lips on yours again before you can go on another nervous ramble. The first kiss was over before it even started and you hadn’t gotten a chance to respond then, but you do now. He feels your hands on his shoulders, your touch uncertain at first, but your grip tightens when his tongue swipes over your lips.

You sigh and he takes the chance to lick into your mouth, seeking out your tongue. You match his eagerness and then take it further than he had intended to.

You shift in your seat until you’re sitting on your knees and looming over him. The kiss breaks for a few seconds and you push him back, moving in to straddle him immediately. There’s not a lot of room with the steering wheel right behind you, but you won’t be deterred and Eddie doesn’t stop you either. His hands circle around your back, pulling you into him.

You’re basically grinding into Eddie’s lap while most of Hawkins is on their morning commute to work, dropping their kids off at school, passing by his van without having a clue what's going on in there. Whenever they hazard a look inside, they’re treated to the sight of two horny teenagers who look like they’re seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

Some random woman that passes by on the sidewalk bangs her hand against the window, muttering something about devil worship. She didn't even have to look twice to check who was behind the wheel, because everyone in Hawkins knew exactly who the proud owner of that van was.

“What’s the devil got to do with you sitting on my lap?” Eddie murmurs against your lips, amused.

“No idea,” you shrug as you pull away and move back to your own seat once more. “Probably thought that you’d brainwashed me or something.”

“Sure I did,” he mutters. That’s when he thinks of something else entirely. “What’s first period again?”

“Phys ed.”

“Fuck that.” Eddie turns the key in the ignition and makes the engine roar back into life. He turns the van around and drives back in the direction that you had come from. “We’re skipping class.”

“Oh, are we?” If you had asked him to, he would have turned around and driven right back to school, but he knew that you wouldn’t challenge him on this. “And what are we going to be doing instead?”

“Some physical education of our own. It’ll be loads better than playing dodgeball again.” Eddie starts chuckling and couldn’t resist adding, “You can dodge my balls instead.”

“God!” Your arm shoots out and smacks his bicep. “You’re such a child,” you say with a laugh. “Honestly.”

“I’ll make sure that you get your workout, baby, don’t worry about it.”

“You gonna make me sweat?”

“That’s the idea.” He holds his right hand out to you, palm up, and you take it without hesitation. He gives your hand a quick squeeze and throws in a, “Best way to work up a sweat.”

The rest of the drive is relatively silent. The only noises are coming from the car stereo, which wasn't set to its usual volume for once, interspersed with the occasional laugh when the two of you happen to make eye contact.

Eddie drives to the exact same place where he parked the car last Friday afternoon, a relatively secluded spot near Lover's Lake which was eerily quiet at this time on a Monday morning.

It had taken quite some time to coax you into the back on Friday, nervous as you were, and even sharing a joint with Eddie hadn't made your nerves subside.

You'd sat in the passenger seat for at least a half an hour longer before you had joined him and then it had taken another half hour for you to even take your shirt off. All that happened while Eddie had his back turned to you by the way, while he continuously promised that he wouldn't face you until you were ready, even if he was hard as a rock already by that time (uncomfortably so).

There wasn't any hesitation now.

Seconds before Eddie had turned the engine off, you got up, squeezing through the space between the seats and sat down in the back. Eddie hadn't gotten round to putting all the blankets that he had grabbed from the trailer back yet so you were sitting quite comfortably among them when he joined you.

His mouth falls open when you take your shirt off like it's nothing and when your hands start moving down, fingers already moving to open your jeans, is the moment that apprehension sets in for him this time.

"Nice to see that you're so comfortable now," he laughs nervously. "But there's one thing that I need to tell you first."

Your fingers stop moving, jeans pulled open far enough so that your light blue cotton panties are visible. "What is it?" You move over to where Eddie has sat down and ask, "You don't want to do this anymore?"

"Fuck, that's not it. I definitely want to do this." He very crudely takes your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel exactly how hard he is already. You give him a quick squeeze and he groans in reply. "I just wanted to clarify something."

"And what's that?" Your eyebrows arch in amusement and he doesn't really know why. "You can tell me, Eddie."

"Well, when you first suggested that we sleep together, you did that with the assumption that I'd slept with someone before."

"Yeah?" You briefly cover your mouth with your free hand and clear your throat. "Are you trying to tell me that you didn't?"

"Yeah," he says quietly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Eddie." You lean in and peck his cheek. "I already knew."

"Wha-?" he says, dumbfounded, and you can't stop yourself from giggling now. "How did you know?"

"You did say that you didn't know what you were doing. It was just the once, but it was kind of a dead giveaway," you reveal. Eddie smacks himself in the forehead. He had said that. "It made me feel a bit better, to know that we were both new to it and were experiencing it together."

"Can't hide anything from you." He reaches out to touch you then, his hands skimming up your chest until he's cupping your tits. "My girl's so smart." You let out a moan, one that's a bit too loud for what he's doing, and Eddie's face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. "You like being called my girl?"

"Uh-huh," you pant as you arch your back and press your chest into his hands. "I love it."

"Good." Eddie leans back until his spine is pressed against the side of the van, pulling you along with him and making you straddle his lap. "'Cause you are my girl, right?" You whimper when he runs his hand through your hair and grips the back of your neck gently. "Tell me."

"I'm your girl." You pop the button of his jeans, pull his fly open and slip your hand inside. "I've always been your girl," you tell him as he pushes his hips up into your hand. "Eddie." There's a sense of urgency behind your voice. "We're gonna have to hurry up if we want to make it back in time for the second period."

Eddie presses his forehead against your shoulder and groans, "And what's that again?"

"Maths."

"Fuck that," he replies as he reaches around your back to unhook your bra. "We're skipping that one as well." He licks a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear and growls, "Now stop talking about school please? It's putting me off."

"Oh really?" Your hand jerks upwards over his shaft. "If anything, you're only getting harder," you observe with a grin. "Or is that because of-" Your sentence ends in a yelp when Eddie suddenly flips you onto your back and gives you a searing kiss to shut you up.

"You done?" You nod, your sass now completely gone. "Good, because we have about an hour left and I want to make you come at least three times before we get back to school if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you squeak. "I don't mind at all."

"That's my girl…”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes #mar moodboards

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dotthings · 1 year

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Since I just rewatched 4x14 "Sex and Violence" let me revisit a few things. I really really like this ep, it's darkly psychological and it's a great ep on Sam and Dean's relationship, as well as having bi Dean subtext.

The first victim murders his wife

The second victim murders his mother

The third victim, Dean, the siren tries to goad into killing his brother

So the siren manipulates some people into harming a romantic partner, or manipulates them into harming a family member, a platonic bond. The siren gets off on the violence, the power, of driving someone to that extreme.

Sam and Dean are on different paths this season. Dean misses his brother and he's lonely. They're drifting apart, mistrust is growing between the brothers. The siren takes a male form, FBI agent Nick, to entice Dean. To give him someone who is like-a-brother. But Nick isn't like Sam. Nick is a lot like Dean. He's excited about the Impala, he's knowledgeable on classic rock, he laughs at Dean's jokes. Nick is the siren purposefully honing in on the loneliness in Dean, but in so doing, creates someone who is sort of like a brother but isn't Dean's brother. They aren't brothers. What the siren is playing upon is Dean's wish for a companion who understands him, who he can connect with, and it doesn't have to be his brother.

"I gave him what he wanted and it wasn't some b*tch in a g-string, it was you" is the text. Textually, Nick is using Dean's loneliness due to his slowly growing estrangement from Sam, and giving him a substitute for that.

Nick, along with being a companion, is a potential romantic and sexual partner, which a brother wouldn't be. Those scenes with Nick and Dean in the car...for one thing the siren innately operates in a seductive way and that actor really seems to be leaning into that, and Dean is...Deaning the way he sometimes does with men he's not related to. The way they're looking at each other in the car scene. This is the subtext.

And it's so weird to me that people get attacked or mocked or have had hate threads made about them on twitter dot com just for analyzing all this (I've been trolled for it, other bi Dean fans could probably tell similar horror stories). Even recently, I know it's still been going on -- a few weeks back, some bitter Sam stan tried to claim that if you let in the subtext on bi Dean, that must mean that you are validating w*ncest and that's just not how this works.

In fact it can be both about the platonic sibling bond, and bi Dean subtext (with Dean/Nick as the unspoken potential). The episode is mainly, and most overtly, about the brothers and their strained bond and how the siren preys on that. And I have a lot of feelings about Sam and Dean in this episode. It hurts. It's poignant. That is a platonic bond on the series and one that I really love. At the same time, the bi Dean subtext, the dynamic he has with Nick, the actual seduction siren Nick is playing on Dean, can co-exist with the brothers and their sibling bond troubles. Sam is not a potential romantic or sexual partner for Dean. Nick is. And yes that can be a layer, it's called subtext, while it is ostensibly about Nick filling that loneliness in Dean because Sam and Dean are drifting apart.

We also need to put this in context of the season. This ep isn't about Dean and Cas, but it is in S4 and falls at a time when Dean is drawn to a male companion--an angel, who is not related to him. Who gets him in ways nobody else Dean knows does. An unexpected kindred spirit where Dean never expected to find that. Cas isn't like Nick, Cas is weird, and he doesn't know pop culture and he doesn't know music and he doesn't care about classic cars like Nick does. Nick is an illusion, a seduction, the siren creates The Perfect Person for Dean to get close to. Cas, otoh, is the real deal. He's authentic. The connection between them isn't a seduction, it's Cas being Cas, Dean being Dean, and Cas goes against his orders from Heaven due to his growing attachment to Dean. Cas is making Dean feel a whole lot less lonely in S4 where Dean and Sam are drifting apart and Sam is wading into dangerous waters and isn't listening to Dean. So Sex and Violence isn't about Destiel, but Sex and Violence, Dean and Nick, exist not only in the context of Sam and Dean's relationship, but what's forming between Dean and Cas as well (even if Sam and Dean are obviously most directly relevant as the context).

Scrubbing all that out, and trolling and mocking anyone for unpacking it and making their case for the bi Dean subtext is really weird and it's anti-art and it's anti-interpretation. There's nothing wrong with saying "huh, that's an interesting take, hadn't thought of that. Not sure I see it, but carry on *shrug*" and move on.

Instead, for years, there are stans who attacked subtext and attack analysis of subtext, who laugh at it and call people insane, and are still doing it recently.

This analysis of Sex and Violence is old news, but I hope my revisiting maybe adds something to the discussion of this ep. bi Dean discussion is still going on to this day about it and so is the trolling, and I refuse to be silenced on perfectly reasonable subtextual analysis because some people feel a need to throw immature tantrums. It's utterly unhinged, in a bad way, that some people have been so aggressive about actively trying to silence discussion of bi Dean in Sex and Violence.

#The 15 Year Show #Dean Winchester #Dean is bi #Castiel #Destiel #Nick the siren #Sam and Dean: A work in progress #bi dean meta

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rocksalt-and-pie · 6 months

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alright I've made a more in depth list of episodes I would like to see in a fanservice season 16 as previously mentioned in my other post:

- human Impala (should be portrayed by a 55+ years old actor or actress with a strong Detroit accent and a very loud deep voice. they have arthritis in their shoulders because Dean never oils their creaking door hinges)

- Sam and Dean body swap (the potential for jokes is just top tier and the outtakes from this will be out of this world) (Jensen playing Jared playing Sam and the other way around sounds like absolute chaos)

Cas immediately recognizes Dean even in Sam's body and it's revealed that all this time he has been looking directly at Dean's soul 😭 (no kissing in this episode though. God the psychological damage a Misha/Jared kiss would cause)

- parallel universe with female Sam and Dean that they get sent to and meet each other / alternatively: some kind of gender swap curse that makes them turn into women (the potential for misogynistic jokes turning into more understanding and therefore changed behavior is just chef's kiss)

Bonus points for Cas off-handedly mentioning that he doesn't think it's weird that he wasn't affected by the curse because technically he has no gender and the body he inhabits is just a vessel (close up on Dean's face Thinking Thoughts)

Rowena takes care of it and compliments the female versions of them and it's kinda gay ("do we have to turn you back? Shame, would have been nice to have some female company, we could have formed a coven! Or done other fun things" cut to irritated glances being exchanged between the brothers/sisters)

- Jack and Claire teaming up for a hunt (preferably saving their damsel in distress father and step-dad that got trapped in some dangerous place where they finally have nothing but time to talk things out because there is no way to escape, you have to be freed from the outside)

- stanford era Dean flashbacks (feeling lost and alone on the road)

- Bobby and Rufus in the 80s flashbacks (including baby Winchesters!)

- Bigfoot hunt (the teddy bear episode doesn't count) but it's just an escaped gorilla or something. I just wanna see them hiking again okay I like the woods

- some, like, desert monster idk. filmed on location in Arizona or Nevada in the sweltering heat. the boys being forced to remove layer after layer of plaid. show me Dean in a tank top (handprint included)

- birthday episode (either Sam's or Dean's idc. How come that in 15 years there was never a case taking place during one of their birthdays!)

- an actual wedding, either Sam and Eileen or Jody and Donna or Dean and [gun shots]

- beach episode, show me those bathing suits. give me a Bond girl moment

- another Wayward Sisters episode please

- reverse French mistake although it would be absolutely fucking insufferable and I would hate it with all my heart (but it would be sooo funny)

- resolve all the other loose threads of open ended episodes (there are so many! The tulpa from season 1! The girls in the hotel from the haunted house episode in season 2! Jesse the antichrist kid from season 5! The witch twins and how one of them brought the other back from the dead! The kid of that monster friend of Sam's that Dean killed in season 8 i think and told him to his face to come looking for him when he's grown up! That's five whole episodes right there!! and those are just the ones i could come up with from the top of my head but I'm sure there's more)

- BRING BACK BELA FOR JUST ONE SCENE PLEASE

- a lot of you mentioned a proper musical episode, which. sure why not. a curse that makes you sing/perceive everything happening as music perhaps?

- and then of course. The coconuts gently colliding but this goes without saying

#supernatural #season 16 #spn #spn season 16 #supernatural season 16 #supernatural reboot #spn reboot #destiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #mp #this is how EYE would do it

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youchangedmedestiel · 3 months

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Warm and soft skin

(You can also find this ficlet below on AO3)

Every once and a while, when Dean comes back from a bad hunt or when Cas is struggling with his brothers and sisters, they do it. Sometimes it’s just because they want to – need to – because they seek for warm, comforting and tender touches. Some other times it’s just about being, being together, being happy and being there for each other.

Today, Dean asks for it. Not for any particular reason, he just wanted to, because it’s been too long since last time in his opinion. So, he approaches Cas in the kitchen. The angel is drying the clean dishes when Dean presses himself against his back, his arms wrapped around him and his face buried into the crook of his neck.

“I need you, Cas.” Dean whispers, his lips brushing at Cas’s soft skin just below his ear. And Cas understands instantly what Dean means. This has been their way to ask for it since the first day it happened. And it occurred so naturally.

Cas puts the plate and the cloth he had in his hands down on the kitchen counter and turns around. Dean lets him, barely moving away and slightly opening his arms, he closes them back around Cas’s waist as soon as he faces him.

The angel kisses his lips softly as he reaches for Dean’s arms surrounding him. He disentangles them and takes Dean’s hand in his. He pulls him out of the kitchen towards Dean’s room. He opens the door and makes sure they both entered fully before closing it behind them.

Cas lets Dean’s hand fall from his, he knows they’ll touch again soon. Plus they need it to fully undress. Dean is naked first since Cas has a lot more layers to get rid of. He slides in the bed under the covers, waiting for Cas. The angel takes off his boxer briefs and drops them on the floor with the rest of their clothes as he walks towards the bed.

He settles next to Dean under the covers. He doesn’t have the time to lie back properly that Dean is already shifting closer. Cas smiles and faces the man beside him. He gets closer too, taking Dean into his arms, feeling the warm of his soft skin against his own.

He also perceives his heartbeat against his chest. He slides one arm under Dean’s head and lets his fingers tangling with his soft little hairs at the back of his neck. He knows Dean love when his nails scrap his scalp so he starts doing it while his other arm goes for Dean’s back. He flexes it to press Dean’s body closer to his. Then his hand travels up and down the strong muscles of Dean’s back. It’s soothing, warm and soft and this is all Dean wanted. His left arm is folded between them with his hand resting flat against Cas’s bare chest, his face buried under his chin, and his right hand on Cas’s hip while his thumb is stroking the soft skin there.

From time to time, Cas kisses his forehead, his hand grabs Dean’s shoulder, and presses him closer tightly, or his other hand strokes Dean's butt cheeks. There is no sexual undertone to their naked cuddles. There never was. Because this is not about that. This is about touch, skin-to-skin contact.

For Dean, it’s especially about feeling Cas there with him after losing him so many times. And for Cas, it’s about being asked and being able to do this, to see Dean this vulnerable. He is even more vulnerable that way than when they have sex. This is pure intimacy, this is one of their ways to show their love to the other. And those tender touches happen whenever one of them needs it. It can last two minutes like it can two hours. The one asking for this is the one who chooses how long he needs to feel the other’s warm and soft skin against his own.

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deansmom · 10 months

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Everytime I point out that Dean Winchester is autistic, people get mad or look at me like I’ve spontaneously grown a second head, as if this man’s existence isn’t just checking off boxes for the diagnostic criteria

Special interests: westerns, cars, mechanical engineering stuff in general, 1960’s & 70’s music - specifically classic rock, monsters. You’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s totally normal for someone who was born in 1979 to have borderline encyclopedic knowledge of two decades of music????? Hundreds of years of monster lore??? — for fuck’s sake, he had a train thing when he was little!!!! Those are special interests!!!!

Restricted diet: it’s mostly for Jokes but dean genuinely doesn’t eat much beyond burgers, diner food and pie.

Dean didn’t speak for months after Mary died and there’s 15 years of canon evidence where he loses his voice during moments of Big Emotions!!! He’s going nonverbal!!!!!!!

Trouble with social cues: literally look at every single instance of Dean trying to interact with strangers, ESPECIALLY in the early seasons. He’s not playing dumb, he just doesn’t get it. Also, watch any scene of this man TRYING to flirt and tell me that he’s any good at it. You know why? That bitch is mimicking the fucking movies and tv shows he grew up watching.

Sensory processing disorder: DO YOU THINK HE WEARS 87 LAYERS FOR FUN???? FOR FASHION????? WHAT DID YOU THINK ALL THE FLANNELS WERE ABOUT. THEY’RE SOFT. Also think about how much he liked the nightgown and the robe. ALSO, ALSO: school!!! It’s loud, it’s smelly, it’s dirty (his germ thing), the lights are too bright, there’s too much sensory input happening at one time. Between being so overwhelmed in school that he couldn’t focus and John pulling him left & right for cases and Sam, no wonder dean dropped out :(

14.04. The comic book episode is an ENTIRE episode about dean and his special interests!!!!!! And his social anxiety, hiding out in his room at the beginning of the episode because of all the strangers in his home 😤

Emotional regulation problems: those angry outbursts?? Destroying the Impala??? LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THATS NOT A MELTDOWN

His whole personality is a mask! He based his whole life and personality around the men he grew up around! John, Bobby, the other hunters - we all know that dean isn’t this rugged manly man he puts on. Sure people can have layers, but my man literally wore his dad’s actual jacket for fucking years

Black & white thinking: this doesn’t need anything else tbh

Strong sense of Justice: “how many people do you have to save?” “All of ‘em. Whole wide world of sports.”

Literal thinking: half the show is about how they both have to learn to look at monsters and not immediately go “monsters bad.” Also literal thinking is hard to explain, but I promise he does this.

Hyperlexic: “what? I read?”

“Too blunt”: all those times you thought “that was kinda harsh Dean” or “wtf that was so mean” - he doesn’t like lying to people when he doesn’t have to!

Hyper empathy: “The baby in the well? My bad.” “I do my best to be brave.” Sacrificing himself for people over and over again. The djinn episode and the speech he makes in front of John’s grave. His whole life he’s been told he cares too much!!!!

As a fellow AuDHD bitch, the most AuDHD thing Dean has ever said was “we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.” Also: “I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out.”

Like I could dive into the nuances of all of these and explain them in great detail and find textual evidence for basically everything, but it’s too early in the morning for that much work when I know that I’m right. Yeah he has adhd, obviously, but I will eat my left hand if that man isn’t autistic.

#why do you think him & Cas get along so well!!#hilariously I don’t necessarily agree with the hc that Cas is autistic bc he’s just an angel with no context for all these things #but he’s like Spock! allegory or whatever for autism so ofc him & dean immediately vibe #also you think Charlie was allistic?!?! be so fucking for real rn #you think an autistic lesbian would intentionally befriend a heterosexual (allegedly) neurotypical yt man??#[slams fists on the table] YOUR HONOR DEAN WINCHESTER IS A HIGH MASKING AUTISTIC AND I WILL NOT BE TAKING NOTES #personal

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ishcliff · 10 months

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christening this blog with the raw power of my hyperfixation in honor of it being 07/08: perfect thematic and color harmonies and inversions

i don't necessarily believe that inverted colors are overly important when it comes to creating characters who are intended as reflections of each other. however, in the case of ishmael and heathcliff? color is one of two inversions present in these pieces. the second is in the inversion of the ways they carry death with them.

their shared theme in their promo art is being at the mercy of terrible storms as a metaphor for having agency taken from them. ishmael's art centers her on one single defining tragedy, while heathcliff's centers on a long string of tragedies that had always defined his life.

fundamentally, the two of them embody death for the sake of their own personal survival. for ishmael, it is a mantle she clings to because she feels she has nothing else worth living for. for heathcliff, the mantle is forced upon him until he learns to embrace it as all other options are taken from him.

speculation and source material discussion below the cut.

—

ishmael is the hearse – a statement loaded in several layers when factoring in her source material. the first layer of thematics is embodied in ishmael herself: she is perpetually carrying everyone with her, refusing to put them in the ground and let them rest; constantly taking on jobs and exploring far-out places in search of those that still live. as several others have pointed out, ishmael is the only sinner who is drawn every time with "fish eyes" (i.e. without any light in them – likely another loaded metaphor). she isn't ready to let them go yet, and her life is now defined by their death.

the second layer is a little more on-the-nose: source ishmael was the only survivor of the pequod's destruction thanks to a coffin meant for queequeg that ishmael utilized as a lifeboat.

the third is more speculation territory, but with all the implications of ahab being someone she is seeking revenge against (her promo referencing "that bastard", her base identity revolving around wrath), it's important to note that there are several references to hearses related to ahab in the source material. in the latter half, a prophecy is revealed to ahab that states he will die after seeing two hearses. at the end of the book, he sees them: the first being the whale itself, carrying the dead body of the one who gave him the prophecy; the second is his own ship, the pequod, which is now a doomed vessel delivering everyone on it to their grave at the bottom of the ocean. in a way, her embodying the hearse is possibly to be the final death of ahab – the last thing he will see before she delivers him to his final resting place.

heathcliff is trickier to speculate on, as it's been very heavily implied that we are seeing him as he is in the middle of wuthering heights' first three-year timeskip. this is referenced particularly strongly in his N corp. identity, where he mentions the catalyst for his leaving in the source material. for those who might not know: catherine demeans his worth when she thinks he can't hear, so he runs away to "make something of himself" to return and take her and the estate for himself as an act of revenge against everyone who hurt him. since he's essentially been pulled from the middle of his spiraling character arc, this leaves a lot of room for project moon's spin on him.

but with that explicit reference in N corp. (as well as a softer reference in his sunshower E.G.O. identity), we can assume with relative safety that events before the timeskip are similar in limbus as in source. in source, heathcliff was a romani foundling taken into a wealthy family – propped in limbus with recent references in canto 4 to nesters sometimes being "tourists" in the backstreets for novelty. however, heathcliff's arrival was scorned by all but the earnshaw patriarch and catherine; even the primary narrator, nelly dean, regards heathcliff's arrival to the estate as an omen of death and destruction. most characters assault heathcliff with mask-off racism. he's called slurs, compared to demons, and described as inherently evil, despite the fact that he was (at the time) an insecure and meek child who clung to the very few who loved him for safety.

not long after his arrival, his adoptive mother passes, all but "proving" the omen correct. then, his adoptive father passes just a few years after. these deaths kickstart many years of horrific abuse at the hands of catherine's older brother (and now estate owner) hindley. hindley abused both heathcliff and catherine physically and emotionally. heathcliff's violence in particular was deeply racially motivated: he was forced out of schooling and made into a slave of the estate. all the while, it was reiterated to him that he is an omen and responsible for all of hindley's troubles, including bringing death upon his late wife.

with the implication that heathcliff's unknown birth family is dead, his life is defined by a string of funerals that all tie back to him in some way. either he loses a loved one, or it's blamed on some otherworldly force he is allegedly in command of.

as the abuse mounted, heathcliff and catherine's bond became more codependent and obsessive. with this shift came the beginnings of heathcliff's proclivity to escalate violence. at first, it's deeply sympathetic, if not outright justified. though he expresses violent thoughts a few times prior, heathcliff's first violent act is against hindley in retaliation against yet another racially charged instance of abuse. and even as he leaves with catherine's insult in his mind, he vows to further embody what the earnshaws saw him as and to take what (and who) he views as rightfully his. where it gets distorted is that so entrenched is he in this role that his violence perpetuates against the next generation – by all accounts, entirely innocent people who are now on the receiving end of unearned horrific abuse that he himself had gone through.

this is why i want to point out his base E.G.O. depicts him carrying a corpse of someone he presumably killed, comes with a threat that he will kill his target, too. he revels in the image of being a relentless agent of death and senseless destruction.

however, in limbus there is still the shreds of who he used to be; before the timeskip, source heathcliff instinctively saved hindley's son's life, only to realize that this gesture of his goodwill benefited his abuser. this has him vow to never express that side of himself in the estate ever again. in limbus, however, heathcliff can do fundamentally compassionate things without the oppressive air of the man who literally enslaved him weighing down on him – such as in canto IV, where he saves the life of gregor, expresses concern over ishmael feeling sick, and urges dante to save the dying don quixote before himself.

all of this is to say, there are many different places heathcliff's character could go in limbus, but at the core of it all is his struggle with virulent (and somewhat/mostly justified) hatred of those who dedicated their lives to taking everything that ever made him happy. this is a similarity he shares with ishmael, whose sole purpose for living is also in pursuit of revenge against a single entity.

by all accounts, ishmael has become death by her own doing in reclamation of events outside of her control. contrast to heathcliff, who was always destined to be death, which he learns to embrace in his own form of reclamation. these inverted internalizations result in a shared struggle with anger issues – the only real difference being that ishmael's anger is barely repressed, while heathcliff's is overly expressed.

project moon's series as a whole is extremely jungian. in lobcorp/ruina, every core suppression/realization is fundamentally the boss enemy confronting an uncomfortable facet of their shadow self. with this in mind, i believe the parallels ishmael and heathcliff share combined with their surface-level differences fostering disproportionate animosity is another intentional display of the way we fight against our shadow despite it always being a part of us. with the general series theme of breaking cycles, i would not be surprised if somewhere later down the line we get both ishmael and heathcliff acknowledging how much they fundamentally understand the other.

we already get a taste of this in ishmael's log of the blubbering toad. she reacts with primal anger towards its crying and projects a lack of confidence and self-worth onto it. heathcliff is not only the first to defend her, but also states he feels the same. later, ishmael admits to seeing herself in the abnormality and contemplates a form of compromise.

(shout out to sinclair, a character defined by his internal war between repression and expression, bridging their gap)

whether they want this kinship or not, ishmael and heathcliff are fundamentally looking for the same thing from the same vantage point, only at slightly different angles. with the precedent project moon has set by uniting angela and roland (whom ishmael and heathcliff echo in similar parallels), it feels very intentional for the two of them to be frequently paired together and expressing similar opinions on several narrative conflicts.

there just really is something about two alienated people finding something in each other, even if it isn't always amicable or comfortable.

#limbus company #limbus company speculation #lcb ishmael #lcb heathcliff #ishcliff #heathmael #i don't care how you see them as long as it's at least “in this together”#cw racism #cw child abuse

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joannasteez · 13 days

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T.O.B.- headcanon thingz!

authors note: the following content is merely being created for fun and to supplement the major plot(s) of the original story. all headcanons will be labeled as such, and will feature a hand full of little facts and tidbits about the third generation members of the blood line during their youth!

they called him pretty boy rhodes. too blue eyes and that punchable perfect smile. "my boy dashin' ain't he?", his father would say all the time. but it was true. cody was more pretty than the biker world needed him to be.

"they voted me most handsome"...he said once, very nonchalantly. and they did, the last year of HS. which surprisingly did nothing to affect his meekness.

when cody was eighteen, dusty gifted him a harley davidson fatboy. black, silver, and so damn beautiful.

when cody was sixteen he randomly got a nose piercing that he kept up with faithfully until his mid twenties. "chicks dig the piercing". he attempted a septum but dean told him it was ugly and cody had never heard that word come his way ever and it surprisingly scared the shit outta him. he stuck with his little diamond stud till the tattoos started rollin in more heavily. apparently committing to both was too much work. he got a very weird, oddly placed neck design that made everyone grimace. (he was drunk and orton was practicing)

cody fucking hates beer. "its effervescent hot piss. fuckin miss me please". he much prefers rum based drinks.

he's an affectionate drunk. tells all the guys "he loves them". when he starts getting teary eyed, they know he's had too much.

cody was slightly affected by the "dashing" thing. on his inner arm theres a small black inked square covering what used to read "PBR", which means pretty boy rhodes. once again. kinda drunk, and jey was practicing.

cody was very briefly the tattoo test dummy. he stopped when he realized he was wasting skin on amateur work.

cody doesn't think he has superior music taste, but he likes what he likes. radiohead, the smashing pumpkins, jeff buckely (a girl he dated for 2 weeks in HS introduced him to jeff. probably the only fruitful thing from those two weeks of hell) when he's feeling a little angsty and stevie wonder because dusty played the classic shit.

leather jackets. dark browns and old worn black leather jackets. always smelling like cinnamon. the girls fucking loved it. most times with worn boots. a lot of layering in the winter/fall. long sleeve white tees under crew necks. band tee tanks in the summer.

cody loves the matrix.

cody is a bare knuckle kinda boy in a fight. people who don't know him underestimate him because of the "PBR" stigma. but he's a bloodline kid through and through. gets bloody and a little dirty like the rest of them. has definitely let you wrap his knuckles a time or two after a particularly bad bar brawl. some asshole sliced his hand with a bottle. he used to be a tattoo test dummy though, so high pain tolerance.

#tanks of blood #tanks of blood headcanon #this is what you call muthafuckin world buildin #for fun #cody rhodes #biker!cody #biker!cody rhodes #biker au #this is an excuse for me to make collages #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes fic #au headcanons

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hologramcowboy · 1 month

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https://www.tumblr.com/hologramcowboy/745395618485272576/am-i-being-extra-sensitive-or-was-this-a-rape?source=share

I hope I can vent here for a second. I genuinely do not understand why anyone gave him a pass on that one. Had that been someone like Joe Jonas, Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Mike Tyson, Pedro Pascal even, they would not have been given a pass and it would have been all over main news media sites. He wouldn't be making that joke if he knew any of the children that were sexually abused by priests for decades or what happened with the Boy Scouts. There are just some things you don't make a joke about. His Brendan Fraser The Whale joke he made was bad enough, as were some other jokes he made over the years, but in this day and age, there is no more excuse. I don't personally know anyone affected by the abuse people of those two institutions enacted, that I'm aware of I should say, and I would never ever make that joke. As gross as Misha can be, even he didn't make that joke. Even if he wanted to play along, he shouldn't, not after he was so vocal about the mass graves found in Canada and the atrocities committed by the churches up there against Native children for decades.

Any AA that defends that joke Jensen made is a heartless asshole that needs to get their heads checked as soon as possible.

Now, that all being said, I think he's saying worse and worse things lately for two reasons. The first is I think this is really him and he just doesn't give a fuck anymore. Like he'll still try to tell people what he thinks they want to hear but more and more lately, he gives a very no fucks given vibe. Whether that's due to what happened with The Winchesters or Rust or whatever, that's the vibe he gives off. The second is I think he says assholish shit like this at certain points because he's trying to give off a Soldier Boy vibe, sort of selling that character since a lot of people speculate he'll be returning for The Boys' last season. Sort of like he used to dress as Dean with the flannel and jeans, and then like Beau when Big Sky was airing. I could be wrong but that's the vibe I got when he went "oh, that's too far?"

I'm curious as to what your thoughts are. Not about the joke, we all know it was disgusting and highly inappropriate, but about why he presents himself like this sometimes. And why he always seems to get a free pass the more he ups the ante on being an asshole.

Jensen's self image is warped by his sychopant fans and his deluded wife. He has no personality of his own and instead tries to inject in himself the attributes of the characters he gets cast as because he mistakes characters for branding. Branding is who You are not who your character is. Branding is that unique essence you bring to your character.

Sorry to say but this is what happens when a man who lacks culture and studies gets hyper praised to the point where he loses his sensitivity towards others. Jensen has a one sided view in life, anyone who disagrees with him is automatically a bully. He is just like his sychopantic fans. He can't perceive the world in all of its layers and that's endlessly sad for someone who claims to be an artist.

He claims he wants to bring light to the world or whatever will earn him approval but then acts like a jock who is bullying his friends.

At the end of the day, Jensen is a subpar actor who lacks culture in an industry where people are now multihyhyphenated and multicultured. It would do him good to be more grounded and realize that his influence can help people when it is used with the intention to help, rather than when it is squandered on incredibly inappropriate jokes and behaviors (getting superdrunk at cons is a superbad example).

Being praised in a one sided way has clearly gone to his head. That terrible joke is not the first time he demonstrated a lack of empathy and self awareness. I really wish he had good role models around him but he's married to the queen of bullying so why are we even surprised when he acts like a mindless, self centered jock?

Jensen needs to grow up. A lot. Thank you for allowing me to vent, I have tears in my eyes as I am writing this, I am just so sad he's turning out to be such a disappointment on so many levels. You see, you are definitely not alone in your need to vent and thank you so much for expressing things in an honest, open way. AAs forget what honesty and having values means because they forego their own values and replace them with the perceived ones from Jensen. It pains me to say this because I saw so much in him but...Jensen is no rolemodel.

#jensen critical

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

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The Trouble of Love Languages

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

Dean’s love language is quality time and acts of service while the woman he loves most in this world craves physical touch, which is the one thing he can’t stand.

Warnings: angst to fluff, they’re both in a bit of the wrong here, Dean has touch aversion, arguing, Dean is definitely an asshole with lots of unresolved issues, slightly toxic relationship?, break up, reader is ever so slightly touch starved, lovers to ex’s to lovers again, drinking, crying, comfort, hopeful ending, Sam is a good wingman

WC: 4.7k

Minors DNI

Dean Winchester hated to be touched. After spending all of his life with minimal kind physical touch with the people he cared about, it was no wonder he had an aversion to it. He could put up with a hug or slap on the back to his brother and fleeting kisses to his girlfriend’s cheek or forehead but everything else was off limits.

She did her best with what she got but sometimes, she just wanted to be held against his broad chest and inhale his unique scent of cheap cologne and gunpowder with just a hint of cherry pie. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body pressed tightly to her but her love for the hunter kept those needs locked behind a steel door that she never noticed had begun to rust.

Y/N sighed, putting down the massive book on werewolves that she had been studying for the past few hours. There was a tight band around her head that was slowly drawing tighter and tighter as a killer tension headache set in. She glanced over to the other side of the library where Dean had his feet perched up on the table as he leaned back in his chair, mindlessly sucking one of the lollipops Y/N had bought for Halloween.

He was only wearing a gray henley today instead of his usual many layers of plaids and shirts so she could see, very clearly, the way his muscles moved under the fabric and the slight pudge of his belly. Those dazzling green eyes were fixed on a new edition of some car magazine he picked up on the way back from a hunt. Y/N couldn’t help it.

Slipping from her own chair, she glided over to him. “What’cha reading?”

“Magazine.” He grunted but she knew he wasn’t being mean, sometimes Dean just didn’t want to talk. Without thinking, she laid her hands on his thick shoulder and gave them a squeeze.

Dean flinched out of her grasp, turning so quickly that Y/N had to take a step back to avoid being knocked over. His chair clattered to the floor as the library settled into an explosive silence. Y/N knew Dean could be scary, he’s been through so much trauma, seen and experienced things twenty times over that no human should ever have to see or experience even once. He told her of his time in hell and as a demon but promised that she would never be scared of him because he would protect her.

But now, as his chest heaved with heavy breaths, he was positively terrifying. “How many times have I told you not to do that?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “You know I don’t like to be touched and yet you still continue to do it. How long is it going to take before you get it? I. Don’t. Want. To. Touch. You.” His voice was level but filled with anger, a rage she had only seen when he confronted the worst kinds of monsters imaginable.

“Dean I’m sorry I-“

“You know maybe we shouldn’t even be together. Time and time again, you do this and you always say you’re sorry and that you won’t do it again but then a couple days later, you do.” Y/N’s heart was breaking right in front of the hunter but he was too blind with fury he couldn’t see it. “I can’t be with someone as fucking needy as you. It’s every goddamn day! I can’t get one second of peace with you being so clingy.”

That was the last straw. Y/N pushed a finger into his chest, shoving him backwards. He knew how insecure she was about her need for affection and constant reassurance, but until now, he never made her feel like it was an inconvenience. “Then yeah we shouldn’t be together. But you’re not going to be the one to break us up, I am. You’re a selfish man Dean Winchester. I don’t ask a lot from you. I ask that you take care of yourself, that you don’t cheat on me, that you treat me with respect and maybe the occasional hug so I don’t feel like one of your one night stands when you roll off of me after sex.

“I deserve someone who wants to be near me, who tries to understand what I need instead of brushing me off because you don’t want to make the effort. I am sick of being treated like a toy you can pick up and put down whenever you want a quick fuck or comfort. So Dean, you got your wish, we’re done.” Y/N turned and stormed off, her eyes burning with tears that didn’t fall until she could no longer hear her now ex destroying the library.

It was sad how quickly her bags were packed, only a duffle bag and a backpack that housed her entire life. She paused as she lifted the flannel she often wore to bed, the red and black fabric was soaked in Dean’s scent and never failed to make her feel safe every time she wore it.

It felt like a reminder of her faults, of all the things wrong with her that he couldn’t put up with. Scoffing, she threw it onto the bed they had shared only a couple hours ago. There was a quick knock on the door jam.

Sam, the gentle giant that he was, leaned on the wood, brown eyes big with concern. “Where’s Dean?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” She snapped, quickly zipping up her bag and tossing it over her shoulder, barging past him.

“Hey hey, what’s going on? Did you and Dean have a fight?” He trailed after her like a puppy, sadly watching as she stomped towards the garage which notably was missing the prized Impala. A cruel part of her mind cooed that it was probably parked at some bar where he would find someone better than her.

“If you can call it that.” She muttered, throwing open the door to her truck and shoving her stuff in. Just as she was about to climb in herself, Sam’s hand wrapped around her forearm to hold her back.

“What happened?�� Tears quickly rolled down her full cheeks, wetting the shirt she was wearing as they made their way down her neck. She turned to look at the men who had become her best friend, her voice firm with a slight quiver of sadness.

“We broke up.”

With a quick pull of her arm, Sam released her and she stepped into the cab of the truck. She rolled down the window, giving him a somber look. “Take care of him, ok. And-“ Y/N debated her next words carefully before speaking again. “Tell him I love him, even if he doesn’t believe it. He needs to know he’s loved.”

And with that, she drove off, leaving behind a very confused Sam and a life that she wished she could have kept.

——————

Another town, another hunt, another bar. That’s how it always went and for a long time, Dean was content to keep it that way. Then she blew into his life like a hurricane, knocking everything off path and forging her own. No more random hookups or drinking beer with every meal. She even made him get rid of all the guns he mounted on the wall in his room.

And now, the hurricane had passed, leaving behind destruction and a hole the shape of her in his heart. But she would not come back, he made sure of that when he called her clingy. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. He regretted it the moment it left his mouth and watched as the light in her eyes died.

She was gone, because of him, because of his stupidity he lost the best thing that has ever happened to him and the only thing he could do was accept it. So, he went back to his old ways, paving over the path of destruction in his soul the only way he knew how, beer, hunts, and women.

Sam decided to stay in the motel that night, shooting his older brother a look so devastating that Dean couldn’t meet his eye for fear he would see the disappointment and pity he already felt in himself. But Dean slipped out the door anyway and headed for the closest bar, truly not giving a shit if it was any good or not.

The music was too loud, the lights too dim, the beer too stale. Dean, however, was determined to stay, trying to convince himself that he could go on without her. He downed his first drink quickly, not letting the taste hit his tongue before his glass was drained. Signaling for another one, he rested his elbow against the sticky bar counter.

It was familiar, like returning to your childhood home. But it felt wrong. The voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to leave, to find her and crawl on his knees begging for forgiveness until she came back. That voice was silenced with another glass of cheap whiskey.

The hand planted on his chest was familiar too. A touch he could tolerate because he knew what came after, sweaty bodies rutting together until that rush of dopamine hit him and he could feel like a normal person for a while. She was pretty, young too and obviously enamoured by the sexy older man with a gruff voice that bought her drinks and made her feel special.

Another drink. She asked him to go back to hers and he agreed, following blindly after her as she led him away. He couldn’t remember the walk to the non descript apartment, only coming back to himself when she took his hand in her own, shooting him a wink that he supposed was meant to be sultry but just served to lessen the ache in his cock.

Her slender fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, tugging his thin hips into hers and pulled him into her home. The door slammed shut behind him, blindly following her.

A grunt was knocked from his lungs as she moved him onto her bed, sinking to her knees with hooded eyes. “Lemme take care of you baby.” Her voice was grating on his ears. Dean resisted the urge to flinch when her palms were laid on his muscular thighs.

It was so wrong, a nightmare he couldn’t escape but at the same time, didn’t want to because he wanted to prove something to himself, to validate his anger and his rage at the woman that loved him so much. Dean felt her tug at his belt and was broken from his thoughts.

“Stop. Just stop.” He all but shoved the girl off of him in his haste.

“What the hell!” She chastised, quite obviously offended at having been rejected by this man that until a few seconds ago, seemed very keen to have a night of fun with her. Dean shook his head and with a muttered ‘sorry’ left her kneeling on the bedroom floor.

“You fucking dick!” She called after him, and he couldn’t help but agree.

——————

Jody’s home was pleasant enough to live in. With home cooked meals every single night and a deluge of girl talk with not only the Sheriff but the two teens in her charge. It was a good distraction for a while, getting caught up in the usual antics of the young women that Y/N imagined Sam and Dean were like when they were younger.

But even the best distractions can only last for a little while. And each night, as she settled into the small bed graciously given to her, Y/N just felt alone. She was out of place here, a passing visitor that had overstayed her welcome long ago. No matter how much Jody may have protested the opposite and Claire and Alex insisted that they loved having her there, this wasn’t Y/N’s home.

Her home had always been Dean. His presence had soothed her soul in a way that nothing had ever done before. She lived for nights where they would drink and laugh themselves silly or when he would prepare her coffee just the way she liked it in the morning. She desperately missed how his face would break out into an uneven and frankly goofy smile when she teased Sam.

In a vain attempt to stop her mind from going down a road that she knew would make her spiral, Y/N shoved her headphones in her ears and blasted a random playlist. The soft guitar and crooning voice so similar to Dean’s had her eyes burning with tears. Her chest ached as she thought about the way he sang to her in the car, his hand on the seat beside her plump thigh, not quite touching her but close enough she knew it was there.

Tears rolled down her temples wetting the pillow beneath her head as she let herself mourn the love she had lost. Her sobs were silent, mere hiccups as she forced herself not to make any noise to alert the others. She couldn’t take anymore of their pitying looks.

She hugged herself tightly as her nails dug into her soft forearms, her chest heaving with her cries. Images of the man she considered her soulmate with another woman sent her deeper down the rabbit hole of self-despair. She could only imagine what he had gotten up to in the weeks since she left and it was driving her crazy.

The song faded out, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts for a second too long. The brightness of the screen blinded her for just a moment before she clicked on the last text exchange in her phone.

I love you sweetheart

The low buzz of the outgoing call rumbled against her chest where she placed her phone face down. In the silence between each ring, she was doubting her decision more and more. Why should she reach out first when he was the one that broke them?

“Hello?” His raspy voice came out crackled through her head phones, making her heart jump slightly.

“S-sorry butt dial.” She panicked, quickly hanging up but not before hearing him call out, “Wait! Plea-“ Y/N threw her phone onto the pile of her clothes in the corner of the room, ignoring how it was now ringing again, a photo of her and Dean lighting the screen.

Sleep did not come easily that night even after her cries ceased, her eyes finally fluttering closed as the sun began to peak over the horizon, dousing the room in a soft pink.

——————

It was rare that music didn’t play in the Impala. There was almost always a constant stream of classic rock that spewed from the radio, yet the silence was more overwhelming than the usual loud songs Dean sang along to.

Sam was deeply concerned for his older brother. He knew the break up hit him hard, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, but the younger Winchester didn’t think it was this bad. Dean reeked of the same whiskey he religiously drank after they lost Bobby. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, the Impala, his prized possession looked dull and lifeless, caked with dirt and dead bugs.

Dean hadn’t shaved in the weeks since she left so he now sported a semi-impressive beard which Sam attempted to make fun of just the same as his own facial hair had been but Dean had merely grunted and ignored him. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” He attempted to start a conversation.

“Jody’s.”

“Why?” The one word answers were nothing new, but at least he was talking. Dean’s green eyes flicked briefly over to his brother before returning to the road.

“Hunt.” Sam sighed, slumping back against the leather bench of the car, his focus shifting to the world that was speeding past them. He was sick of this self-pitying attitude that was slowly driving the older man to madness when it could be solved so easily.

“If you pulled your head out of your ass, you could get her back.” The air in the car turned to ice. “Don’t act like I didn’t hear you frantically calling her last night.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He growled, knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. But Sam kept pushing.

“She’s the best thing to have ever happened to you and you just let her leave. Or maybe you just never loved her since you went home with someone only a week ago, that’s why you didn’t put up a fight.”

“Shut up Sam.” Sam, that should have made him worry. He was only called Sam when Dean was pissed and on the edge of an almost toddler-like melt down.

“I’m just saying, if you really wanted to, and I mean really really wanted to, she would forgive you. But you don’t want to make the effort.” The tires screamed as Dean pulled off the road with a flick of his wrists. Sam was jerked sideways with the force but then was sent the other direction as Dean fisted the front of his flannel and shoved him back against the car door.

His eyes were wild with fury and his next words came out in a snarl. “I can’t get her back. Don’t you understand that. I just can’t.”

“Why not?” He pushed, desperate to get his brother to finally come to his senses. “You know she loves you and that she would do anything for you. What made this fight so terrible?”

“Because I can’t touch her!” The silence quickly returned as Sam tried to comprehend what he was just told. “I can’t touch her Sammy.” Dean was on the edge of tears. He released his shirt from his grasp like the fabric had burnt him and buried his head in his hands.

Sam had never witnessed Dean like this before, like his world was crumbling down before him and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it because he had just given up. No matter the circumstances or insurmountable odds that had faced him, he always pushed through with his can-do attitude and unwavering loyalty to those he loved. But now he was being consumed by a hopelessness so many monsters had attempted to instill in him but never could.

He was heartbroken and suffering. He lost the woman who knew his soul and yet still loved him. Sam knew what that despair felt like, to have such a great love ripped away and not giving yourself time to lament on that loss.

“Dean.” He started but was quickly interrupted.

“I couldn’t give her what she deserved. I couldn’t be that loving boyfriend she wanted so badly. I couldn’t even fucking hug her without feeling like I wanted to push her away. And I knew it was hurting her but she was right, I am selfish. I wanted her to myself even if I could see her slowly dying inside.”

The sun was quickly setting over the brothers, the reds and purples giving way to a deep blue. They watched, for a moment, as the stars began to appear and the darkness surrounded them. “I’ve hurt so many people in my life. My hands have been stained red with blood for so long and she was the one person I couldn’t stand to hurt. Yet I hurt her so badly that she ran away from me.”

“But you do want her back don’t you?”

Tearful green eyes looked back at him. “More than anything.”

“Then we need to make a pitstop, I have an idea.”

——————

Y/N couldn’t help but notice Jody’s worried glances towards the front door as they ate dinner. “Alright Mills, that’s the eighth time you’ve looked at the door in five minutes. What’s going on? Do you have a secret lover coming over?” Claire snorted in her drink but quickly recovered as her surrogate mom shot her a glare.

“No, I do not have a secret lover. Thank you very much. I’m just waiting for a package.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at the older woman, still incredibly doubtful.

“It’s almost 10 at night, why would a package be delivered this late?”

“Well, I-“ The doorbell rang, saving her from having to give another lame excuse. “Excuse me a moment, there’s my package.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the Sheriff, not saying anything else.

Alex sighed, shaking her head, like she was in on some conspiracy that Jody had set up. “Have you got anything to add?” Y/N teased.

“Nope, nothing at all. Isn’t that right Claire?” Said girl, who was sitting to Y/N’s left, just huffed and took another large bite of her food.

Y/N ignored the muffled voices coming from the entryway, assuming that Jody, being her usual friendly self, was making conversation with whoever was at the door. Then, “hey girls, I need your help for a minute.” And without so much as a groan of annoyance, both teens stood and rushed from the room.

Before Y/N could follow after them, she heard the front door slam shut and the obvious sound of a car engine starting up and then driving away. “What the hell?” Just as she stood from the table to investigate, a large figure blocked the doorway.

“Dean?”

“Hi sweetheart.” She melted at the sound of his voice clearly after so long and not through the crackly and broken version she heard through the dozens of voicemails he left her the night before. She itched to run into his strong arms but remained in place, her hand absentmindedly falling to the table, laying her palm flat against the butter knife she had been using. “I hope you’re not planning on using that on me.”

Dean gestured to her hand in a joking manner but only succeeded in making her scowl at him. “You look like shit.” He winced at her tone.

“I deserved that.”

“You deserve a lot worse. What the hell do you want Winchester?” Dean sighed. His body tilted forward, like he wanted to get closer. Running a hand through his hair, which was slightly longer than he normally kept it, his eyes dropped to the ground.

Y/N watched as he deflated, the usually stoic image of the hunter before her crumbling to dust and leaving a man that looked truly broken. “I didn’t mean to call you clingy.” Straight to business, good. She thought.

“But you did. And you did it knowing full well how I feel about that word.” Unconsciously, her voice softened as he nodded along to what she was saying.

“I know and I’m sorry about that. I’m- fuck- I’m sorry about everything.” Y/N didn’t object when he took a tentative step forward and she cursed her body for not recoiling as he drew closer. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to move away. “I wish I could be the man you want, the one you deserve, but I’m not and I don’t think I will ever be.”

“Not really selling your case here Dean.”

“Just- just let me get to my point and then you can cuss me out. I love you and I want to change for you. I want to get better at touching you and I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home. Besides Sammy’s been pouting a lot without you there and it’s getting really fucking annoying.” Of course the man couldn’t get through a serious discussion without being a dumbass.

Dean stood inches from her now, and Y/N could see how his hands trembled, either from anxiety or the copious amounts of alcohol she smelt from him, she didn’t know. “I don’t want you to change, Dean. I love you for who you are but you really hurt me and-“

“I know.” He cut her off. “I know and I want to make it right, if you’ll let me.” His green eyes shone with tears

“Goddamn you and your stupid puppy dog eyes.” She grumbled. Dean smirked. “Alright! Jesus, we can try again but I expect so much fucking grovelling, like ten times more than I had to do when I accidentally ate the last slice of pecan pie.”

He smiled and nodded, placing his hand on the dining room table mere millimeters from her own. “Anything you want sweetheart.”

“And no sex for the foreseeable future, not even over the clothes stuff.” He winced at that but still, his smile did not waver.

“And, and, fuck I can’t think of anything else with you looking at me like that.” She whined and turned her head so she didn’t have to look into his eyes anymore. Y/N gasped as a finger hooked under her chin, guiding her gaze back to the man she still loved so much. His smile was even softer now, almost dopey with love.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means never getting to see you in anything less than fully clothed for the rest of my life and giving you all of my pie. I just need you, sweetheart.” His forehead dropped to her own, the tips of their noses brushing together in an act so intimate it made her chest burn with affection.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” The question hung heavily in the air, pressing down on both of their chests like a massive weight. Dean breathed out harshly through his nose and Y/N froze, already fearing his answer, she began to pull away. But without any hesitation, his right arm wound around her thick waist and tugged her into his chest. Caught off guard, Y/N planted her hands on his chest.

She felt the way his body tensed beneath her palms, still so unused to being touched but he didn’t let her go like he would have before. “The short answer: no.”

“And the long answer?” Her throat felt like it was closing up with the onslaught of tear building behind her eyes.

“A girl brought me back to her place and tried to go down on me but I didn’t even kiss her. I left before she got my belt off.” Unable to stop herself, Y/N chuckled.

“You just left?”

Dean’s cheeks coloured with a rare flush. “Yeah, I walked out the door and she was still on her knees calling me a dick.”

“Well she was right about that.” And they stayed like that for a moment, letting themselves be reminded about how much they loved each other. Pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, Dean stepped away.

“Wait here, I have something for you.” With a few long strides, he left the room and then quickly reappeared holding a canvas bag with the phrase ‘act like a lady, think like a boss’ printed on the side in big, bold lettering. “Don’t diss the bag sweetheart.”

And before she could snark something back, he pulled a teddy bear from the bag. The bear seemed to be a regular plush at first glance, but when Dean handed it to her, Y/N couldn’t help but smile brightly. The toy easily weighed 5 pounds and suspiciously smelt of Dean’s cologne. “I thought that this could be a substitute for when you want to cuddle. But this is temporary, cause I will get better. He’s just a placeholder.”

“He?”

“Yeah.” He sighed happily. “Little Dean Jr.” Holding the bear tighter to her chest, Y/N stood on her tiptoes and finally planted her lips on his. Her skin burned as the soft kiss quickly turned more passionate and his newly grown beard scraped against her. Fingers curled into his hair, Y/N yanked him even closer as Dean’s hands fell to her generous ass, giving her cheeks a light squeeze.

Reluctantly, she pulled away first, her lungs screaming for oxygen and her brain telling her that if she kissed him any more, she would end up in the back seat of Baby with her legs over his shoulders. “This is a start. But I will not have you talk to me like that again. If you do, I’m gone and you won’t ever see me again.”

“I promise, I’ll do better.” Content with his answer, Y/N pecked his swollen lips.

“The bear was Sam’s idea wasn’t it?”

“But I named him!”

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 5 months

Text

7th Day of Christmas

A Christmas Market

Summary/Prompt - Visiting a Christmas Market/Fair

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader

Christmas Masterlist | Masterlist

Having finished cleaning up from the hunt of the day a few hours ago, you, Sam and Dean have just been lazing around the dingy motel room. You’d all had a much-needed nap, but now you’re bored.

You sigh as you roll over and place your head on your boyfriend’s strong chest. He looks at you quizzically as he wraps his arm around you and traces patterns on your back. After a while, you sigh again.

“Alright, what’s up, Sweetheart?”

“I’m bored…”

“Cuddling with me not enough for you?”

“It’s great, you know I love cuddling with you, but we’ve been in bed for hours. I wanna go out.”

“We can go to a bar?”

“We always go to bars,” you sigh.

“Fine, then tell me what you want.”

“I wanna go on a date. A proper date, not one where every girl in the place is drunk looking at you like they wanna get in your pants.”

“Y/N, you know I don’t look at anyone else now. You’re all I need.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. They’re still looking and look at me like I don’t deserve you, and …”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. If anything it’s me that doesn’t deserve you. You’re perfect.”

“Thanks, Dean. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart. How about you go for a shower and get dressed in something nice and I’ll figure something out for us to do.”

Your face lights up as you sit up to look him in the eyes. “Really?”

He leans down and kisses your lips. “Yes, really. Now hurry up before I change my mind.” He slaps your ass as you turn to climb off the bed and gather your stuff.

Sam rolls his eyes at the two of you from the opposite bed but he also has a small smile on his face. He loves seeing his big brother so happy and in love. He’s been through so much raising him and trying to be the perfect son and protective big brother, he deserves every happiness he can get. And as much as it makes Sam feel lonely and miss Jess sometimes, he’s glad that he’s got a front-row seat.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you emerge from the bathroom in a fresh pair of skinny jeans, and a nice T-shirt with a subtle layer of makeup — just some light powder, mascara and lip gloss — that you’d snuck in hopefully and your hair left in a neat braid on your shoulder Dean turns around from his place at the table and wolf whistles. Coming from anyone else you would cringe, but you know it’s Dean’s way of showing his appreciation so you just smile. You grab your boots from beside the bed and join him at the small table while you put them on.

“You look beautiful,” he says while checking you out.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Winchester.”

Once you finish tying up your laces he stands up and offers you his hand. “Ready?”

You nod as you take his hand and stand up. You wave to Sam as you head towards the door.

“Have a good night you too. Be safe,” he says.

“You should go out, see if you can’t get lucky,” Dean says.”

“Get outta here, Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

You shake your head at the brothers, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Despite all their teasing, they love each other more than anything. You wish you were that close with your sibling. But as a frown starts to invade your features you brush away the thought and focus on the present. You squeeze Dean’s hand as he leads you outside to his precious Impala and opens and closes the door for you. You don’t often get the chance to go on real dates with the life you lead, so whenever you do he becomes the proper gentleman. While it’s nice to enjoy gentle-Dean for a few hours, it’s the rough, damaged hunter that you first fell in love with.

As he starts the engine and backs out of the parking lot you look at him and ask, “So where are we going?”

He places his hand on your thigh and squeezes it. “It’s a surprise. But I’m sure you’ll like it.” He turns up the music, effectively cutting off any more questions of what he has planned.

After what feels like an eternity but was really only 20 minutes he pulls a park in a busy parking lot in a field. In the distance, you can see sparkling fairy lights as well as large outdoor spotlights. Dean shuts off the engine and comes around to help you out — he would only ever dare do that on a date, during hunts you become a strong independent hunter and he wouldn’t dare treat you like a lady. You take his hand as he leads you towards an archway covered in fairy lights and leafy garlands. Hanging from the archway is a banner that reads: “Local Annual Christmas Market”.

Your face lights up. You rarely get to celebrate holidays with constant hunts, but you remember telling Dean ages ago on a quiet night after drinking that you love Christmas. It means so much to you that he remembered and would bring you here when you had barely even remembered what time of year it was. Since losing most of your family and becoming a hunter, celebrating things like Christmas just seems less important. Butl, with Dean by your side and you finally starting to love your life again it feels like the perfect time to let some of that holiday spirit back into your heart.

He squeezes your hand and leads you through the archway down a well-worn dirt path. You stop at booths as you pass by. There are all sorts of stalls peddling wares like Christmas cards, toys, trinkets and jewellery. He notices you eyeballing a pretty, simple silver chain with a heart-shaped charm decorated with small gems so he buys it for you and helps you put it on before moving on to the next stall. You run the fingers of your free hand over the charm as you smile up at him. Despite his rough front, he’s a true romantic at heart. All he ever wants is to make you happy and spoil you. While he mightn’t have a lot to give financially he always puts a little aside after hustling pool to spend on nights like this. As you keep walking through the stalls you notice his eyes light up as you near a stall with boxes of old vinyls. His step speeds up a little as he pulls you towards it. You happily speed up and join him in searching through the boxes. By now you know the kind of music he likes so you know which ones to hold up and show him. While there are heaps he wants to buy he holds back wanting to keep some money for anything else you might like. He walks away with just three vinyls in a paper bag. As you continue your journey it starts to snow. That’s when you notice you forgot to grab your jacket. As he feels you shiver at the feeling of snowflakes littering and melting on your exposed arms he sheds his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders instead.

“What about you?” You protest.

“Layers, Sweetheart. I’m fine. Besides, I’m a warrior, I don’t get sick.”

“Nor do I,” you argue back. He raises an eyebrow at you. “That was one time! And we’d been hiking for hours in the rain!”

“I don’t care.”

You finally come across a circular alcove off the path with food trucks and portable tables and chairs under umbrellas. You take a seat at a free table opposite each other.

“Also, I never get to treat you like this. I know you’re no princess and on a normal day I wouldn’t dare treat you like one. But there’s little I truly have to offer you except the shirt off my own back. So please, just let me do what I can.”

You reach across the table and squeeze his hands. “Alright, you big sap, I’ll keep the jacket.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for bringing me here. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“I remember everything you say to me.” You smile at him. “You hungry? I know I am!”

“I could eat.”

“Good. I’ll be right back.” He gets up, kisses the top of your head and walks off to get a selection of street food to share from the trucks.

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