#especially deans “that's not who i am” like that was the one good thing the writers did for the ending

[bloodydeanwinchester]

🩸Bloody Dean Every Episode🩸- 15x19 Inherit the Earth

[bredforloyalty]

i should make a carrd or a little about post or something... :/

[f-t-e]

I started watching SUPERNATURAL in November 2020. I know, I know. My partner and I had been isolating alone since March. The timing felt right. I went though a wild amount of upheaval and trauma over the next year and SPN was there for me through it all. It was THE show at THE time and it kept me afloat when I needed it the most. Since November 2021 I've written just about 110,000 words of SPN fanfic, a number that seems unbelievable to me, and that too has been a real blessing to my creative life, no matter what haters say. (why didn't I write my own novels in that time? Because I have a hobby, Karen, and I love it.) And I've read about 500000x that much fanfic, which has been the biggest blessing of all. (ETA: oh right, if you want to read my fic, you can find my stuff here, I wrote a fic where Dean reads books. Lots of books.)

I know I'm a nobody in this fandom but I thought on this, our #DestielDay, I would submit my own humble rec list. I've curated this very deliberately: every fic here has just about 4000 hits or less (most under 3000) and all were published in 2020 or after. So, sort of a rec list for some lesser known and newer fics, something you maybe haven't stumbled on yet. Especially thank you to @jewishcharliebradbury, her rec lists gave me a place to start back in the day and I have tried to model the depth and quality they brought to their lists. I tried to link to everyone's tumblr, but if I missed one, let me know.

Most of all, thank you to everyone who has EVER created something for this fandom, from 2005 to 2023. I am so thankful and, honestly, honored to be among your number. You're not supposed to be cringe and say a show saved your life...but SUPERNATURAL saved me, it really did. See y'all when the movie/reboot drops, to quote Ryan Gosling in The Notebook: IT WASN'T OVER, IT STILL ISN'T OVER. And I'm glad.

-----

Finale Fix-It & S15 and Beyond

What The Moon Was Saying by Amiril (@runawaymarbles)

This is hands-down one of the coolest “Dean Rescues Cas from the Empty” fics I have ever read and the concept is brilliantly structured to mirror the literal and metaphorical things Dean needs to give up and let go to get free. Every scenario is very satisfying and they make sense, is there any better feeling? Dean is very open in this, but in a believable way that still has edges. And, oh, the reunion is so good. Plus all the family stuff. Just excellent, exactly what you want in a fic like this: lovely, well-written, smart, fulfilling, all the pieces clicking, the show but better.

Awake and Annoying by skycruise

I love the use and passage of time in this one, it has some real impact, and I love the way Dean gets into the Empty (so smart, fits just right) and what I REALLY love in this one is the way it lets Dean be really clear-eyed and honest about his relationship with Sam, both the strengths and the weaknesses. And the last line, very clever and moving inverse of one of fandom’s favorite things. 

Living the life you chose by allthismusic

THEEEEE post finale Sam Winchester-Outsider-POV this fandom needs. Sam is absolutely awesome in this, the most believable, loving, realistic mix of “I knew all along” and “I had no idea” versions of Sam, landing somewhere I think that’s really true and in character. It fills in and develops so many gaps and silences in what the show let Sam know in the absolute best way. Best Brother Sam is a weakness of mine and he really shines here, there for Dean in the best ways but also coming into his own, I love it so very much. (this author also has a very great 2022 Big Bang fic, hugely recommend that one too.)

your ear to the wound that whispers by EmandFandems (@lazarusemma)

Who doesn’t love a HANDPRINT FIC?!? And boy this is such a good one. It follows Dean and his thoughts on the handprint from the first touch all the way to fixing the finale and it simply buzzes with longing and desire, tenderness and rawness. It’s great insight in lot of ways into Dean’s journey. It’s short but fulfilling and oh that very perfect last line. (this author also has a lot of great Jupernatural content.)  

Somewhere Off in the Dark by magickastiel 

Another awesome fic that traces Dean’s shifting/growing feelings for Cas from when he shows up in his hotel rooms to a HEA fix it after canon. Dean, again, is handled so deftly in this one, his confusion and sorrow at all the times Cas is slipping away from him all the way through the things he won’t let himself know. He feels really true in this one, sharp and tender in the best Dean ways. Also it has an agonizingly romantic end, you love to end up there.

Pins and Feathers by theskywasblue (@buttherewasnogod)

This author has so many freaking good SPN fics, omg it was almost impossible to pick just one to include on this list. Go treat yourself with their entire list because there’s so much good stuff there! But this one, oh I am a sucker for a finale fix-it that lets Dean be this tender. While I LOVE fics where he just jumps right into Cas’s arms (and write them lol) I also feel like this is so true to Dean too: that “maybe I misunderstood, maybe I shouldn’t say anything, maybe he doesn’t still –” And on top of all that, it’s a “they go the beach” fic and it gets the details of it so right, sand in your toes and all. Tender, amazing slow-burn, real, hot, full of heart and longing and everything unspoken and just waiting. Very satisfying!

i loved you first by kalmialatifolia

A set of four short fics that create an entire world of feeling and emotion. These feel like little whispered stories told under the covers, very atmospheric. There’s one very sexy one, a haircutting one (so good) and they’re just intimate. All together a great set and did I mention they’re in the “Cas saves himself” genre which is mmmm an underrated treasure.

no other faith is light enough for this place by anonymous 

A fix-it fic that has a particularly unique and beautiful visual of both how and why Cas comes back. The mechanics behind it are fairly standard but the way this author creates the visual of it, the sheer emotion and force behind it and how it happens, it really stood out to me and stuck with me. It’s Dean being brave enough to really feel and the way that just blossoms – lovely, aching, full-tilt wonderful.

 no proof, one touch by TakeThisWaltz (@watchinghimrakeleaves)

One thing I absolutely cannot get enough of is fic where Cas is hiding out from Dean in heaven. It just hits. And the only thing better is Dean chasing him down and the WAY he does it in this fic, methodically and – well the method (sobs) it is so endearing and OBVIOUS and gives Dean a chance to shout in all the best ways. This one is just real sweet and kind of goofy and if they have to be in heaven, I want them to still be these same two dorks.

Stay by redbrickrose

This is a post S15x18 from Cas’s POV and I think it’s very true to where he would be in the moment of getting yanked out of the Empty: resigned, hesitant about what he has in front of him, still a little in shock. And then. And then. Sweet and simple and Dean gets a chance to say, say, say it. This author has a good post series AU and a lovely little spate of S15 codas, all good. And then wrote this in real-time in the week after 15x18 Despair and right before 15x19 Inherit the Earth aired (could you just sob over the possibilities?!) and then hasn’t wrote anything since and that’s a shame but, like, yeah I get it.

like a one-two punch by Muir_Wolf (@muirmarie)

Don’t you love a short fic that feels like it’s a whole novel? This goes AU after 14x20 Moriah but it is a truly delightful twist on how Chuck could’ve reacted there and it makes Dean sharp as a knife, which is one really resonant image woven through this fic. Great imagery here and so many clever solutions for the lazy plotting of S15, including simply one of my all-time favorites in any fic ever solutions to Cas’s deal (genius) and getting rid of Chuck. Brilliant like a puzzle box yet still full of so much fucking joy.

maybe i like pleasure pain by tothewillofthepeople (@kvothes)

The fact that this was written in October 2023 and is so agonizingly good fills my heart with joy and tells me Destiel will never die lol. Cas, in particular, is great in this – he’s having a hard time adjusting to being in a body and with all the fuzz of the world. I love fics where Cas struggles with coming back from the Empty and this uses a really unique approach to it: Cas facing sensory overload and not knowing how to feel but wanting it all. Lovely, hot, Dean is just right in this too.

Earlier Canon (pre S15)

Proverbs 13:12 by starlingcas (@angelcasendgame)

Many might say I am biased because Renu has beta’ed everything I have written in the SPN fandom and they can read my brain and make everything I write better. But it’s not just that. Renu has done something beautiful and delicate in this fic, which is about Dean and Cas getting trapped in a net together (forced proximity trope, yes please) and weaves a web of its own; pulling you in just as they are pulled together. This is set mostly in early S14 (before fixing the finale in the most heart-healing way) and captures that feeling so well. There’s so much that’s unsaid between them yet still conveyed and Renu absolutely nails that, along with the tender longing that was always there. This is a fic to relish.

you may tire of me (as our december sun is setting) by deludedfantasy

You know how the show just sometimes is like “uh so anyway uh then Cas…uh…left.” and it just doesn’t make one lick of sense? FINALLY FINALLY a fic where Dean says “I’ll go with you,” and then goes because he actually would do that. This is a post Tombstone fic so it is exactly where/when he WOULD go and it is tender and hesitant and aching in just all the ways it would be between the two of them at this time. It’s about needing to keep someone in sight, it’s about having another chance to say something so important, it’s slow and soft and just right for the characters in this place. I could read this one about 100 times.

the anatomy of flightless birds by cowlovely (@dollhousemary)

This fic is basically the way you feel when you get all cozy and snug underneath your favorite blanket. This is a domestic-life-in-the Bunker S9 fic where everyone behaves like they are in character and not just like they have to get Cas off screen because the writers panicked. You’ll just want to curl up in this fic and savor it the way you wrap your fingers around a hot beverage on a very cold day, there’s no better way to describe it.

virtue by JenTheSweetie

I think I’ve read this about 100 times and it still gets me everytime? It’s a five things fic about Dean and Cas hooking up and it’s all you’ve ever wished for. This is set in an amorphous S8 and it is not just agonizingly hot but also romantic and very funny. It feels really in character! Sam is hilarious, Dean is clueless but bowled over and letting himself be swept up, Cas is delighting in every second and smarter than he lets on and it ALL feels fated and lovely and sexy and just splendid. (this author only has 3 SPN fics but they are all so good and if you try sometimes, well you just might find is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of Dean learning the differences between “needing” and “wanting.”)

Romance at the Motel 6 by shelia_amour 

This fic makes me feel like Stefon from SNL. This fic has everything: Cas and Sam pretending to be married, just the right amount of jealous Dean, Dean randomly pretending to be married to Cas, Dean realizing maybe this isn’t so fake after all, motel vibes, Cas in Dean’s clothes, Cas getting bee slippers. If you are not sold on this already, we are very different people. So good, aches just right. (set in a kind of “whenever” of canon, but I like to put it somewhere in S8.)

que sera sera by Purple_Starflower (@hauntedpearl)

The epitome of how fanfic unfolds for us all the things that COULD happen. You can’t PROVE to me Dean and Cas never snuck off to snuggle and feed Dean’s touch-starvation early in S13. I had to check when I finished because I just couldn’t believe this fic was under 4000 words because it feels so full of touch, longing, the things unspoken, and all the ways Dean was reaching, reaching, reaching. The best kind of ache, and everything by this author is lovely. 

the hard edge that you’re settling for by lesspopped (@trekkiedean)

This is some S10 Demon!Dean that made my stomach hurt and my heart ache and I absolutely loved it and I absolutely hated it and it all felt so REAL with who Demon!Dean was and could have been. There’s a TW for mildly dubious consent in this, but to me, Cas was so agonizingly true to who he was/where he was at this point in canon too. This fic is gloriously, claustrophobically intimate. I say unbearable because as a reader you know that this closeness, this intimacy, is what Dean wants/craves/deserves but can only give himself as a demon and the author does an exquisite job at getting all that across. Hurts so good! 

four of swords by sundryvillians (eurythmix) (@perenial)

Can the world ever have enough post 12x12 fic? The answer is, of course, no. Dean and Cas bake bread and in the soft space of creating something with their own hands, get so close to the words Cas said. It’s about healing and anger and making something just because you are so tired of everything breaking. If that alone isn’t enough to convince you, let me also throw in this is another one of those “possible off-screen moments in canon” that gives them something honest and tender and raw and it feels so very possible. 

Fifteen Prayers From the Faithless by koyas_cat

Short, achy, that sweet sting. A set of prayers for Cas from the beginning to the end, full of all the things Dean doesn’t let himself say outloud and just reflecting the changes in their connection over alllll the years. So good.

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. IV

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,174

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jungkook snaps, lots of family drama, mommy issues, oc being accommodating, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues but trying to be good hubby, jk gives oc more hope!

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: this week's flashback hint–nothing like a little dilf rivalry! Also, this chapter gives more of a reason why jk is adverse to parenthood 😶 My closing notes offer some explanations. Let's go! 💞

<< ch. III ༓ ch. V >> | series masterlist

For the first 22 years of your life, you had zero partners.

Most people labeled you as being jaded, stuck up, or having too high of standards for it. But fuck it. Why couldn’t anyone accept that you weren’t about to settle down with the first interested guy just 'cause of peer pressure?

Of course, you'd likely end up with someone eventually. You have gone out on a couple of dates before. Yet they were never that promising. The men, or excuse you, boys roughly your age did nothing to woo you. They just wanted a late-night fuck at 1 a.m. or a nice, cute girl to take home to their mom.

Not that you gave a hell what others were into or anything, but you had other agendas. Getting married and birthing children before kick-starting your adult life was not in your playbook. Neither was jumping into bed with random guys every week.

So you haven't had much luck in the romance department. Good riddance to it!

What you were waiting for was a gentleman. Someone that was responsible, mature, and experienced. Bonus points if they were into the arts. But it was rare to find a suitor of such quality–who wasn't ridiculously off-limits that is. Obviously, some other strong-willed man or woman sunk their claws in before you got the chance. Drats.

4 years ago

“I can’t believe you,” your best friend giggles. “You’re going to that fancy new art exhibit downtown just to run into Dr. Kim! You’re so shameless __.”

You roll your eyes and stick your plate in the dishwasher. You’re best friend Na-Rae has been one of your closest friends since your second year of undergrad. Now into your third year of friendship, you consider her as close as a sister.

Unlike you, Na-Rae is utterly fascinated with all things STEM-related. She’s currently in med school aiming to become a surgeon, which is one of the many reasons why you and her are currently roommates.

“I’m telling you one more time, I’m not going for him. I actually want to see the paintings which should come as no surprise to you. Dr. Kim just happens to be going too.”

Na-Rae leans against the kitchen island, tongue in cheek. “If that’s what you wanna tell yourself, babe. But how, may I ask, did you know he’d be there? Are you stalking him online now?”

“Of course not. I’m not a creep Na-Rae.” You throw her a dirty look. Honestly, she really thinks you’re some obsessed fangirl. Like yes, Dr. Kim is really hot for an older guy, and the fact that he’s basically the second dean of the art department? He may or may not visit you in your dreams. Especially after studying for Dr. Jeon’s fifteen million econ exams.

Now there’s a guy who definitely knows how to stick it to you.

“Besides,” you continue. “Dr. Kim doesn’t have social media.” You don’t notice how contradictory that statement sounds until your best friend lets out a sinister cackle.

“Looked him up did you?” She hits your arm, wiggling her eyebrows tauntingly. “I knew it! I knew you were stalking him!”

“I–I am not! Stop that!” You ignore her looks, seeing it best to avoid eye contact altogether.

"Iovmererdhimalkingintheallway."

"C'mon, you know I can't understand that. You did what?"

"I over…heardhimalkingintheallway," you repeat, skirting most of the sentence again.

"For the love of might __! Why are you being so–"

"I overheard him talking in the hallway!" Once you blurt the words out you scurry out of the kitchen. "Gotta get my laundry, bye!"

"Uh-__!" Na-Rae races to catch up to you. "Explain to me how that's not being stalkerish!"

You grab your laundry basket and set it next to the dryer. "It wasn't intentional alright? I happened to be passing by at the right moment." You pop the door open, stuffing your clothes in the basket. Na-Rae casually watches you from the doorway.

"Right," she says. "Just happened to overhear Dr. Kim's whereabouts on a Friday night and just happen to be going to the same place. But definitely not planned because the dress you're currently trying to hide from me isn't meant for him to coincidentally see. Oops, my bad."

You release said dress from your hand aggressively. "Dr. Kim is at least a decade older than me and he's a high-level faculty member of the university. I'm not seriously trying to present myself to him in any romantic sense. That would be so inappropriate! And as far as the dress goes, it's the grand opening tonight. Everyone's wearing these kinds of things. So no, you're wrong."

"Very well, if the lady persists," Na-Rae shrugs, checking her phone. "Shoot, I gotta get to work in fifteen but I expect a full report later!" You watch as she hustles to her room.

.

The exhibit's doors open at 7 pm sharp. The line to the entrance runs about three blocks which is far longer than you were expecting. Most people came in groups or pairs, making you wish Na-Rae didn't have to work tonight.

But you're right about this being a formal affair. Everyone is dressed to kill. Some lean more towards black tie while others choose to show off their highly expressive, avant-garde nature.

You look down at yourself, suddenly feeling quite underdressed. You're wearing a simple black dress that's cinched at the waist. If one were to look close enough they'd see hints of gold throughout but no one would get that close.

The artwork itself is stunning. Varying from abstraction to impressionism, you get a sense of pleasure in taking in others’ inspiration. Many of these works are from locals in the area which is one of the main reasons for the number of interested guests. You wonder if anyone here knows the artists directly.

You make your way to the next set of pieces, studying the first in line. You immediately recognize the particular style as post-impressionism. It's clear the artist has great influence by Van Gogh evident from the similar large yet controlled strokes.

As you continue observing the work you feel a second body, looming close beside you. Naturally, you shift your eyes over to see the source. His hair brushes past his face as he leans closer to the painting.

After about three seconds you quickly dart your eyes away, careful not to stare. The man appears to be equally as focused on the work in front of him, as you were. It'd be a bit embarrassing if he noticed your gaze and snapped at you for it.

The man next to you slowly straightens his bent-over posture. He moves to the other side of you, viewing the next painting on your right. You barely catch the slight glance he gives you in the process, now able to see his full face.

It's not Dr. Kim–it's Dr. Jeon.

This isn't weird, you try convincing yourself. It's perfectly normal for you to see your professor in public. Besides, who knows if he actually recognized you yet. No need to make this awkward if you simply pretend not to notice him.

You think about whether to sneakily slip away or continue to feign ignorance until…

"Are we going to keep side-eyeing each other or can I say hi?" Dr. Jeon lightly smiles at you with playful eyes. His glasses are different today–thinner design. And oh, is that a...lip ring? Is that new or has he always had it? You don't remember seeing it before. "If you keep staring at my lips like that I might get shy."

"Ahha, Dr. Jeon!" You fight the stirring of your nerves. "Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to stare or anything. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Please, __. Outside of class, Jungkook is fine. Though I understand if that's a little out of place for you."

A little?! You've been calling Dr. Jeon, well, Dr. Jeon for the past two weeks. It's unlikely that will change. "If it's alright with you," you start, hands restless. "I'd like to stick with the usual."

Jungkook nods, giving you a brief once-over before replying. "Sure, no problem. I'm hoping you'll warm up to the idea though. Dr. Jeon makes me feel old." He lets out a throaty chuckle. "I'd ask what brings you to this art exhibit but I think I have the answer, given the amount of sketches I see you doing while I'm lecturing."

Oh god. Your professor calling you out for both gawking at his lips and doodling in class under the span of five minutes? You've never wanted to disappear more. The sketches you do aren't meant to look like a distraction and honestly, you didn't mean to gawk at the tiny ring, it was just there!

"Sorry," he continues. "That wasn't intended to be passive-aggressive. I really don't mind as long as they don't hinder your learning. Dr. Kim does the same thing whenever I'm talking to him too. I've summed it up to an itch all you artists have. I've come here in support of him actually." He gestures to the collection of paintings next to you; the post-impressionism ones you were intent on studying earlier.

"Oh wow," you gasp stupidly, following his gesture. You didn't even clue in to read the artist's name.

Stigma by Kim Taehyung.

"I had no idea Dr. Kim had some of his work displayed here. I feel so foolish. I was viewing his pieces for I don't know how long just a few minutes ago."

You were sure Dr. Kim was attending the exhibit for the same reasons as you. But while it was partially right, you obviously missed the biggest point.

"Don't fret," a deep, honey-coated voice comes from nowhere. "Any admirer of my work is a friend of mine." He strolls up to your left, Jungkook still on your right. "I don't believe we've met yet. Dr. Kim Taehyung." He tosses a hand out for you to shake.

Oh no, no no no. You hope to death you won't start sweating. You've never been this close to Kim Taehyung before and he wants you to hold his hand! "Pleasure to meet you Dr. Kim. I'm __," you say, struggling not to burst inside.

Okay, so it's not exactly holding hands but it's close enough. His fingers are so long and elegant. You can't wipe the grin off your face.

You're squeezing it now, stop stop stop. You mentally slap yourself and retract your hand as naturally as you can. Thank fuck no one can read your mind.

"I'm sorry your name is __?" Dr. Kim freezes as if suddenly needing to remember something. When you think he's recalled whatever it is he needs, he flicks his head over to Jungkook with a twinkle in his eye. "__," he repeats aloud.

"Uhm, yes..." You're definitely missing something. You look between the two men, apparently both intent on keeping you in omnious silence. What's so facinating about your name?

Taehyung whips his head back to face you, flashing a blinding grin. "You're the little artist in Jungkook's class aren't you?"

That's what this is about? He looks far too proud of himself for connecting those dots.

"Yeah I take ECON 602 with Dr. Jeon." You make the mistake of looking at Jungkook mid-sentence. For some odd reason, his previous mirthful expression has changed to one of bitter distaste.

"She isn't little," Jungkook intrudes, nearly snapping at the older man. "Little is what you call a child and it's inappropriate for you to call her that."

What the hell....? How is Dr. Kim calling you little bothering your professor more than you?

"My apologies," Taehyung says. "But she's your student, right? The one drawing during your lectures? I think she drew you once. Exquisite may I add. You captured his pissed-off look so well." He gives you a pleased look but you're too sheepish to form a reply.

"Yes, I wasn't having the best day. Can I talk to you a moment Dr. Kim? We'll be right back __, just a second." Jungkook grabs the older's arm, yanking him out of your earshot.

"What the hell are you doing, Taehyung?" Jungkook spits. "You're making my student uncomfortable."

"Aha, so she is the artist. Look I admit that using the term little was a misstep but I think she's alright. I apologized didn't I?"

"Yeah sure, but she's not alright." He makes air quotes. "Since you've also made it seem like anything she does in my class, I spill to you! Don't you see how uneasy that would make someone feel? Especially me being her professor. She could be thinking I tell you weird things too! See what you've done?!"

"But Jungkook," Taehyung drawls, face scrunching. He's not sure what's gotten Jungkook so worked up. "You do in fact regurgitate everything to me. You've been talking about her for the last week just to one-up me that she's an artist. Now I get to have a face to the name. I'm kinda tickled about it but also, what weird things are you referring to?" Taehyung pauses, eyes going as big as a saucer. "Oh my god, bro. Are you–"

Jungkook grunts firmly, shutting the man up at once. "Absolutely not Tae. Whatever you were about to say, it couldn't be a bigger no. All I'm asking is for you to keep the private things private. I don't want you blubbering everything to her."

"Very well," Taehyung hums, stealing a glance at you behind Jungkook's shoulder. From where he stood, he had an easy view of you moving down the line of paintings. You stop in front of each one, curiously examining them the best you can. "However, she's quite intriguing. I can't make any promises that I'll hold myself back."

"You better be talking about her mutual interest in art. She's my student and we have an obligation through the university not to fraternize with any–"

"Yes yes, your student. I don't need a reminder of where my boundaries are, but perhaps you do....bringing up fraternizing and all." Taehyung moves past Jungkook, striding back over to you. "Whatever else can there be besides professional or academic affairs? Of course, we're keeping our witts about us Kookie."

Behind him, Jungkook huffs and follows his lead. Then wipe that stupid smirk off your face, he thinks.

Present

Dinner is rough.

Jungkook's parents showing up unannounced and uninvited throws you both in a very quick, downward spiral. How can two people have so much time on their hands? Retirement, that's how.

You try your hardest to keep the conversation light throughout dinner, but it's obvious the air has grown thick between your husband and his mother.

"Why didn't you come to the reunion last year?" your mother-in-law presses for the second time tonight. She clutches the napkin in her hand, anxious for his response.

Jungkook sits across the table. His posture stiffens at the question. "I'm sorry, I had a lot to do. The reunion is always so close to when I have to go back to the university that I just didn't have the time."

A loud, impatient sigh comes from back across the table. "You didn't have the time or didn't make it? Honesty Jungkook, you expect me to believe that?"

When Jungkook doesn't answer, you and your father-in-law exchange troublesome looks. "Honey," Mr. Jeon speaks up, placing a hand on her shaky one. "You know how full the school year is for Jungkook. Don't blame him. Maybe he can come this year if we reschedule for a more convenient time." He pleads with his son, hopeful eyes.

"Stop helping him." She looks at Mr. Jeon and then back to Jungkook. "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. I just want you there, you and __."

At that, you find yourself gripping your husband's arm from under the table. Jungkook shifts in his seat and stares dead straight into his mother's eyes. "Funny you say that," he seethes. You tug on his arm in desperation to calm him. "Seeing that you keep dropping by at random times throughout the year, I'd say you expect a great deal from us."

Mrs. Jeon immediately snatches her hand from your father-in-law's. "Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd come to the reunion. Or called, texted, or even emailed at this point. If it weren't for my efforts, I wouldn't hear from you at all."

"Please," Mr. Jeon pleads again, this time to both parties. "We're having dinner. Let's continue this later." He reaches for the bowl in the middle of the table but he's quickly ignored.

"You're right." Jungkook cuts. "Maybe I should come. Because it's one more way you can get what you want, isn't it? All those years of hard work so you can show me off to everyone."

"Don't you talk to me like that," Mrs. Jeon grits. "If I wanted to show you off it'll be when you give me a grandchild! I'm lucky to even have a daughter-in-law by now."

Chair legs scrape against the hardwood floor and your arm snakes out from Jungkook's arm. Your husband stands at the table, Mr. Jeon follows suit. "Okay, okay, let's just–"

"Dad," Jungkook interrupts. "Can you please take Mom home for the night?"

"Are you okay?" you pop the question once your in-laws leave for the night, a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Mrs. Jeon looked completely bewildered, whereas Mr. Jeon looked deeply troubled; conflicted between wife and son. You have a feeling he has a better understanding of what happened than you do right now.

"I wish she hadn't come today," Jungkook plops on the bed. You sit beside him. "I'm sorry about what she said about you....I knew she was here for something."

You won't lie. When Mrs. Jeon mentioned being lucky to finally have a daughter-in-law, it stung. You detest being seen as an achievement. "I'm sure she didn't mean it like that since she said it out of impulse. It was a tense moment," you say. "As far as what she was getting at though, it was for you to go to the reunion."

"No." He shakes his head and then glances at you. "It's not about the reunion. She only wants me to go so she can show everyone how smart and successful her son has become–all her doing of course. It's been like that since high school. And she wants you to go for a similar reason."

"I knew your mom had a bit of a thing for status but I thought that mostly revolved around her profession. Also, when she was talking earlier about you not keeping in touch she seemed more hurt and sad than mad. I think she really just wants you there."

"If she seemed hurt it's because she didn't get her way," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

"Jungkook."

"I'm sorry but it's true" He adjusts his position, angling himself to face you. "Mom's used to calling the shots– at work, at home, even with our neighbors growing up. You've seen how dad is around her. Yeah, he pushes back a little but at the end of the day, he does what's asked of him."

Frightened to ask the next question, you swallow hard. "What aren't you telling me Jungkook?"

He gently takes your hand from your lap, rubbing small circles on the knuckles. "Growing up, she was hardly around or involved in my brother and I's life. Most weeks, she and Dad would be at work, and we'd be with a babysitter or nanny. Dad did what he could to take care of us but Mom? All she would do is prune us to be just like her...smart, successful, and a dash more to make up for all the achievements she couldn't make."

"Jungkook...I don't know what to say," you murmur, trying to take everything in. "But your PhD–"

"My decision but her influence. Though she wasn't pleased when I said I'd be relocating ten hours away."

You remember him telling you this part before. His mother had a hard time coping with his reluctance to stay nearby. Maybe she did want him to follow in her footsteps. "Your brother didn't have as much pressure on him did he?"

"He did, but he still bends to her will. Except for the grandchildren part." Jungkook grimaces, averting eye contact. "I guess we have that in common."

"Hey," you urge him to lift his head. "Please don't feel bad about telling me any of this. If your picture of parents has largely been their absence and desire for self-fulfillment, then I understand your grounds for not wanting children. And as far as tonight with your mom, I'm so sorry. I feel like it's partially my fault for agreeing to host them for two days."

A pair of soft eyes rest on you in the dim room. The sun was near set now and all the light previously shining into the room had come from the window. If this wasn't a serious moment you might take a candid shot of your husband.

"You're the best thing that's happened to me __," Jungkook coos. "Don't ever think your kindness is a fault." He pauses then continues. "I still want both my parents in my life but I need to draw boundaries or I will completely snap and that's not something I want to happen. Especially since we have a possible baby to make one day."

"Hu–huh?" It's the repetition of the last sentence that makes you utterly dumbfounded.

Baby? Baby with Jungkook. One day?

Your husband draws his hand up to barely caress your cheek. "Why does that always seem to stop your heart?"

You catch his wrist mid-movement and throw yourself into him. Your arms link around his neck, chest flat against his. "It doesn't stop my heart," you say, playing with his hair. "It makes it beat faster."

"Wow." Your husband hugs you closer. "So cheesy." He leans back after, pressing a soft kiss to yours.

The two of you continue making out like teenagers again; Jungkook tumbling on his back.

"Kook." You lay on top of him, straddling his sides. "Have you ever thought about seriously talking to your mom about you know, everything you told me?"

Jungkook hums, before answering. "Somewhat but, I'm not sure how that'll go."

"It might be worth it instead of having little pieces slip out when you get into conflict...like tonight for instance."

"I suppose it's not a far-fetched idea. I'll consider it but it might take some more time. For now, I think I'll start by calling her tomorrow. I'm still mad but I don't wanna leave things the way they are now. Plus, I'm sure they don't have plans to go back home early. I'd hate for them to stay in the hotel the rest of these two days."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, snuggling into the crook of his neck.

"Mom." Jungkook holds the phone to his ear. "What are you and Dad doing today?"

"Oh, I–," his mom stutters from the other end. "We're not up to too much. I think your dad wants to swing by some bookstore around town. Uh, what about you?"

"__ at work and I'm home by myself. Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could go out for brunch."

Jungkook hears his mom's tone lift. "Are you sure? I mean that would be lovely but if there are things you need to do then we don't want to...impose."

Mrs. Jeon's sudden willingness to check in is unexpected. Jungkook still senses traces of guilt but at least she's making somewhat of an effort.

"It's my treat," he assures, a little shaky. "I'm sorry about yesterday, mom. Maybe we can talk about it more in person."

"I think that would be good," she agrees simply. "Where and what time do you want to meet up?"

"Drive over here in twenty minutes. We can pile in my car and head over."

Once finally agreed, Jungkook ends the call. He opens his messages and shoots you a text.

Jungkook: Well I did it  😬 [sent at 10:42 a.m]

__: Proud of you ❤️ if anything happens, call me. [sent at 10:44 a.m]

Jungkook: I will. Also, sorry to bring it up but I gotta give Yoongi hyung an answer by tomorrow. Are we babysitting his twins Saturday? [sent at 10:47 a.m]

__: Ahm, it'll likely be the evening, right? [sent at 10:48 a.m]

Jungkook: Probably [sent at 10:49 a.m]

__: I guess, sure. We're going to need to put some stuff away though 😅 And get something fun for them to do! [sent by 10:51 a.m]

Jungkook: Noted but I'm sure they'll bring lots to do. Yoongi hyung is a big sofie for his girls. He buys them everything–literally 🫠 [sent at 10:52 a.m]

__: True. I have to get back to work now but love you xoxo [sent at 10:53 a.m]

A/N: Surprise! jk has mommy issues and they've has been triggered. Was hoping how he talked, thought, & acted towards her in the last chapter gave hints. On the brighter side, jungkook is another step closer to babyville! And next flashback will be something exciting! Lmk if you wanna be tagged or have thoughts in comments or asks! 💞

Masterlist

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper @ellesalazar @monbebe234-blog @parkinglot-nights @borahaexoxo @hobiswhore @kimseokjinbangtan @jjk97091 @mk-id @blueberry711 @givemethemaknaes16 @iammartian07 @jjkluver7 @itsdingdong @jiminshi20 @sweet-sourhotcoco @lovingkoalaface @starsinsky1999 @rockstarrgyu @chaconnelatte @lubtou

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[alexsoenomel]

Chokehold (Sam Winchester x Reader smut)

Request: Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I was reading Adrenlize Me and I had an idea for a part 2? Sam and reader have been getting at it for a bit but this time they finally say “I love you” to each other? Rough smut with a little dash of fluff? 🥰

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: sexy times and I love you’s, mentions of addiction 

Word count: 2.1k

Note: I apologize for being so slow (school+work+ADHD). Writing this made me realize how single I actually am.

 Enjoy! Like/Reblog or both if you like it! :)

PART 1

Addiction. First, it feels like a warm hug, sucking you in, disguising itself as something familiar, something beautiful, and finally, you feel like you filled that hole in your soul. Then it starts taking, it takes and takes until there is nothing left to take, until you cannot give anymore – until you’re dead. You find out, a little too late, that the warm hug was just a one-way ticket to your inevitable demise.

This started as a deep-seated need but turned into a full-blown addiction sooner than I thought, but the only difference was this was a blissful one, with no reaper waiting for you at the end. It only brought endless pleasure. 

Sam was no better than me. We couldn’t stop ourselves; every touch, every kiss would send us into a euphoric state, and it was better than any drug known to man. 

After our little adventure in Dean’s beloved Baby, we tried to keep our dirty little secret hidden. Sam would come to my room only during the night when he could hear Dean snoring in his room, and even then, we had to be careful since Dean was a light sleeper. He would muffle my moans with his hand whenever he was on top of me, he would sometimes even let me bite his shoulder, but it was impossible to be quiet, especially when we both liked listening to each other come undone. Long story short, Dean found out.

“Good thing you two lovebirds finally got together! The bad thing is now I cannot sleep.” He told us one morning while sipping his black coffee, clearly tired and cranky. 

Lovebirds.

That word was stuck in my brain that day. It still would pop up occasionally. It reminded me that we never labeled our little arrangement. When it happened, we would carry on, pretend like this thing was meaningless, and then we would do it all over again. We would cover every topic under the Sun apart from this one. We completely ignored it, but it was there, just around the corner, something more than just a meaningless hookup. 

Sure, he was able to make my legs shake, make me forget my existence, and his touch would set me on fire every damn time, but the way he would look at me right before I would come, the way we would look at each other…  I knew I was falling for him. 

We were birds of a feather –we connected through art, books, and music. We liked the same things but were far different characters. I was more of a 'Shoot first, ask questions later' kind of girl, like his older brother, and he was far from that. He was my voice of reason when I would let my emotions consume me; he was the one who would tell Dean and me to get our shit together whenever we would jump the gun (and that would often happen because we were both hotheads). We worked perfectly together. 

***

"God, I'm exhausted!" I said and put my bag on the table. 

We just got back from a hunt in Omaha, Nebraska, and it was a wild one. It dragged to no end until we finally ganked the ghost that was killing unfaithful men. I almost got thrown off the balcony, Dean almost got stabbed, and Sam, well he took care of it. Overall, I was just happy the case was over and, that I could sleep in my/Sam's bed. 

"Me too! Gonna hit the hay!" Dean said taking his shoes off. 

"Already? It's only 10 pm." Sam said. On a rare occasion, Dean would sleep early, he was the worst night bird in the flock. For him, 2 am was too early for bed, and mornings started at noon. 

"Sammy, I almost got stabbed today! Yeah, already." Dean said and disappeared into the hallway. 

"Night, Dean!" I said. 

"Night, night!" I heard him say. 

I was immediately hit with the realization that I was alone with Sam. There was something so alluring about him that made me nervous in the best way possible. It would boost my dopamine and adrenaline – like a drug. I swallowed nervously as I turned to see he was staring back at me and I immediately recognized the look – the look of devotion. 

"What?" I asked. He looked tired, with messy hair, and bags under his eyes. I was a tired mess too. During these days caffeine kept me awake and sharp since we were working night and day trying to solve the gruesome mystery. 

"Shower?" He asked.

"Please!" 

We went to his room since I would spend most of my nights there. What started as casual, grew to be a routine. I started hating sleeping alone in cold sheets – his warmth kept me safe. 

When we entered his room, pleasant silence joined us. We stripped down our dirty clothes and sins as we went to the bathroom. We didn’t say a word until warm water touched our tired bodies.

“Warm enough?” Sam asked me.

I nodded. He shampooed my hair, and I did my body while letting my muscles relax under the shower, feeling every part of me slowly shutting down from exhaustion.  Once my hair was nice and cleaned and I turned to face Sam, kissing where his heart was as I balanced myself on my tiptoes since he was much taller than me. 

“My turn?” I asked and got on his knees, like he usually would do when I wanted to wash his hair, and wrapped his hands around my waist, cupping my ass. It wasn’t the first time we showered together, the aftercare was as important for him as it was for me, but this time it felt far more intimate and real. The aftercare would usually turn into rough shower sex, leaving me breathless and sometimes even covered in bruises, but this time I saw true intimacy and meaning of showering together. 

Sam kissed my stomach as I washed his hair, sending light shivers all over my body. His hand went between my legs, and a light moan escaped from my lips. 

“All done!” My voice trembled. Sam stood up and kissed me hungrily. I could never get enough of his kisses, his lips were soft, kisses sweet kinda like cherries in spring, nothing like I’ve ever tasted before. He broke the kiss as our eyes met, water still running down our bodies. I could feel his breath on my lips. The air, even though hot and heavy, got a little bit chilly for a second – or was I getting nervous? I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I didn’t know why I was getting nervous. Everything that seemed familiar was now foreign to me. Even though we fucked a million times, even though we both had seen each other naked, I was still feeling that tickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. 

Sam turned off the shower. We did our night routine in blissful silence. Skincare, haircare, the whole nine yards…in blissful pleasant silence. Sam even started using my Vitamin C serum, when I told him how good it is for the skin. 

I was pleasantly surprised when he took a little bit of my hydrating cream after the serum. I would always use that after having a rough day on the job, it did wonders for my tired skin. 

“You’re learning,” I told him as I brushed my teeth. 

“From the best.” He simply said. 

***

I didn’t remember the last time I did my night routine in my bathroom – and it all started when Dean caught me leaving his room to get my toothbrush. 

“You two are louder than a jackhammer!” He told me as he opened the door of his room, messy hair, eyes barely open, clearly feeling creaky from lack of sleep…again. “Keep it down, or I swear I’ll kill you both!”

“Sorry!” I was embarrassed but trying hard not to laugh.

Ever since then, I decided not to leave his room during the night. So, naturally, I started leaving my stuff in Sam’s room. 

***

After we got in our pajamas; Sam in his gray sweatpants and me in my oversized blue T-shirt I “borrowed” from him, got under the covers. I could feel my whole body relaxing, as I let my mind drift God knows where…I was ready to fall asleep, but Sam had other plans. He wrapped his hand around my waist pulling me closer to him. His semi-hard cock was pressed against my ass, and I felt his lips on my neck. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” I bit my lower lip. 

“I don’t wanna sleep.” He mumbled between kisses. 

I turned around, missing the softness of his lips on mine. I kissed him, feeling the minty taste on his lips. My hand went in his hair, pulling him closer to me. He moaned when I pulled his locks, sending shivers all over his body. He pushed me back onto the mattress as he climbed on top of me, leaving kisses all over my jaw and neck. I loved his lips on my skin, I loved everything about them; the softness, the taste, the ability to make me wet in seconds… 

“You got me worried today,” Sam whispered between kisses. 

“Sorry, I was a hot-headed dumbass.”

I thought I could take down the ghost by myself. I didn’t stick to the plan and almost got thrown off the balcony when the damn thing attacked me – my mistake.

“Like always.”

And that’s why you love me. I bit my tongue. I felt my walls completely coming down under him. I didn’t care about labels, I didn’t care what we were, I just knew my heart was struggling to stay silent. I wanted to say those words as much as I desperately wanted to hear them from him. 

“Shut up and kiss me!” I told him instead. 

Sam pressed his lips on mine, this time his hand went down my stomach between my legs. His fingers were cold, making my skin shiver, but his touch bought endless pleasure. 

I could feel his two fingers in me for a few seconds before he pulled away. 

“Tease,” I said annoyed. He loved making me beg and feel desperate and I loved every second of it. 

He licked his fingers clean and kissed me letting me have a taste as well. 

“You are delicious.”

Everything about this seemed different. He was sweeter and far more gentle. Usually, he would tell me to be quiet, his good girl, he would be rough, but this time…he wasn’t? He had a gentle side, but I’d rarely see it. I felt something was different. I felt my heart connecting with his and my soul feeling closer to his own. 

“And you’re a tease.” 

He laughed, showing off those cute little dimples I adored so much. 

"Just a little. " He smirked before kissing me again. I was growing impatient, and it was like he heard me. He wasted no time, he moved my panties to the side as I helped him lower his sweatpants. He entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size, letting me bask in the pleasure his cock was giving me. I buried my fingers into his damp hair, arching my back slightly. 

"You feel so good!" 

He would always tell me that. Every time. No exception. He knew his words made me needy, horny, and desperate…He knew what buttons to push. 

He started to move and that was when my heart decided to work against me…or it did me a favor? My eyes were lost in his, not wanting to break the contract. I was feeling every inch of him, slowly moving in and out, skin to skin….

"I love you!" 

I heard myself say. My heart was pounding, I could see his expression change as his hair was falling on my cheeks…he smiled and kissed me.

"I love you too!" 

I didn't expect this answer from him. At the moment it didn't seem real but I think we both knew it was coming. Between the constant staring, and flirting just to gross out Dean and the genuine connection we had, we knew…

Sam's pace became faster, and I was slowly losing it. His face was inches away from mine, feeling each other's breaths as my climax was getting closer. I could feel my body shaking, my nails digging into his back as I couldn’t get his name out of my mouth. 

“Come on, baby!” He whispered in my ear. 

I loved his voice, I loved his touch, his kiss. I loved him.

I came hard, biting his shoulder (Sam didn’t even flinch), not wanting to be too loud because of Dean and his “Next time I’m gonna kill you both” sentence. 

He kissed me before collapsing next to me. We were both panting, waiting for someone to say something, to break the ice that had already been broken when I told him I love you. But no one did. Instead, we fell asleep, my head on his chest, safe and sound. 

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Passion- Lady Lesso x EverToNever!Reader.

Synopsis: Wherever she goes, you follow.

Warnings: None.?

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: Me? Writing to distract myself? Yes. I really love some of the things I put in here so I hope you guys love it too. I really hate that it’s so short BUT I have another one ready for ya. And I have a longer one in the works too!

© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved.

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Lesso had asked you to join her on her next venture. She didn't tell you any details past that, and you didn't care to ask for any. You were simply pleased to be joining her.

Lesso had asked that you not disclose the fact you were tagging along to Dovey, it made sense. You were an Ever teacher tagging along with the Dean of Evil, Dovey wouldn't approve.

Even if she knew that you and Lesso were meant to be together.

You were to sneak out of the School for Good to meet Lesso at the bridge between Good and Evil on the last crescent moon of the month.

And so you did.

Once it started to approach midnight, you left your quarters and silently moved through the halls.

You didn't have anything with you but the clothes you adorned, all by the direction of Lesso. Again, you didn't ask any questions.

You made it through the school easily enough, passed all the fairies that must've been sleeping, and passed anyone who may have been on watch.

It was so close, the border to the other school was right within reach.

But just as you were about to cross, someone grabbed your arm and pulled you around.

"My dear, where are you going?" Dovey had her sweet smile, one that you never really saw as sincere.

You felt no need to lie, you were going regardless of whether or not you had permission.

"I'm going, I'm going with Lady Lesso," You started.

She cut you off, "Wha- you can't do that. You cannot leave, especially not with her."

You stood confused for a second until you saw Lesso walk up behind you. She must've been watching for your arrival but stayed for a moment to see how Dovey would react.

"Well, why not?"

"Because you're an Ever. She's a Never. It cannot happen."

Lesso rolled her eyes, "It has happened already, princess."

You inwardly smirked at the response she had for Dovey. She calls you her princess, but hearing the disdain in the word when it's directed at Dovey oddly fills you with joy, especially when you know how delicious it sounds when she means it every time she uses it for you.

"So, we'll just be going now-" Again, you tried before getting cut off.

"No!"

"No?" She was starting to frustrate you, and Lesso saw it.

"No. I cannot allow you to leave. Not with her."

"Clarissa, I am not asking. We are going, together."

"Oh for what? For some cheap fun? She'll tire of you in a few weeks time." You hoped to whatever creator that she didn't mean those words.

She had managed to set Lesso off, you could sense it without even looking at her. And at her words, her careless words, you stopped playing nice.

There was fury in her tone as Lesso stepped forward, "Princess, you-" You simply raised your hand to stop Lesso, her stopping right in her tracks at this move, this is your turn.

You could see genuine shock and confusion flash on Dovey's face when she saw how easily you handled your Leo.

"Dovey, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't? It's puppy love! What don't I know what I'm talking about?"

You were unsure of where this attitude of hers came from, and you didn't like it.

"Dovey, you don't get it. Anyone else would sacrifice me for the world, but Leo? She'd sacrifice the world for me. You do things for the greater good, but for her, there is no greater good if she doesn't have me. And I can only hope that one day, you find someone who will love you as strongly as we love each other."

Dovey scoffed, "Desire isn't everything." You knew that she had reason to be so defensive, but that didn't mean you cared what that reason was.

You bit back a smirk, "Maybe not. But the pure, fierce need, the way that nothing can stand in the way of us, there's nothing we wouldn't do for each other."

"Y/n, she wants to see the world burn!"

You stepped forward with a proud smirk, leaving just a few steps distance between you two, "Then I shall be by her side as she sets it aflame. I will relish in the heat of the embers if that means I get to be with her for all eternity."

"So, that's it? You choose evil?"

"No, I choose love. Wherever she may lead me is where I shall follow. And I'm not asking you to understand, I'm asking you to stay out of our way," Dovey stood astonished at your words while Lesso beamed with pride and love. "For your own good."

"You wouldn't do anything to me..."

"I might not," You opened your arms with nonchalance, "But I can't say the same for your Evil counterpart."

Lesso stepped forward once more to be by your side, "And I make no promises."

Dovey looked from the redhead to you, staying silent for a moment.

You both took this as a cue to leave, you knew you weren't waiting for permission anyway. Lesso had just turned around to continue on, and before you could, Dovey spoke again.

"What if it's a ruse? That she's using you for her own gain? You're making a mistake." She tried to get you to stay, but you weren't having it.

"Then that is my choice. This is solely your concern Dovey, not mine." You took a step back, "She would not do that. But, if your little delusion happens to play out, then it will be my turn to set fire to everything in my path."

Dovey was completely unrecognizable, "Who, who are you? It's like I don't even know you anymore."

"You've never known me. Not in any way that mattered."

Dovey stood in place, staring with a face you wouldn't have been able to recognize had you been paying attention to her.

But your attention was elsewhere, of course. Held by the one who held your heart. You had turned back to Lesso to see her already watching you, her proud look stayed unmoving on her features.

When you two were together, nothing else seemed to exist. Nothing else mattered but your love and your intertwined souls.

"Come, Dove. Let us set fire to the world." Lesso pulled you into a kiss, a kiss that held the passion between you two. A kiss that tells you no matter what happens, you two will be side by side.

You two continued on the venture, wherever it may have been. You still didn't care where you were going because you were with your love, hand-in-hand, hearts tied together. And you wouldn't have had it any other way.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @hxzxrdous @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @i-like-reading @pebbleswritessometimes @sgelessoanddoveykissing (lmk if you wanna join my taglist!)

[smellingofpoetry]

Just Thought You Should Know

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It was just one of those drunk calls until it wasn't anymore.

Warnings: angst, drunkness, song fic

Word count: 616

A/N: Hi!! I hope you enjoyed the idea of choosing the next fic. It was quite fun for me, even though I have to admit you managed to surprise me. I thought you would have chosen differently, but I'm happy to finally share with you this story. I always write with music, and this time I was listening to Betty Who's song, "Just Thought You Should Know". I love this song, and I'm proud of the result of this story. I hope you'll love it as much as I do. All errors are mine, like always. Enjoy! ❤

Dean watched the clock on his nightstand – 3 AM.

He grabbed his phone, dangerously buzzing towards the end of his nightstand.

Y/N – he read the name flashing on the screen and got up quickly before waking Lisa up. Dean walked out of the room, through the corridor, and down the stairs towards the kitchen, and only when he was in the secure of the four white walls he dared to answer.

“Hello?”

He could hear her breathing on the other side of the phone, so he waited a few seconds for an answer before trying again.

“Y/N, you there?”

“Y-yeah, just –” she paused “– give me a minute,” she said, and Dean could hear her trying to open the door and, a few moments later, the keys falling out of her hands, hitting the floor. “Shit!”

“You good?” he asked, hearing her take a long sigh, followed by the noise of something slipping. She probably had just given up and followed the keys on the floor if he knew her right.

“Maybe I’m too drunk, and I’m not doing this the right way –” Y/N admitted.

“Do you need me to call you someone?” He tried. “Charlie, maybe?”

“No, wait, let me finish.” She slurred a bit, waiting for the corridor of the condo to stop spinning. “I just wanted to tell you I’m so happy that you’re happy with her,” Y/N said seriously before a giggle escaped her lips. “Wait, no, that’s a lie.”

“I think you’re too drunk to have this conversation.”

“I have to tell you someday.”

“Tell me what?”

“The way I’m feeling.”

“Y/N –” Dean warned her, but she ignored him and started talking, too afraid to lose the courage that was flooding her veins.

“I can still feel you, you know. You’re everywhere.” She whispered, not knowing if she was admitting those things to him or finally acknowledging the ugly truth. “I can taste your lips –” she said and mindlessly graced her mouth “– hear your voice in my head, and I know –” her voice wavered. “I know that I should shut my mouth and just hung up the phone –” she furiously brushed away the tears that fell on her cheeks “– but I still want you.”

Dean closed his eyes and tightened his jaw at her words, her muffled cries on the other side not helping his heart.

What was he supposed to answer to that? After everything they went through? Especially after everything they went through.

Y/N wasn’t stupid, and even in her drunken state, she knew him enough not to expect much from Dean, especially when put on the spot like she had just done, but she couldn’t keep it to herself anymore. Not when looking at them together was hurting her that much.

“I just thought you should know.” She whispered, even though she knew he didn’t owe her anything, not anymore.

Dean sighed at her words and, for a split second while standing in the kitchen at 3 AM with her wavering voice in his ear and his heart biting a mile a minute, he had almost caved. He had almost let the words he had pushed away in the deep of his soul slip from his grith until he heard it. Small and dragged steps getting closer and closer, so he did the only reasonable thing to do.

He closed the call.

“Babe, everything okay?” Lisa came into the kitchen with her eyes still puffy from the sleep. Dean forced a smile on his face before walking towards her and kissing her forehead.

“Yeah, I just needed a glass of water.” He answered her, swallowing down the regret.

[lenavonschweetz]

Grace For Sale

Sam Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: Your town could definitely handle themselves, but a little help isn’t something you’d willingly turn down.  When the Winchesters show up - do things get better, or worse?

Warnings: language, anti-religious sentiments, slight religious inner conflict, angst? If you squint?, smut, Under 18 keep faaaar away.

A/N: Takes place during s5:e17 - 99 Problems.  So funny story, I actually AM a preacher’s kid so this episode kinda made me laugh then gave me the idea for this.  Title comes from The Devil’s Carnival.  Also, this has been sitting in my drafts for literal years, guess it’s about time I post it. As always, I don’t have a beta so please excuse any typos. I’ll fix any that are pointed out to me.

Enjoy!

Sam and Dean aren’t exactly sure what to make of your little town.

The welcome wagon was a little more off the wall than they were used to - what with a firetruck full of holy water, a portable exorcism, and a group of civilians that actually knew about the things that go bump in the night.  Still, it wasn’t…the strangest introduction they’d encountered.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?”  Sam asks as Dean steers impala into town - right on the tail of the Sacrament Lutheran Militia’s truck.  What kind of a name was that anyway?

A church looms overhead, answering Sam’s unspoken question, and he wishes he hadn’t even asked.

It’s definitely the apocalypse, what with the devil’s trap brandishing the walkway up to the church door.

Sam’s eyes are heavy - spending the wee hours of the night fighting hellspawn will do that to you.  Especially when you’re bleeding out.  At least the militia had some quick fix first aid handy.

The first thing the brothers notice upon entering the sacred building is the couples standing at the alter, all facing the priest who prattles on about finding something special amidst the impending doom.  The second thing they notice is all of the townsfolk holding shotguns.

Sam scoffs.

“A wedding?  Seriously?”  How in God’s name - no, y’know what, scratch that - how in the Hell were they hosting a wedding at a time like this?

“Yup.  We’ve had 8 so far this week.”  The man to his right, Paul, says and it’s obvious Sam isn’t the only one who’s less than impressed.  At least they’re in good company.

It’s definitely the first time the brothers can be completely transparent in their introductions.  Sure, sometimes they’re found out, or sometimes they’re among other hunters.  But to tell an entire town - and a priest, no less - that they are demon hunters?  Yeah, that may take a little getting used to.

So is the priest toting a gun and the children packing salt rounds in the basement of the church.  Dean makes a quip about running scared or sticking around and making a home out of the place and Sam thinks he’d be leaning toward the later if the end of the world wasn’t resting on their shoulders.

But none of that explained how a whole town had taken up hunting.

Well, until the mystery prophet is introduced in the form of the “Packing Preacher’s” daughter - Leah.

Well…he’d been through stranger.

Dean makes a pass at her - right in front of her father.  The father.  Sam just rolls his eyes, gaze landing on the corner where another figure lurks.

Oh.

This one…he thinks…this one is much more his speed.

“Ah, my other daughter.”  Pastor Gideon says, holding a hand out to beckon you forward.  Sam watches as you push off the wall and approach the group.  There’s little family resemblance, he notes, but definitely isn’t complaining.  While your sister is clad in muted colors, baggy sweater, and tennis shoes - you opt for something a little form-fitting under your dark leather jacket with the combat boots to match.  You scream ‘hunter’, ‘capable’, and ‘danger’ more than anyone else in this town and he has trouble tearing his eyes off of you.  Now, you’re not complaining.  In fact, your eyes linger on Sam just as much as he does on you.  And when he realizes this, the mountain of a man becomes a flustered mess.   It brings a smirk to your face and a blush to his.  “Y/N, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“So I’ve heard.”  You chuckle, arms crossing in front of the very cleavage Sam’s staring at beneath your open flannel.  You cock a brow, baiting him, though he seems too nervous with your father present to answer the challenge.  “Shame Leah never mentioned you.  Though,”  you cast an appreciative glance over their strong frames and Sam very nearly shivers.  Beside him, Dean practically preens.  “I can see why.  If I knew fine specimens such as yourself were going to be crashing in our little town, I’d keep it to myself too.”

The Father is none too amused when you wink at your sister and the two of you share a giggle.  Again, Sam notes the distinct lack of resemblance but brushes it off.

“Y/N,”  Your father says in warning, which you completely ignore and grant the taller Winchester another ravenous once over before turning on your heel.  If anyone asked, you would deny that you were overemphasizing the swing of your hips.

“If you need me,”  you tell him without so much as a glance, calling over your shoulder as you saunter up the basement stairs.  “I’ll be at Paul’s!”

—————

The next time you see the brothers, it’s at the house Leah’s vision lead you to.  Well, actually, that’s a lie.  You saw them the night before at Paul’s bar, but they seemed to be wrapped up in a very important conversation - if the concentration on their brows had anything to say about it. 

Still, that hadn’t stopped you from ordering the brothers a couple of beers.  To his credit, Paul doesn’t judge you - which is a lot more than you can say for your family as of late - and even brought the boys their drinks so that you could do the ever so clique cheers across the bar.

Sam merely nodded in his head in thanks, raised his own beer with a silent ‘cheers’, then went back over to his brother.

So you couldn’t get a better read on them that night.  That’s ok.  It gave you the perfect opportunity to ogle to your heart’s content.

They were some fine specimens, that’s for sure.  The perfect hunters.  Sharp eyes, strong statures.  Hell, Sam looked like he could take out multiple demons all on his own - I mean, come on.  Those arms!

God, you had gotten such a perfect look at them while they brooded and planned what with the way Sam’s sleeves had been rolled and pushed up to his elbows.  Had you ever found forearms as attractive as you did at that moment?  Probably not.

And that jawline?  Christ, you could cut glass on that thing.

The sideburns may have been a little much, but hell, if that was all you could pin as off, you’d take it! 

Your ogling session had been cut short by the bell tolling - another of your sister’s visions - and after arguing with your father in front of the whole church that ‘yes, I am going with them’ - your hunting group was on the doorstep of the abandoned home.  Most of the townspeople are toting guns full of salt or sprayers of holy water, all armed with the ridiculous incantation your sister had told you to use to exorcise them.

But not Sam.  No, Sam was only wielding a knife, and God did he make it look easy.  If you weren’t too busy kicking ass and getting your ass kicked, you’d be drooling over that too.

Only when the dust settles do you take the opportunity to approach the brothers.

“You really are the hunters my sister made you out to be.”  Sam’s perfect eyebrow arches at that, gaze flickering to the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy panting.

“You didn’t think we would be?”  You mirror his smirk and shrug, ignoring the way Dean is eyeing the two of you like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.  Honestly, he probably did.  Dude seemed about as horny as you did.

 “So,” Sam pants, following the group out of the house.  You miss the way he’s eyeing your ass as you’re just steps ahead of him.  “That’s what it’s like.”  There’s no shortage of sexual innuendo in his voice and you decide to poke the bear a little more.  Whether your father was in earshot or not.

“What what’s like?”  You’re turned to him now, handing in your pockets and treading carefully backward.  He meets your hungry look with one of his own and shivers absolutely rattle your body.  Again he smirks, making sure the coast is clear of your father before saddling up right next to you.

“Having back up.”  He all but whispers in your ear, large hand grazing just inches above your bottom and god, how did he make such an innocent statement sound so filthy.  There’s no way he misses the way you tremble and sigh, not with the way he smirks at you while walking away.

You’re not sure what’s going to kill you first.  The Demons or your insatiable need for Sam fucking Winchester.

—————

Neither.

Neither of those things is gonna kill you first.

Because it’ll be your father that kills you.

Because you’re going to fucking murder your sister.

After the Winchesters brought back a murdered Dylan…well, things were tense. People started to resent them and the warm welcome they had initially received turned cold. Only you and Paul would speak to them without adding to the guilt you knew they already felt.

You knew it wasn’t their fault.  Hell, half of you had been through it before - coming off a hunt all together too cocky and not aware of the demon that still lurked around until it was too late.  Dylan was a good hunter.  Dean and Sam were good hunters.  It had happened to the best of you.  And so you do what you always did - you held a funeral and vowed to be more vigilant next time.

But that wasn’t enough for the townspeople.

Or for your sister.

No, she had to go and suck the fun out of everything.

No drinking, no gambling, no pre-marital sex.

All per the angels’ command, of course.

“What a crock of shit.”  The empty glass thunks against the wood of the bar - as hollow as you feel right about now.  Paul only echoes your sentiments and pours you another glass.  The only thing that pulls you from your ire is the bell signifying a newcomer.  For the first time since Leah’s proclamation, your scowl softens as the person you wanted to see most walks right through that door.

“So, what happened to, uh,” he makes a grand gesture to the empty bar - earning a snort from the two of you,  “’the apocalypse is good for business’?”

“Yeah, right up until Leah’s angel pals banned the good stuff.”  Paul says, earning a groan from you as you pinch the bridge of your nose at your damn sister’s name.  “Y/N’s here helping me kill some inventory.”  Sam chuckles at the glass you raise, tipping it toward him and saying ‘I’m only doing the good work.’  “Want to help?”

With a drink in hand, Paul pours a shot for each of you.  He doesn’t hold back on his opinion of the ‘holy rollers’ nor their hypocrisy, to which Sam calls him out for his noticeable lack of faith.  Paul shrugs it off, defending his honorable lack of prayer.

“Look, there’s sure as hell demons.  and maybe there is a god, I don’t know.  Fine.  But I’m not a hypocrite.  I never prayed before and I ain’t starting now.  If I go to Hell, I’m going honest.  Besides,”  Paul nods to you just as you put your shot glass - empty again - back on the bar.  “I figure if this one can get away with it, so can I.”  Sam’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes finding you.

“You either?”

“I grew up in the church,” you explain.  “I’ve seen how the…holiest of us all can be far worse than the ‘hooligans’ of the world.”  You wink at Paul, air quotes bouncing as you mimic your father’s ‘preacher’ voice.  The two of you share a laugh and you miss how Sam’s fingers tighten around his glass along with his jaw at the intimacy you two seem to share.  “Yeah, I believe in some kind of higher power.”  You continue, focus shifting to the Adonis beside you.  He doesn’t miss the bitter tone your voice takes on. “But I don’t believe in the church.  The organized religion crap.  Never been too big on it.  But then, neither had Leah.  And now, out of nowhere, she’s some chosen prophet?”  You scoff.  “I dunno.  I just can’t trust it.  And like Paul said, I’m no hypocrite.  I know I’m messed up.  Won’t pretend otherwise.”

This time when you regard Paul, patting his hand as one would a brother, Sam’s shoulders relax.

“Yeah, I, uh…I know what you mean.”  A moment of heavy, thick silence passes between the two of you before you’re pressing him for his thoughts with nothing more than a look.  “I believe.”  But he doesn’t sound so sure.  More convincing himself than he is you, maybe, so you stay quiet and let him work through his thoughts.  “Yeah, I do.”  He says, more assured this time.  “I’m just pretty sure God stopped caring a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”  A big sigh breaks from your chest, one of those sighs that comes when you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly this conversation is too heavy for how drunk you are not and for how drunk you want to be.

After a few moments, a morbid, hindsight joke blooms in your head and you can’t help but laugh, noting the questioning look on your drinking buddies’ faces.

“Guess those newlyweds knew something we didn’t.”  You chuckle, taking a pull of your drink.  “Tied the knot before Leah could restrict ‘em.  Betcha they’re bangin’ like rabbits right about now.”  The liquor burns, smothering your humorless chuckle as you knock it back.  “Lucky bastards.”  

Behind the bar Paul chuckles, noting the tension in the air, the sudden shift of mood, and takes his exit - mumbling something about grabbing more from the back. Neither you or Sam really hear him, though - too wrapped up in the other’s stare you share at what you’re implying.  

Helluva wingman, that Paul.

Once the two of you are alone, Sam swivels in his chair until his long legs drape open and you have to force yourself not to look down.  A bushy, perfectly masculine brow arches.  Then he speaks - voice low and sweet and pure sin.

“Really?  You, uh, don’t seem to have much issue with breaking the no-drinking rule.”  And it isn’t a question.  He flicks the back of his fingers against your glass, warm eyes staring right at you as the faint tinkling tickles your ears.  Your heart shutters in time with the tinkling of skin on glass and you don’t realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip until his eyes flicker to it.  “You gonna draw the line at pre-marital sex?”

“Now, Sam Winchester...who said I would do that?”  The look you fix him with has him adjusting his suddenly too-tight pants.

“Not afraid of being damned?  Of not being one of the ‘chosen’?”

“I’m no ‘chosen’.”  You scoff, bouncing air quotes once more.  “That’s my sister.  Me?  I’m just the poor little preacher’s kid who lost her faith a long time ago.”   It isn’t seductive talk - in fact, it’s dark as hell.  But he asked, and like you’d said before - you were no liar, and you were no hypocrite.  You turn to your companion, renewed .  “But you know…there is a curfew.”

The tonal shift isn’t subtle, but that doesn’t keep the space between you from growing ever smaller, Sam’s large hand sliding up your thigh and again you must fight off the urge to shiver.  Especially when he lowers his voice once more, those big hazel eyes glancing at you from under his full, coal black lashes.

“Is that so?”  A squeeze to your thigh, and you jolt just the tiniest bit, to Sam’s great amusement.

“My place is right around the corner.”  You explain with a shrug, that damn lip caught between your teeth again. And suddenly in the dark, empty bar, you don’t care if you are damning yourself to hell.  As long as it’s at the hands of Sam Winchester, you’ll go willingly.

—————

The wall of your entryway meets your back sharply, a hiss of pain escaping you momentarily before it’s silenced by Sam’s eager lips.

Hurried hands rid you of your clothes, his own falling like breadcrumbs alongside yours until the two of you are falling on to the bed.  Fingers skilled at far more than knife-wielding ghost up your thighs, featherlight touches leaving a fire under your skin.  He’s slow in his undoing of you.  Reverent even.  Watches the way you keen beneath him, begging for his fingers.  Holds your eyes as he drags those fingers through his lips before trailing the wet tips down your front. When he finally gives them to you, one long digit sliding right up to the knuckle, your teeth break the skin of your lip just enough to hurt and you’re gasping - begging for more - which he gives to you, gladly. Working you until you’re ready for him and at the precipice of falling over the edge.

He had looked good in his clothes, sure, but god damn he’s ten times more beautiful out of them.  Infinite smooth, golden skin lays beneath your greedy fingers, a dusting of fine hair contouring the plane of his chest and down below his waistband.  Your mouth waters and you tug impatiently at his jeans.

“Someone’s eager.”  He chuckles, low and husky, standing to drop both pants and boxers.  Oh.  Good God.

“Oh, you have no idea.”  You only break your eyes away to grab a condom before you shove him on his back and straddle those strong thighs.  "I've been wanting to get your clothes off since the second I laid eyes on you."

"Trust me," he breathes - no, borderline growls - and you shutter, walls fluttering at how fucking empty you are and just how fucking bad you need him inside of you right now.  "The feeling's mutual."

He’s big all over, just like you expected, and even rolling the latex over his thick shaft has you shivering in anticipation.  The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the gigantic man beneath you and before you can react, he’s rolling his hips with a moan that takes your breath away.  It takes immense focus to speak through your gasp.

“Don’t finish this before it’s even started, Winchester.”  He laughs at your warning, fingers digging into your thighs and ass.  Oh, this man is going to wreck you, you just know it.

“You have so little faith in me?”  A quip lies on your tongue, something about having no faith at all, but that melts into a strangled moan the second his fat head presses past your opening.  “Oh, Christ.”  He hisses, teeth clenched and head thrown back in unadulterated pleasure at the feel of you, your hips rolling slowly as you try your best to take the overwhelming size of him.  Your fingers digging into supple pecs does nothing to ebb the overwhelming feeling of Sam spearing you open.

“Leave him outta this.”  You quip, sinking down the rest of the way - finally.  You both shiver at the feeling of him fully seated in you before you start rocking against him.

Not much else is said - not much else needed to be said - as the two of you chase relief and distraction in each other.

The stretch burns in the best way and you realize you're going to be feeling this for days.  Every step, every shift is going to take you right back here - your hands splayed out on sculpted pecs, Sam's angelic and angular face contorted in ecstasy as he does his best to keep his eyes open and watch you ride him for everything he's worth.  Those big hazel eyes blink up at you, fluttering and rolling at a particularly deep stroke before they're suddenly open - fiery and determined.  There's no time to even tease or question before he's pistoning up into you, his marble body rubbing yours in such a way that has you gasping for air, his massive hands splayed over your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you. Sloppy thrusts turn to rocking hips and the new angle has your toes curling.

His cock grazes just the right spot with every rock of his hips, both of you whispering moans and groans of the other’s name.  You do your best to keep up, rolling your tired hips when you can, nails biting into his skin when you have to focus solely on not imploding right where you are.

Your orgasm crests, and you beg him to go faster - to take control - and he does, practically throwing you onto your back to angle you the exact way he wants to.  The height difference is dizzying - even with you on your back and him on his haunches - all you can see while he hammers into you is the brand on his chest.  You itch to bite into the ink, to make him mewl against your skin once more but all rational thought flies out the window when his thumb reaches between your splayed legs, presses in tight, dizzying circles, and sends you spiraling into oblivion as aftershock after aftershock rocks your nerves.

In the aftermath of it all - after you’ve seen white from the intense pleasure he milked out of you - you lie in a daze.  Memorizing the way his hands feel as he wipes some of his spend off your chest.  Jesus, the sounds that man had made when he came...you have half a mind to tie him down and never let him leave - your sister's 'orders' be damned.

“It’s past curfew, y'know?”  You remind him, fingers tracing the divots and curves of his abdomen.  God, he’s perfect.  You could spend hours memorizing every inch of skin.   Pity said skin disappears behind thick flannel once more.  You bite back a disappointed groan, casting your eyes over his massive stature.  You don't think you'll ever get over just how small he makes you feel - in the best possible way, of course.  Especially when he flashes that perfect fucking smile at you, dimples and all.

“Yeah?  What about it?”  He urges, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips as he dares you to ask him to stay.  You sit up on your knees then, leveling yourself with his chest and drag your fingers down once more.  "Something you want to say, Y/N?"  If possible, his grin grows wider when you crook an eyebrow at him, beckoning him to your level with a come hither finger to match.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask you to stay, Sam Winchester,"  you whisper, lips ghosting over his own and you take great pride in the way his sinfully long lashes flutter against the tops of his sharp cheeks.   "You can keep waiting.”  The low groan that escapes his throat when you cup him once more makes you ache in the absolute best way.  You're seconds away from throwing your pride to the wind and pulling him back into bed with you.  But this is the end of the world after all.  No doubt he has other pressing matters to attend to.

“Yeah, well, as much as I would love to…I should get back before Dean gets worried.”  Disappointment laces his words, but you’re both too grown-up for any fairytale crap.  Your life felt like more a horror lately than a fantasy, anyway.  So, with incredibly gentle fingers, he pulls your hand toward his lips, grazing them over your knuckles as his eyes bore into yours.  Hmm, he plays dirty.

“Yeah…my dad’s probably expecting me at the church.”  You offer lamely, though there's probably some truth to it.  Not one night goes by without a demon attack or a vision from the chosen sister.  You're surprised you haven't been interrupted by a frantic call from your father already, as a matter a fact.  He smiles at you again, your heart running rampant as he's tossing the towel down to wrap his arms around your waist once more.  The look in his eyes and the hardness pressing into your belly are tempting enough, but you manage to grit out a warning "Sam..."

“And here you are, sinning with the outsider.”  He rumbles, smirking as his eyes drink in your face for - most likely - the last time.  You return his smile, reeling him in for one last kiss...or twelve.

“Yeah, well, if I’m going to hell anyway, may as well make the road there fun.”

If only you knew the literal hell that awaited you in the next few hours…

FIN

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Better Late Than Never

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: thinking your dad hates you, getting tortured (mild), minor fluff at the end

Request by anon: Hey can i request a one shot where Sam find out he have a daughter (reader) that is really powerful because her mother is a powerful witch that was possessed by Angel and Demon and he take her with them with happy ending? The reader is 15 or 16

Summary: Sam's world is turned upside down when you're left on his doorstep with only a note. He hates you for what your mother did to him. Will he change his mind about you before he loses for good?

Square Filled: prince of hell (2020) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

x

The air whips around the woman, causing her hair to hit her face. It’s a cold night in Lebanon, but she isn’t going to be staying much longer. The only thing on her mind is Sam Winchester and getting the hell out of Dodge. It’s been years since she’s been back at the Bunker and she vows this will be the last time. She gets out of her car and slings her long velvet cape with a hood over her body to protect her from the harsh winds.

She opens the back seat and grabs the small child who is fussing in the basket. She looks both ways before crossing the street to the Bunker even though she knows no one is coming this way. The only people who come this way are people who live here and people with a vendetta.

She walks down the stone steps to the front door and places the small child on the ground with a hand-written note attached to the blanket. Without thinking, she leaves the child there and disappears into the night. She will never be back at this bunker again, and she will never think about the man known only as Sam Winchester.

“Alright, I’m going on a beer run,” Dean declares and slams his book shut.

“It’s almost ten at night.”

“And?”

Dean grabs his jacket and keys before heading up the metal staircase to the front door. He opens it not expecting to hear a child cry. He looks around in confusion before noticing the small human at his feet. He reaches down and grabs the note with Sam’s name on the front.

“Uh, Sam?”

“What?”

“You might want to see this.” Dean picks the entire basket up just as Sam walks into the war room. “I think she’s for you.”

“She?” 

Dean walks down the stairs and sets the crying child on the war desk. Sam’s eyes bug out of his head as soon as sees the child, and Dean hands him the note for him.

Sam,  I’m sorry to have to do this to you like this, but I am unable to care for her. Her name is Y/N and she is your daughter. It’s up to you to keep her safe.

“What’s it say?” Dean asks.

There is a look of anger and shock written across Sam’s face. There is only one person he can think of who would do this to him, and he hasn’t thought of her in almost a year.

“Her name and the fact that I now have to care for her. Apparently, she’s my daughter.”

“Do you think that chick did this? You know, the one you had a few hookups with?”

“Has to be.”

Sam doesn’t have to say he doesn’t want a child; it’s written all over his face. Sam might have to care for you now, but he’s not going to be happy about it.

Your life is not going to be an easy one, especially when you have a dad who never wanted you in the first place. As soon as you were able to talk, you knew your dad never wanted you. Dean has always been a loving uncle but Sam has always been distant. Sam and Dean wanted to do something with the open field next to the Bunker, so they decided to have a little garden where Sam could garden peacefully while Dean worked on his car in the Bunker. Now that they have a child, Dean set up a small swing set for you to play while Sam did that. You run outside once Sam opens the door, and you jump onto the swing happily.

“Daddy, push!”

“No, I’m busy.”

You frown and kick your little legs to try and get some traction to swing. At eight years old, Sam put you into a school close to the Bunker so you could walk to and from the school despite Dean telling him how dangerous that is. You’ve just started the third grade, and you’re walking home from school with a drawing you made in art class. Dean is cooking in the kitchen when you arrive, and you smile up at him.

“Here, kiddo. Try this.”

Dean blows on the food before offering it to you, and you gobble it with a smile.

“Amazing, as always, Uncle Dean. Where’s Dad?”

“In the library, but--”

You’re already running into the library to show him what you made in class.

“Daddy! Look what I made in class!”

Sam is sitting at one of the library tables with his laptop in front of him, typing furiously.

“Go show Dean. I’m busy right now.”

Your shoulders sag sadly but you turn around and leave nonetheless. At age eleven, you had made a big group of friends at school who loved going out whether their parents said they could or not. They live down the street from you, so you didn’t think it was a big deal to sneak out and hang out with them. It was only for a few hours, but when you got home, your dad was waiting there with an angry look on his face. Dean is sitting in the background with a drink in his hand to try and be the peacemaker for whatever your dad is going to say to you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Sam,” Dean sighs.

“No, she knows damn well not to sneak out of here.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to hang out with my friends. You know, the ones down the street.”

“That’s no excuse! What if a monster were to take you? What then? You’re grounded for two weeks. Nothing but school and back. No phone, no friends.”

It’s his tone and his voice getting louder that makes you want to cry. Dean can see you trying your hardest not to cry, but you refuse to let them fall.

“Sam, take a walk,” Dean says.

“No, I’ll go. I’m sorry,” you whisper and run off to your room.

“Don’t give me that look,” Sam sighs.

“Sam, she’s a kid. She’s your kid. You’re being kind of harsh.”

“How about when you have a child, you can tell me how to parent. Until then, back off.”

You’re fifteen now and your life has been nothing but hard. It’s clear Sam doesn’t want you and will never want you, and he refuses to talk about your mother. You’re pretty sure he hates you but there is nothing you can do about that. Just three more years and you can officially move out even though you hate doing that to Uncle Dean. He’s given you some insight into how you came into the world. Your mom dropped you off at the Bunker’s doorstep and left with just a note.

It’s not ideal but you’re here.

Sam and Dean are in the library doing some research on some monster, and you walk in while fiddling with your hands.

“Hey, can I go to the store for some snacks?” Dean looks at his brother before looking at you. “I’ll get you some pie.”

“If it’s okay with your dad,” Dean says and kicks his brother under the table.

“Yeah, fine.” You leave to the garage where your bike is. As soon as you’re gone, Dean smacks his brother in the head. “Ow, what was that for?”

“Fifteen years is a long time to hold a grudge on someone who did nothing to you.”

“I never asked for a kid, Dean, and I certainly didn’t ask for one on my doorstep.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sam gasps and Dean rolls his eyes. “I see all the pictures you have of her in your secret little album. I see everything she brought home in some box in your closet.”

“How many times have I told you to stay out of my room?”

“Stop letting what that woman did to you fifteen years ago affect you, and start loving the kid who is just looking for a family.”

Sam knows he’s being unreasonable. He loves you dearly but he’s letting what that woman did stop him from ever pursuing a real relationship with you. You can’t wait to get the hell out of the Bunker and get away from the man who hates you. The store isn’t far from the Bunker, and instead of peddling home quickly after buying your snacks and pie, you decide to walk your bike back to clear your head.

The road back to the Bunker is always desolate because no one has any business being on it, but you slow down when you hear a car’s engine behind you. You step off the road to give them room to pass you even though the entire road is free. However, they don’t pass by you. Instead, they creep up behind you slowly. This is the first time in fifteen years you feel your life is in danger on this road.

You get on your bike to pedal away but the car revs the engine and speeds up so they are blocking your way. Forget the bike. You let it crash to the ground and start running but whoever is in the back seat jumps out and captures you easily. They knock you out before you have a chance to scream for help.

What should have been a half-hour ride to and from the store turns into two hours. Sam is starting to get worried but he and Dean have taught you how to fight and defend yourself if you were to get into a bad situation. Those two hours turn into four, and Sam is officially growing gray hairs just worrying about you. Just as he’s about to go out there looking for you, his phone rings.

“Is that her?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, thank God.” Sam answers his phone very quickly. “Where are you? Did you get lost?”

A dark chuckle comes from the other end, and every hair stands up on Sam’s body. This isn’t you. If it isn’t you, then who the hell is it, and why do they have your phone?

“I never knew a Winchester could possess someone so powerful.”

Asmodeus’ chilling voice sends Sam and Dean into a panic.

“Why the hell do you have my daughter’s phone?”

“The question is how could you not know you were harboring someone so powerful? Power seeps out of her like she is overflowing. It tastes… divine. All she needed was a little nudge for her powers to come out.”

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Sam growls.

“Been there done that,” Asmodeus yawns. “If you want the rest of her alive, then you’ll bring Jack. You know where I am.”

“Don’t bother,” you say. Sam perks up at the sound of your voice even if it’s far away. “He hates me. He won’t come.”

That breaks his heart to hear his daughter say that. He doesn’t want you dying thinking he hates you. He doesn’t want you dying period. Asmodeus hangs up shortly after, and it’s taking everything in Sam not to throw his phone across the room.

“We need a game plan. Why does he want Jack?”

“Who the hell knows? We need to come up with something.”

“The only one who can overpower him is an Archangel. The only one left is Gabriel.”

Sam and Dean rush to the bedroom where Gabriel is. He hasn’t said a lot of words since escaping Asmodeus’ clutches. He’s still scared out of his mind by what the demon did to him.

“Hey, sack up, Gabriel. We need you,” Dean puts it bluntly.

“Gabriel, we need you right now. Asmodeus has my daughter. He’s asking for Jack but there is no way in Hell we’re giving him up. You’re the only one who can go up against him.”

“I can’t,” Gabriel whispers painfully.

Sam walks over to him and kneels in front of him so Gabriel doesn’t have to look up at him.

“My daughter is in danger because of me. I can’t even begin to think about what he is doing to her. The only way I’m going to get her back is if you help us. I know what he did to you but you have a chance to stand up to him and take back what he stole.”

Gabriel is sick and tired of always hiding in shame for what Asmodeus did to him, and this is his chance to get revenge, to say the least. He’s terrified but he knows he has to do this.

“Okay,” he whispers.

Now that they have Gabriel on board, they just need to execute the plan. Sam and Dean know where Asmodeus is hiding, which isn't far from the Bunker. if it only took four hours for you to get captured and taken to his place, then they can make it there in three.

Whatever Asmodeus did to you makes you feel tired mentally, emotionally, and physically. He didn’t even have to touch you to make you feel this way. The binds on your hands are cutting into your wrists so you try to wiggle to loosen them, and Asmodeus looks over at you from his chair.

“I don’t have powers. I don’t know where you’re getting that. I’m not an angel or a demon or a witch. I’m nothing.”

Asmodeus gets up and grabs one of his very shiny and sharp knives. You back up in fear of what he is going to do to you but you don’t get far. He slashes your leg with the knife and you cry out in pain.

“Look.” You look at your wound to see the blood seep out in waves. In a few seconds, the wound starts to close magically. The wound is no longer there but the pain is, and you glare at him with tears in your eyes. “You’re more powerful than you can imagine. I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.” There is a noise coming from the other side of the room and the demon smirks knowingly. “Daddy’s here.”

He turns and sees Sam and Dean with their usual gear even though it will do nothing to Asmodeus.

“Give me my daughter back. I won’t ask twice,” Sam glares.

You’re shocked to hear him speak of you like this. Doesn’t he hate you?

“Do you have something for me? Or someone?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Sam and Dean step off to the side to allow Gabriel to walk in. He’s still scared of the demon and is in tatted clothing, but he’s more powerful than Asmodeus even on his worst day.

“Yeah, been there done that. Where’s Jack?”

“Nowhere near you.”

Asmodeus sticks his hand out to you, and your entire body jerks forward under his command. Power you never knew was inside you starts to mist out and fly straight to Asmodeus’ hand. If you thought the knife was painful, then this is a blinding white pain.

“Dad! Help me!” you cry out in pain.

“Gabriel, now!” Sam yells.

The angel musters up all of his powers and blasts the demon back, severing the connection between you and him. You slump down to the ground tiredly as Asmodeus gets up for a fight.

“I don’t think so,” Gabriel glares.

He snaps his fingers and Asmodeus goes up in flames. Whatever Gabriel is doing to him, it’s killing him until the demon is only ashes on the ground. As soon as the demon isn’t an obstacle, Sam runs over to you.

“Dad?” you cry.

“I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

“I thought you weren't gonna come.”

“I’ll always come for you,” he says truthfully and unties you. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry for the last fifteen years.”

“I’m sorry for the way I came into your life,” you cry.

“No, don’t be sorry about that. I’m sorry for how I dealt with it. Come on, let’s go home.”

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[happilyfeatherafter]

Dean’s VOs in The Winchesters (season one!)

(LISTEN ALONG WITH AUDIO HERE)

Dean episode 1: 

( Ten Years After's "I'd Love to Change the World" ) ♪ ♪ 

March 23, 1972. The day Dad came home from the war, and the day he met Mom. Now I know this story might sound familiar, but I'm gonna put the pieces together in a way that just might surprise you. And in order to do that, I have to start all the way at the beginning. 

[END OF EPISODE]

What they didn't know is that the Akrida weren't just a threat to Earth, but to all of existence. Now, like I told you, there's gonna be some surprises. Hell, I'm still trying to find all the puzzle pieces myself. But I'll explain everything. And until then, I'll keep picking the music. 

♪ ♪ Spread them wide ♪ ♪ Rich or poor ♪ ♪ Them and us ♪ ♪ Stop the war ♪ 

Dean episode 2: 

( punchy, percussive music ) ♪ ♪  The ties that bind a family together can be complicated. Parents raise you, teach you what's right and wrong, and in some instances, how to kill monsters. But no matter who you are, there comes a time when you have to break from them and make your own way. And if you're not careful, things can get pretty ugly. 

Dean episode 3: 

( dramatic music ) ♪ ♪ ( screams ) ( sizzling ) ( growling )  There's no map to being a hunter. No playbook. You gotta follow your gut. But that can only take you so far. Truth is, you can't do it all on your own. You need other people to help guide the way... Your friends, your family. Otherwise you just end up lost. 

Dean episode 4: 

( eerie music ) ♪ ♪  Fighting the battle between good and evil isn't easy, especially when the first monster you have to face is the one inside yourself. ( soft dramatic music ) 

Dean episode 5: 

( dramatic music ) ♪ ♪ Spending a lifetime of hunting monsters takes its toll. There comes the time when you gotta let out that pain inside you. If you don't, it'll eat you alive. 

Dean episode 6: 

(Lata) I am centered. I am at peace. I create my own path, and I walk in it fearlessly. (end Lata)

Hunting has a way of changing a person. After a while, right, wrong, good, evil, they all start to look the same. And then it makes you start to wonder, "Who's really the monster here--them or me?" 

[END OF EPISODE]

Hunting's not for everyone. You have to be strong, stay sharp, make tough decisions, and it's not easy, But then again, the righteous things never are. 

Dean episode 7: 

( birds chirping ) Comes a time in every hunt when the fightin' starts. And the difference between winning and losing isn't whether you have the holy water, the wooden stake, or the silver bullet. It's whether you've got the grit to get the job done. (Mary on radio)

Dean episode 8:

(John Moran’s “Rebel”) ♪ ♪ Being a hunter, it means living a life of sacrifice-- not a lot of room for dreams. But you open your heart and get a little lucky, you'll find you gain more than you lose. ♪ ♪

Dean episode 9:

( mellow bluesy music ) ♪ ♪ This isn't how I saw things going when I pushed over that first domino. Thing is, I've had more than a few dances with free will and fate, but as my dad used to say, "Fate is what you make it."

Dean episode 10:

Hunting and happy endings don't usually mix, so when you get your chance, you got to ask yourself, "How far will I go to get it?"

Dean episode 11:

Being a Hunter means always being on the move, No matter how hard you plan, no matter how hard you work, at a certain point, we all run out of road. It's what we do with those crossroads that defines us.

Dean episode 12:

♪ ♪ ( carnival music resumes ) ♪ ♪ ( giggling manically ) ♪ ♪ ( shrill giggling ) ( whispering voices ) ( strange sounds ) 🤡🤡🤡

Hunting's a dishonest business. You gotta lie all the time about who you are and what you do. But the hardest lies aren't the ones you tell other people. They're the ones you tell yourself.

(Mary to John) Another day looking for this mystery man and still nothing. It's like this guy's a ghost. (End Mary to John).

Dean episode 13:

*RECORD SCRATCH* HE’S HERE!!!!! We’re going in universe baby.

(Opening scene, dramatic music ) ♪ ♪ 

Dean: John Winchester. 

John: Sir, can I help you? 

Dean: This is for you. 

John: Where did you get this? Who are--  [...] One ticket for Lawrence, Kansas. 

Ticket lady: Okay.

BOBBY, IT’S FREAKIN’ BOBBY!!!: We're not supposed to meddle with things, ya idjit!

Dean: You always said if I was gonna be stupid, I might as well be smart about it. 

Bobby: Yeah, that does sound about like me. We're not even supposed to be here. 

Dean: Come on, the letter was meant for him. I just, uh, you know, gave it a nudge. 

Bobby: You keep an eye on things here. I'm gonna get the damn cavalry. 

Dean: How you gonna do that? 

Bobby: I got no freaking idea. One last hunt, huh? 

Dean: One last hunt. ♪ ♪

[Insert finale including lots of chat about the ‘ruggedly handsome' mystery man here. For Akrida!Queen exposition science: You're here to talk about the man with no name...he was digging around in things that should have stayed buried. ... The Akrida. You see, our mysterious friend isn't from around here. There's only so much he could do. His hands were tied. Credit where it's due... he did manage to stay ahead of me for a while, but... I can assure you that he's not going to be a problem anymore. ... Well, there's this portal. You see--I'm sure you've heard of it. It's not quite up to code yet, but I managed to pry it open just enough to toss a certain someone and his car into it. No human can survive that gateway, so his body will be torn to shreds for centuries. Anyway, this, um... this old journal... it's all that's left of him.]

Back to the end of the show:

( electricity crackling ) ( engine revving ) ( engine revving ) ( dramatic music )  ♪ ♪ 

John: Mary! ... How did you guys survive? 

Dean (gestures at Baby): She kept Mary safe... me too. Of course, there's not a lot that can tear me apart. I'm already dead. I was stuck in the world between worlds, so I stayed close to that portal, and as soon as I saw baby come through, I hopped in and grabbed the wheel. 

Samuel: So who are you? 

Dean: I'm a Hunter, just like you. But I'm not from this Earth. 

Ada: And how did you get here? 

Dean: When I died, I made it to heaven. And she was waiting for me. So I went for a drive, and then I took a little detour. 

Latika: Through the multiverse. (Dean points ‘bingo’.)

Carlos: S-so what were you looking for? 

Dean: That's a good question, Carlos. I was looking for my family. See, I come from a long line of Hunters. I guess I was hoping that somewhere out there was an Earth that had a version where my family had a shot at a happy ending. When I was driving, I caught wind of the Akrida. Turns out that they were one of Chuck's last creations. 

Millie: Who's Chuck? 

Dean: God. It's a long story, but, uh... basically, he's a real dick. He left the Akrida behind to wipe out all of existence in case he failed. Well... he failed. Eventually the Akrida were going to make their way to my world, and I got family there, so I couldn't let that happen. 

John: T-the letter, why did you-- 

Dean: I took my little detour. The rules were simple. Don't mess with anything. Well... I gave it a little nudge. Thought it might need a little help. Looks like it worked out pretty well. So now that the Akrida are gone, you all can choose your own destiny. You can write your own story. 

Jack: And you can get back to yours. 

Dean: It's all right. It's all right. They're--they're with me. This is Bobby. That's Jack. They're family. Excuse me. You okay? 

Bobby: I told you I'd figure it out. Didn't say I wouldn't get us in more trouble. Look at 'em. Man, this is all kinds of weird... seeing Samuel with a full head of hair. 

Dean: Right? ( chuckles )

Jack (~~or is he?~~): Dean. 

Dean: Yeah. No, I know. I know, Jack. 

Jack: When I restored things, I wanted mankind to make their own fate. That meant no interference from on high, anywhere... no exceptions. 

Dean: I couldn't let our world get destroyed. Sam's still down there, okay? He deserves a good, long life. Hell, they all do. ( indistinct chatter ) So, if you want to cast me out of heaven... so be it. 

Bobby: If we're taking a vote, I'd say you give the guy another chance. 

Jack: There's always another case with you Hunters... even in death. Well... if you're going to meddle in things, finish what you started. After this... it's time to get around to the... "there'll be peace when you are done"... part of the song.

Dean to John: Listen, um... b-before I go... I want to give you two something. My dad... he, uh... Kept a Hunter's journal, looked just like this. I lived my whole life by that damn thing. Well, this is my Hunter's journal. So if you're gonna stay in this game... This will help guide you through it. 

John: Thank you. 

Dean to Mary: I know you're thinking about quitting Hunting. Believe me, I understand. But you need to do me one favor. Keep an eye out for a yellow-eyed demon. And if you even catch a hint of that son of a bitch... I need you to use this. 

Mary: Your family... did you ever find a version where they had a shot of a happy ending? 

Dean: I think I did. 

John: You never told us your name. 

Dean: Hetfield... James Hetfield. (Hetfield is the lead vocalist, rhythm guitarist, co-founder, and a primary songwriter of heavy metal band Metallica.)

( Nick Drake's "One of These Things First" ) ♪ ♪ (Dean, Bobby and Jack vanish with baby). 

Transcripts from: https://tvshowtranscripts.ourboard.org/viewforum.php?f=1550

[scoobydoodean]

the way bronlies are so obsessed that they’ve just become sam in the way they don’t like/won’t allow dean to have other friends 😭

it’s crazy to me, especially for a question whose different answers are both true to an extent bc your definition of “knowing somebody” is totally subjective!

lol that said, i am curious, soo… who do you think knows dean best, sam or cas? somebody else? do you think it changes over the seasons?

One of my friends was just saying that about bronlies and Sam sjhbfhsdhjf. Truly tho they're more insufferable than Sam's ever been. Bronlies are every spoiled child antagonist in every children's book. The Veruca Salt's of fandom. Miserable little cry baby brats screaming throwing tantrums trying to hit everyone with their baby rattlers... over Supernatural (2005) POLLS.

Their indignantion at that poll is pretty hilarious, because Sam doesn't start out the series actually knowing who Dean is at all. He thinks he knows who Dean is, but he doesn't, and this is illustrated to us over a dozen times in season 1. I do think Sam grows to understand who Dean is better over time, but he still sucks at understanding Dean for the vast majority of the series, because in many ways, he doesn't actually care to stop and think and study who Dean is and ask himself whether he actually knows him. He prefers an image he's made up in his head of who Dean is instead—an image that comforts him or bolsters his own self-image in some way. Dean is smart when Sam wants him to be smart and stupid when Sam needs to feel smarter (1.10, 1.16, 4.12, 8.14). Dean is strong when Sam wants him to be strong and weak when Sam needs to feel like the strongest person around (4.10, 4.11, 4.14, 4.16, 4.20, 4.21). Dean isn't opening up enough (2.02, 2.03, 2.04), then Dean is too emotional and soft and needs to get over it (2.10, 2.11, 2.14, 4.14, 4.16). Dean is a protector and nurturer who is failing to nurture and/or protect Sam adequately (3.09, 4.04, 8.23), then Dean is smothering (5.07, 8.20).

Basically, because Sam spends so much time trying to force Dean to fit into the shape he wants Dean to fit into, instead of actually trying to understand who Dean is, he often (unknowingly in some cases) completely lacks insight into who Dean actually is, and I'd say while he gets better at recognizing this, and better at understanding who Dean really is over time, surrounding certain subjects (especially things like grief), this refusal to see the actual real Dean continues through the entire run of the show (ex: 13.04).

I guess the question is then... is Cas actually better at understanding Dean than Sam is? And for me? Honestly I think it's a wash. I don't actually think either of them is Mr Amazing Perfect Dean Understander to be quite honest with you. I mean—practically Dean and Cas's entire schtick is perpetual misunderstandings bolstered by their own insecurities? They understand the important parts like that they each have good intentions and are good hearted, but I don't think Cas ever really understood how their repeated cycle of conflict made Dean feel. I don't think he ever understood how deeply entwined Dean's well-being became with his own, to the point that Dean was Not Fucking Okay when Cas was dead. I think Cas had a leg up in getting genuine insights into Dean's feelings straight from Dean for a long time because of the childhood dynamics and previous events that have made using Sam as a confidant uncomfortable and/or unsafe for Dean (2.03, 2.11, 4.14, 4.21, 5.01, 5.02, 5.03). I think Cas also understands Dean’s feelings more than he lets on and often acts on his perceptions of Dean's feelings without communicating those perecptions to anyone (and sometimes he's right... but sometimes he's also very VERY wrong).

We get a sort of back and forth with Sam and Cas understanding or not understanding different aspects of Dean's feelings or behavior. Think about "Nihilism" for example, when Sam and Cas walk through the darkness of Dean's mind, and Cas is shocked by the amount of trauma in Dean's mind and Sam just says, "Well. Yeah." But then compare that with 10.03 "Soul Survivor" where Cas was able to explain to Sam why demon Dean didn't want to be cured no matter how much blood they gave him. Sam didn't understand, but Cas understood Dean's perspective immediately (and that entire episode was a scathing commentary on Sam's lack of insight into Dean tbqh).

All of that said, I think I did vote in that poll and I picked Cas, and I would do it again. :) In fact, I will vote against Sam in any moment of uncertainty in any poll I see going forward, because bronlies are pathetic cry baby brats victimizing themselves 24/7 over Tumblr polls and can get fucked.

[supernaturalscribe67]

The Secrets We (Don't) Keep

Words: 7,314

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Mention of John Winchester, Mention of Childhood Abuse, Awkward Moments

Summary: After finding out that his brothers, Sam and Dean, read the first entry of his journal, the reader decides to take a rather creative approach to his payback.

Request:

i’d love to see you continue with that winchester brother reader! or something similar? your writing is very comfortable to read :)

@stklett

@xdark-acadamiax - (Tagged because I saw how much you loved this idea!)

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoy this next part! I can honestly admit some parts make me laugh so I hope they make you guys laugh as well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

OCTOBER 2014

I don’t know why I thought I was going to be able to keep this journal private. I guess my expectations were too high. How dare I assume that Sam and Dean would respect my privacy? Of course, they wouldn’t. How dare I presume that hiding this thing between my mattress and boxspring would be a good idea? I mean, who in their right mind would hide something there? Everyone looks between their brother’s boxspring and mattress!

Silly me.

But, since I found out my brothers decided to read through my first entry (and ultimately vandalize my journal), I have done some brainstorming. Brainstorming ways that I can get back at them. I've considered the classic pranks to start with; itching powder in their underwear, hair dye in their shampoo, Nair in their body wash, or even putting laxatives in their coffee. All of these pranks have been used by all three of us multiple times. Even with some thinking, I’m still unable to come up with a prank that I feel would be good enough to teach them a lesson. 

So, I’ve come up with the next best thing. 

In this entry, I’m going to be writing down some of Sam and Dean’s embarrassing moments. 

Throughout our decades of life, all three of us have had our fair share of shameful moments, but the instances that I am thinking of are ones that I like to bring up from time to time. Each time I mention them, I get an eye roll from Dean and one of Sam’s classic bitch faces. It’s always so satisfying to get that kind of reaction from them. 

It would only be fitting to see what kind of reaction I get when they eventually read this entry. 

JUNE 1989

Everyone has their fears. Some people’s fears are more valid than others. Sam has a fear of clowns, I have a fear of needles, and Dean has a fear of planes. I can understand Sam’s fear of clowns - Plucky Pennywhistle's always made me uneasy when I was a kid - and, as far as my fear of needles, have you seen some of the needles that doctors use on patients? They’re HUGE! No thanks. 

What a lot of people don’t know about my older brother, however, is that he didn’t just suddenly have a fear of planes. He didn’t wake up one morning and discover that he didn’t like flying. Sam’s fear of clowns developed from our times at Plucky Pennywhistle’s, my fear of needles stemmed from an unprofessional doctor (who shouldn’t practice medicine anymore, in my opinion) from my second round of childhood vaccinations, and Dean’s fear of flying…well…

Dean used to be afraid of heights. 

I say ‘used’ to be because, if he still has that fear, he does a really good job at hiding it. We’ve gone to some pretty high places on our hunts, and, from what I noticed, it never seemed to bother him. He could always be masking it well enough, which is possibly the case. Then again, he could have learned to deal with the fear and forget about it completely. Lucky him. 

But, when Dean was younger, that was one thing that he was never good at doing - masking his emotions - especially when the three of us were by ourselves. When it was just us three, Dean felt like he could express how he truly felt about anything and we would keep it just between us. It was a little 'brother code' that we had going. Whatever was said between us was kept between us. Kind of like Vegas, in a way. 

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I’ve always wanted to visit Vegas. 

Stay on topic, (Y/N).

For most of our young childhood, we spent half the time traveling with our father, and the other half at Bobby’s. I always loved going to Bobby’s house. It felt like a home. To me, it was always my home growing up, even if I wasn’t there all the time. Even though we stopped going there as often when we got older, it was still the place that I would technically consider my home. We had the most fun there. We felt like we could be kids for once. Like we didn’t need to worry about the things that went bump in the night anymore. 

I loved Bobby’s house. 

We were there during summer vacation, which was somewhat of a common occurrence when we were younger. Sam, Dean, and I always found things to do while we were there, and playing throughout the maze of cars in Bobby’s junkyard wasn’t unusual. Normally, we would play hide-and-seek, tag, have races, or some stupid war games that we would come up with. 

That day, however, we discovered a new stack of cars, about six cars high in total, that we had not previously known about near the far backside of the property. We would have usually stayed towards the front, but, that day, we decided to roam around. Dean had the expert idea to see who could climb the highest. Sammy went first, climbing on top of the first car with some help before he got nervous and backed down. I managed to make it up three cars before I decided that I had enough and came back down. Dean, on the other hand, took the challenge a little too seriously. He didn’t waste any time reaching the car that sat on top of the pile. He was so proud of himself. 

It all went downhill after that…

“Ha! I beat you both!” Dean exclaimed as he stood on top of the roof of the car, fists balled up and placed onto his hips in a mock Superman pose. “I’m the King of the Cars!”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Sam pouted as he looked up at Dean, his bottom lip pushed out. 

“I wanna get up there,” he said, letting out a small whine.

“You tried to get up there, Sammy, but you said it was too high.” (Y/N) explained, looking down at him.

Sam hung his head as he kicked a pebble on the ground. Dean still stood on top of the car, waving his arms around. He let out quiet, faint shouts as if mimicking a cheering crowd. Sam pursed his lips ever so slightly.

"I wanna play hide-and-go-seek." 

"It's ‘hide-and-seek’, Sammy." (Y/N) deadpanned. 

"That's what I said." 

"Do you wanna play with just you and me?" 

"No," Sam shook his head and glanced up at his oldest brother, who was still cheering for himself. "I want De to play." 

(Y/N) gave a short nod before he turned to his older brother as well. He reached up and cupped his hands to the side of his lips. "Hey, idiot! Sammy and I wanna play hide-and-seek! Get down here so we can go play!" He called up to Dean. 

"You guys are just jealous because I could climb up to the top!" 

“No one’s jealous of you, Dean! We just want to play! Come on!” (Y/N) let out a groan as he placed his hands on his sides. 

Dean scoffed and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He mumbled as he walked closer to the edge of the car. 

As Dean gazed down at the ground below, he froze. His eyes went wide and his legs and arms tensed. The confident smile that he had once had on his face was now gone, replaced by an uneasy frown. (Y/N) and Sam’s eyes were on him, watching him intently, waiting. After a minute or so of Dean standing there, not moving, (Y/N) shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth again. 

“What are you doing?” He called out. 

(Y/N)’s voice caused Dean to jump and turn his gaze towards him. He opened his mouth, attempting to speak. 

“I-I can’t get down,” Dean said with a shaky tone. 

“What do you mean you ‘can’t get down’?” 

“I can’t get down! I-It’s too high!” 

“You were the one that wanted to get up there!” 

“I know I was, will you just shut up!” Dean’s voice came out cracked and high-pitched. 

(Y/N) closed his mouth and stood there, watching as Dean struggled to get down on his knees. As he attempted to move his leg down towards the trunk of the car, he felt the car shift. (Y/N) and Sam jumped when they heard the metal scrape against the car below. Dean let out a yelp and pulled his leg back. His fists were clenched onto nothing, knuckles a ghostly white color. His face was noticeably red and tears began to form in his eyes. 

“G-Go get Bobby!” Dean called down. 

“You can get down, Dean! You’ll be okay!” 

“No! I’m not okay!” Dean let out a sob. “It’s too high! The car’s going to fall. Go get Bobby,” Dean’s voice was as shaky as his hands were. 

(Y/N) looked down at Sam. “Go get Bobby, Sammy.” 

Sam’s eyes were wide with worry as he nodded slightly. He turned and made a mad dash towards the house. “Bobby! Bobby!” He cried out. 

(Y/N) then turned his attention back to Dean, who seemed like he was seconds away from having a breakdown.

“Dean! You’re going to be okay! Just come down the same way you went up.” 

“N-No!” Dean shook his head rapidly. 

“Quit being a baby!”

“I’m not a baby!” 

“Then why are you crying like one!?” 

“Will you shut up!?” 

(Y/N) stopped talking and let out a huff. Not even a minute later, Sam came running out towards them, Bobby quickly behind him. Bobby ran his fingers through his hair stressfully. 

“What the Hell have you idjits done?” 

It took thirty minutes of coaxing for Dean to be able to climb down two of the cars before Bobby had to make his way towards him and carry him down the rest of the way. Needless to say, Dean wasn’t in the mood to play any type of game with us after that, especially when I began to tease him mercilessly about his crying. I still tease him to this day about it, comparing him to a cat that had been stuck in a tree. Bobby was known as ‘Firefighter Bobby’ for a good month-and-a-half after that. 

We were forbidden from climbing on the cars anymore, which none of us seemed to have a problem with. As for my teasing, I had managed to get in trouble with Bobby once he caught me and was forced to help him organize the study while Sam and Dean went out to play. It wasn’t very fun, at the time, but I had learned a lot more about hunting during that punishment, so some good came out of it. 

To this day, Dean still likes to pretend as if it never happened. Or, if it did happen, then it was either Sam or me that needed to be rescued. Not him. He never needed to be rescued (according to him). Still, Sam and I can remember this vividly. It’s two against one, Dean. 

So much for ‘King of the Cars’.

OCTOBER 1989

Sam was always gullible when he was a kid. He grew out of it in his early teens and became more aware of how deceitful people could be. Before that, however, he was fun to mess with. I’m his big brother, I have a right to mess with him. 

I still do, but it’s not as easy. 

Sam was the type to believe anything that anyone wanted to tell him. Even if it was the most outlandish thing possible. I was able to convince him that unicorns were real and that everyone got one when they turned ten. When he asked Bobby what kind of unicorn he had gotten for his tenth birthday, Bobby told him the truth right then and there. He was so disappointed that he didn’t talk to me for about a week. I felt bad, at least a little bit. But the other part of me thought it was the funniest thing I had ever done to him at the time. 

That was when he was four. 

I still ask him what he wants his unicorn to look like. 

He hasn’t given me a straight answer yet. 

Around the age of six, Sam had started to let his hair grow out. Granted, everyone’s hair was growing out at that point - my father had neglected to get us any type of haircut for a little over six months - but out of all of ours, Sam’s was the longest. Dean had started calling him ‘Samantha’ at some point, which irritated Sam to no end. I decided to take a different approach, however. 

Back then, we knew about monsters. We knew about the different kinds of monsters that our father fought but didn’t know a lot about them. We knew their names, what they looked like, and common signs for each of them. One thing we didn’t know about certain monsters was how people were turned into them. 

So, with this limited knowledge in the back of my head, one dreary fall night, while our father was away on a hunt and Dean was out finding us some food, I decided to play a little…prank, if you will, on Sammy. 

Sam’s eyes were glued to the television screen. A rerun of Alf played that he was completely enamored with. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s eyes were attached to something other than the show. He watched as Sam brushed his long locks out of his face occasionally. Sam tucked some hair behind his ear, but it didn’t stay there long before it fell in his face. His hair was down to his chin by then and (Y/N) had to admit that he was more irritated about the length than Sam was. 

When the show moved to a commercial break, Sam clenched his eyes shut and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced over at (Y/N) and furrowed his brows. 

“What’re you looking at?” 

“That hair,” (Y/N) gestured to the top of his head. 

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong with my hair?” 

“It’s long…too long,” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He reached over and gently grabbed a piece of Sam’s hair before letting it go, allowing the strand to fall against Sam’s chubby cheek. 

“Dad said he was going to get it cut soon.” 

“Yeah, I know, but…it’s not like mine and Dean’s hair. It’s so much longer. It’s kind of like…” (Y/N) pursed his lips as he studied the top of his head. “Werewolf hair. Maybe you’re turning into a werewolf.”

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as he sat up straight and shifted uneasily in his seat. “I-I’m not turning into a werewolf.” 

“I don’t know, it sure seems like it.” 

Sam reached up and hesitantly ran his fingers through his hair. “How…how would I know if I’m turning into a werewolf?” 

“What? You don’t know the signs?” 

Sam shook his head. (Y/N) scoffed. 

“Come on, Sammy! You have to know the classic signs!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he leaned forward, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “The long hair, the way your fingernails curve, the hair between your eyebrows, and your sharp teeth.” 

Sam brought his hands up to his face, his fingers roaming around his features. Quickly, he got off the couch and ran towards the motel bathroom, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall. (Y/N) followed after his brother. He watched as Sam studied himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushed a single finger down his nose, studied the curvature of his fingernails, and bared his teeth. His eyes widened as soon as they landed on his sharp canines. Sam frowned and pushed his bottom lip out. It began to wobble as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes. He turned to (Y/N).

“I-I don’t want to be a werewolf!” He whimpered. 

(Y/N) leaned against the doorframe and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Sammy. It looks like you can’t help it.” 

“B-But,” Sam turned and looked at himself in the mirror for a second before turning back to his brother. “But what if hunters come after me?” 

“Hey!” (Y/N) shook his head as he walked closer to Sam. He placed both of his hands on his shoulders, bending down so that he was at eye level with his little brother. “That is something you never have to worry about. Dean, Dad, and I will protect you.” 

Tears streaked down his red cheeks and he nodded. “Do you think Dad and De know?” 

(Y/N) sighed and pursed his lips, moving his hands off of Sam so that he could place them on his hips. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. They haven’t said anything about it, yet. But, I think you should tell them. That way, they will be able to protect you.” 

“I-I don’t wanna tell them.” 

“Why not?” 

“What if they don’t like me anymore because I’m a werewolf?” 

(Y/N) shook his head and gave a comforting smile. “Sammy, they’re always going to love you, werewolf or not.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Sam glanced down at the ground, his shoulders slumped. (Y/N) could see how much the news had upset his brother. He didn’t want him to be in hysterics by the time Dean got back, so he thought of the next best thing to try and cheer him up. 

“You know, a lot of people think that werewolves are the bad guys,” he began. “But you could be the first-ever werewolf hunter! You could be the one werewolf that protects humans from bad things! Kind of like a…uh…a werewolf superhero!” 

Sam looked up at him and raised his brows, cocking his head to the side. “A werewolf superhero?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Like a…a werewolf Batman?” A smile slowly appeared on Sam’s lips. 

“Just like a werewolf Batman.” 

The worry quickly left Sam’s face as he looked at himself in the mirror. He studied his face once more. “Maybe being a werewolf isn’t so bad,” he shrugged. “Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“Anytime, Sammy,” 

Sam turned and wrapped his arms tightly around (Y/N) in a bone-crushing embrace. “I love you.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. Whether it was from the sentimental words or the devious nature behind them, he wasn’t sure. He wrapped his arms around Sam as well, pulling him close. 

“I love you, too, Sammy.” 

For six months, six whole months, Sam kept the little secret quiet. He would mention it to me from time to time. Ask me questions about lycanthropy in general or question me about whether or not I thought Dean and our Dad knew about it. I would always comfort him, tell him that I didn’t think they knew anything, and we would go about our day-to-day lives. 

Eventually, it got to a point where I was hounding him to tell Dean and Dad about it. Sam was hesitant at first. He was scared about how they would react. I was able to talk him through it, though, and, one night, he sat all of us down so he could tell us. 

The look on Dean and Dad’s faces? 

Pure confusion. 

And I thought it was the funniest thing at the time. 

I had to hold back my laughter as I watched my father deal with Sam and explain that he couldn't be a werewolf if he had not been bitten by one. Sam was in hysterics at that point. He was crying and sobbing and while our father was trying his best to comfort him, I was trying my best to keep it together. At that moment, I patted myself on the back for the longest-lasting prank. 

The celebration didn’t last long. When Sam told our father that I was the one who told him about it, he was furious. I swear, I saw his eyes turn red. I won’t go into too many details about my punishment, but it was one of the worst ones that I got. Even now, I don’t think that it was what I deserved. But it happened, and I can’t necessarily change it. 

I couldn’t sit down for a week. 

The punishment didn’t stop me from teasing Sam about it, but it was quick to make me stop when Sam told me he was going to tell Dad. Now that Dad’s dead, Sam doesn’t have anyone to tattle to. I can say whatever I want. 

Cut that damn hair, Sammy. You look like a werewolf. 

JANUARY 2010

We always had some type of celebration for our birthdays. When we got older, that is. Not all of them necessarily had a cake and presents, but they were celebrations nonetheless whether we acknowledged it or not. Whenever Dean has a birthday, his favorite place to go is at any local bar that we were closest to at the time. Sam and I would switch back and forth on who would be the designated driver so that the other one could celebrate properly with Dean. On Dean’s 31st birthday, I was the designated driver. 

And, man, was I glad I was. 

We were in Colorado after just finishing a hunt. It was a smaller bar near the far northeast corner of the state. It was a little busy, given it was a Sunday, but most of the clientele seemed to consist of regulars who would come in after their nine-to-five. I honestly couldn’t tell you what the theme of the bar was. The decoration scattered on the walls was a mix of historical pieces from the town we were in, rock 'n roll memorabilia, and different pieces from various Colorado sports teams. 

Dean was plastered, and Sam wasn’t too far behind him. It had been a while since I saw the two of them get that drunk, but we were under a lot of stress at the time. I was jealous that I wasn’t the one who was able to get drunk enough to forget, but I figured I would make up for it later. 

The bar began to shut down around one in the morning. The bartender had shouted for 'last call' half an hour before. I knew that I had to get Sam and Dean back to the motel before we got kicked out. It wasn’t that hard to find Sam, he had refused to leave his seat at the table the entire night. Trying to find Dean, on the other hand, reminded me of reading those ‘Where’s Waldo?’ books in the school library when I was younger. 

Let me tell you when I did find him…

Oh boy. 

(Y/N) sighed as he ran a hand down his face. His eyes drooped and he felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. After scouring the entire bar to find his brother for the past thirty minutes, he concluded that he deserved a bed for himself when they got back to the motel. Sam and Dean could share a bed, or sleep on the floor. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get back and go to sleep. 

(Y/N) walked back up to the table that the three brothers had shared. Sam sat in his seat, back slouched over, his head laid on the wooden surface. His mop of hair was brushed carelessly over his face. (Y/N) placed a hand on his back, leaning close to him. 

“Sammy,” he said, his voice low. Sam visibly jumped as he looked up at him with tired, glazed eyes. “Have you seen Dean?” 

“Um…” Sam trailed, voice slurred, and pursed his lips. “Dean…Dean…” Before he could continue, Sam broke into a weak fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “Dean sounds a lot like ‘bean’. He looks like a bean because he’s short.”  

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and patted Sam’s back. “He sure does, buddy. Thanks for the help.” He spoke sarcastically. 

He stood up straight and turned around, his back now facing Sam. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around the almost empty bar. There were still a couple of regulars scattered around here and there, but most of them were clearing out. No sign of Dean, though. (Y/N) had to wonder how his brother could get lost in such a small place, but Dean had managed to do the impossible. Again. 

In front of him, (Y/N) could see the bartender from earlier. She had walked around the small U-shaped bar and was making her way towards him. Before she could get closer, (Y/N) shook his head. He held his hands up slightly. 

“I know you made 'last call' a while ago, and I’m sorry for staying, ma’am. I’m just trying to find my idiot brother.” He said with an apologetic tone. 

“Well, that was actually why I was coming over here.” She said and placed her hands on her hips. “There’s some guy in the back and I was wondering if he belonged to you.” 

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched as he let out a sigh. “I am so sorry. I’ll pay for anything he broke or stole.” 

“No, he didn’t break or steal anything. He’s doing…something else.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as an uneasy feeling began to make its way to his stomach. “What is he doing?” 

She gestured back towards the bar. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Hesitantly, he gave a nod and followed the bartender. She took him around the bar and to the back. Past the saloon-style swinging doors, a couple of feet into the supply room, (Y/N) came face to face with a sight he would never be able to forget. 

Dean leaned against one of the many metal shelves. Even with something to lean on, his body swayed back and forth, indicating just how intoxicated he was. A goofy grin was present on his red face. One hand was balled into a fist and placed on his hip while the other one hung casually off of the shelf he leaned on. Beside him stood a mannequin, clad in an aged Colorado Rockies uniform paired with a baseball cap featuring the same team’s logo. (Y/N)’s jaw dropped. 

Dean was flirting with a mannequin. 

The bartender smirked. “He’s been back here for the last hour. I was going to kick him out, but I listened to how sweet he was being to Manny and I felt bad for him, so I just let him stay.” She nodded and leaned against the door, propping it open. 

“Manny?” (Y/N) questioned, not taking his eyes off of his brother. 

“Yeah. Manny the Mannequin. It’s this damn mannequin that the owner bought for twenty bucks when the local Sears closed down. He needed to put his stupid baseball outfit somewhere and he thought the best thing to do would be to put it on Manny and leave it in a bar. The regulars weren’t too nice to Manny, so we had to put him in the back here. It seems like your brother somehow snuck past me and found him.” 

“I…I am so sorry about this.” (Y/N) gestured to his brother, who had begun to fiddle with the hem of the Rockies shirt. 

The bartender snorted. “Trust me, this isn’t the worst thing a customer has done to poor Manny. Just get him out of here.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Right away,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

He stepped into the room just as the bartender turned and walked out. As he got closer, Dean began to giggle. 

“You know, you have the prettiest eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? Oh, come on, I bet a lot of people tell you that. They’re like…like, um…” Dean paused and stared down at the ground. 

(Y/N) quirked a brow and placed his hands on his hips. When he did, he felt the outline of his phone in his jeans pocket. A smirk made its way onto his face as he took out his phone. He knew that he could use this moment for entertainment purposes later. He began to record his brother as he cleared his throat. Dean jumped and turned to (Y/N), eyes wide.

“Hey, Dean. What’re you doing?” (Y/N) asked cautiously. 

A smile broke out on Dean’s face as soon as he recognized his brother’s voice. “Oh! (Y/N), I want you to meet someone,” he slurred as he wrapped an arm around Manny’s shoulders, pulling the mannequin closer to him. “This is Cozy. She’s…she’s the most beautiful woman here and we’re going to get married.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yeah! Isn’t that right, baby?” Dean giggled as he reached up and poked Manny’s nose. “She’s the love of my life.” 

“Well, I am so happy for you, Dean. She looks…beautiful.” (Y/N) was trying his hardest to keep from laughing. 

“Thank you.” Dean smiled proudly. 

“I think you’ve talked to Cozy enough for one day, though. I think we need to get back to the motel.” 

Dean frowned. “But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay with Cozy.” 

“I know, buddy,” (Y/N) walked over and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “But Cozy has to go home, too. You can call her in the morning. Plus, we have pie back at the motel.” 

Dean gasped dramatically. “Pie?” 

“Yeah, pie,” (Y/N) pulled Dean away from the mannequin and wrapped an arm around his torso. 

“Pecan?” 

“Yes, Dean, pecan pie.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), you know, you’re the best brother a guy could have.” Dean leaned his head against (Y/N)’s shoulder as the two of them stumbled out of the back room and towards their table. Dean let out another gasp as soon as he saw Sam. He patted Sam sloppily on his shoulder. “Sammy! Sammy! I met a girl!” 

Sam groaned and lifted his head. He looked between (Y/N) and Dean, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a girl! That’s your brother, stupid.” Sam grumbled. 

(Y/N) sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys. Let��s get back to the motel before you pass out on me.” 

There was no pie back at the motel. I just know that’s one of the only things that could get Dean’s attention. 

Thankfully, both of them waited until they were in the car to pass out. I had tried my hardest to wake them up, but they weren’t budging. In the end, they both slept in the backseat of the Impala while lying on top of one another. It seemed like it would be extremely uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t know. I was able to go back into the room and relax in my own bed, in a place that was peaceful and quiet. No snoring, no moving around, nothing. It was some of the best sleep I ever had. 

In the morning, when Dean and Sam woke up, they had to ruin my peaceful sleep by knocking on the door. They were a mess, both completely out of it and hungover. The smell of vomit stunk up the room so bad that I swear it’s still there if we were to go back and check. I got them painkillers, got them some water, and made sure they were nice and fed. When we were all sitting down and finally eating, I let them have it.

Oh, the teasing. 

So much teasing. 

I showed them both the video of Dean flirting with Manny. Dean grumbled and tried to get me to delete the video while Sam was trying his best not to laugh his ass off - he really couldn’t because of how bad his head probably hurt. Throughout our conversation, I swear, whenever I would look over at Dean, I could see his cheeks turn pink. I knew I had the perfect blackmail. 

I still have the video. 

You know, just in case. 

APRIL 2014

Everyone who knows Dean understands just how much of a serial flirt he is. If it breathes and if he finds it attractive, he will flirt with it (the story with Manny should make that pretty obvious). I, on the contrary, know how to flirt, but I don’t do it as often as he does. Sure, I flirt with people now and then to get my fix, but it’s not something that I do every time I go out. 

Sam, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of Dean. 

Sam was always the type to be awkward around people he found attractive, even when he was a kid. The number of times I would see him in the hallways of schools trying to talk to girls was hilarious, but he carried that awkwardness into adulthood. I admit, a couple of years ago, that boy had some moves. He knew all the right things to say and do to make anyone swoon for him. I was sort of jealous of him, and I could tell that Dean was proud of him, in a way. 

However, with how much has been going on the past couple of years, I’ve noticed that Sam has gotten a little rusty when it comes to flirting. There has been more than one occasion where he received a pretty nasty glare or a drink to the face followed by some rather colorful language. At first, I felt bad for him, but then it started getting funny. As he kept trying, the conversations he would have with people would last longer and longer than the last time. It still took him a while to leave with anyone, but baby steps. Baby steps. 

There was one time earlier this year when I thought he was going to get a happy ending. It was going so well! I had to admit that I had been spying on him throughout his interaction, just out of sheer curiosity. We were celebrating after a hunt in Arizona. Nothing too big, just a basic salt and burn with a basic bar afterward. It was Saturday and the bar seemed like it was packed. We were lucky to find a table. Thankfully we did because my feet had ached that night from all the digging. 

While I rested at the table, Dean went off to try and snag his own after-hunt reward while Sam walked over to the bar to chat up some cute brunette he had seen. The entire time, I entertained myself by watching him from a distance. Everything was going so well. 

Unfortunately, for Sam, he let his awkwardness get the best of him. 

“I swear, none of the good-lookin’ ones are single,” Dean grumbled as he took his seat back at the table, a defeated look on his face. 

“Maybe you should lower your standards?” (Y/N) shrugged as he took a sip of beer, his eyes glued to his younger brother across the bar. “I mean, they have to lower their standards to sleep with you, don’t they? It’s about time you do the same.” 

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffed a sipped his beer. 

“Sorry, not interested.” 

Dean rolled his eyes before he looked at (Y/N), noticing his gaze. He furrowed his brows. “The Hell are you looking at, anyway?” 

Dean turned his head to look in the same direction as (Y/N), shifting his head to look over people as he attempted to see what had grabbed his brother’s attention. (Y/N) licked his lips and smirked. 

“Looks like Sammy might get some tonight.” He said. 

“No shit? Where?” 

“At the far end of the bar. He’s talking to the babe in the blue dress.” 

Once Dean stopped moving his head, he was able to see Sam and the woman standing at the corner of the bar. Both of them were facing one another. The woman leaned up against the bar while Sam had his hands placed awkwardly in his pockets. Both of them had smiles on their faces as they talked. 

“Damn, she’s hot,” Dean mumbled. 

“I know, right? He needs to take his hands out of his pockets, though. He looks like a fucking shy middle-schooler asking his crush out to the dance.” 

“Eh,” Dean waved him off. “He always looks like that.” 

“Yeah, I know, and have you seen him leave with anyone recently?” 

“Point taken. So, what? You’ve just been watching this whole time?” 

“I need to keep myself entertained somehow. Not in the mood for a one-night-stand, so I have to make my own fun.” 

Dean gave a short nod before he continued to watch Sam. (Y/N) and Dean sat in silence as they watched Sam talk with the woman, mumbling back and forth to one another. As the two of them talked, Sam became visibly more comfortable. His movements became more animated and he pulled one of his hands out of his pockets. Both Dean and (Y/N) were practically sitting on the edge of their seats, their drinks completely forgotten about. 

After ten agonizing minutes of watching, it was clear that Sam had become completely relaxed. They continued to talk as the lively bar moved around them. It was almost as if no one existed but the two of them. They were so engrossed in their conversation that Sam neglected to see the serving tray full of beer that was sitting down on the bar next to them. Finally, Sam took his other hand out of his pocket. He moved to lean on the bar, but his elbow never touched the polished bartop. 

Instead, his elbow leaned against the edge of the serving tray, knocking it over. The tray and glasses clattered to the ground, sending glass particles across the floor. Beer splashed on himself and the woman he had been talking to, who had a look of horror across her face. 

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he quickly reached over and grabbed Dean’s arm. His jaw dropped and he immediately felt the laughter bubble up inside of his chest. He covered his mouth with his other hand and turned towards Dean. Dean snorted and turned his body so that he was facing (Y/N), his own eyes wide and hand covering his mouth as well. Both Dean and (Y/N) shook as they tried to contain the laughter. 

They sat there, attempting to hide their amusement as Sam walked back over to the table, a defeated look on his face. He sat down, grabbed the beer that he had once forgotten about, and took a long swig. When he saw Dean and (Y/N) practically doubled over, he raised a brow. 

“What’re you two laughing at?” He asked as a small smirk played on the corner of his lips. 

(Y/N) turned away from Dean, pressing his lips together as he placed both of his hands on his beer. His gaze averted to the table, unable to look at Sam without laughing. He shook his head. 

“Nothing…” he spoke in a broken, high-pitched voice. “Nothing, nothing. You wouldn’t get it.” He waved off and took a drink. 

Sam looked towards Dean, who took a drink as well. “Yeah, you wouldn’t get it,” he paused. “Just like you didn’t get that chick’s number.” 

(Y/N) snorted as he let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. Sam’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a deep frown. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he slammed his cup down on the table and stood. 

“Real mature, you guys,” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. 

“Oh, come on, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed. “You almost had her!” 

Sam rolled his eyes as he put his arms into his jacket sleeves. “Hey, Sammy, look on the bright side!” (Y/N) began. “At least you were able to get her wet somehow.” 

(Y/N) howled and slapped his hand on the table, Dean following suit. One of (Y/N)'s arms was curled against his stomach as he leaned forward. Sam glared at him. 

“I’m going back to the motel.” He growled out before he turned sharply and walked away before Dean or (Y/N) could say anything. 

By the time (Y/N) and Dean were done laughing, tears were rolling down their faces and their cheeks were bright red. Dean used his thumb and index finger to wipe away the tears while (Y/N) used the collar of his shirt. Once they were both settled, they leaned back in their seats. Dean shook his head. 

“We really need to get that kid a hooker or something,” He finally said. 

“I second that,” (Y/N) nodded and raised his glass. 

Dean raised his glass as well before they both drank. 

Sam didn’t talk to us for the rest of the night. He didn’t talk to us for the next couple of days until we got back to the bunker. Dean and I would try to get him to talk to us about something, anything, even the nerdy shit that he’s into, but he wouldn’t budge. On the drive back, he was wearing his headphones the entire time, so that whenever Dean or I would try to talk to him, he had some type of excuse as to why he didn’t talk to us. 

Little asshole. 

Wish I had headphones that I could just pop in to ignore the two of them. 

Maybe I’ll pick some up? 

Of course, I felt bad for the kid. He looked like he was having a good time, but you should have seen the look on the woman’s face when the beer spilled all over her. It was priceless! I had wished I held it together long enough to be able to see what had happened afterward, but if the look on her face had any correlation with her reaction, it probably wasn’t a good one. 

Don’t feel too bad for the kid, though, he got laid a couple of months ago. He’s fine, basically back to normal. 

Still, Dean and I like to bring it up occasionally. Sam has stopped getting so angry about it and has just resorted to rolling his eyes and ignoring us. One of these days, he’s going to get the balls to use one of our embarrassing pick-up attempts against us to shut us up. 

God knows he probably has more instances of us than we do of him.

 

OCTOBER 2014

Jesus, my wrist hurts. Do people normally write this much in their journals? Certainly not at once, right? I have to be setting a new World Record. I wonder if there’s a world record for something like this? I’ll need to look it up later. 

Trust me, though, I have yet to scratch the surface of the embarrassing memories I have of my two brothers. These are just my favorite ones. If they decide to read this, I hope the two of you enjoyed going down memory lane! Maybe you’ll learn not to look at other people’s shit? 

Who am I kidding, of course you won’t. 

I’ll need to hide this somewhere else. Maybe my closet? Maybe in one of my bags? I can’t even think of a place where they won’t eventually find it. Whatever, I’ll hide it in the back of my closet and see where that gets me. 

The bunker door just opened. Sounds like Sam and Dean are back from the supply run. I’ll need to make this short and simple so I can help them put the groceries away before they start bitching at me. 

Until next time,

Stay safe. (That STILL sounds bad. God, I’m terrible at ending these things.)

[supercap2319]

The Ginger Serpent

A/N: Archie's a serpent in this one shot.

They were watching Rebel Without a Cause at the Twilight Drive-In. It was the Drive-In’s closing night and almost everyone in town showed up as Y/N, his sister, and Kevin were sitting in the back of Kevin’s truck bed. Blankets all around and some to cover them as they watched, with Cheryl inviting herself in their little group as they watched James Dean on screen.

“That hair.” Kevin smiles.

“That jacket.” Y/N said in between bites of popcorn.

“Jason always adored the Drive-In.” Cheryl said. Kevin looks at Veronica and rolls his eyes. Behind them, the Southside Serpents were laughing and making a ruckus as Kevin snickers as he elbowed Y/N to get his attention to look at them. “Southside trash.”

“They’ve been doing that since the opening credits.” Veronica said.

Kevin turned his head towards them. “Shh!” They all shush hun back and throw cans at him that never reach. They’re still rowdy as Kevin looks at Y/N in defeat. They wouldn’t be quiet. Y/N’s had enough as he stands up and looks at the Serpents, locking eyes with a very good-looking ginger guy. “Hey! You know what happens to a snake when a heavy black boot steps on it? Shut the hell up, or you’ll find out the hard way.”

All around the Drive-In, the people applauded Y/N for finally saying what they were all thinking. Y/N bows like a gentleman. “Thank you.” He sits back down as the ginger eyes him as he smirks. Kevin looks at Y/N in disbelief. “I cannot believe you just threatened a gang-banger.”

“I’ve dealt with worse in the east village. I just hate when people disrespect my cinematic experience. Especially this one. It’s one of my favorites.” Y/N said.

It’s quiet until Veronica shakes the bucket of popcorn. “How about a refill, Hermanito?”

“Yeah, Y/N, how about a refill?” Cheryl smiles sweetly. “Cherry cola, as always.” He rolls his eyes as he gets off the truck bed as everyone scoots over one spot.

Y/N walks up to the concession stand and waits for his turn as he sets the bucket on the counter. “Can I get a refill?” The guy nods his head and takes the bucket as Y/N waits for him to come back. “And some gummy bears and a cherry cola and a regular one. Who am I trying to impress?” The guy gets all the things he’s asked for. “And can you put all this on Cheryl Blossom’s tab?” He nods his head as Y/N scoops up his treats and is about to walk away, when he almost runs into the ginger guy from the Serpents.

“Not so tough now, huh?” He asked Y/N. He’s about 5’11 with red hair and gorgeous brown eyes. He wore blue jeans and a red leather jacket to match his hair. He had a menacing and playful atmosphere around him. Y/N swallowed. “What? Am I supposed to be scared of you or something?”

“You do know what a Southside Serpent is, right?”

“And? You guys are like the watered-down versions of the Outsiders.” Y/N told him. “Now, may I go through, or are we going to have problems?” He tried to push past the taller male boy, but he grabbed his arm. “I have a better idea.” He basically dragged Y/N behind the concession stand towards the fence as he helped Y/N set his stuff down before he glared at Y/N. “You sure gotta smart mouth on ya, don’t ya?” He pushed him against the fence as Y/N looked at him.

“Yeah? And just what are you going to do about it?” Y/N asked him.

The ginger smirked before he leaned down and captured his lips into a kiss as Y/N was shocked as he let the redhead push him against the fence. They were grunting and panting as the taller male slammed Y/N gently against the metal of the fence. Y/N tangled his fingers inside the ginger’s head and messed it up as a small revenge as they broke apart for air. “I should go.”

“Something tells me you don’t want to, do you?” The redhead grins.

“I guess not.” Y/N told him.

“I’m Archie, by the way. Archie Andrews.”

“Y/N Lodge.”

“Lodge? Like Hiram Lodge?” Archie asked.

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

“No. Is this a problem?” He showed him his tattoo of a serpent.

“I won’t tell if you won’t?”

“Deal.”

They kissed again.

[hearthouses]

hello!! happy wincest wednesday! I'm not great at coming up with questions but-- are there any aspects of wincest or any tropes or angles you've been thinking about recently that are making you go particularly nuts???

This is a good and fun question!

So... I'm kind of an intense nerd who has people pleasing syndrome as well as fun traits like issues with choice paralysis, so picking one of my many many many ideas is very difficult, so in order to keep track of things I am interested for me, I have a document that is called "iddy ideas" which are essentially concepts that speak directly to my id. I'm gonna use the headers as way to answer this because otherwise I will forget something and it'll bug me, so things that live in my psyche re: Winchesters are:

→ DEAN & GENDER: I have a few asks in drafts that need answering about this topic, so I will keep this sort of brief—I am really into how Dean and his relationship to gender, and how the roles he plays in life force him into one box or another. I tend to headcanon him on the nonbinary/genderfluid spectrum, even if he’d never personally identify as either. I love exploring how he often uses toxic masculinity as a shield and how he uses it to cover up the more vulnerable aspects of his desires and identity. As for the Sam/Dean angle, I really love Sam figuring it out and using lingerie kink and feminization kink as a way for Dean to explore in a way that doesn’t completely freak him out. There’s a long fic in my head that I’ve been too nervous to write about this.

→ OMEGAVERSE & PREGNANCY: I have come up with so many ways to get Dean pregnant because I think about this topic so often. I won’t bore you with the list. I am unfortunately a sucker for pregnancy and kid fics as a trope. I don’t often read them because I prefer realism in the sense that the kid has to feel like an actual kid to me and not a symbol of happiness and completeness. For Sam/Dean, I enjoy the fucked up aspects of having a kid with your brother and how they would be so into that because it’s combining themselves into another living being, that they made together, ultimate symbol of their intense incestuous love. I also think Dean very much wants kids, but didn’t think he could have them with Sam, while I think Sam would really only want to have kids with Dean. I have many AUs where it is also the worst possible time for this to happen because I live for the melodrama. I also like post-pregnancy and seeing the kids grow up to be fucked up in their own special and unique ways.

→ DOMESTICITY & DISABILITY: I am simple and sometimes I want to force Sam and Dean to retire and live in a little cabin or cottage in the woods somewhere so they can grow old. Often, I think for the only way that makes sense for them to do so is if one or both were physically incapable of hunting anymore. I love them being forced to slow down and take care of one another. Given their lives, permenent injury is pretty likely and I love exploring the ways in which they'd have to grow and adjust to their new realities. Also, I kind of just want certain ideas presented in canon explored? Like Sam's issues with his sense of reality and hallucinations, or both of them having chronic pain. Plus, there should be more finale AUs where Dean lives, but he has mobility issues now.

→ WINCHESTERS & RAPE RECOVERY: Both Sam and Dean are rape survivors who repeatedly are sexually assaulted throughout the narrative, but they both react so differently to similar traumas and I would like to have this explored since the show wouldn't. Hell trauma also goes under this umbrella. I am fascinated by the ways in which Sam and Dean are mirrors and foils, and would like to explore the interiority of that. I’m also very into concepts and ideas that explore how their respective trauma informs some of their kinks i.e. I think post-s7 Sam especially wants more pain kink and D/s where he submits to get out of his own head and Dean struggling with the dom role due to his trauma from hell where he was put into the position of torturer and rapist, and them having to figure out to make that work without sending Dean into a tailspin.

→ CONSENT ISSUES: I love fuck or die, sex pollen, curses, and all related tropes. I also like "dark" versions of Sam or Dean (Demon!Dean, Soulless!Sam, Shapeshifters, Leviathans, etc.) menacing and putting the other in situations. I will never tire of this.

→ BOY KING SAM & MAGIC: Sam should be able to always have his powers as a treat. He should be able to be a little evil as a treat. Sam should get to go full on witchy as a treat. I love the demon blood arc, I love psychic wonder Sam, I love Sam who puts hex bags in witches mouthes and tells them he learned from the best. I am from the ancient times and watched the season three finale live, so my formative years were shaped by so many Sam becomes The Boy King and rescues Dean from hell fix it fics and AUs, and so it's always a favorite. I am currently writing one that is very slow going, but as a general vibe check I am calling it Sam's Moving Castle and "suiteverse but nice".

→ WEREWOLVES & MONSTER WINCHESTERS: I love werewolves and I want Sam and Dean to be werewolves and be a pack of two. But I'm not picky and would like them to be any sort of monster. I think the show was too scared of upsetting the status quo and permanently transforming them into monsters, which is a shame, but now it is now my hyperfixation when it comes to fic for them.

[thebiggerbear]

Only Ever Holding Onto You - Chapter 3

A/N: Hi all! I hope you all like this chapter. Personally, this is one of my favorites so far because I love Poppernak dearly but also I wanted to delve into the reader a bit more. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: a ton of shit (literally)

Word Count: 7114

Text graphics made by me

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. 😊

Series Masterlist

You can also read on AO3

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

<-->

You cursed quietly when you stepped in dog shit yet again. You took a deep breath to center yourself, knowing there was nothing you could do and that you would have a good hour or two of cleaning every single tread on the sole of your shoes when you got home to make sure all of the fecal matter was gone. For now, grass and a piece of cardboard that Poppernak hopefully had in the back of his car that could double as a floor mat would have to do. You opened your eyes and surged forward…right into another pile of dogshit.

“Motherfuck,” you hissed as you felt the familiar squishy feeling under your foot and the smell predictably wafted up to assault your nose. This place was a goddamn minefield!

You should have known, seeing the state the house was in as well as the makeshift garage. Not to mention the elderly age of the owners and the large lawn mower that clearly sat unused if the yards of rust covering it was anything to go by. This land hadn’t been worked in a long time; how could you expect that they would clean up dogshit where it remained hidden by grass that was long enough to wave with each passing breeze? Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pops very carefully moving forward on his chosen pathway, obsessively checking the ground before he took a step. It just hit you that there could even be snakes in here and you could be walking through their damn living room. Son of a bitch.

“Hey Pepper Snaps, be careful! There could be snakes,” you called.

“I wasn’t thinking about that but now I am. Thanks, Y/N.”

You may have rolled your eyes and hoped he stepped in the next pile of dogshit instead of you. 

“Did you find Goldie yet?” An old man shouted from behind you.

You turned around to see Lee Knutson, a man in his eighties, watching you from his porch along with his wife Marilyn, also in her eighties. Both of them owned this property and they had placed a call to the police reporting their dog Goldie as missing. They were frantic and because Helena PD loved to pass calls like this onto your department from time to time, here you were, looking for a dog in a place that could double as Jumanji to appease an old couple who loved their dog more than life itself. Hoyt had passed the call onto you with a smirk, saying “You’re an animal lover, right, Y/L/N? Why don’t you and Pop take this one?” Based on her passive aggressive comment, you knew she was still holding a grudge about your calling the Feds in on the Avuna Pharmaceutical case. You knew she had it in for you before that but now, you knew she was doing everything she could to make your life even more of a living hell as punishment. Especially when Beau publicly backed your play; that just made her burn even more. 

Having no choice other than to send Pops alone, you found yourself entering the previously uncharted wild jungle of Helena, Montana, with him right behind you. You both were wading through shit and a yard that looked like it could double as an apocalyptic landscape because you’d had the audacity to try to do the right thing in a case where all parties were concerned. Something that from what you’d heard, Hoyt would have most likely done herself back in the day. You knew deep down though that her fury at you had more to do with Beau refusing to bust your ass than the Feds getting involved. You had decided that you would let it continue to be her problem and just do your job, like always. But damn if you had imagined it would get this bad. You supposed you should be grateful she hadn’t sent you and Pops into a dangerous situation where you might not escape unscathed, like exchanging fire with a perp, though the smell that smacked you in the face when you turned to face the old man had you almost wishing she had. You’d take anything else anyday over this crap.

“Not yet,” you yelled back. “But don’t worry, Mr. Knutson, we’re still looking!” You hoped you sounded more hopeful than you felt. 

It really had been a shitty week, pun fucking intended. 

The morning after the very weird night you’d had at The Boot Heel, Beau wasn’t in the office. Madge told you he had simply called out, claiming that he was taking a few vacation days, and that he knew the department had things handled. You thanked the woman and frowned at Beau’s closed door as you passed. 

You had texted Beau the night before when you arrived home as he had asked you to, and he wished you a good night, letting you know he was safely home as well (he knew you too well). That had been the last time you heard from him which wouldn’t be that strange if he had shown up for work. You forced your worry back down and told yourself you were fretting over nothing, this spike in nerves you had was just a remnant from the previous evening. Your compass was most likely still recalibrating. Beau was fine, everyone and everything was fine, he had a right to take his well-earned vacation time especially since he never really took a day off — you were overreacting. But just to be safe, you texted Emily to check in. She got back to you within a few minutes, letting you know that she and her mom had a full day planned since they now had time to start painting their new home that they had moved into a few months back. 

Carla had been ready to leave Montana after Avery’s death and Emily’s abduction scare but Beau thankfully had talked her into staying, for Emily’s sake, for his sake — all of their sakes. As soon as Carla sold the property she had shared with Avery, Beau helped her and their daughter move into a new home in a closer neighborhood that she was able to get a good deal on. You knew Beau had been relieved when Carla agreed to stay and you had as well, for him and for you. There was no way you wouldn’t try to follow him back down to Houston if he had gone, especially not when Hoyt might take his place where she could make your life miserable full-time and on the county’s dime. Just like she was already doing this week.

Emily promised to send you pictures of the finished product and you wished her luck, telling her to call you if they needed a hand once your shift was over. Em and Carla were fine; that just left Beau.

Before you could type up a text to check in with him, a quick meeting assembled that you had no idea had even been planned. Hoyt took charge and completely dismissed you, laying down the law for the next few days. She would be distributing calls and deciding who to dispatch. Which you found awful funny because that was bound to create issues with the system Beau already had in place. Madge looked slightly put out until Hoyt wrapped an arm around her shoulders and told her she would need the older woman’s help. You watched the entire scene unfold, arms crossed and leaning against the doorway, smirking and enjoying the show. It didn’t surprise you in the least when she approached you and Pops last with your assignments for the morning, a triumphant grin on her face.

“A couple of calls came in late last night that I’d like you two to follow up on.” She handed the sheet of paper to Pops who took it and scanned it quickly. “You don’t mind, do you, Y/L/N?” 

Your smirk widened. She was clearly challenging you, practically daring you to say something. Beau had made it plain to her and the department often enough that you and Hoyt were equal in his eyes. Neither of you had authority over the other one. He told you later when it was just the two of you that he had done that out of respect for your career and experience thus far but also to give you a leg to stand on when it came to Hoyt. He understood that she worked hard in her position as undersheriff and he wasn’t trying to take that from her but he wanted you in the department working with him and he wasn’t going to demote you to make that happen. You were more than appreciative of his willingness to not only take you on and keep you with him but also to make sure you didn’t go backwards in pay or in your career. You found out later he had even taken a slight pay cut himself when he brought you on board, which you duly chastised him for later, not wanting him to sacrifice anymore than he already had. The response he gave you was a simple wink and his usual boyish smile. 

So Hoyt and the department knew where you stood, something the blonde was testing right now because Beau wasn’t here. The department didn’t give a crap if she took advantage and lorded it over you as long as it wasn’t them, and she expected you to either fold or go running to tell Beau or something along those lines. She clearly didn’t know you at all if she expected any type of reaction she was trying to get out of you. Your grin matched hers. “Not at all.”

Her blue eyes narrowed but then you could see the triumph in her smile, thinking she had won some imaginary victory over you. “Great.” You pushed the urge to roll your eyes deep down, knowing that if anything happened with the department over the next few days, the responsibility was on her alone, officially. Unofficially, you’d keep an eye out during Beau’s absence and not let everything turn to complete shit.

Your smile grew so much that your cheeks started to hurt.

Hoyt began to say something else but before she could get a word out, your phone started ringing. You pulled it out of your pocket and the name on the screen sent your heart into overdrive. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” You didn’t wait for Hoyt to respond or Pops, but one quick glance confirmed she had seen the screen as well. The glare she was currently gracing you with was the glare to end all glares. You ignored it and stepped away as planned, hearing her snap at Pops to make sure you didn’t stay on the phone too long and to get out the door, before storming away.

This time, you did roll your eyes, and you picked up the call.

“Beau?”

“Mornin’.” He sounded okay though his voice seemed a little more gravelly than usual. You attributed it to the early hour. 

“Morning. You okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just taking a few days.”

“Long overdue,” you agreed.

“Yeah,” he sighed. 

You glanced around and lowered your voice. “You really are okay, though? You’d tell me if something was wrong… Right? Like you coughing twice or asking me to take the pineapple slices off the pizza to indicate you’re being held against your will.”

He let out a laugh and that made you feel lighter than you had a moment ago. “I’m good, Y/N, I promise. Pineapple on pizza? How in the hell is that a pizza topping? I still don’t get it.”

“You would if you would ever try it when I order it.”

“I will never eat that crap. Who puts fruit on pizza anyway? Besides you?”

“A lot of the population in fact. That’s why it’s so popular,” you teased him.

“I’ve lost all hope for society.”

You finished taking a sip of your coffee. “Really? You’ve been working this job now for two decades and a yellow and very delicious fruit put on pizza is what finally did it for you?”

“Fruit doesn’t go on pizza, Y/N. I’m not having this debate with you again. Not this early,” he groaned.

“The trick is to get it without the sauce. That’s how I order it. It’s only weird tasting when the sauce is added into the mix.”

“If there’s no sauce, then how is it pizza?”

You snorted. “Pizza is all about the cheese.”

“And the sauce. Without sauce, it’s just bread and cheese.”

“Which incidentally are two of the most important ingredients for pizza.”

You smiled in victory when an exasperated sigh came down the line. “Okay, you win. So how do I get out of this conversation that’s happening against my will? Do I sneeze twice or ask for extra cheese?”

“Ha ha. You called me, remember that.” In your peripherals, you noticed Pops signaling to you and pointing to his watch. You nodded and held a finger up. Yes, you knew Hoyt couldn’t wait for you to go out on your crappy call list for the morning, and add more to it during the day most likely. Her pettiness could wait a few more minutes. Guaranteed, this was going to be the best part of your day and you weren’t giving it up that easily. “So, what are your plans for today? Have any or are you just taking it easy for the day?” 

“Actually, I’m gonna head over to Carla’s and help her and Em out for the day.”

A small smile settled onto your face. “Em will be really happy to see you.” And both she and Carla would be happy to have the extra practiced hand no doubt. You almost wished you could join them, to help Emily prank her father by rolling paint all over his clothes if for nothing else.

“Yeah, it’ll be good to see her, too. I didn’t get much sleep last night so I spent a lot of time thinking. About work, about life and…everything, and that’s why I took a few days off. I’m gonna try to convince Em to go camping with me over the weekend. I want to spend some time with my daughter before she graduates and goes off to college.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve got some time before that happens,” you murmured soothingly. You knew this was something he worried about, he’d told you often enough. He felt like he was losing time with Emily, that the window he had was closing more and more with each passing day. That feeling only ramped up after Em had been taken hostage. You couldn’t blame him; for the first few months after, you’d hugged Emily a little longer and a little tighter whenever you saw her, something she endlessly rolled her eyes at but kindly allowed you to do each time.

“Not much.”

You bit your lip, choosing to ignore Pops who appeared in front of you, frantically gesturing behind him. Rolling your eyes, you turned to the side, lowering your voice further. “I think it’s a great idea. I’m glad you’re doing this, taking some time for yourself and to spend with Em. To hell with everyone and everything else these next few days, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled.

“And if anyone calls you from the department, I will personally run over their cell phone with my car. Twice.”

“About that…”

“Beau,” you growled in warning, walking away from Pops who was dogging your every step.

“That’s why I’m calling you. I’m not taking any calls from work for the next few days, especially if I get Em to go camping with me. I don’t want any interruptions and I trust that you and Hoyt will have a handle on things while I’m gone.”

You pressed your lips together, hating to lie to your best friend, but it was important for him to take this time. He never willingly took time off and you knew he needed this time with Em, even before he said anything. And for him to have come to this decision so suddenly, you knew he meant it. There was never a single second that Beau hadn’t made himself accessible, day or night, for anyone in the department. So for him to go radio silent intentionally for any period of time, he meant business. “Understood,” you agreed.

“But, Y/N, saying that…I do want you to call me if anything pops up that you think I should know about.”

And there it was, the caveat. “I’m not calling you, Arlen. Like you said, we’ve got this.”

“I mean it. I’m only available to you, Y/N, no one else. I trust your judgment and I know you’ll filter out most of the white noise. But also, if you need anything…you call me.”

“I appreciate that but we’ll be okay,” you reassured, quickly stepping into an empty interrogation room and shutting the door on Pops. You managed to wedge a chair underneath the knob before he could try it, smirking in satisfaction when the door failed to give way and he started knocking instead while calling your name. “And listen, I don’t want to intrude on family time but if you do need a hand with the painting, I can always drop by later, repaint everything you did, take my pineapple pizza I’ll definitely be ordering for a job well done, and go.”

“Hey! I know how to paint!”

“Yeah, you also told me you knew how to cook, too.”

“I can grill,” Beau snapped.

You heard the chair beginning to budge and you pressed all of your weight against the door, trying to prevent Pops from opening it. “Uh huh. I think the charred left corner of your deck would beg to differ.”

“Wow. That was one time and everybody was okay. When are you gonna let that go?”

“Whenever you allow me to call in some hot Helena firefighters next time to put out the fire and let me watch rather than making me extinguish the flames myself with a fire extinguisher I luckily had in my car that day. I was cheated out of muscles and sweat and big, big fire hoses that get everything wet….all that water pressure—”

“Ah, ah, alright, alright. Stop. Bad images in my head. Never coming out now thanks to you.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. “You deserve it. Now, seriously, go enjoy your time with your daughter and leave the department to us. If you need help later or if you just need anything, give me a call.” Pops was pushing against you and you were ashamed to admit you were losing the battle. Your feet were sliding against the floor as the door struggled to open, the chair having been lost some moments ago.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll let you go so you can get to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” you struggled to get out. “Have fun. Give Em a hug from me.”

“Copy that. And Y/N?”

Pops finally pushed into the room and you had no choice but to abandon your post or be flat up against the wall. “Yeah?”

“Be careful out there.”

Pops was hunched over catching his breath, glaring up at you and pointing to his watch, mouthing “Hoyt”. You smiled sweetly down at him. “You know me. Always am.”

You hadn’t heard from Beau later that day but it was just as well. You had had the day from hell just as you’d expected. You settled down on your couch in the comfiest clothes you could find and binged Real Housewives of Dallas. You normally couldn’t stand these types of reality shows, but this one had grown on you and always provided the perfect distraction. That and Floribama Shore. Beau had been present for at least the first two episodes of the latter to which he stared over at you in disbelief, promptly got up to grab a beer, and told you that he didn’t know you. And you replied back that you didn’t mind as long as he was willing to bring a perfect stranger a beer from your kitchen.

While you were indulging in your comfort show, Em had sent you pictures of the painted rooms as promised. It looked good and you liked the colors she and Carla had picked out. You broke into hysterics when one picture had Beau posing in front of a perfectly painted wall with a smug smirk and holding his arms out proudly. Beau was so lucky you didn’t have the password to the department’s website; you would have uploaded the picture so fast it would have made Poppernak’s head spin. Another picture showed a great selfie of all of the family. You liked that one, all genuine smiles and plenty of paint all over every single one of them (Em obviously had taken your suggestion and started a paint fight, you were so proud), Emily posing in the middle between her parents. It was nice to see them enjoying themselves, especially after the year they’d had. 

You knew it hadn’t been easy for Carla to choose to stay in the same area she and her daughter had experienced so much trauma in; she had told you as much. It was important to her to keep what family she had left together, that’s why she initially wanted to move back to Houston. But when Beau had convinced her to stay, she did it to keep Emily’s family together though it cost her quite a bit personally. You did everything you could to help, leaning into the friendship you used to have with her back in Texas. Not to mention Carla and Cassie had also formed their own sort of friendship thanks to the mutual links of Beau, you, and Emily. There were quite a few times Denise had mentioned to you that she and Cassie had stopped in for tea when Carla was still trying to sell the old property. You all provided as much support as you could, to let her and Emily (and Beau by extension) know that they weren’t alone here.

Your phone chimed with the arrival of a new picture. This one had you bowled over with laughter for the next two minutes. Emily had taken a selfie of her and Beau making horrified faces at the camera, an open box of Hawaiian pizza next to them, the pineapple clear as day on top of the cheese (sans the sauce as you had ordered). Emily had added in text: “Thanks for the pizza…I guess?” You rolled your eyes, smiling, and texted her back that it was pizza and if she could get her dad to eat a piece, she absolutely had to record a video and send it to you. She sent a winky emoji back with a thumbs up when a new message came in from Beau.

You shrugged and quickly typed out a reply. 

You snickered at the emojis he sent in response. Beau didn’t usually do emojis, that had to be Em’s influence, and you sure were getting a kick out of it. 

Satisfied that you had more than made your point about pineapple on pizza being superior, you snuggled down into your pillows and started another episode of Real Housewives. Seeing location shots of Dallas intercut with the episode caused a little pang inside your chest. Perhaps that’s part of the reason you tolerated such a dramatic show. You had only been to Dallas once or twice but still, the images reminded you of home and it provided a tiny salve for your heart, something you needed after such a rough day. Smiling when you were flooded with happy memories, you slowly closed your eyes and you were out like a light before Leanne and Brandi could start fighting for the umpteenth time over who betrayed who while Stephanie watched from the background looking torn.

And the rest of the week had been just as rough. You had come to refer to it as Hell Week between you and Poppernak. Hoyt made sure to give you the worst calls she could pull from the list each morning, either giving them to you directly or giving them to Pops knowing you would join him so he had backup. And you were pretty sure she had Madge dispatching any bullshit calls to you both during the day. Truthfully, it was starting to wear on you a little but you refused to show any trace of it to Hoyt or anyone in the department. That’s exactly what she wanted and you’d die first before giving that spiteful little blonde one goddamn inch.

Poppernak had even mentioned something one afternoon as you rode about an hour outside of town for a new case. It wasn’t his norm to make comments on the ongoing conflict between you and Hoyt, choosing to cruise in neutral territory instead, but that’s how much of a fucked up week it had been.

“Man, what did you do to piss off Hoyt this time?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “I was born, I guess.”

He chuckled nervously and shook his head, turning his gaze back onto the road. “Or something.”

“Or something,” you echoed. 

You hadn’t heard from Beau in a couple of days except for a single text message to let you know that he had convinced Emily to go camping after all. He asked if everything was going okay and you assured him that all was well. It was a lie of course but you refused to tell him the truth. You were a big girl and you could take care of yourself. Besides, you chose to meet Hoyt’s petty bullshit with indifference. 

And now you here were, schlepping through three foot long grass like you were on a fucking safari, looking for some old couple’s runaway dog and finding every conceivable pile of dog shit for you to plow through. Pops was whistling and calling out for the dog in his area and you were pretty sure he hadn’t moved any further since you warned him about potential snakes. Normally, you would have rolled your eyes and planned to tease him later about his apprehension, but in this situation, you couldn’t help but think that he was the smart one. You kept surging forward blindly, hence the crap all over your shoes. 

You had made it a few more feet when suddenly a dark head popped up not that far from your position, startling you and making you gasp. Your eyes went wide when you realized what you were looking at. Was that a…wolf? A goddamn wolf? 

Poppernak called out the name of the dog, and the wolf’s head snapped in his direction. You were stunned, but you still had enough presence of mind to call over to your partner albeit calmly so as not to startle the animal in front of you. “Pops! Shhh.”

“What was that, Y/N? I didn’t catch that. You see something?” He yelled back, making you grind your teeth together.

You carefully raised a hand in his direction to get his attention. “I need you to be quiet,” you carefully enunciated as you watched the wolf staring you down. “There is a wolf in front of me.”

“I’m sorry, did you say a wolf?” Poppernak cried out in a mix of disbelief and alarm. You bit your lip to keep from screaming out at him to shut his trap like you desperately wanted to. The more loud sounds that were made seemed to agitate the wolf and you were right in its sights. If you somehow survived this, you were going to give Pops a serious talking to. If you told him to shut it out in the field while working with him, he needed to shut his damn mouth, no questions asked, case closed.

“Pops, stop making so much noise. You’re pissing it off,” you said as calmly as possible.

“What do you want me to do?” Pops chose to loudly whisper instead. “Should I call Animal Control?”

The wolf bared its teeth at you and growled. Great.

“Don’t think that’s gonna help.”

You watched as the animal tensed and coiled in a backwards motion, almost as if it was getting into an attack position. Your instincts warred with one another; you wanted to reach for your gun to protect yourself but you also didn’t want to make any movements that might pose more of a threat. From the continued growling and its yellow-eyed laser focus on you, it was obvious you were already considered one.

“Y/N,” Poppernak stage whispered to you. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered back. “They didn’t cover wolves in training at the academy.”

“I don’t know, either.”

“You’re from around here, Pops. How the hell do you not know what to do?”

“Hey, they didn’t cover this in training here, either. That’s why we have Animal Control.”

“Pops!”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you do, don’t look it in the eyes. I think I remember my grandpa telling me if you do that with a bear, they’ll take it as a challenge and it’ll make them want to attack.”

The wolf growled at you and coiled back further, making you let out a nervous breath. “It’s a little late for that, Pepper Snaps.”

“Hang on, Y/N. I’m coming.”

“No! Stay where you are!” You yelled out in shock, wincing when you realized your mistake.

You saw more teeth and heard another growl. You decided the hell with it, and slowly moved to grab your gun. This thing was going to attack you, that was obvious, and while you’d rather it just turn and run in the opposite direction, you had to defend yourself. At that very inopportune moment, your phone vibrated in your pocket and your head snapped up, gasping when you noticed the animal ready itself to spring at you. This was it; you were done for. One of your last thoughts was that you hoped your being mauled by one of the apex predators of Montana finally lit a fire under Beau to prompt him to action and he ripped Hoyt a new one for sending you and Pops out into the fucking wilderness with no backup or protection.

“Goldie!” The old man called out from the porch. “Here, girl!” He’d obviously given up trusting that you and Poppernak would find his dog. Based on the wolf in front of you, you had a feeling you knew where the missing pet had gone. 

Almost as if it heard that thought and it had reached its limit on irritation, the animal growled and sprung forward at you, making you surge backwards and cry out as you fell promptly on your ass, right into several piles of dogshit you had somehow missed before. You held an arm up in front of your face as a last defense and closed your eyes, anticipating the feeling of those sharp teeth you had seen and the ensuing pain.

“Y/N!” Poppernak shouted. You could hear him running towards you. “I’m coming!”

 Much to your surprise, the pain didn’t come. The impact didn’t even happen. Your eyes snapped open in time to see a tail whooshing past you. In shock, you watched as the wolf broke into a run towards the house. 

“Pops! It’s heading towards the house!” You managed to get out. “The Knutsons!”

“Oh shit!” Had this been any other time, you would have laughed in surprise at Pops’ cursing; he never cursed. But this wasn’t any other time. “Mr. Knutson, get in the house! Get Mrs. Knutson and get inside! NOW!”

You went into a panic when you saw Lee make eye contact with the animal and instead of grabbing his wife and fleeing into the house as Pops instructed, a huge smile broke out onto his face and he held his arms out. “Goldie!”

The wolf increased its speed and you pulled your gun, jumping to your feet and running as fast as you could, Poppernak not too far behind you, both of you thinking the same thing: Lee was old and his eyesight might not be the best. He probably believed he saw his dog running towards him and being overwhelmed with relief, he didn’t think anything of it. He probably hadn’t even heard Pops’ yells too well, either, but even if he had, he’d probably think the deputy was mistaken. He was seeing his dog returning home to him. There was no way you were going to match the speed of the animal, it was going to beat you to the Knutsons, but you were determined to try. You just hoped you got there in time enough that the injuries wouldn’t be too bad. 

You heard the wolf bark as it jumped onto the porch, right at the old man. “Get back, sir!” Poppernak yelled next to you. Your lungs and legs were burning, but you pushed yourself to pick up speed and gave it all you had, making leaps over little objects that littered the portion of the yard you were in to give yourself more momentum.    

But to your surprise, the wolf stopped right before colliding with Lee, and instead raised up on its hind legs, placing its paws on his chest. “Shit,” you panted out and pumped your arms to help you move even faster. The wolf’s tongue was hanging out in between barks and you were close enough now to hear it let out a few cries, too. But thankfully, it didn’t attack Lee, or Marilyn when she got up and hurried over, the smile on her face mirroring her husband’s. It also didn’t bite Lee as he petted its huge head.

“Goldie! Where have you been? We’ve been so worried about you!” The wolf barked in the man’s face, making him laugh.

You and Poppernak came to a halt right in front of the house and began to raise your guns to porch level and stopped, thinking the older couple was still confused. “Mr. Knutson, be very careful,” the deputy warned. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

Both Lee and Marilyn glanced down at you in confusion. “What do you mean?” The former asked.

“Mrs. Knutson, carefully step away, slowly,” you added. You were still working out in your head how you were going to get Lee safely out of the way and how you could scare the wolf off so you wouldn’t have to shoot it. Poppernak could then call Animal Control and get them out here so the Knutsons would be safe. Catching a whiff of yourself, realizing it was actually wolf shit you had been trekking through this entire time, you even entertained the thought of looking into getting someone out here to clean up the property for them.

Marilyn’s brows furrowed. “Why? You found our Goldie!”

“Ma’am, that’s not Goldie,” Pops calmly stated, both of your eyes still centered on the large animal who growled in your direction.

“Yes, it is!” Lee insisted.

“Sir,” you began. “I’m afraid it’s not.” You really didn’t desire to tell these people that their beloved dog was gone, most likely killed by the predator in front of them, but that was something you could worry about after everyone was safe. 

“It is too Goldie! Watch!” Lee glanced down at the animal, forcing it to make eye contact. “Goldie, sit!”

And to both yours and Poppernak’s shock, the wolf jumped down and did just that, looking as docile as any well-trained pet. 

“Good girl,” Lee praised. “Now, lay down.” The wolf again did as the old man instructed, wagging its tail.

You and your partner exchanged a mystified look; had the Knutsons been feeding a wolf this whole time? And now it was following their commands? How was this even possible? Just when you thought you’d seen everything.

Lee began to laugh. “Oh, I see. You think she’s a wolf from the wild, right?” 

You failed to see the humor and swiftly nodded, still keeping your eye on the animal. “She’s not?” Poppernak asked in disbelief.

“Oh my Lord, no. Goldie here is a hybrid. We’ve had her since she was a pup. Got her from a breeder. So you can relax now and put those guns away. You’re making her nervous.”

Poppernak slowly placed his back in his holster but you simply lowered yours. The wolf may now be watching you in keen interest, tongue lolling out of its mouth and panting heavily, but you still remembered how aggressive it looked back in the yard when you came across it. You weren’t blindly trusting what the old man was telling you; you needed proof first.

“Mr. Knutson, when I asked you what your dog looked like, you told me it had black fur and yellow—”

“Eyes,” Lee finished for you. “That’s why we call her Goldie. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

One glance at the wolf confirmed the rich gold staring back at you. 

“But when we asked you the breed, you said it was a mutt, half King Shepherd. Not to mention it was about to attack Y/L/N here.” You gave a subtle nod of appreciation to your partner at that last little mention. Both of you were trying to desperately make sense of this odd situation. Especially since you asked for a photo of Goldie and you were told you didn’t need one since she had to be lost on the property somewhere, possibly hurt or dying. It wasn’t like her not to come home by nightfall; her being missing for two days straight, she was in trouble. Their urgency overrode your attempts to get a visual of the animal you were looking for. You’d even tried to persuade them to supply you with a photo anyway but Lee had been adamant, which is exactly why you and Pops had been making your way through the endless yard.

“That’s her dog half. And a hybrid is a mutt,” Lee mused, smiling down at his pet. “I know she’s big and scary looking but I assure you she’s harmless. You probably just scared her is all. She doesn’t care for trespassers and she’s a little wary of visitors.” Marilyn nodded along with him.

You looked over at Pops who gave you a shrug, unsure of how to proceed. You let out a heavy breath and slipped your gun back into your holster, your gaze landing back on the wolf who laid her head down on her paws, almost as if she was trying to look innocent of the accusation that had just been made against her. Your eyes lifted to her owner when a thought hit you.

“You got her from a breeder, you say? Surely you’ll have papers for her then.”

Lee scratched at his head. “We do, somewhere. It’d take us forever to find it but, hey! You ask the sheriff or Miss Hoyt. They know Goldie, they know she’s legal.”

Your jaw tensed at the mention of the undersheriff. You knew she was saving the worst calls for you to go out on and you had accepted this week was pure hell that you would get through no matter what, but this…this was just plain vindictiveness at its best. Now the smirk she’d given you when giving you this call made sense, along with her insisting Animal Control wasn’t needed when you mentioned it and the Knutsons were a lovely old couple that just needed a little hand holding since they didn’t have anyone else, their kids and grandkids having long ago moved out of state.

“Y/L/N, the dog is probably somewhere in the yard and they don’t even know it. It would mean a lot to them if we respond to let them know we’re taking it seriously. Just go out there, look around, whistle a few times, and if the dog doesn’t come running, then tell them we’ll put flyers up. Open and shut case, trust me.”

You weren’t a violent person by any means. You could certainly hold your own in a fight but that wasn’t the way you preferred to resolve things. But if Hoyt were here in front of you right this second, you would have decked her.

You glared over at Poppernak who was gaping over at you. He seemed just as surprised as you so that made you feel slightly better. At least the whole department hadn’t been in on this. You gave Lee a curt nod and turned to head back to the car, more than done for the day, when you heard a loud gasp from behind you.

“Oh, honey.” You spun around, thinking the worst only to find Marilyn holding a hand over her mouth, her gaze intent on you, while Lee appeared to be struggling to hold in a laugh. You knew it before she even said it. “You are just covered in…in…”

“Dog shit,” Lee finished for his wife and burst out into laughter. Goldie began barking excitedly, almost as if she was trying to laugh along with her owner. She ignored the glare you sent her way and kept on barking. You glanced down and you were indeed covered in the excrement. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pops hold a closed fist up to his mouth, making a sound that suspiciously sounded like a chuckle and taking a step away from you. You scowled over at him, daring him to join in the laughter. The chuckle morphed into a sudden cough mixed in with a throat clearing, his expression turning sheepish.

Marilyn didn’t laugh, though. “I have some baby wipes,” she offered.

“Thank you,” you grumbled, not able to inject any gratitude into your voice just then. You hoped you didn’t sound too rude. Baby wipes were certainly better than nothing. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Marilyn hurried inside the house and you couldn’t help but continue to glare at the dog who watched you intently, tongue hanging out, not a care in the world, and a gleam in her golden eyes that confirmed for you that she found your predicament just as entertaining as her owner did. You shot her a ferocious glare as you worked to get your jacket off carefully with Poppernak’s help. Seeing the excrement now caked underneath your fingernails, you left out an irritated huff. Hell week indeed.

A/N: This was the image I had in my head of Goldie btw (black fur, yellowish eyes):

This is a full on wolf but definitely the look could fit the hybrid I think, depending on genetics and the dog breed of course.

[soullessjack]

i think one of the other autistic aspects in jacks character that’s like a little hard to see unless you’re also autistic, because it’s more of a common experience than a visible trait, is the sensitivity he has to people perceiving him as “different.” like, yes he actively wants to be strong and protect people and embrace his powers/what he is for a good purpose, and he even likes to show off and impress or entertain people with them. yes he’s well aware of his capabilities + Most Powerful Being status and literally weaponizes it against their enemies, but then at the same time he’s extremely uncomfortable when people regard him as “different” or dangerous, despite him knowing and owning that in other areas.

when mrs butters says that sam and dean should be afraid of jack bc of how insanely powerful he’s become, he never argues against his power level, only that he’d never hurt them; again, he knows his strength and uses it against various enemies even proudly sometimes. a large part of his character is just grappling with what he is and accepting that, which in turn ties into using it for Good to fight the Evil that’s supposed to be inherent to it. au bobby almost has him thrown out of the camp because he’s a “half breed” who will “inevitably” turn on the humans there because of it, and later on rationalizes that jack must be fully evil now because without his human side (a literal biological aspect that can’t be taken away), all that’s left is Lucifer. jack is essentially feared for being half-angel and looked down on for being half-human, for literally being a lesser human being because his other heritage isn’t human.

while jack obviously embraces their human heritage more, they do also make some effort to accept their angelic heritage for what it lets him do. suffice it to say, “this is who i am and I can’t change it but I can do something with it.” so then, when people view him as something weird or dangerous or simply different, when they see him negatively while he’s actively struggling to make positives out of it, he doesn’t deal with it very well. he strives to be “normal,” while still maintaining the protective role he’s able to fill specifically because he isn’t normal.

and for me, the autistic parallel lies in that directly. the more I’m realizing about myself and my autistic identity, the more I’m able to understand myself and embrace it—and even though my family jokes here and there, they also embrace me and help me feel more comfortable and confident in who I am. but it still feels like almost every day, I’m going through loving myself, messing up because I’m autistic, hating that I’m autistic and stuck like this forever, and learning to love myself again despite my faults. wash rinse repeat. as I become an adult and have increasing responsibility and pressure that I’m unable to take on because I’m autistic, I resent that the world isn’t built for me; that it actively hates and mocks me. countless tiktok core-core videos about how I am fundamentally a lesser human being or not even human to allistics, just because I am autistic. I flip back and forth all the time between “I hate being autistic because I struggle like this and I’ll never stop struggling” and “I love being autistic and I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t but I hate how difficult the world is because of it.”

and honestly both can be true; I don’t enjoy the executive dysfunction and exhaustion I’d deal with even in an ideal non-ableist society, but I enjoy being able to have special interests and experience certain things in a unique way. and conversely, jack likes being able to protect their loved ones and do cool tricks with their angel powers, but they don’t like being rejected or othered by everyone else because he’s half-angel. self acceptance is incredibly difficult to maintain when you aren’t outwardly accepted, and it’s even worse when you’re actively rejected—which true for anyone, but especially in the autistic experience. and again, even if the world was accepting of autistic people, I would still probably struggle to accept myself personally because of the ways it disables me. in that same way, even tho jack is (mostly) surrounded by people who accept him as he is and are equally as weird or “monstrous,” he still feels ostensibly Different from them and is actively othered from them by heaven and hell and dean in 15x18 arguing about his True Place.

another layer of this is that, even jack’s supportive accepting equally-weird family has their moments of othering him without meaning to; he is fundamentally dangerous [against his will], and they’re not being unreasonable when they’re afraid. i think dean even frames it as, “we aren’t afraid of you, we’re afraid of what you can do to other people,” which means to separate jack’s inherent dangerousness from their personhood, when jack so easily conflates the two (and even that itself can be seen as separating your symptoms/behaviors from your personhood).

a lot of dadstiel ppl might be mad at this, but even cas has the tendency to impose Jack’s value with the paradisal destiny Kelly told him about, despite also saying that Jack only needs to be himself to be loved. neither his or Kelly’s love are conditional on that basis, but it inadvertently created a standard for jack to hold themself to and is part of the reason he seeks to make Something Good out of what he’s been taught is Inherently Bad. he’s expected to succeed and actively wants to, but because their natural tendencies for retaliation or anger or impulsivity (things they view as inherently evil in them), as well as their lack of total control, causes jack to falter in fully succeeding and ergo, continue the struggle to love himself on the basis of meeting cas and kelly’s accidental standard.

it’s not their fault and it isn’t Jack’s fault either, because it’s all fundamentally a matter of genetics and circumstance, but it’s obvious to anyone alive that’s ever struggled with self consciousness and esteem that it’s hard to love yourself when the love you receive from others seemingly falters in a specific area, because then you fixate on the area where their love falters and you either strive to fix it or spiral into a crisis that there will always be some aspect of you that isn’t lovable.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.