#like i know the writers meant it as a ‘dean needed to apologize’ moment BUT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters · 3 years

Text

Bathe in Sin

Summary: A stubborn Sam leaves the bunker and Lacey goes with him. After days of trying to get through to him, she decides on a different approach to help him blow off steam.

Created for: @cockslut-padalecki‘s Decade Under the Influence Challenge

Prompt: “Dressed to kill, you look so right. I am drunk with lust tonight. Your wounds are opening wide, and they might be just my size” - Side Walk When She Walks by Alexisonfire

Pairing: Sam x OC

Warnings: 18+ PLUS ONLY!! Angst, unprotected sex, rough, my unstoppable obsession with how large Sam is shining through here and there

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: This is my first time posting an explicit smut fic. I tried to do the lyrics and the vibes of the song justice. Let me know what you think! Feedback is the best fuel for every writer <3

Beta: @princessmisery666

|| JJ’s Masterlist ||

(gif)

It was the first night in their third motel since leaving the bunker. Lacey wasn’t sure if Sam was looking for a hunt, or maybe he didn’t want Dean to find them. She doubted Dean would be looking for them. Neither brother was going to concede anytime soon.

Knuckleheads.

Lacey could smack herself for not having realized sooner how serious their falling out was. She wondered, if she had only stepped in a little bit earlier, things wouldn’t be the way they were now. They would have been home, where they belonged. She would be sitting around the table with the two brothers, rolling her eyes at one of Dean’s stupid jokes while Sam looked at her with that peaceful smile he only got when it was just them.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand why Sam was upset. Dean had lied to him. Again. He said he did it to protect his little brother. Again. Sam got angry with Dean. Also, not new. But this time he had packed a bag and bolted out the door. Lacey had barely had any time to grab her own duffle and follow him.

It hadn’t been her choice to leave home, but if it meant she at least got to be with Sam while he figured this out, she would bite her tongue and get through it with him. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t support Sam. She would die for him without a second thought. The problem with this situation was that it was a waste of time. Lacey knew the brothers would come to their senses and make up eventually anyway. She just wished she knew when so she didn’t have to wonder when she’d sleep in her own comfortable bed again, or get to use a shower of which the water stayed warm for longer than three minutes.

Sam was stubborn. Lacey had figured that out soon enough when she got to know him. Despite that, she fell in love with the man. Maybe even a little bit because of it. She knew he could handle all this. He just needed some time.

She had brief text-exchanges with Dean to let him know they were all right, but the brothers hadn’t spoken since their argument. That was over two weeks ago.

Sam had been on edge from the moment he hightailed out of the bunker. Lacey tried to talk some sense into him multiple times. During the long car rides, Sam would turn the radio volume up to end the conversation. At night in bed, he would say he was tired and turn off the light. The few times she did manage to get him to say something, Sam would tell her Dean was the one she should be trying to talk to. In the texts from the older Winchester, she got the same response about Sam.

Lacey wanted to grab both brothers’ pride and stick it where the sun couldn’t reach. She was usually a pretty patient person, but when she saw the people she cared about hurting because of something so stupid, something they could fix so easily, she got frustrated.

One night, Lacey had pushed Sam a little too far and he snapped at her, telling her to get lost. She hadn’t even been able to turn around to leave before he was in front of her, grabbing her hand and looking at her with regret deep in his eyes. She’d stayed. And Sam apologized a dozen different times that night, in a dozen different ways.

Following that night, Sam seemed to have realized he had to be more careful who he directed his frustration toward. He wasn’t angry with Lacey, he was angry with Dean. And, Lacey knew, with himself, but that was a conversation he definitely wasn’t ready to have yet.

Day after day, Lacey was hyper-aware of how tense Sam was. She had exhausted most methods to get him to talk about it and face the problem. She had to come up with a new plan. Maybe what Sam needed was a distraction, a way to forget for a moment. Lacey knew just the thing to help him blow off steam.

Sam needed to get lost in something other than his frustration. She wanted him to get lost in her.

Lacey was still in the bathroom when Sam came back from his supply run that night. When she came out, he was putting away the last of the food in the small motel room fridge. Lacey walked into the room barefoot, wearing nothing but one of Sam’s large shirts over her underwear.

Upon hearing her approaching, Sam glanced over his shoulder. He frowned and looked at the clock on the wall, before looking back at Lacey. “You’re going to bed already?” he asked. “It’s only nine. I thought we could go into town, catch a movie.”

Ever since he’d snapped at her, Sam had been trying to find ways to make being away from home more enjoyable for her. Lacey knew he felt guilty, and she appreciated the effort, but tonight she had other plans.

“I thought we’d stay in tonight,” she said. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Sam took in a sharp breath before slowly closing the fridge and standing up straight. Though there was a few feet left between them, he was still towering over her. A disapproving look shone in his eyes.

“Lace, I told you, I don’t want to talk a-”

“It’s not about that,” she quickly cut him off. Lacey’s lips pulled into a conniving little smile. Her finger caught a lock of her hair and started twirling it. “I was just wondering…”

As her voice trailed off, Sam’s eyebrows raised. She could tell he was slowly catching on to her mood, and so she continued.

Her hands disappeared underneath the shirt she was wearing. “I was just wondering…” she said again as she swiftly pulled down the pair of panties that had been hidden by the shirt’s fabric. She bent forward to guide the piece of lingerie down her bare legs. “What you think of these.” When she righted again, it was dangling from her outstretched index finger. “I bought them new the other day.”

Sam took in the laced fabric. It had always been her favorite style of lingerie to wear, and his favorite to see on her. The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.

Lacey noticed Sam’s eyes had darkened to that familiar shade of lust. She rubbed the insides of her thighs together. Sam still hadn’t said anything, so she continued.

“It’s a matching set,” she innocently informed him as she let the panties drop on the floor. Sam’s eyes didn’t follow them down, they stayed right on her. They watched her pull the straps of her bra down her arms, and through the sleeves of his shirt. They took in the way she reached behind her back and unclasped the second piece of the set.

This time she didn’t hold it up for him to look at. She just gave the bra a quick tuck and let it fall from beneath the shirt, onto the floor at her feet.

A new form of tension hung in the air between them. Lacey let Sam evaluate the situation in silence for a moment. Let him look at her, standing in front of him, knowing she was fully naked underneath his shirt.

She averted her gaze, looked down at her bare feet and started drawing circles into the carpet. After listening to a few deep heavy breaths from Sam, Lacey glanced up at him through her lashes and asked, “Well? Do you like it?”

Sam tilted his head to one side, then the other, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles in his neck. His eyes moved down from her face to her chest. Lacey knew what he was looking at. Her nipples had gotten hard and were now prominently standing out through the fabric of the shirt. Sam’s fervid eyes took in the sight.

Then he finally moved closer to her. He crossed the distance between them in barely two strides. His hands found her hips and pulled her in. Lacey wrapped her arms around his neck and Sam dipped his head down.

“I think,” he hummed in his low voice, his lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her back, “you look good in anything.” Bending his knees slightly, he easily lifted her up, guiding her legs around his waist. The shirt rode up her thighs, revealing her bare ass. When Sam hoisted her up a little higher, her cunt rubbed against the rough fabric of the waistband of his jeans. The friction caused a soft whimper to escape her lips.

The build-up had heightened all of Lacey’s senses. She could feel how wet she’d gotten solely from the way Sam had been eyeing her.

“However,” he continued as he started walking forward, “I think you look best trapped between me and the closest wall I can press your pert little ass up against.” As Sam finished his filthy thought out loud, Lacey was pressed tight between Sam’s hard chest and the motel room wall. He put his hands against it on either side of her head and leveled his forehead with hers to look into her eyes rather sternly. “You wanna play, huh?” he said, sounding askew.

Lacey nodded, looking deep into his eyes.

“Use your words,” he chastised her, his voice hard.

“Yes.” She licked her lips feverishly. “I want to play, Sam. Please?” Her hips bucked against his, desperately looking for more friction.

Sam smirked at her politeness. “How could I ever say no to that?” he mused. “Look at you, so eager for me.”

“Sam,” Lacey whined. She continued grinding against him. There was now an obvious bulge in his pants and she could feel it against her needy heath every time she moved.

She reached for his belt, but Sam was faster. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and effortlessly pinned them over her head against the wall. His other hand grabbed her chin firmly and tilted her head back to expose her neck.

His mouth was on her instantly, ravaging her skin, breath hot and teeth scraping. “I heard you last night when you were in the shower,” he grunted between bruising kisses. “You didn’t really think you could keep quiet for me, did you? I could make out those sweet noises of yours anywhere.” He pulled his hand from Lacey’s chin and it disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was still wearing. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.” His rough fingers found one of her hardened nipples and gave it a nasty pinch.

Lacey let out a sharp moan of surprise. It never failed to amaze her how well Sam knew her. It was true she hadn’t tried to hide her little play time in the shower the night before. She had wanted to give him something to think about. Something to stay on his mind throughout the entirety of the next day, to build up to this very moment. It pleased her to find out it had worked out exactly as planned.

“We better get you what you want,” Sam continued, his hand now brazenly groping her tits underneath his shirt. “You look like you’re about to break open,” she didn’t need to see him to know he was smirking, “and I haven’t even filled you up yet.”

Lacey didn’t doubt his words. She sure felt like it. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she had lost all control of her hips. They just kept bucking against Sam’s body, grinding to find some form of release for the desperate want inside of her.

When Sam let go of her wrists, she climbed a little higher up his impossibly large body to allow him to pull his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprung free and Lacey could feel it probing her ass.

Sam’s hands were gentle yet resolute as he pushed Lacey away from his body. It gave him enough room to pull the shirt off her and reveal in all her beautiful, naked glory what she had been teasing to him during her little show from before.

Before the shirt had even landed on the floor, his hand was pulling his hard length up between their bodies. The tip left some of its precum on Lacey’s lower stomach. Sam didn’t miss a beat and wiped it off with his large thumb before moving his hand up to her face.

Lacey parted her lips without a second thought. In response, Sam’s smirk grew and his eyes darkened further. “Good girl,” he spoke huskily as she sucked his finger clean eagerly.

The salty taste subsided after seconds but Sam didn’t pull out his thumb and Lacey kept her plump lips around him. She never broke eye contact, looking at him with the same lust in her eyes that she saw mirrored in his.

He didn’t need any more verbal communication to know what she wanted, and she didn’t need to ask to know he was about to give it to her.

Their bodies moved in sync. Lacey moved her hips back and Sam positioned himself at her entrance. Her body jerked up when he slammed into her, easily filling her up all at once because of how wet she was. He let out a low breathy sound of approval when he watched her breasts bounce from the movement.

“This is what you want, isn’t it, baby?” he cooed in her ear when he leaned closer.

Lacey’s head was leaning back against the wall and all she could get out was a frustrated, “Yuh.” Her hands reached for Sam, blindly finding his long hair and tugging at it.

Sam’s low growl sent a shiver down to her core. Another tug and his teeth were scraping her neck again. One more and he was finally moving inside her.

She could feel him sliding in and out with ease, giving a few lazy thrusts before he started picking up the pace. She had to move her hands from his hair onto his shoulders to grab on tight when he really started pounding into her.

His movements were ruthless, stretching her open wide for him and no doubt leaving her bruised; just the way she liked it. The sounds falling from her lips spurred him on and he somehow began moving even faster.

Lacey wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck tightly, pulling her entire body against him. Her hands slid underneath the collar of his shirt, allowing her nails to dig into his shoulder blades. Sam let out a hiss at the stinging scratches she left behind. She could feel his wicked grin against the tender skin of her throat. He was still sucking, leaving it raw and sensitive.

She let him release all his frustrations, liberate his grievances. And she let him do it all with her. Every movement felt so right. They were both drunk on desire, grunting and panting while their bodies felt like they were on fire.

One of Sam’s hands sneaked its way between them and down Lacey’s front. His large fingers found her clit. He wasted no time starting to circle the bundle of nerves, sending a jolt of deliciously excruciating pleasure straight up to her core.

“Sam,” Lacey moaned into his shoulder, “Baby, I…”

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “Let go.” His hips snapped sharply.

Somewhere far in the back of her mind, Lacey was aware that that was exactly what she was supposed to be saying to him. Then Sam hoisted her up just a little higher and she lost all sense of thought when he hit her from a different angle. Even if she’d still been to her full senses, Lacey wouldn’t have been able to stop herself snapping from the pressure.

“Let go,” she heard Sam say again. Her hips bucked and her body shook as she came. With her walls squeezing around him, Sam’s body tightened against her. She could feel him emptying his load inside of her.

Her name and his praises fell off his lips in the same sloppy rhythm he kept thrusting into her, riding them both through their climax. Lacey’s lips found Sam’s and their deep kiss smothered their moans.

When they pulled apart, Sam caught his breath. He stepped back from the wall and carried Lacey through the room. He didn’t pull out of her until she was hovering over the bed. Then he gently placed her on the mattress. Lacey pulled the blanket over herself as she watched Sam pull his pants the rest of the way down. He took off the rest of his clothes before joining her.

“Feel better?” he asked, a lopsided grin on his beautiful face. The darkness in his eyes had gone but Lacey could still spot a hint of lust remaining.

She nodded, letting out a soft sigh. Then her eyebrows pulled into a slight frown when she thought of how that had hardly been the point of all this. “Yes, but-”

“Me too,” he interrupted her, as if he knew exactly what she was going to say. She realized he probably did.

His hand was on her knee, snaking up her thigh until it reached her core, feeling up the wreckage he’d left behind. “But I bet I can make you feel even better.” And with that same grin still on his lips, Sam fully disappeared under the covers.

Let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!

Team Game Face (Everything tags) @princessmisery666 || @lyarr24 || @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Team Bitch Face (Sam tags) @samfreakingwinchester

#JJ's fics #decadeundertheinfluencechallenge #supernatural #Sam x OC #sam x reader #spn oneshot #smut #angst #Sam Winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester oneshot #spnfanficpond

86 notes · View notes

fangqueen · 3 years

Note

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping.

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

48 notes · View notes

tearsofgrace · 3 years

Text

HUGE shoutout to @galaxycastiel and @jellydeans for writing a prompt that was EXTREMELY difficult to make sad. i still did. but.

written for destiel december day 5: shopping

word count: 1.1k, tags: panic attacks, cas is dead, sort of post 15.19? other characters mentioned, dean centric, shopping

The whole thing was stupid. The lights. The goddamn tree. The presents they were supposed to get and have neatly wrapped by Wednesday morning.

Couldn’t Sam see none of it mattered? What was the point in celebrating a Christmas with none of their family there?

When he’d raised the matter, Sam had looked at him with those fucking puppy dog eyes and frowned before answering, “Our family is gonna be there, man. Jody’s driving in with Donna and the girls, Stevie and Charlie said they could make it.” His face had gotten soft for a minute as he added, “And Eileen will be there, of course.”

Dean hadn’t answered in the moment. What was he supposed to say? That none of that mattered if Cas wasn’t there? Because it didn’t. He couldn’t just pretend everything was fine, pretend everything was normal, when the one person (angel?) that held him together was gone and it was all his fault.

Dean sat outside the mall for a while when he got there. It was all stupid. He didn’t want to go in and buy things for his alive family to open with smiles and giggles while his family that filled the cracks and made him feel like he was allowed to smile was trapped alone in the Empty.

After a second, he took a deep breath and got out of the car, trying not to slam the door as he walked into the shopping mall.

It was bustling, people flooding everywhere and chatter and laughter rising up into the cold sky. It was two days before Christmas, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. But as he got closer, he felt his heart rate tick up and he started glancing around frantically. He needed to find all the exits, to find his way out. Anyone here could be a monster. Anyone here could try to take him. Anyone here could-

He took a deep breath and pushed through the mall entrance, wishing he’d been stupid enough to just bring his gun in anyway.

He kept his eyes downcast as he walked through the stores, the Christmas music assaulting his ears the whole way. People’s eyes kept finding him, looking him up and down before glancing away in sympathy. Great. So now he looked broken enough that total strangers could tell.

He thought he saw dark hair and a trenchcoat in front of him once, and his heart jumped in his chest, his throat growing dry. The man turned around even as Dean sped up, and his heart sank. It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. He was an idiot. A stupid piece of shit who got his best friend killed.

Cas’ haunted tear-filled eyes swam in front of his face and he took another deep breath. He needed to go home. No- he needed a damn drink.

Sam had been hiding the alcohol. Like Dean wasn’t a grown-ass man who could take care of himself. Like he didn’t know that it didn’t matter if he had issues, this was the only way he could deal with losing-

Dean pushed into the store, pushing Cas’ face from his mind. Pushing his words, the ones Dean had wanted to hear from so long, into some back corner where they would stay until the inevitably resurfaced, leaving Dean gasping and in tears.

“Welcome, sir!” The voice was to his left and he spun quickly, too quickly, to face it.

Get yourself together, dammit.

The shop attendant took a step back at the action but quickly recovered and fixed a smile to her face. “Anything I can help you with today? I can help you find a perfect gift for that special someone!” she gestured around her and her smile grew.

He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, letting his mind focus on the air going in, on it leaving his body. “I’m fine.” It came out harsher than he meant. But she just nodded and turned away.

The lights above him were bright. Too bright.

He ignored them, pushing past the people as fast as he could, taking a basket and throwing things into it at random. None of it mattered. All they wanted was a damn present they could open so they could look at him and pretend he was okay. He had to pretend he was okay.

Someone brushed against him and he flinched. The lights glared down. His breaths were shaky but he was done. He was almost done. And he was okay. He had to be okay. He had to be-

He took steps to the cash register, breaths coming in and then out. In and then out.

Something pushed him forward and he heard a mumbled “Excuse me.”

He whirled around, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, and the man who’d walked past him froze, staring at him with wide eyes.

In and out.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly, trying to put an apology in his voice but failing miserably.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?”

Dean looked down at his hands, still held out toward the man gripping an invisible weapon, and he shrugged the basket from his arm, letting it clatter to the ground.

He pushed through the doors quickly, his heart pounding against his chest. Everyone was looking at him. So many people. All of them monsters. No, that wasn’t right.

The crowd parted for him as he barrelled for the exit. Every touch against him sent him flinching, every light twinkling from the trees and wreaths called out to him, mocking him, every breath scraped his lungs like needles.

Then suddenly he was outside, the sun even more glaring than the invisible lights. It glinted off the snow he hadn’t even seen covering the ground as he raced across the parking lot, ignoring the people swirling around him.

He slumped into the front seat of the Impala and clenched his hands on the wheel, gripping tightly. His knuckles went white after a minute and his breathing started to slow down. That’s when the tears started.

“Come back to me,” he whispered to the empty car.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, hands gripping the steering wheel with all his strength, tears pouring from his eyes, an angel’s sweet smile filling his head.

When he was done, he tried to clean himself up. To make himself look okay for Sammy, for the guests that would have arrived while he was away. He didn’t know how he would explain coming back empty-handed. He didn’t care.

His mask firmly fixed in place, Dean put the car in drive and pulled out.

When he got home, Sam took one look at him and his face fell. He didn’t say anything about his lack of presents. Didn’t say anything at all, actually.

They would just keep pretending everything was okay. They had to keep pretending everything was okay.

Dean had to be okay.

thanks for reading! tag list below, ask to be added or removed

@fandomstuff67 @menjiiii @kingjackless @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @dreamnovak @heller-jensen @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @prayedtoyou @good-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @gayyyy-tv @starrynightdeancas @radiantdean @piemaker-from-gallifrey @on-a-bender @eshaninjer @trasherasswood @dreadful-delight @feraladoration @trenchcas @contemplativepancakes @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @thefourthheadofcerberus @seffersonjtarship @randomblabbling @craftywitchywoman @adsp-destielcockles @tehmanda @castielscrookedtrenchcoat @queen-rowenas @expectingtofly @that-one-fandom-chick @quicksilver-ships @destielle @charmedbycastiel @cursed-or-not @faithcastiel @internetintroverts @sloth-with-y-yo-a-ti-cas @dea-stiel @lulu-zodiac @my-favourite-hellatus @footstepsontherun @withclawsandsympathy @nguyenxtrang @marichankitty @celestialcastiel @goblinwritergay @deancasology @rambleoncas

#destiel december #shopping #angst #destiel angst #cw panic attacks #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #my writing

200 notes · View notes

lokis-little-kitten · 3 years

Text

Teaching Assistant 4

Title: Teaching Assistant Writer: Lokis-Little-Kitten Pairing: LokixReader Rating: Mid Warning: spankings, mentioning of masturbation, ED, college, teacherxstudent Summary: You get a job as a teaching assistant for you professor Loki Laufeyson. Quickly the relationship takes a turn when Loki offers to teach you the robes of BDSM.

Class is over after a long time of listening and angry glares from your professor. You pack up your stuff and wait for everyone to be gone. When the last student closes the door Loki leans against his desk with another cross glare at you.

‘’I’m sorry about being on the phone. I should have listened to your lecture,’’ you start out silently. ‘’Get your ass to my office, now pet!’’ Loki is absolutely cross, more than you have ever seen him in the three years before.

Quickly you get up and start walking. When you arrive Loki throws his door open and points at the inside. ‘’March it.’’ Quickly you duck down and run in. When inside he slams the door closed and locks it.

You turn around to him biting your lip. ‘’So you thought it funny to disobey and then to ignore me?’’ Quickly you shake your head. ‘’No master! I’m sorry but my phone died,’’ you lie. You’re already on the brink of tears and his intense glare doesn’t make it any better. Why did you do this to yourself again? You should have known Loki would react something like this.

You fidget with some wounds on your finger and pull on loose skin around your nails. ‘’Were you home,’’ he asks folding his arms together. He looks even bigger in the small office in front of the wooden door. ‘’Well, yes?’’ What is he planning?

‘’You could plug it in and let me know as soon as you were able, couldn’t you?’’ You look down at the dark carpet and fidget some more. ‘’I ehm…’’ You don’t know what to say. It was a dumb excuse. You could have seen it coming…

‘’Well, I-’’ ‘’Lied?’’ No point of denying it now. He takes a step towards you towering over you even more. ‘’Yes, master… I’m sorry.’’ You give a quick glance up but don’t like your view. Loki his piercing green eyes fuming with anger. ‘’Do you know why I asked you to that?’’

You slightly shake your head.’’No…’’ ‘’Because food, little one, is important for you and I was scared you would be too much into your head to remember to eat. Quite frankly I was right!’’

The first tear now rolls down your cheek. You hate it when he is cross with you, you decided. It’s no fun! You quickly wipe away the tear but two take its place. ‘’Stop crying,’’ is all he offers you. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the chair in the corner. He sits down still holding onto you.

‘’What are you-’’ he cuts you off by pulling you over his knees. He pulls up your skirt- you stupidly decided to wear this morning- and lays his hand on your ass. ‘’I will spank you for a total of twenty times. Five for ignoring me. Five for lying to me and ten for not eating. Understood?’’ ‘’Yes master.’’ A tear rolls down your nose onto the carpet. ‘’And you will count!’’

Then all of the sudden and without notice Loki his hand slams down on your ass. He lays his fingers on the new bruise. ‘’Darling, count for me.’’ ‘’One…’’ ‘’Good girl.’’ Another spank comes down hard. ‘’What did you do wrong,’’ he asks you. ‘’Two...I ignored you.’’ ‘’Good.’’

Wham!

‘’Three…’’ ‘’How could you have prevented this from happening?’’ ‘’I should have answered you.’’ ‘’Good girl.’’

Spank!

‘’Four,’’ you say while your voice cracks. ‘’Now apologize to your master.’’ ‘’I’m sorry master! I won’t do it again.’’ ‘’There you go.’’

Blam!

‘’Five.’’ Your body is shaking by now while Loki caresses your bruised ass. ‘’Good job.’’ He just continues his torture makes you answer the same questions as before.

When it is finally done he pulls you up and onto his lap. He cuddles you close to his chest and hushes you a bit. ‘’Sh, you did so well darling. You didn’t complain or be rude. You did very very well.’’ You nuzzle your face in his neck hearing the praising.

Loki wipes away some tears and kisses your forehead. Loki then stands up with you still in his arms. He gently puts you in the chair. ‘’I’m just going to get you a snack, okay little one? I will be back in a little.’’ You give him a pair of large doe eyes as to beg him not to go.

‘’Don’t worry I’ll be back in five.’’ He kisses your forehead again and walks out of the room then. You take your shoes off and pull your knees to your chest. Maybe you did need this second alone.

You don’t get any time, however, because your phone buzzes. You take it from your bag and look at it.

Dimitri. Are you okay, was it bad?

You. I’m fine. He thought he punished me enough already in class, so he let me go off easy. Thanks

Dimitri Good to hear. Wanna meet up tonight?

You. I have work and kind of need a night for myself. Another time maybe?

When you see Dimitri is typing something back someone knocks on the door. ‘’Loki?’’ You recognize the dean's voice. Oh no… Quickly you send Loki a text that the dean is in while rushing to the door.

Quickly you open it for professor Allfather. He frowns deeply when he sees you instead of his son. ‘’I’m sorry but I’m afraid professor Laufeyson is out, professor,’’ you softly speak. ‘’Hm, I’ll wait then.’’ The older man sits down in Loki his office chair. ‘’Okay…’’ You sit down pulling your skirt down as much as possible.

You feel your phone buzz and hope with your whole heart it is Loki, you just can’t get your phone because it would be rude. ‘’Professor Laufeyson will be back any time now. He was just getting something,’’ you softly speak. ‘’Thank you. You’re his teaching assistant?’’ ‘’Yes… I am.’’ Among other things…

The room goes quiet once again until Loki walks back in. He hands you some papers without even looking at you. ‘’Grade those.’’

There is that stern and rude professor you know again… Nice knowing you kind master Loki. You get yourself one of his red markers and starts grading some papers. Loki and his father discuss some important letters and other things.

It is all very… courteous. Not like a father and son should be, you suppose.

When his father finally leaves Loki turns back to you. ‘’I’m sorry about that, little one. Are you okay,’’ Loki asks searching in his pockets. He takes out a package of biscuits and water for you. ‘’There,’’ he smiles and kisses your hair.

You open the water to take a sip. The biscuits are harder, however. When you open the package you play with the plastic for a second and then break off a piece. You don’t want to eat it.

He doesn’t want you to eat it.

‘’How much,’’ you ask Loki carefully. ‘’Four,’’ he replies absently studying one of the letters he just got. You put away the drink and snack to grab your wallet. You take out a five-pound bill and walk to his desk.

‘’Pet, I’ll pay attention to you again in one moment. Just let me… do this.’’ He reads and crosses things out until finally signing and putting it away. ‘’Now then,’’ he smiles and looks up at you.

‘’What is it?’’ You try to give him the five pounds but he simply stares at it before chuckling. ‘’Want me to get you something else? Coffee?’’ Loki already stands up to go but you stop him. ‘’No, it’s for the biscuits.’’

He frowns and chuckles a bit before walking up to you. ‘’No need to pay me for that, besides you gave way to much. It’s only two pounds fifty.’’ He lays his hands on your hips and smiles at your confused form.

‘’But you said four a minute ago!’’ He now laughs and takes the five pounds. ‘’I meant four biscuits.’’ His hand slides under your skirt until he finds your pants. He hooks the piece of paper under your strap and then pulls back. ‘’There we go. Now I would like you to go and eat.’’ You walk back to the chair and sit.

The package of cookies is reopened while this time you also push him far into the back of your mind. No reason not to enjoy this. You take a good bite from it and relish at the taste. ‘’Thank you.’’ ‘’No problem, dear.’’

#loki #lokixreader #lokilaufeyson #loki god of mischief #lokiodinson #loki x reader #lokixstudent

31 notes · View notes

fangirling221b · 2 years

Text

Dear Dean

It's been a year since the world heard you say "Don't do this, Cas." Yeah the alternate universe with the painted whores and fake babys-that one. I don't know what you are doing right now. Probably in heaven wondering if you should finally talk to cas. I really hope you got your head out of your ass but who am I kidding it is Dean fucking Winchester. I'm not sure what the purpose of this letter is really but more than anything it is an apology.

Sorry Dean, for the way your story was written by the awful God and the brilliant writer in both our worlds. I'm sorry for a lot of things that happened to you, but most of all I'm sorry that you did not get to feel love, I'm sorry you never felt worthy of love and I'm sorry that even an year later we still debate whether you were in love with cas or not. I'm not gonna ask you, you and I both know the truth.

The look on your face, the emotions in your eyes, the pain in your voice when you said "don't do this, cas." You know here in this world people have been speculating and debating how this moment should have or would have gone if they did not silence you. For me, it could not have gone better. Everything that happened that night in the dungeon, it's something I as an audience of your life will cherish right to my grave and well past it. Castiel's confession was one of the greatest things to ever happen on the TV and while we celebrate it so much we really don't appreciate your part in it. The Dean Winchester we have known for the past fifteen years could possibly have no other reaction to his best friend confessing his undying love to him.

"Don't do this, cas."

There are a hundred ways this could be and has been interpreted- yes, we don't really have anything to do than to analyse your life- yes I know this world makes you sick. You know what you meant. It was right there in your face- you didn't think you deserve to be saved. Within a few life changing minutes, cas stripped off the layers of your life and laid you bare for his eyes to see and you to understand- Dean Winchester, the most caring man on earth-the most loving human being. You were speechless and I wouldn't expect anything else of you in that moment. Castiel's happiness was in just saying it. And man did he say it. The journey of your face from confusion to understanding to despair as the angel waxed poetry about you, I feel honoured to have watched it. I feel a strange contentment in knowing that you got to hear those words, that you believed them because cas said it and that you spoke them back to Chuck-"You see, that's not who I am."

It's been an year and we have crossed the milestone of a 100000 stories where you and cas happen. ( FanFiction, remember? ). Because ever since we saw cas say it, ever since we saw you hear it, ever since we, along with you lost cas to the empty- we lost our false sense of peace we had. Our hearts ache for the love you weren't allowed to feel or even know till the very last moment, till it was very fucking late. There's a hollow space in our being that will never be filled, that we try everyday by indulging in celebration of the love you two shared- in the form of art and in writing. An year ago, Destiel became canon for the world. (Oh stop it we know you love that you weren't subtle with your "get in the car" to Sammy.) Destiel became canon and that right there was a win. A win we needed for the past twelve years, not much unlike you. The world, this world will celebrate your story for years to come Dean. 'Destiel' is here to stay.

There are infinite combinations of words that could describe what you felt in the moment. Infinite ways to express what needed to be expressed. But all you said was one word. One word.

"Cas"

And that was enough. For me and for cas alike.

Like I said I did not know the purpose of this letter. What you and cas mean to me can't be explained even if I write a thousand more. All I have to say is, Dean, we love you and I hope you find the strength to love yourself and allow others to love you. Allow yourself to be happy.

Yours,

A Heller friend

(Go ask Sammy)

P.S. you should play a lot more ping pong with your devastatingly handsome friend

7 notes · View notes

katsidhe · 3 years

Note

11, 19, 30

Ask game

11. Do you have any favourite writers? Do you have any least favourite writers?

I honestly don’t pay enough attention to specific writers to know or care episode by episode. In terms of showrunners, Gamble is my favorite: the psychological angle in s6-7 and the very clear emphasis on Sam Suffering is absolutely something I can get behind.

19. What does the djinn dream say about Dean?

Disclaimer that I haven’t watched 2.20 in A Hot Minute.

What I remember most clearly is Dean’s contradictory need to see his happy family thriving, and at the same time to want to be the black sheep, proving he’s the reason they’re miserable. It’s a particular kind of deep, deep self-loathing, but there’s also that weird shape of being drawn to persecution in his dreams (like in 14.10): his happy family and his fictional girlfriend ~don’t understand~ the importance of hunting, of being a hero, and they don’t understand Dean. John, who has always meant hunting and therefore might have complicated that premise, is dead. For similar reasons, Dean’s djinn-fantasy of Sam is disconnected from and even a bit scornful of him.

It also puts forward Dean’s draw to suburban stability/respectability, the simplicity of the thing he wishes for his family, and for himself. He imagines a cookie-cutter kind of happiness. And then Dean discovers that all the people he’s saved are dead: this satisfies his deep-seated need to be a hero, to know that he’s doing tangible good despite his hardships and his loneliness and his sacrifices. That it’s worth it.

30. Is John Winchester redeemable? Is he complex? Is he in love with Azazel?

Well, yes to the third, obviously, the meme is simply too good.

I don’t really think John is a complicated man. I think he’s a Manly Man who lost his wife and became a paranoid gruff emotionally distant father (tm), and honestly that trope simply doesn’t hold my interest very well. The role he plays structurally in the Sam’n’Dean debacle is far more interesting to me than the man himself. I think John is pretty straightforward: he thinks he’s fighting a one-man war; he sees threats to his children everywhere; he plays his cards close to his chest. He’s a conspiracy theorist with the receipts, so is anyone actually surprised that he was a dreadful father?

“Redeemability” is such a strange and sticky question to me, and one that in some respects annoys me in its imprecision. Sorry, but I want to go on a tangent about this.

So, like, confined to fiction, we normally all kinda know what it means to be “redeemed”: there is an arc of realization that your actions were flawed, followed by a dramatic moment of catharsis where you join the good guys, or you make a big apology, or you throw the evil emperor into a pit.

Technically it’s possible for any character to get that. Like, hell, Lucifer’s “redeemable”, and it’s not because his dad was cruel to him or because he loves Jack or whatever. It’s because yes, it’s technically possible for him to be a better person, and even to sincerely offer amends. But it’s all about choice. The degree of effort and time and change that would be necessary to his quote unquote redemption is absurd in its magnitude. Lucifer’s never going to choose to change. He doesn’t want to change. There is not any space in the story SPN is telling for him to change. Thus, he’s functionally irredeemable.

The question, therefore, should be “can John be redeemed within the structural space of the story” rather than “can John as a person hypothetically be redeemed”, because the answer to the second is nearly tautologically yes.

John is dead. What would his cathartic redemption moment be charted as? What would the arc be? I’d argue there have already been two brief attempts at Redemptive Moments in canon, in 2.22 and in 14.13, and that both of them failed. I loathe his appearance in 2.22, because it’s cloyingly saccharine: it’s supposed to demonstrate that he loves his sons so damn much that he crawled out of Hell just to embrace his one true love one last time save them from Azazel. In 14.13, he apologizes. But this is utterly without practical narrative weight; plenty of his sins lie ahead of him, and he isn’t apologizing to his own young sons, but to future mirages of them.

I’m not sure that there is narrative space in SPN for John to be truly redeemed. The role John Winchester plays is not really even as a character per se: he’s a structure in his children’s lives. There is a good reason that in all flashback weechesters episodes, the most we ever see of John are his hands on the wheel, his shadow half-glimpsed in the car, his conspicuous absence. What’s important isn’t that he’s there: what’s important is how he’s shaped his children.

Supernatural is a show about trauma, and the generational trauma from John isn’t something that reads to me as “redeemable” on a character level. Rather, it’s a structural part of the Winchester mythos: the masculine figurehead of hunting/obsession/revenge/inscrutability. An arc in which John apologizes and goes with Sam and Dean to family therapy isn’t really imaginable in the story.

#ask game #2.20 #2.22 #14.13 #john winchester #sorry he just isn’t that interesting 🤷#johnzazel

21 notes · View notes

chocolateheart · 4 years

Text

Hidden Truths

Title: Hidden Truths.

Word count: 4083

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: After nearly losing you during the hunt, Dean finally opens up and reveals some hidden truths.

Warnings: 18+, tiny angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), oral sex, sex stuff in general, lil swearing.

A/N: Hi guys! So, here it is!

This is my first time posting something and I am nervous af, I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m excited. I’m not a great writer and this story is not very original, it's hella hard to find something that wasn't already written. Feel free with opinions, I'll take all the criticism on my chest.

Special THANK YOU to my amazing betas and friends @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons for taking care of my work, kicking my nervous ass and helping whenever I needed it. Without you, this wouldn't see a daylight. Love you ❤

**********

You knew Dean was probably right and you shouldn’t go in without him but you couldn’t wait. You stormed inside scanning every corner with watchful eyes. It was empty and quiet, no signs of any presence. This abandoned building was supposed to be a covens hideout. You and boys had been tracking them for days, so you couldn’t be wrong. You lowered your gun going into the last room and frowned, searching for anything that could lead you to answers when you heard them.

“Knock it off!” a sharp voice cut through the silence, followed by shattering glass and heavy thump.

Sam?

You ran in the direction of the sound, kicked the door in and quickly took in the scene that was happening in front of you. Sam was pinned to the wall by an invisible force, beaten and bleeding. A woman with ginger locks stood in the middle of a fire circle finishing her spell, one hand pointing at Sam who was grunting, trying to free himself.

“Hey, bitch!” you yelled aiming a gun at her. She turned her head and looked at you with furious eyes. “Let him go!”

“Y/N!” Sam shouted. A second later you felt a sharp pain cutting through your body, causing you to take a deep, surprised breath. “No!”

You looked at the black eyed man who was smiling at you with satisfaction. He yanked the blade out of your stomach. You collapsed to the ground and grunted as he kicked you in your fresh wound. Air flew out of your lungs and your eyes rolled from dizziness.

“No!” You barely heard Dean’s voice as tears blurred the view of him slicing the demon’s throat and rushing to help his brother.

You rolled on your side and shut your eyes tight from pain. You pressed your hands to the wound, feeling the blood coat your fingers. Taking sharp, shallow breaths you lifted yourself up so you could partly lean on the wall. That’s when you heard a gunshot and in the corner of your eye you saw the witch fall down, a hole in her head. Sam’s feet touched the floor and you closed your eyes.

“No, no, no, no…” Dean was next to you in seconds, cupping your cheeks. “Y/N stay with me, don’t you dare close your eyes,” he warned and you saw his green eyes full of worry and panic. You smiled.

“He-Hey De…” you coughed tasting blood on your tongue.

“Cas!” he yelled into the air. “Cas, come on man, I need you,” he said through gritted teeth covering your hands with his, holding your face with his second hand. “Sweetheart, look at me, focus on me. Hey, hey, right into my eyes,” you struggled but did what he asked, still smiling weakly.

“Dean, she’s drifting.” Sam’s voice caught your attention and you managed to look at him.

“Hey, Sammy. You’re okay…” A cough interrupted you again. Your whole body was shaking, spreading pain.

Your eyelids fluttered. The world was spinning, the boys’ faces blurry but Dean’s green eyes kept you from falling completely. For now.

Sam touched your face and arm, mumbling something about you getting cold. His brother’s fear grew as you grunted and slipped slightly on your side. He grabbed you and you hung limply in his arms, weak and pale, taking torn breaths.

“Dean…” you always wanted his name to be your last word.

You wanted to add much more. You wanted to tell him everything you felt but it was too much, you weren’t strong enough, words didn’t want to come out. You managed to touch his face, you wanted to remember that. The second you felt his skin and looked into his scared eyes, you were okay with dying. Your life was good, you had him and his brother. And death was fine as long as it was with them by your side.

You blinked for the last time, flashed a small smile to the man that owned your heart and darkness consumed you right before Castiel put his hand on Dean’s arm.

***

The trip back to the bunker was silent and tense. You noticed that Dean was gripping the wheel so hard, that his knuckles were white and even in dim light from the roadside lights, you could see his clenching jaw. Normally, you'd find it hot, but right now you knew it meant that he would shout at you the second you crossed the bunker’s threshold.

And he did.

"What exactly were you thinking, huh?!" he yelled, throwing his bag on the map table, next to yours. You turned to face him.

"Dean…"

"I told you to wait for me! I told you it was dangerous. You knew there was a possibility that she worked with demons!" he punched the column. "Dammit, Y/N!"

"You knew I would go. Especially after we got that weird call from Sam," he shook his head. "Think about what could’ve happened if I didn't interrupt her..."

"You wouldn't have gotten hurt, that's what could’ve happened!"

"Yeah, and she would’ve finished the spell! Kill those people and probably Sam too!" you raised your voice.

Dean always worried too much. He was always treating you like you were made of glass. You were a good hunter. It wasn't the first time something like this happened. Yes, maybe today you hadn’t planned it well. Maybe you weren't focused enough, and there was a big chance you could have been killed if Cas hadn’t appeared, but things like this were normal in life like yours. And Dean should be the last person yelling at you because of death threatening decisions; he had made few on his own.

"And you thought that joining the group was a good idea?! Jesus, Y/N, why do you have to be so stupid?!" It took you aback. Your eyebrows shot up.

"Excuse me?! Listen! Maybe it was quick decision and maybe I didn't think it through long enough but don't you dare call me stupid!" you pointed a finger at him. "It was about saving someone's life! And I think you, out of everyone, know the best about taking stupid steps! Don't make me remind you how many times I was in your place, watching you dying or going straight into the fire! So if you want to fight with me over it, look in the mirror first! You would do the exact same thing today, you wouldn't give a shit if I told you to wait for me!"

"It's not the same, Y/N! It's about you, for fucks sake!"

"And what the hell does that mean?! Why is it different?! Because I'm a girl?!" you asked but somehow you knew it wasn't the reason. "Because I haven’t been hunting as long as you have?! Because I stole your moment of glory or something?!"

He rolled his eyes, "you know that’s not the point!"

"Then what is that, Dean?!"

"Guys," Sam came between you.

"What?!" you asked together and exchanged angry looks.

"Can you stop?" he pushed his hands through his long hair, still colored with blood. "It's over, there’s no need to keep going over it. A lot happened tonight and the last thing I need is you two jumping down each other’s throats. And I think you don't want it either.”

"You're right, Sam." you agreed, crossing your arms over your chest. "But I'm done with his worrying ass and I swear if he won’t stop yelling at me for doing my job…"

"Dying is not your job!" Dean shouted again.

"Dean," you knew this tone. Sam tried to stop the fight from growing again.

"Don't Dean me!" his brother looked at him with anger on his face. "You know how this could've ended up, you were there!"

"But it didn't so leave it!"

"He won't leave it, he's too stubborn," you said. "But I'm not going to apologize for anything and there is no way I'll promise not to do something like this again." You took your stuff from the table. "And, if you can't live with that, that's your problem but I thought you knew me well enough to know that waiting politely for backup while I can do something, is not what I do." Sadness crept into your voice.

It was always like that. You made a decision, something happened and you ended up fighting in the middle of the bunker. Every time. You were so done with that, it was tiring as hell. You knew Dean cared about you, but you wished he could accept your lifestyle, especially when his life was so similar.

"Just…" you started as you began to walk backwards but your words failed you, "Goodnight, guys." You waved at them. You were too tired to argue further, so ignoring their looks you headed to your room.

***

A few hours later, after rethinking everything over and over again, you took a long, hot shower, cleaning the blood, dust and sweat from your body. Your room was the only one with it's own bathroom and it was like heaven. You had all the privacy you needed.

Warm water relaxed you and soothed your nerves. You went out with a cleared head, put on some sleeping shorts and shirt, happy that after a whole day you could throw away your bra. All you wanted now was to bury yourself into your pillows and sleep as long as possible.

You jumped in surprise seeing Dean sitting on your bed. You placed a hand on your chest feeling your heart beating faster and released a breath.

“Jesus, Dean. You scared me,” you said putting your clothes on the desk.

“Sorry,’ he mumbled looking down on his hands. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows digging into his knees, his body tense. “I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

You frowned, seeing his complex face and tilting your head you sat down next to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked. He wasn’t often like this. Usually when something was bothering him he hid it, putting his best mask on. But you always knew anyway.

“I just…” he took a deep breath and lifted his head up, looking at the ceiling. “I was scared Y/N. When I saw you collapse on that damn ground…” he turned his head so he could look at you, his voice barely over a whisper. “I thought I lost you.”

You smiled warmly understanding exactly what he meant. You’d lost count how many times you lost your shit thinking that something happened to him and you still remembered the feeling like your own life running out of you every time he died. To this day you felt sick thinking about it.

You knew he cared about you as much as you cared about him, but you also knew you loved this man. It took you time, years of fighting, living and doing literally everything together to figure out it was more than just a friendship. But you didn’t say a word. Each time you chickened out, laughing and reminding yourself this feeling wasn’t mutual. Even though you noticed intense looks, lingering touches and nervousness in some of his actions, you told yourself it was just your mind.

But moments like this, when he opened up to you, talking without any games, showing you how much he cared, it really seemed like he felt something.

The last few months had been a rollercoaster. Hunt after hunt you ended up beaten and covered in blood. You were pretty sure your counter of broken bones had already reached three digits. Death was reaching for you with it’s skinny hand every time.

As if he was reading your mind, Dean spoke.

“I’m done Y/N. I’m so done with the thought of you dying every time we go hunting. I don’t know what’s going on lately, but the world out there seems to be more crazy than it was before and I am shaking with nerves every time you grab a weapon and go out.”

“Dean,” you started, taking his hands in yours. “You know I can handle that. It’s not like I’ve been hunting since yesterday, I’ll be fine.” He smiled sadly but honestly.

“Yeah, I know you’re badass, I saw you. But I still feel anxious thinking I won’t be there on time and if I lose you, I won’t be able to say all the things I want to.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, dropping his eyes on your now entwined hands.

“I want to do this after every time we return from a hunt, but for some reasons I never do. And then, when I'm almost losing you again, I think that I won’t have another chance. It’s like that, over and over again, and I’m so fucking mad at myself because…” he took deep breath and lifted his gaze back on you. “There are things I want to tell you, to show you… but I don’t know how. I am genuinely scared of your reaction.”

You searched his face for a moment and when he looked down again you placed your palm on his cheek, rubbing his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Tell me, Dean,” you said quietly.

You didn’t want to, but your mind made up a whole story that attached to his words, creating scenes and emotions you wanted, and now you were praying for it to be true. He leaned into your touch closing his eyes, sighing with relief and your tummy twisted.

“Show me,” you whispered.

After a few seconds his green eyes met yours. It was like someone had punched you. Your temperature rose under his intense look and you swallowed hard. He noticed and his eyes travelled slowly over your face. Pushing your hair away, he caressed your jaw and ear with his right hand, causing tiny sparks to dance on your skin.

His eyes moved to your lips as he licked his own. Then he looked at you as if he was asking for permission, hoping you wouldn’t kick him if he made a move. But you couldn’t move even if you wanted too. Air around you got thick and heavy, your body was rising in heat, blood rushing in your ears pumped by your racing heart. He started to lean forward, but your mind still couldn’t process what was going on.

Was he seriously about to kiss you right now?

You got the answer when Dean closed the gap between you, briefly and smoothly brushing your mouth with his. And, God, it was enough to mess with your head.

When you didn’t pull away he kissed again but a little bit harder and your body responded. You pushed on, moving your hand from his cheek to the back of his head. He took a sharp breath and pulled you closer, arching you to him. Your head was spinning when you got faster and more handsy. He shifted, pulling one leg up on the bed so he was sitting straight towards you and placed his hand on your hip, the other still holding your face. You ran your fingers through his hair noticing it’s softness. Gently lifting your chin with his fingertip, he slightly sucked on your lower lip. You gripped his hair and scrap the back of his head. Dean moaned shortly and broke the kiss, but didn’t pull away. He stayed millimeters away from you, the two of you panting against each other’s lips.

“Y/N, I’m…” With your eyes still closed you rested your forehead on his.

“I swear if you say you’re sorry, I’m gonna kick your ass,” you breathed out and he chuckled.

“We should…” he pulled away just so he could look in your eyes. “You should stop me, before I do more,” his serious tone made you smile.

“Well…” you lifted yourself up and holding his gaze you sat astride him. He looked up at you; confused expression on his face. “Who said I want to stop you?”

“But…” you cut him off, pressing your lips to his.

You didn’t care. After years you finally had him and you didn’t think about letting him go or pushing away. Hell no. You craved this guy with everything you had. Your feelings were deeper than you were brave to confess. And the fact that he came up with that, that he was the one kissing you for the first time. It gave you hope.

It turned you on.

You almost died today, you deserve and needed to release some tension that mixed with your unspoken love.

Cupping his face between your hands you kissed him deep and slow, waking up his imagination. Dean took a sharp breath once again and you felt his hands slipping under the back of your shirt. Skin to skin contact made your body shiver. You opened up when he licked your lips; your eyes rolled back as you tasted each other, moaning together. His hot tongue completely turned off your mind and you slid your hands back on his neck and under his shirt.

One stroke with your nails and you shrieked when Dean suddenly rose up to his feet, holding you up just under your ass. He walked around the bed and gently laid you down on the pillows. Leaving your lips he kissed down your jaw and then neck, nipping every so often. His teeth grazed over your collarbone and you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. You gripped his shirt.

“Take it off,” you whispered and his eyes shimmered.

You smiled when he straightened up and took his shirt off, kneeling between your legs. You ran your hands on his firm stomach feeling his muscles contracting under your touch. You saw lust ghosting his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you passionately, which dragged a moan from you. You were all his, in this moment you would let him do anything, whatever he wanted.

And what he wanted was your shirt to be gone. You sat up letting him take care of it and gasped when, without any warning, he pushed you back on the pillows and sucked on one of your breasts. Using his tongue and teeth he made sure both of your nipples stood hard, happy to see him. He kissed a line from between your breasts, down your stomach, to the waistband of your shorts.

“Dean,” you whined, shifting eagerly.

He smiled and winked at you. Hooking his fingers under the material he slowly took it down, not leaving your eyes even for a second. As you laid there naked, cold air causing goosebumps, Dean kissed your ankle, knee and inner thighs. His hot breath hit your core and you couldn’t help but shiver. You held your breath as he licked from your entrance to your aching clit sucking it into his perfect mouth. You jerked up but Dean pressed you down by putting his large hands on your belly.

You were moaning louder with every flick of his tongue, his mouth driving you crazy, sending sparks to your system. You pulled on his hair when he sucked onto your clit, adding a finger between your folds; you were done with teasing.

"Dean, come here," you whimpered and after a last few strokes he crawled up and let you taste yourself while you fumbled with his pants. Without waiting you slid your hand in his boxers and grabbed his shaft.

"Fuck," he breathed a curse, hiding his face in your neck.

You pumped him slowly, Dean bucking his hips to meet your movements. His breath hitched, body trembled, and when you placed an open mouth kiss just under his jaw, he growled and suddenly jumped off the bed. He got rid of his clothes faster than you could blink and he was back at you. In between kisses you heard his shallow, breathy tone.

"Do you have any?" he asked but you looked at him shaking your head.

"I do, but I wanna feel you," you said smiling shyly.

Dean's eyes got darker but shined bright at the same time. You saw emotions running through him. He could say something, hell, he could just stand up and find the condom. But he didn't want to.

Instead he shifted but before he could enter you, you pushed on his shoulders, giving him the signal to lay on his back. He rolled over and you sat on him, kissing as you slowly sank down on his hard cock that filled you inch by inch. Your walls fluttered at the feeling; you both stopped and grunted when he bottomed out.

You locked your eyes with his and moved your hips, causing him to bite on his lower lip. His head dropped back onto the pillow when you sped up and he moaned loudly, gripping hard on your hips. Your head fell back from pleasure. He was filling you perfectly, scraping over every sensitive spot inside you, hitting you right where you needed him.

Suddenly he sat up, pulling you flush to him, caging you in his strong arms, digging his fingers in your shoulder blades. You hooked your hands on his neck and slightly scraped the back of his head pulling a low growl from him. He liked it.

His hot breath fanned over your skin. He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck and whispered your name, causing your stomach to tremble. Then he sank his teeth in the tattoo on your collarbone while thrusting hard at the same time and you felt a jolt of intense electricity going through your body.

You cried out with surprise and intense feeling, and Dean repeated his action, dragging you down by your shoulders. He was pumping into you slow but hard and you felt heat building impossibly high in your lower stomach.

"Dean...I…" you tried to build a proper sentence but you've lost the ability to talk a long time ago. In answer to your words he deftly flipped you over so you were under him.

"I know, sweetheart. Me too," he breathed thrusting firmly, his cock throbbed confirming his statement. "Baby, come with me. Please, come with me," he pleaded, reached down to your clit and started rubbing small circles. You felt your muscles tighten, rising your body up from sheets, locking a scream in your throat.

And then it all let go. Your orgasm hit hard, it was overwhelming, mind blowing. Fire ran through every cell in your body, every inch trembled, your head was hazy.

With one last thrust Dean growled pressing himself to you and coated your walls with hot cum. You milked him to the last drop, your bodies pulsed together.

After a few moments, you came down from your high, still glued to Dean, who's breath was returning to normal. His warmth and weight was so pleasurable. Caressing his back with your fingertips you took deeper breaths pressing your nose to his neck, smelling him. Dean purred happily and did the same to you, sliding his arms under and around you, leaning on his elbows so he didn't crush you.

He looked into your eyes, a lazy smile dancing on his lips. Giving a brief kiss he partly closed his eyes, bliss and joy written over his face. You gently ran your hand through his hair and played with his earlobe. He melted into your touch and then kissed the inside of your palm.

"You okay?" he asked. You nodded and he kissed your nose, rolled over and stood up from bed. "Hold on."

He disappeared in your bathroom for a moment and came back with a cloth so you could clean yourself.

"We should have done this a long time ago," you stated, stretching yourself, feeling blissful tiredness.

"Hell yeah we should," Dean agreed, joining you under the covers, pulling you close to him. "But we were dumbasses," he chuckled on his own words and you kissed his chest, smiling. "You know it will be even worse now, right? I will worry more, we will be fighting Y/N, all the time."

"Yeah, I know," you said shrugging. "But now…" you turned your head and put your chin on his chest. "We can have angry sex after," wiggling your brows you gave him cocky grin. He smiled widely, all teeth and dimples, and he shook his head.

"You're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart."

**********

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Now I'm gonna hide in the corner!

Tags: @winchest09 @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @snffbeebee @bunkerconfessions @roonyxx thank you guys for all the support!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #dean winchester smut #spn fanfic #fanfic #supernaturalfanfic #supernatural fanfic #oneshot #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x you

457 notes · View notes

laufire · 3 years

Note

i definitely think clarke is an example of a villain protagonist, and fandom’s need to see her as a hero is due to the need to see protagonists as heroes. my only stipulation is that i do think fandom is capable of acknowledging that certain protagonists are villains, but only under certain conditions. like fandom can only acknowledge a character is a villain if the story really really really explicitly frames them that way. like people are willing to acknowledge that characters like (1/2)

(a few of these seem to have been lost to this hellsite’s void, sorry :/)

walter white, don draper, tony soprano, dexter morgan, the “it’s always sunny in philadelphia” protagonists ect are horrible evil people. (although even with them, there stans who engage in ridiculous apologism, ie the “walter white did nothing wrong” crowd, but i do feel like most of the audience gets that these characters are evil? maybe i’m being to optimistic, or maybe it’s just because i avoid r*ddit lol) but i think in these cases it’s mostly because the framing is so blatant, like (2/3)

like the writers basically have to beat you over the head with the fact that the main character is a horrible person for them to get it. but with characters like dean winchester, elena gilbert, and clarke griffin, the fandom largely sees them as good people, (who may be morally ambiguous sometimes, but only because they CAAARRRE SO MUCHHH) and i think it’s because the narrative framing is different than what it is with a character like walt. that’s not to say that the narrative always (3/?)

frames characters like elena, clarke, dean, ect as good people. i think the narrative sometimes engages in apologism for dean/elena/clarke, and sometimes it acknowledges how terrible they are. i think that for characters like dean/elena/clarke the framing is often much subtler than for characters like walt/don/dexter/tony soprano. i also think sexism/white female fragility plays a role in how fandom perceives elena, clarke, and jessica jones are perceived by fandom (4/?).

This is all true, but I also think there are other factors at play. On is the kind of people these two groups are -I’m less familiar with some of the others mentioned above than I am with The Triumvirate of Doom LOL, but I’d say that (maybe with the exception of Don Draper? I really need to watch Mad Men one day. I remember liking the pilot) they are fundamentally different TYPES of ~bad people. Dean, Elena, and Clarke are empaths, subconcious manipulators; to different degrees of efficiency, and Dean and Clarke use hard power more than Elena, but they’re specifically people who are difficult to parse, and difficult to accuse. They’re the kind of people who trade in social graces and do it well, often coming out of shit smelling like fucking roses. The others are excused by fandom, but Walter White, Tony Soprano and Dexter Morgan’s whole deal is different.

On top of that, there’s a matter of distance. Those you mention are all from mundane worlds, worlds like out, commiting violence in a mundane way. Dean kills monsters, Clarke commits large scale genocide by levers in a distant sci-fi post apocalyptic ‘verse, Elena even has other supernatural beings commiting supernatural violence for her. I know I myself react worse to more “realistic” violence.

And regarding the ‘verses, I think we run into an issue of the perception each of these gets, the depth people are willing to assign to each of them. Nevermind that The Vampire Diaries or Supernatural have been the two most cynically honest shows about the worst of human nature I’ve yet to encounte;, for a lot of people they’re just ~silly genre shows, the first a ~silly girly show, even. The acts committed in those universe is horrifying to the extreme, heightened forms from real-world equivalents, but easy to dismiss for a lot of people because of its source. Which annoys me, ngl, because I don’t think without characters like Elena we’d get some of the female antiheroes we have now, for better or worse; or without shows like Angel for the male ones; Angel was definitely a precursor to the Tony Sopranos of tv, IMO.

There are issues with framing in each of the shows and it matters, but there have also been moments where they have been absolutely ruthless about who Dean, Elena, Clarke, etc. were at their core, and the audience insists on keeping their eyes closed to it anyway. So framing can’t be the only issue.

fandom NEEDS to see white female protagonists as good people. i think this is because of the notion of white female innocence and purity, how white cis women are seen as inherently good and kind, and needing and deserving of protection from white men. of course fandom woobifies the shit out of white male characters too, just look at dean winchester and dean winchester. however i genuinely can’t think of a example of a white female protagonist who was explicitly framed as terrible person, (5/?)

and where most of fandom fully acknowledged her shittyness. the only real example i can think of is dee reynolds, and like that doesn’t really count because iasip is a deliberately absurd bizare sitcom where you really aren’t meant to take the characters actions seriously. the show isn’t grounded in reality and it’s not meant to be. also dee is nothing like elena or clarke, and iasip is nothing like the 100 or tvd so i’m comparing apples to oranges. (6/?)

maybe blair waldorf from gossip girl? i actually think she has a lot in common with elena and clarke, it’s just expressed in different ways. but maybe that’s due to the fact that serena was technically the female protagonist (even if the writers blatantly favored blair), and blair was introduced to the show as an antagonist for serena. although there was a fuck ton of blair apologism in the gossip girl fandom so who knows. (8/?)

i have seen daenerys targaryen referred to as a villain (even before the second last episode), but in her case i actually feel it’s somewhat unfair. i mean obviously burning down kings landing was a villainous act, but on the whole i see her as more of a mix of an anti-hero and an anti-villain. like of course she has done many horrible things, but she isn’t terrible in the same way elena and clarke are, like she is a different type of character than them. (10/?)

i also feel like the got fandom wasn’t as pro daenerys as the tvd fandom and the 100 fandom were of elena and clarke respectively. (maybe because daenerys shared protagonist status with the stark family?). (omg i am so sorry this ask was so long! i seriously thought this was going to be two parts, maybe three tops lol) (11/11)

I’m not too familiar with Blair and only half-familiar with GOT and its fandom, although yes, I would consider them slightly different cases than Clarke or Elena, on first sight.

White female fragility definitely plays an ENOURMOUS part in these characters’ perception. A lot of the Clarke vs. Bellamy discourse was profoundly racist, for example. And do not get me started on Jessica Jones and how the show portrayed, and the fandom received, her dynamics with black men.

#anonymous #replies #talking to the void #my thoughts #fandom nonsense #the writing tm

7 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

frENEMIES, pt.6 {Quarterback AU}

Summary: Two stubborn hearts forget that we don’t always have all the time in the world to say what we need to and make amends.

Warnings: angst, swearing

Part one

Days passed and Grayson found a way back to his old habits. A different girl on his arm every day, his training and plays immaculately performed and his hair, the stupid fluffy whiskey colored curls, only grew longer as the semester came to an end.

His eyes were always fixed in front of him, no longer searching for the girl he had kept an eye on since the day he started his academic career. No, he was determined not to look for her again. If she wanted to see him as the bad guy, as the guy who can't seem to do anything right nor cares to? Well, he was done proving her wrong.

Y/N had made her choice and it was to think the worst of him and while he knew she was possibly running scared and secretly hoped she'd finally stop and let him catch up, she never did and he stopped expecting her to.

Dreams weren't as easy to ignore as the reality. In his dreams, their hands were intertwined, their smiles wide and somehow, she always had the insane habit of doing trust falls whenever he least expected it and it jolted him awake more than once when she'd just scream "TRUST FALL" and he'd have to catch her no matter how far he was or how full his hands were. Somehow, he found that part of his dream Y/N's personality most vivid and true to her real self.

If he's being completely honest, his eyes did wander a little bit during class, looking over to see if she arrived. To his surprise, her attendance remained perfect, but she wasn't truly there. It felt like looking at a distorted image in the mirror of the girl she used to be and it made him ache, but he had to protect his heart now. She had the ability to tear his heart out, she nearly fucking did and he couldn't let her finish the job.

Y/N had never felt lonelier walking through the halls as she did in the last months of her college experience. She had always had Amina, or at least she had Grayson to argue with. There were a few friends that came and went on the way but those two were her constants - something she could always count on being there, him to be there.

She knew she projected her hurt and fears onto him, that her mind was imploding and her heart wasn't allowed to make any decisions regarding her quarterback, which is a real pity considering how hard her heart fought for him.

There isn't a day that goes by that she doesn't wish she could stop hating herself enough to believe she doesn't deserve love, his love. That she could stop thinking she would be happier with him. That his lips aren't what she wishes to taste before her time on Earth is over and she draws her last dying breath.

And she wanted to do that the very next day after their fight, but when she went looking for him, he wasn't alone. Watching him lock lips with the head cheerleader before they went into the bathroom was enough to shatter what remained of her heart and the will to fight for what she hoped was the genuine man behind what Grayson showed the world.

But that day he proved her right, that he wasn't in love with her and never would be - that it's the chase that got him interested in the first place. Maybe it's because of a prank or a bet to take her virginity, or maybe it's because he expected her to fall to his feet and worship him like everyone else or he just wanted the supposedly mind-blowing hate sex, but either way, he had disappointed her for the last time that day.

She could feel herself fading as time went by, focusing on school and her writing - the only escape she could find. Writing about the pain had made it strong but it also purified her soul. Hiding from the world, she walked the campus like a ghost, occasionally sneaking a glance of the quarterback just to know he's alright.

She found it masochistic, to seek a confirmation of his well-being when he had ruined hers. But she blamed herself for that as well, she was the one who gave him the power to break her heart in the first place.

Love at first sight was a myth before she met Grayson, but he had shown her it's real. And it hurts like fucking hell.

She went to a couple of his games, more to feel less depressed and alone stuck in her room, but also to relive that night he had dedicated his winning touchdown to her...the night that started their end too soon, yet not soon enough.

Neither of them realized how many missed glances they shared - just as she’d look away, he’d look at her with the same anguish she had.

By the time graduation came, Y/N had already gotten a book deal, something she never expected in a million years since she didn't see herself ever being a professional writer.

Her manuscript went missing a month before, but she had found it just a few days after she made her peace with the fact that she lost it - the book she started in her freshman year just after she met Grayson and a week before she met Amina, the same book that was meant to be almost like a therapeutic escape for venting her emotional distress and anything else she was scared to articulate in real life. Whoever had seen it must have sent a copy, but she never found out who. At least not then - the perpetrator was revealed eventually.

frENEMIES was discovered and she had no intention on missing out on this opportunity, even if it meant she'd miss the graduation ceremony.

And still, before she went, she left a note to the man who had inspired the book in the first place - the one where she put down every single detail since the moment she had met him and had her first kiss - every hidden emotion and opinion, thoughts she kept secret from herself as well, every happy smile and hopeful look and even the resentment and pranks and her inner struggle with how he made her feel since the first moment to the last - to the moment she lost him and had to move on.

That note consisted of a single passage from the very end of her book - seemingly unfinished as many things in life are, and when Grayson read it after the ceremony was over and he saw she wasn't there, he realized that he had fucked up once again.

I looked into your eyes and found my favorite color; pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Your eyes have the whole world in them and quite honestly, I'm scared. What if no one makes me feel the way you did? But every fairytale has a villain, but you weren't the villain of my story. I was. Maybe when we're ready, we'll meet again. After all, destiny works in mysterious ways and if not, I'm still going to miss you, quarterback. Forever.

And in that moment he knew it was over, truly over and finished with. She had said her last goodbye and he remained with a world of unspoken feelings and apologies. He watched her slip away from him, but that's all he's done - watched and allowed it to happen.

She was special from the start, a mean angel and a kind devil all at once and he loved her since the first time he saw her and thought he was in a dream. He wonders if she ever realized that the only reason he got so drunk that night (his first and only time having alcohol) was because he needed liquid courage to talk to her.

She was beautiful, talented, impatient and stubborn and proud and prejudiced but also incredibly impactful in everything she did - from her protests to save the Earth on Earth day every year, to her little stunt in biology class where she released all the animals. No one knew it was her but him. He admired her for standing up for herself and others who were bullied into silence, for getting herself arrested for protesting and practically starting a riot when a young student was a victim of blatant racism but the dean didn’t care nor want to hold anyone accountable for the incident.

She was a simple woman - as simple as quantum mechanics and he gave up on her far too quickly.

Now, he's moving onto the big leagues, leaving college behind, but that note will stay in his wallet no matter where he goes or who he meets.

And it won't be her.

Not for years to come.

Tags: @dreadingdaisies @strangerliaa @mendesficsxbombay @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @dolandolll

PART 7

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan quarterback

151 notes · View notes

deancaskiss · 3 years

Note

I feel really empty about the finale, I expected to cry and have all the emotions but instead I had a few seconds of sadness with Dean and just so much emptiness. All of the characters deserved better, Dean... from raising his little brother to having an Angel fall for him deserved so much better. He finally started to believe in 15x18 that he wasn’t the “ultimate” killer but someone who did things out of love, someone coming to terms with who he is... and they kill him like that. They pulled a PLL but for their main character.

Sam... a faceless wife and a horror party city wig. He deserved so much better as well. At the end of it, I get why they had them reunited, living the life they’ve dreamed about forever but Dean died so young, never experiencing anything in life.

And Cas... oh my god Cas. This hurts so much and I refuse to accept any of it, just fully living in fanfiction canon at this point. They made him vulnerable, they made him fall in love and they wasted so much. They wasted an arc that changed the dynamic of the show for a quick second and I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay of that.

I wanted to do a rewatch, I actually wanted to start really soon but I just can’t right now. This show came into my life when I needed it the most, I was in a dark place and it brought light to my day. But now I don’t even have a happy finale to look forward to if I ever did rewatch. I have characters who deserved so much better and deserved so much love.

I’m really sorry about the rambles and the rant, I probably didn’t even fully explain everything I’m feeling. I’m just upset and numb and empty towards it all. I don’t wanna lose this show and I don’t wanna lose the characters but I just can’t accept the finale and be fully content with it. I just can’t...

Hi nonnie. I just watched the episode and I honestly feel the exact same way you do. I feel empty and numb. Dean’s death did make me cry, but that was it. I had no real large moments of joy. Nothing that made me smile or feel like I was watching my boys be who they really are. It felt disjointed and disconnected and I’m very upset about it. I’m grasping to the small details like Dean and Sam being in Heaven together, and driving Baby around forever.

Your description of Dean is so spot on. Saying he deserved better for everything he’s given. He deserved a life. He deserved love. He deserved to live and enjoy the world he spent his whole life protecting and saving. I completely agree with you that 15x18 gave us this new light for Dean- him seeing his fight for love and seeing himself filled with not anger or rage or killer blood, but love for his family and the ones he cares so deeply for. That’s the Dean Winchester I fell in love with. That’s the Dean Winchester who stole our hearts. This version tonight was not him. This was not Dean. Dean never gives up. Dean fights for his family to the end and beyond. Even typing this is making me cry. His death felt unfuifilled. Dean was meant to go out in a blaze of glory, not on some measly vamp hunt. It almost...

Okay, I’m not sure if anyone has said this, and I’m expecting hate for saying this. But that death made a mockery of his character. It was a slap in the face. The Greatest Hunter died on his first hunt after Chuck was powerless. And it makes it feel cheap. Like Chuck was the only reason he was a good hunter and without Chuck writing it, Dean was nothing. And I can’t accept that. It utterly destroys me. We’ve seen Dean prove himself over and over again without Chuck (ie “we’re making it up as we go”) and yet here he is, dying on their first hunt after Chuck as if his entire arc as a hunter has been a waste. It completely destroys his character. It makes the whole show a farce. Why show us Dean and Sam being something beyond Chuck’s control and the minute they finally take Chuck off the map, Dean dies in a salt-and-burn easy level hunt. It crushes my soul. I can’t fathom how hurt it makes me feel.

Having Sam not end up with Eileen felt cheap and wrong too. Why lead us with all these saileen hints for seasons and then drop that and have him a marry some rando we don’t even get to see. That’s not the Sam I fell in love with. That’s not him. I can’t accept that. He was devasted over losing Eileen in 15x18 and then we never see her again. Sam deserved the world after everything he’s sacrificed and I cannot begin to describe how upset I am over it. Like yes, I wanted him to have a wife and kids and to retire and be normal, but this felt like an imitation of that hope. Dean deserved to live longer in the world he helped to save. And I refuse to believe Sam would take Dean’s word and not try to save him or bring him back. That’s not who they are.

Okay, I’m going to try not to ramble here because it’s 3am and I’m not going to get any sleep but of all the characters, Cas deserved the fucking world and more. I am utterly desvasted over what they did to Cas. He died without love. He never knew if his family loved him and God I’m now full on sobbing onto my keyboard. Cas opened up, gave his heart to Dean, and died thinking it was for nothing. They could do a whole spin-off just for Cas and even that wouldn’t be enough honestly. I completely agree with you about living in fanfiction. You’re so valid in your feelings over Cas’ wasted arc. You summed up how I feel, and how so many of us feel. Cas gave the show new purpose, new direction, new hope, and they squandered it.

Oh nonnie, I completely understand how you feel about the rewatch. It’s so hard to fathom watching again knowing this is what it leads to. I understand why you can’t right now. What you feel is so valid and so honest and you deserve all the time you need to process everything. My advice? Take time. Find your happiness in the show again- whether it be characters or scenes or specific episodes that made you fall in love. And start with that. And when you’re ready, start rewatching, but only go as far as you want. You do not have to watch the finale again. THe ending can be wherever you want it to be. Do not let this be canon. The show is in the fans hands now. Make it whatever you want it to be. The writers cannot take your personal experience with the show away. It sounds like this show was a lifesaver for you, and that it helped you when you needed to get out of a dark place. I encourage you to find that again. Find scenes. Find episodes or seasons. Characters or plot points. Anything. Find the things about the show that made you happy and hold on. Don’t let go. No matter how badly they slaughtered the ending, no one can take your personal experiences away. No one can take that power from you. The show creators don’t have that power over you. Tell them to f’ off and you keep the parts of the show that saved you. No one can take that from you.

Please do not ever apologize for rambling to me. You can always always always come and ramble to me. I’m sorry my response got personal and long-winded and rambling too. I didn’t mean to get quite so full-throttle but your ask really made me feel things. Also, you don’t have to have all your feelings together right now. You are allowed to be feeling things you can’t express right now. That’s okay. All your feelings, even the ones you can’t put into words, are valid and acceptable. Everything you said and feel is so understandable. You are not alone, I promise. Take some time to grieve and mourn and be upset and angry and empty. When you’re ready, I promise you will find happiness in the show again. I promise. You are not losing the show or the characters. They’re yours. They’re ours. They are no longer in the hands of the creators/writers. They belong to the fans now. We create the stories and the future now. You don’t have to accept the finale... now or ever. You are allowed to be upset. Everything you feel is completely fair. Just know that I love you, that the fandom loves you, and we will be here to help you pick up the pieces.

#anon #anonymous #asked and answered #spn 15x20 #spn spoilers #rambles #this ended up being super long #i got a bit carried away #sorry for the tldr #my point is that you are valid in your emotions and you are not alone #i love you bb #stay strong

25 notes · View notes

pointlesstrashyexistence · 3 years

Text

Every few days I think about how if Supernatural’s writers were just planning on killing of Cas and then never mentioning him again with the original ending involving the possibility of just a brief cameo of him in Heaven weirdly partying with (dead?) Kansas, I probably would’ve preferred it if Cas didn’t have a confession scene.

Ok here me out. Yes I ship DeanCas/Destiel. Yes I loved that there was at least acknowledgment of Cas’ romantic feelings towards Dean. Misha has outright said the confession was romantic and there have already been two official dubs in two different languages where the “I love you” specifically uses phrases that show romantic love. It’s not up for debate anymore if those feelings were romantic.

But if they were just going to throw that in there and get rid of Cas and never mention him again except for two scenes where he doesn’t appear and one that is just Lucifer pretending to be him to gain access to the bunker, I would’ve preferred it if Cas’ true happiness was something that I think would’ve been the ultimate acknowledgement of Cas’ transformation, which I feel would’ve been Jack calling Cas his dad and telling his dad how much he loves him. Of all three members of Team Free Will 1.0, Cas has been the most like a dad to Jack. Cas was the one who eventually helped Kelly hide, prepared a home for Jack and Kelly to live in, for Jack to be raised in safe and loved and cared for. Cas was the one prepared to go down fighting to protect Jack before Jack was even born. Cas is the one who always runs to Jack, to protect Jack, to save Jack, even if it means creating a rift between him, Sam, and Dean.

I love my Sam Winchester is Jack Kline’s Father fics, and my Dean Winchester is Jack Kline’s Father fics, and my Team Free Will 1.0 are Jack Kline’s Fathers fic on ao3 . I do. But if we’re talking about in the show, Cas is the one who is the most like a father to Jack.

Love Dean and wish that man had been given therapy and anger management and AA meetings and working to become a better, less violent person who takes accountability for what he’s done as his finale ending rather than just dying by a fucking nail through the chest, something Cordelia on Buffy The Vampire Slayer survives after like a twenty foot drop from a staircase. But Dean outright hates Jack during his widower arc and makes it known how much of a monster he thinks Jack is to the point where Jack repeatedly tries to commit suicide and then it’s just never really brought up again after Cas comes back and Dean then just goes back and forth on whether he thinks Jack is part of his family or not for the last three seasons. As much as I like the few scenes where Dean is actually bonding with Jack and calls him “their kid” and Jack referring to himself as a Winchester, Dean isn’t really Jack’s dad in the show. Do I think this probably would’ve been a different story if we got baby Jack? Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now

Sam? Sam definitely tries at first. Sam gets what it’s like to feel like a monster and be viewed as one even when your not, and calls out Dean for how he acts and behaves towards Jack. But Dean just as easily calls out Sam for using Jack to try and get their mother back and trying to appear invested in Jack to get what he wants. Sam’s affection for Jack is conditional at first. He gradually grows to be more paternal to Jack but by season 14, it kind of just dwindles away. We got all this buildup of Sam and Jack’s relationship, which yes there should’ve been because here you have someone who was supposed to be the True Vessel of Lucifer, the Boy King of Hell and the Antichrist, the Son of Lucifer, and there’s not really any care given to it afterwards. That season was probably the last time the writers actually did anything interesting with Sam and tried to give him an arc in my opinion.

Cas though? Cas, who was a warrior of God that led garrisons and killed the offspring nephilim of lesser angels? Cas who grows a respect and admiration for humanity, seeing them as complex miraculous beings rather than hairless apes like the majority of the angels? Cas who defends humanity’s existence against other angels even at the cost of his life? Cas who originally thought of the Antichrist as a monster that needed to be killed to protect humanity but heard Kelly talk about how good she believed her child could be despite being the son of the devil and saw a paradise on earth when he actually communicated with Jack in the womb? Cas who separated from the only other two people he has consistently turned to for help and has provided help for in order to try and ensure Jack would be a child safe and loved even if it meant being away from the people he considered family and could die protecting Jack and Kelly? Cas who unconditionally loves and treats Jack as his child throughout the last three season? He is definitely Jack’s father.

I just think there’s something very fitting about the angel who unconditionally loved humanity despite never being able to entirely follow god’s orders raising the supposed antichrist who becomes a god that respects humanity’s free will. And I think that scene would’ve been fantastic in that Cas loves Jack as his child so much that he makes that deal with the Empty in the first place to protect Jack , but Cas loves Jack so much that Jack is the reason the deal is broken. Jack doesn’t realize Cas thinks of him as his child the same way Cas doesn’t think Jack sees him as his dad, and that recognition that they feel the same way is the most bittersweet moment in the world because their first moment where they mutually knowingly recognize each other as parent and child seems like it might be the last one they have together as they hug. Jack sobs while furiously apologizing as he sees black goo come to reach Cas who only has a few more second left to kiss the top of his child’s head and hug him close and say something like “I love you so much my son” before pushing him away while Jack watches, crying as he calls out “Dad don’t leave me” as his father get covered in black goo while smiling with tears streaming down his face before disappearing.

I’m not sure how that situation could’ve occurred. Maybe Jack and Cas are together when people start disappearing, and Jack worries about how if Chuck doesn’t consider him important enough to torment he could also be proofed away, and he wants to tell his dad how much he loves him in that way kids do when they think they might see their parents for the last time and despite being in basically an adult body Jack is still three and not really thinking about what could happen or doesn’t even think this could be Cas’ happiest moment because he always thought Cas knew Jack thought of him as his dad. I don’t know.

But that scene happens and the Empty collects Cas and then when Jack becomes god and brings everyone back, he somehow also brings Cas back from the empty. Look the writers gave absolutely no good reason for why Lucifer somehow came back from the empty in 15x19 when the Empty specifically states that Chuck has no power in her domain so why should I? But I guess if I was going to it would’ve involved Jack finding out how it got loud in the empty and bargaining with the Empty in trading demons, angels, and other nephilim in exchange for making the empty quiet again and managing to deal with what to do with all of these now revived supernatural creatures. Still frustrated that the show made God the enemy and turned Billie into a last minute villain when the Empty was right the, the Enpty was hyped up, and then it just took Cas and Billie and disappeared, and was never heard from again.

Anyways, Jack and Amara separate but they’re still functioning as a unit and are working together to fix the other universes as well as heaven and the systems of who gets sent to heaven, hell, and purgatory in a sort of season 4 of the Good Place style, and Cas takes on a major role as the celestial being with the most interaction with and understanding of humanity, especially with that time he was a homeless human under his belt to provide his own reflection on why certain people may do things that are wrong like stealing in order to provide just a basic need for themselves like stealing food to eat. It’s implied that Rowena’s involved in this too. Cas and Jack say their goodbyes to Sam and Dean. If I had it my way, the finale would end up being like the one I made up in an earlier post where Sam and Dean get their beach day but realize that their relationship isn’t healthy for either of them and separate and the viewer no longer has access to what they do with their lives afterwards because Sam and Dean now have control of their own stories and decide who gets to see it. But I guess what I made up fixes some general overarching complaints about the last three episodes. I still hate that last episode and what I feel is the assassination of 15 years of character development of Sam and Dean in order to go back to S1 with Sam as the main character and Dean as the side character interrupting his life but I just barely acknowledge it as the show’s finale.

I do love the confession scene. I really do. But if it was just going to end with Cas dying a minute after confessing his love and never being seen or acknowledged again, I would’ve much rather preferred it being that his happiest moment was being with his child in the endless feedback loop of familial love.

#Supernatural #SPN #spn #supernatural #Jack Kline #jack kline #Castiel #castiel #cas thee el #Cas Thee El #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #Castiel is Jack Kline’s Father #castiel is jack kline’s father #Castiel is Jack’s Father #castiel is jack’s father #cas is jack’s father #Cas is Jack’s Father

9 notes · View notes

klarriel · 3 years

Text

re:misha

nobody is ever going to read this but i need somewhere to vent

i want you to bear this in mind - imagine being misha: you have spent 12 years on a show that you've put your heart and soul into. you've made it with so many people youre friends with, and you've seen them all work hard to make it. you've fought for your character, and in the end it all pays off because you get to have your character speak his truth, and 'die' in the way you've hoped for. then everything goes wrong.

im going to start with the cw/tptb. OBVIOUSLY network television is homophobic. the network has other shows with lgbtq+ representation but when it comes to a long running show, especially with the demographic of spn, they really had no intention of putting two of their leads in a mlm relationship. cas coming out was their limit, and i think people fought for that, but ultimately - cas was always a 'different' character, and fans of the show who were there for cas were more so progressive and open. fans there for the brothers were their legacy audience, and they couldn't risk losing that in the face of walker. even before the pandemic, they were never going to risk that.

im now going to go out on a limb here and say that the fandom also has a part to play in this. obviously not all the fandom, but there has been unnecessary pain caused. some of the meta writers have thrown out theories in the past that have made logical sense, but when they get disproven they change their tune and say we were just interpreting it wrong - I have been in this fandom before. Meta theorists were 100% SURE when Cas became human it was all leading to canon deancas, and it didnt happen. I'm not saying their theories aren't sound or don't have any weight behind them - in a normal world, they would probably be exactly right. but this is supernatural, and when it comes to this show, i feel like giving people endless hope when explicit mutual deancas was never going to happen, didnt sit right with me.

please do not trust information from people who claim to know people or work in areas (eg: dubbing, focus group interviews) that many of them likely don't. i'm not calling everyone liars, but even if you did work in the industry, unless you work in that office where that dub script was decided on, who knows why that dub was put in. like i said, i've been in this fandom before - people spread information to fire the flames

misha did not say it was a bury your gays trope in that panel a week or two ago. he said it potentially plays into the trope. imo he has not contradicted himself - if we're taking him at face value, he likely doesn't think it's bury your gays, as is supported by his video.

all the attacking andrew dabb posts? i get it, it's funny, but i'm sorry - as much as i thought the ending was pretty terribly written, do you really think andrew dabb is the overseer of everything, pulling all the strings? yes he was the show runner, but he would have had no power over the network. his quotes about jensen and misha also seem to be badly executed jokes that when cut down to just those lines are easy to take at face value and out of context

i do think however, that the pain caused by spn goes beyond 15x18, and thats what misha in his video fails to understand. this is an issue of characters like cas and eileen and charlie being killed and then never mentioned again. we all know covid had a detrimental impact to the story and ability to shoot, but i've maintained as have many people that so many issues could have been solved with one line. the erasure of female, lgbtq+ and non-white characters, and characters with disabilities is an issue that is inexcusable and requires recognition and a formal apology by all involved. the lack of character development and refusal to acknowledge the journey the show has taken in the last 15 years is less of an issue, but still contributes to the pain. this is also about, as it always has been, queer baiting using obvious romantic tropes for deancas and then never delivering on it. i think bobo berens and other writers/show runners worked to change this, but ultimately if we look at the deancas legacy, a lot of it was tropes and moments that were never allowed to come to fruition, all in all to keep their audience that was ultimately there for dean/cas/deancas, and keeping viewing figures up (we really did keep this show on air).

i wont sit here and defend mishas words, because to be honest i think they came from a place of frustration and sadness and he worded it wrong, but i think his heart is always with us. he knows how much cas meant to us and fought for him to come out. he is an adult man with a wife and family and other priorities- his top priority is not going to be righting the wrongs of a television show, even one he was so heavily involved in. he's not always going to know what the right thing is to say to a group of people so invested, but what i will say is , as he said - we can write our own ending. of course dean is bi, we don't need spanish translators to tell us that. don't let this invalidate you

#feels good to get all of this out lol #misha collins #spn #deancas #bi dean is real

10 notes · View notes

deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU

Chapter 4 is up on AO3! (Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.)

They’re Gonna Love You

Three Years Earlier

Cas was terrible at making friends.

He really was trying his best — he spoke up in class whenever he could, he talked to his seatmates when it was appropriate. And that was fine, everyone was perfectly nice to him. But he couldn’t figure out what exactly he was supposed to say to make himself less “that one guy from accounting” and more “Cas Novak.” So, he was three weeks into college with nothing to show for it.

Nothing, save his roommate.

Unlike Castiel, Dean had already found a group of friends from their floor. He was hardly ever in their room. Cas didn’t mind so much; it gave him space to focus on his homework, which already felt overwhelming and never-ending. But every day, like clockwork, Dean was back by seven, and he dragged Cas away from his computer and into the dining hall with him.

Castiel had to admit that dinner was the best part of his day. Dean rarely failed to take his mind off of the dangerously constant spiral of social anxiety and school-related stress. Cas learned that Dean moved constantly because of his father’s job, that his brother, Sam, was “a textbook nerd,” that Dean’s guilty pleasure was Grey’s Anatomy (“Don’t look at me like that, Patrick Dempsey is in it”), that he loved pie probably more than anyone should be allowed to. And Castiel told Dean things, too, things he’d never had the luxury of sharing; how he decided to be a writer after reading The Great Gatsby for the first time, that his attending college had made him the black sheep of the family, how he had never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit (“Is that a friggin’ challenge, Cas?”).

They had occasionally eaten with Dean’s friends from the dorms, most often on Fridays when the group was heading to a party afterward. That is, until Castiel brought a copy of Pride and Prejudice to the table to read before his next literature class, and Cole Martin asked him if he was gay with a smirk. The table had gone silent; Cas just looked at him, heat flaming across his face; Dean was staring daggers. Cole, refusing to get the message, prodded for a response, at which point Dean asked if he could talk to him for a minute.

Dean didn’t speak to Cole again after that.

He apologized to Cas profusely on Cole’s behalf, the “sorry’s” punctuated by assurances that it was great if Castiel was indeed gay, that Dean didn’t care, that Cas was Cas. But even if he was curious, Dean never asked the question. And that was good, because Cas wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation, seeing as coming out to Bartholomew during his senior year had led to six months of no-contact. Instead, Cas just informed Dean that he was accustomed to the treatment by now, that bringing Twilight to school his freshman year placed him solidly in the “insert homophobic-slur here” category, according to his peers. This only partly fixed the issue, because while Dean stopped apologizing, he started on a tirade against Castiel’s high school demons.

Cas had never had anyone care enough to stand up for him. He thought he was very lucky to have Dean Winchester as a roommate

It was Thursday, and Castiel was agonizing over a problem set for accounting when Dean walked in.

“All right, Einstein, let’s go,” he announced, dumping his backpack next to his desk. “Dinner time.”

“Give me a minute,” Cas muttered.

Dean moved over to Cas’ desk and leaned over his shoulder.

“Damn,” he said. “You really are a genius. I don’t know what any of this shit means.”

“Save your accolades for when I pass the class,” Cas said, sighing.

“You’ll pass, but not if you die from starvation first.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I think you’re projecting.”

“Maybe I am,” Dean said, shrugging. “But you still need to eat.”

“All right. I’m coming.”

The pair walked to the dining hall, Dean explaining the details of the party he was attending the following night, how he hoped the girl from his English class would be there. Cas never had much to add to these types of conversations, but he typically tried to remain engaged. Tonight, he just uttered monosyllabic responses when it seemed appropriate.

Cas couldn’t stop thinking about how alone he had become. The novelty of college had worn off; all Cas could see now was how many hours he spent in solitude. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was doomed for a repeat of high school. The interaction with Cole certainly didn’t help matters, and though Dean was a great friend, Cas couldn’t escape the feeling that everything he did was out of pity.

“Okay, dude, what’s up?” Dean asked.

“What?”

“You’re acting all weird. Kinda mopey,” Dean explained with a mouthful of pizza.

“Oh,” Cas said. “I apologize. It wasn’t intentional. I just…”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I’ve just been distracted tonight.”

“By what?”

Cas gave Dean a look. “It’s not important.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Cas interrupted him, changing the subject.

“How are your classes?”

Dean shrugged. “Eh. Whatever. I don’t pay attention much.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to major in?”

“Wish I was smart enough for engineering, but… Nah, I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Dean,” Cas said. “I’m sure you’re smart enough for anything you want to study.”

Dean chuckled. “Appreciate that, Cas, but definitely not.”

Cas eyed his friend a moment, but didn’t say anything else.

“Hey, you know the party I was telling you about?” Dean said after a moment of silence. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”

Castiel nearly choked on his chicken strips. There was only one thing that would make Dean invite him to a party. The thought of Dean feeling that bad for Cas made him want to become one with the floor. Not to mention the idea of attempting that level of social interaction was enough to send him into a tailspin.

“That’s very kind, but I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Cas said. “I’m not much for parties.”

“Oh come on, Cas. You’ve never even tried it!”

“I understand the general idea.”

“Man, it’s the experience.”

“Dean, I’m not going to a frat party. I have enough to worry about with my classes. Besides,” Cas looked away, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m not… particularly adept at social interactions.”

“What?” Dean exclaimed. “Dude, you’re awesome. You do fine with me!”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Cas sighed. “You tend to do most of the talking. It saves me from ruining things.”

Dean just looked at him. “Ruining things?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly your typical college student.”

Dean laughed. “Well, I mean, no, but that doesn’t ruin things. Plus, I can guarantee that every girl at that party would be all over you. Most of the guys, too, probably. You’ve got the sexy nerd thing going on.”

Cas blushed profusely. “That’s irrelevant. The point is, I’m not going.”

Dean sighed, long-suffering. “Fine. I give up. For now.”

Cas let out a breath of relief.

They finished dinner and headed back to their dorm. Dean asked what class Castiel liked the most, which led to Cas gushing about creative writing for ten minutes. Dean graciously humored him, and when Cas apologized abashedly, Dean punched him in the shoulder and told him to shut up.

When they got back to their room, Dean put on another record (Wish You Were Here, by Pink Floyd, Cas was informed) and left to take a shower. Cas finished his problem set with “Have a Cigar” in the background, grateful for the distraction from his earlier thoughts. That was the one good thing about his double-major — he truly did not have time to ruminate on his problems.

Dean returned to work on an English essay, talking to himself the entire time. Cas did his best not to laugh at the muttered “what the hell am I even trying to say” and “I can’t use ‘demonstrates’ again.”

Hours later, after trying, and failing, to read ahead for philosophy, Cas resigned himself to his bed for the night.

“Tired?” Dean asked from his desk.

“Yes,” Cas said, throwing off his t-shirt and getting in bed. “But you can leave the light on if you have more work to do. I’ll fall asleep eventually.”

“Nah, I’m tired too.”

Dean flipped the lights off and climbed in his own bed. Cas closed his eyes against the quiet blackness.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Are you all right? Level with me, man.”

Cas sighed. He supposed this conversation would happen sooner or later, if this friendship was to continue. “I’ve never had many friends,” he said. “I told you, after Cole, about the comments regarding my sexuality?” Dean made a grunt in understanding. “Well, it didn’t help that I was homeschooled until I was fourteen. I was what I believe is called ‘the weird kid.’”

Dean snorted. “You? Weird? Never.”

Cas rolled his eyes in the darkness. “I’m serious. I just don’t want to be the ‘weird kid’ again, I suppose. I believed college would be my second chance, but it’s beginning to feel like a bad sequel.”

“Dude,” Dean said, “you have me. And Benny and Charlie like you, too. If you just went out more —”

“I’m not sure I want my friendships to be predicated on underage drinking,” Cas replied, and cringed at the way it sounded. When Dean didn’t respond, he added, “I just mean… I want people to like me, not my drunken antics.”

“Right,” Dean mumbled. Then, “What was homeschool like?”

Cas furrowed his brow at the change in subject, but humored Dean, anyway. “Terrible. My father attempted to teach all five of us on his own. It was mostly history and religion, which, coming from him, meant racism, fire, and brimstone. He had this grand plan for me, and for my brothers, to become pastors.” Castiel paused. “I had to sneak out to the library with Anna just to teach myself basic algebra.” Another pause, a breath. “Anna kept me sane most days. She was more of a mother than a sister.” I miss her.

“Where was your mom?” Dean asked.

“Not sure,” Cas said. “We were all adopted as children. My father never took a wife, and I never knew my real parents. I asked my father about them once. He told me they died ages ago.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas.”

“It’s okay.”

“That makes more sense,” Dean said after a moment. “I was wondering why none of y’all looked alike.”

“I probably should have explained that earlier. I forget it isn’t common knowledge,” Cas replied.

Dean was quiet for a long time, so long that Cas suspected he may have fallen asleep. Cas was about to follow suit when Dean said, quietly, “Sometimes I was the weird kid, too.”

Castiel snapped his eyes open at that. It seemed unbelievable to him that Dean Winchester could be disliked by anyone. “What?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. “Always moving, you know. Sometimes, people liked me. Sometimes, they really fucking hated me. It sucks, you know.”

“I do.”

tagging @nguyenxtrang :)

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #superposition #destiel fic

8 notes · View notes

tibbinswrites · 4 years

Note

Hi! If the slots haven’t been filled yet could you do prompt #635, Destiel, something in cannonverse (so preferably not au or endverse) and angst with happy ending? Thank you! I love love love your writing, you are one of my favorite Destiel writers! You capture the characters so perfectly! I hope you have a nice day!

*grovelling, so much grovelling* I am so, so sorry that this took so long Anon, especially as you picked a prompt that I was hoping someone would pick for ages! When it came to actually WRITING for it though I drew a huge blank. I wrote 4000 words then scrapped them all, then I cycled through about three other possible ideas but none of them did this prompt justice, and THEN I got an email about my big project deadline that I had completely forgotten about so I had to sort that, and then I was in that horrible mood where I was hating everything I wrote so I had to take a break and THEN I came back with fresh eyes and this happened. Thank you so much for bearing with me. I hope it’s worth the wait! You are far too kind! I’m so happy you like how I write. I still have one prompt slot left. I have now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #20, #26, #33, #77, #78, #170 (part 1), (part 2), (part 3), #327, #502 and #635 Anyway, ON WITH THE FIC! 635. “I can’t be mad because I let you slip away…”

Things had been kind of weird since Jack got his soul back. There were more tears than Dean was comfortable dealing with and more apologies than he knew how to forgive. There was only so much he could push aside for the kid’s benefit after all, and only so many times he could hear his mother’s name emerge from the mouth of her killer.

He hadn’t yelled yet though. He’d been trying so damn hard to keep his temper in check ever since Purgatory had him sobbing on his knees. The realisation of what his anger had almost cost him—more than once on reflection—had been burned into his very lungs. It had been a pretty big wake up call to say the least. So he hadn’t yelled at the kid. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. That was his new mantra and he replayed it every time he saw Jack start to tear up, every time he tried to (not so subtly) get Dean alone, as though it was the presence of Sam and Cas that was bothering him and not the fact that he couldn’t forget the weight of his mother’s body in his arms, or the all too familiar stench of her pyre as she burned for the second time. Dean had so far managed to dodge him, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before one of the others intervened on Jack’s behalf.

It had been a couple weeks now and Sam was starting to give him pointed looks whenever he made his feeble excuses about needing to make a grocery run or how he’d love to stay and talk but there was a special sci-fi movie marathon at the local movie theatre that he’d been wanting to go to, or how the washing machine had been acting up and he’d really need to concentrate while fixing it. Those looks were slowly inching from understanding towards judgemental, but he just wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t look Jack in the eye and tell him honestly that he forgave him for killing Mary, because he didn’t. He might not exactly blame the kid anymore, but that didn’t mean Mary was forgotten.

It didn’t matter that Jack needed to hear the words from Dean’s mouth, this was something he couldn’t compromise himself on.

He hated that everyone else seemed to have a timeline for how long he was allowed to grieve, now that he had the time to grieve. It was different for Sam. It felt petty and resentful to think it but it was. Sam hadn’t missed Mary the first time, not really. You can’t miss what you never had after all and while Sam had definitely felt the absence of Mary growing up, in the spaces that Dean had been unable to fill, and he had peppered Dean with questions about her more than once, they had been more curious than sad. He hadn’t lost her the same way Dean had, nor did he remember the fire like Dean did, nor did he truly understand how different John had been before Mary died.

He wasn’t sure why that made a difference but it did. And sure, Mary had never been the idol he’d imagined her to be as a kid, but now he was struggling so hard not to put her back on that pedestal. He’d sorted through so much of his childish crap. Having Mary alive and well and fiercely stubborn had helped him to do that. Her unwillingness to compromise her independence and love of hunting in order to fulfil Dean’s fantasies of having someone tuck him in at night and tell him that it was all gonna be okay had helped Dean grow up in the way that he should have grown up the first time; not forced into it at four years old, confused and scared, the only thought in his head watch out for Sammy, but in the healthy way that Sam already somehow managed, true maturity instead of faking it because he had to.

Not just a mom, were the words he remembered most clearly.

But now he’d lost her again, and with her any chance of showing her how far he’d come. A foolish, selfish notion perhaps, but one that he’d been nursing in his chest for a very long time: the desire to prove his father wrong, to prove to himself that he wasn’t broken beyond repair, to prove to Mary that it had been her, not John, who had been the one to lay the foundation for the person he wanted to be. The person he could choose to be.

Without her he was struggling to remember why he should bother. Doing things for his own gain felt stupid and narcissistic, another lesson that John had imprinted in him. If somebody else didn’t need it from him then what was the point? Not that Mary had needed to see Dean figure out how to become a person but when she was alive at least he could lie to himself.

He’d retreated since Jack got his soul back. From everyone. Sam had been giving him space, Jack he actively avoided, and whatever progress he’d made with Cas had backslid into tiptoeing on eggshells around the guy, not wanting to hear how much he hated Dean for not showing his son the courtesy of accepting an apology, and definitely not wanting to risk a fight that led to him taking off again. He didn’t know how to fix any of it. How could he make himself forgive Jack? How could he make himself come to terms with everything he’d lost that his mother had represented to him? How could he stop missing Mary herself? The empty hole inside, imperfectly shaped, moulded around the two different Mary’s that he’d known just seemed to grow more ragged at the edges.

He was out in the woods, of course, at the spot Mary’s body had reappeared. This was where he came now when the air felt too stifling inside. It was like a grave, he supposed, a place to come and think about what a person meant to you. He’d never really had that before. He’d only been to Mary’s grave in Lawrence twice, on the day she was put in it and the day, twelve years later, that he’d had to go back. They’d moved around too much when he was young and though Bobby had offered to take him more than once when John had dumped them at his place, Dean had always refused, knowing his dad wouldn’t like it and not really seeing the point anyway.

He understood the point now. Even without a marker he still felt her here. Which he knew was dumb, because she was in Heaven with a husband who’d never really existed and two children who she’d never got to see grow up and hopefully, hopefully the two adult sons who’d grown up without her, the ones she could be proud of.

He sniffed. He always cried when he came here, he’d stopped trying to fight it. He didn’t talk to Mary, of course. She couldn’t hear him and he didn’t have anything worth saying anyway. He just came here to try and untangle the mess of thoughts in his head, maybe so he could figure out what to do next, how to fix everything without undoing whatever progress he’d made for himself.

“Dean?”

He froze, the age-old tactic of ‘if I don’t respond it’ll go away’. It didn’t of course. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t an it, it was Cas.

“What are you doing out here?”

Dean shrugged, casual. “Just needed some air.” He didn’t turn, but he heard the sound of recognition Cas made when he realised the significance of this particular spot.

“Avoiding Jack?”

Dean turned to automatically deny it but Cas’ face was calm and without judgement. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I know he’s coming on strong,” he continued. “I’ve tried to get him to dial it back a little but he really wants to talk to you.”

“I can’t do it, Cas.” Dean said, looking back to the place his mother’s body had materialised, his voice little more than a scrape. “I can’t look him in the eye and tell him that that I’m over it. I’m not. I might not ever be.”

There was a click in Cas’ throat as he swallowed. Then, “Your forgiveness is only part of it,” he said slowly. “Albeit a major part, but he understands, Dean. He understands that what he did can’t be written off, he just wants to hear it from you. If you explain it to him, tell him that you just need time and you’ll go to him when you’re ready, he won’t keep apologising. He’s just trying to get a reaction, I think, though sometimes even I want to snap at him.”

Dean chewed that over for a moment. Cas made it sound so simple. Maybe it wasn’t so black and white as either lying to the kid or yelling that he’ll never forgive him—the only two options that Dean had been able to come up with so far—of course, it meant talking, which Dean was notoriously bad at, but the way Cas broke it down, it didn’t sound so hard. Jack was a smart kid for a three-year-old after all, and he could definitely understand ‘I don’t hate you but I need time’, which was basically what his feelings boiled down to. He didn’t have to explain everything. Hell, he’d never even tell Sam everything but Jack deserved at least the basics, what with the way he’d been freezing the kid out lately.

“What’s the other part?” he asked suddenly, remembering the first thing Cas had said, he twisted his neck around to see Cas frowning at him, his head tilted adorably to one side (yeah, he thought it, so what?).

“Isn’t it obvious? He misses you.”

Dean just blinked stupidly. “Huh?”

Cas huffed and walked forward to stand at his side. Somehow he knew not to walk in front of him and obscure his view of the clearing, but instead stayed a solid presence next to him. Cas was good like that, Dean thought, he just knew things so they didn’t have to be said; he understood in the quiet kind of way that meant more to him than he could ever express, but he was pretty sure Cas knew that too. Still, sometimes he toyed with the idea of saying it aloud.

“He misses spending time with you,” Cas clarified. “You took him fishing once, let him drive your car, taught him how to fire a gun and got him hooked on those horror films you like. He loves you, Dean, and he hates that he hurt you.”

Dean looked down then, and he dug the toe of his boot into the soft dirt. “Oh.”

A comforting weight landed on his shoulder and he didn’t need to look up at the sudden touch. Somehow, Cas had become a safe person even to his subconscious. He didn’t know when that had happened, honestly he tried not to look too closely at it, but he’d arrived at a place now where he could admit to himself, however briefly, that he really, really liked that it had.

“You’re his father too, Dean. Just as much as and me and Sam. You know that, right?

Dean shrugged the shoulder Cas wasn’t touching, not wanting him to remove his hand. “I was thinking of myself more like the fun uncle,” he said, trying to keep his tone light through the ball in his throat.

“No you weren’t.” Cas said, soft but firm, not letting Dean joke his way out of this. Which, actually, he was okay with. Cas always knew how far he could push, how far Dean needed to be pushed. Even when Sam couldn’t get the balance right, Cas always could. Still, he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t try.

“Prove it,” he said, flashing a grin at the angel, who merely rolled his eyes and let his hand drop. Suddenly, he was the one toeing at the grass, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said. “For what it’s worth.”

“I’m right here.” Dean said, and then it was too late to take it back, because this wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. He was supposed to make another joke, a playful jab, not admiring the way the freckles of sunlight through the trees highlighted the chestnut in Cas’ hair, nor heeding the gentle warmth in his belly that only happened around Cas, nor stepping forward to place his own hand on Cas’ shoulder because he needed the contact, he needed to be grounded in these last few moments before he fucked everything up, again, and that pleasant warm feeling was beginning to twist into panic.

But then Cas met his eyes and he breathed again, even though the look in them was melancholy.

“You haven’t been,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding me as well. Or, not avoiding but you’ve been different. I wonder if perhaps you’re unable to forgive me either, but too kind to say so.”

Dean almost snorted. He was a lot of things, some of them even good, but kind wasn’t even in the top fifty. Cas gave him a look that said he knew what he was thinking and not to respond to it, so instead he pushed through his instinct and went with pure honesty.

“I can’t forgive you because I never blamed you, Cas, not really. I was just lashing out because… I dunno, because I expect more from you than I should, I guess. And it’s not fair, I know that, I just… I’m used to you fixing things, and I don’t know what to do when you can’t. And you left because I was being a dick and I can’t blame you for that. I can’t be mad because I let you slip away.”

Cas’ expression shifted then, and it was only that moment that Dean realised they were standing so close. One of Dean’s hands gripped at the arm of that damned coat and Cas was so close that he could probably—fuck—he could probably see the small tracks his tears had made. Dean was so close that he could make out the hope in Cas’ eyes, and for the first time, he wasn’t scared shitless at the sight of it. Or at least, he wasn’t so terrified that he could let Cas slip away again.

“I’m right here,” Cas echoed.

“We could be something.” Dean said, his voice a very unattractive croak, well aware that talking about this shit was so far from his wheelhouse it had a different zip code. His breath hit a few errant hairs on Cas’ forehead and they flinched in rhythm to the slight bump at the crest of each inhale where their chests nudged together. “If, you know, if you wan—”

Cas was already kissing him.

#prompt #prompts #angst with a happy ending #season 15 spoilers #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #language #supernatural #spn fanfic #fanfiction #writing #TibbinsWrites

38 notes · View notes

adrunkgiraffe · 3 years

Text

I have been through this journey before, so I get to be actually frustrated about it.

IUnder a read more because im not subjecting y’all to this. Also: I should caveat I haven’t watched the episode cause I’m waiting till its on Netflix but I have watched way too many other episodes of Supernatural so I have a right to say these things.

TL;DR: I mean you all knew Cas’ confession was fucking bullshit and that SPN is...hm. But I’d like to actually express my genuine frustration, for a moment? I’m going to say things you already know, but I have too much knowledge of this show and too much stupid meta in my brain about a series I haven’t genuinely enjoyed for at least 5 years which makes this not just blandly bad but disgustingly insulting to me not even as a gay just as like. A writer?

Or, even shorter: Cas’ confession is just a Charlie Bradbury Speedrun

So. As some of you may know if, for some reason, you followed me back in 2013 (and till...okay fine 2015), I used to be, uh. Really into SPN. Really, I was into Destiel. Like, as in, I slogged through seasons 1-3 to get to Cas and am also really vulnerable to the Sunk Cost Fallacy and projecting onto characters. (I was in 8th grade in 2013, okay? Get off my back)

Also, because I monopolised use of the TV, I kind of...also got my parents into it? In a “this is silly but fun” kind of way.

Over time, critiques of the show from viewers, learning what queerbaiting is at all, fatigue with how long it was going, and also fatigue from how characters I enjoyed, like Rufus, or Crowley, or Ellen, or Jo, or Kevin, or Charlie, or Cas a few times, kept getting killed off. As time went on, it didn’t escape my notice that, aside from Cas, all of these characters fit one or more of the following criteria:

They were a woman

They were a person of color

Were Queer or Queer-coded in some way (listen Crowley was bad rep but at least Mark Sheppard actually kissed a man on screen)

I also just...generally got tired of the way the show treats women and sidelines people of color.

The final straw really came with Charlie’s death. It got us all excited, because she hadn’t been back in a bit! And it was interesting to see how reuniting with her dark side from Oz had changed her! (yeah remember the fucking Wizard of Oz storyline? The writers sure don’t!) And maybe she’d get developed! Because at this point, Charlie and the fairly good writing of her character was a major upside for the series! Charlie was cool, fun, gay, and morally complex in a way...none of the female characters had been before her, in large part because by definition, her relationship with the boys would always be platonic.

And then. Offscreen. She is violently murdered. For no damn good reason. Like, literally, her being brought back in this episode after fucking off to europe after having returned from fucking off to Oz seems to have filled two purposes in total.

The codex is solved (but Sam doesn’t know till next episode)

Charlie is dead, which means Dean can be angry, specifically at Sam, and kill more people because he’s the big bad this season.

That’s it. Two things. Twooooo whole reasons to do this episode. Whoopee.

But you didn’t come here for this, you came here for me to rip this reveal to shreds. Don’t worry, I’ll get there. What I want in your minds is that Supernatural already had a really good anddynamic queer character. And then they killed her off to make Dean angry. No, it doesn’t matter that they brought her back in season 13 or whatever. They made that decision.

After the rage this incited, I started realizing general flaws in the writing (I had probably already noticed them but now I was angry enough to complain.) Every conflict is born of Sam and Dean not communicating/taking on burdens and Dean being angry at Cas for reasons that ranged from good to ridiculous, but in a way that always went way too fucking long, (which...yes, does make the “you do it for love” gifs fucking hilarious). It didn’t help that seasons 11 and 12 were next, which meant Demon Dean and GOD’S FUCKING SISTER, plus the decision to resurrect Mary, which, while I do like her later scenes, as a season 12 finale it...well I’ll be honest it kinda sucked. It undercut the majority of the Winchester’s’ arcs and their slow and painful journey out of their father’s toxic vengeance quest and knowing Mary as a person when it’s too late to know her was one of the last semi-compelling grounders of the narrative.

By this point it was a hate-watch for my parents and I.

So then, I’m at college, and I’m not watching anymore cause I don’t have the motivation or access to Hulu to continue, and SPN is bad. I watch the Scooby Doo crossover when it comes out and my friend and I make fun of it, and we also continue making jokes about Dean and Cas and queerbaiting because we’re queer, but I don’t keep up. My Dad does though, so when I return, I watch some with the fam and lads. It’s even more tiring without context.

So flash forward to Quarantine, my sister, the only one with taste, has left, and we have run out of netflix to watch. So we return to the well, and seasons 13-14 are. I’m gonna say it. Bad. Really fucking bad. The cycle of bad communication continues, season 14 has like seven antagonists and the way it’s structured makes it so I literally cannot remember the timeline of a season I watched 3 months ago. Oh also, they have a queer coded cannibal snake monster for...well I guess Jack’s snake bud was cool but like. Huh wow it’s almost like these writers don’t handle queers well.

Our one saving grace is Cas, but he’s barely in any episodes, though I did note that his deal with the empty, being happy completely for one moment killing him, that struck me as “this has potential and I know they’re gonna half-ass it somehow.” Also Jack and Mary, but then oh...plot….The most compelling it gets is literally the finale.

But then, 3 days later, the first half of season 15 comes out on Netflix and it’s...actually kind of acceptable. The new character they give Jack’s actor is fun to watch him play until they make him evil. Exploring just how toxic Chuck can be gave the series direction again. The alternate future was genuinely scarring, and Eileen’s return was genuinely moving. Most of all, though, Cas got the opportunity to tell Dean no, that Dean was being unfair to him, had always been unfair to him, and he was sick of it. I had no illusions, I knew Destiel was never gonna happen, and Cas was gonna die, but giving him that bit of agency, letting Cas grow and be self-sufficient, and be angry with Dean not for existential reasons but interpersonal ones, was such a good sign for me, and Dean grew too! Dean fucking apologized for being horrible and Jensen Ackles had a...yknow what, ill give it to him, he had a good acting moment.

But the thing. About. The “I love you.”

Let’s take it in parts.

What was good: I’m gonna admit it, lads, “Wanting what I can’t have” - AS A LINE - is good, and, structurally, there is something to the Empty Deal that could have been an interesting aspect of Cas’ arc when it comes to self actualization and being on even footing with Dean. The problem is, this is Supernatural, and that arc only comes up when I bring it up because character study, even in bad media, is fun for me.

What was bad:

I mean. Like. All of it? All of it.

Okay. Fine. I’ll be specific.

Cas dies immediately when - possibly because- he is revealed as having feelings for Dean. They kill him as they queer him, that’s a Bury Your Gays Speedrun right there.

Like the least they could have done is have him mention it to someone in another scene or something to establish some romantic feelings on the part of canon a full episode beforehand. That would have been the literal bare minimum.

When Cas starts praising Dean, for some reason both the writing and Misha’s acting take a bit of a downswing (from...where it already was). Cas, whose most powerful moment this season was acknowledging that Dean’s anger at him is cruel and unfair, flatly praises him for doing everything out of love and it reads with a misunderstanding of both Dean as a character and Cas’ understanding of Dean. Dean is angry! VERY ANGRY! And it’s a problem he needs to work on and rarely does.

Talking out of my ass, a better speech would have been about how Dean is angry because of his love for Sam, family, and the people around him, how, for better or for worse, he can’t help but be angry on behalf of others, and that his journey of moving that tendency towards the better is what made Cas care so much. Guys this alteration to the metaphor took 2 minutes to write tops I am an Art History student and these are TV WRITERS WITH YEARS OF EXPERIENCE CAN YOU TELL THEYRE NOT TRYING YET?

A better speech would, of course, have come out of a better series. My point: this part was half-assed. Poorly written. Wow it’s almost like the series is also poorly written.

Also, Misha is the better actor of the three(***OF THE THREE), but his choices in that scene are jarringly out of character which. Makes the bad writing worse. It doesn’t help that they cut to the same fucking shot of Dean 3 times. The chemistry in that scene makes it feel so fucking hackneyed. Because it is.

This combines lead me to the point: (wait there was a point to this?)

As someone who does not have the luxury of watching this capsized ship fall into boiling seas from a distance, it is less insulting to me that they did this so last minute and then sent Cas to the Void than it is how they did it. They had ingredients for something that could have been compelling enough to me as a former fan of the show to think that they had put effort into it, that they had decided months, perhaps even years ago to do this, and had crafted a storyline around it. That this was an intentional decision they cared about. It wasn’t. It was barely even pandering, because it’s almost insultingly blatant.

SPN kinda proved to me that it didn’t care about queers when Charlie was killed off. It proved it to me again when Cas, not only died in confessing his love for Dean but did it in the weakest result of what could have been a surprisingly strong story.

#destiel #i don't fucking care im tagging it #bury your gays #queerbaiting #homophobia #also: i should say there are a lot of moments where i refer to aspects of the writing as good #this either means i was 14 when I watched it #or #it's something that i find compelling #that #IN ANOTHER SHOW #OR IN A HYPOTHETICAL WHERE THE WRITING ISNT LADEN WITH HOMOPHOBIA #could be fun to explore #like there are these structural motifs #and themes #which could have made the show good #could have made that confession...passable #but they didn't even write it well by supernatural standards #is my point #My other point is i get to actually be mad about this because I actually watched and put emotional energy towards this show #i shouldnt have but i did #so now I get to write about it #and if you reply we been knew to this post #youre correct #but also #wow do you maybe think I was already aware of that?

7 notes · View notes