#in which John Winchester is not a complete asshole for once

[markofcastiel]

The Plan

Relationship: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Summary: Cas has been his best friend since they were eight. But now they're both applying for universities and Dean is more anxious than he wants to admit.

Tags: fluff, first kiss, self-esteem issues

"If you get accepted to all of them, which one are you gonna pick?"

"I dunno, Sammy!" Dean snaps, closing the book in front of him with more force than necessary. The pencil that Dean had been anxiously chewing on just seconds ago rolls off the desk with the vibration, and lands on the hardwood floors with a clack.

"I'm so sick of everyone pressuring me for answers!"

"Dude... it was just a question..."

His baby brother is getting bigger and bigger. He's nearly Dean's size now and shows no signs of stopping his growth spurt. But in moments like these Sammy can still pull off a face that reminds Dean that he's just a gangly 14 year old kid - with huge puppy eyes and a sad retriever look. Dean would calm down and apologize for snapping if he wasn't so riled up:

"Not when you're the third person asking me that today. Just lay off my back already!"

Sam raises his brows high, and his lips quirk in the way they do when he's preparing a comeback.

"Touchy~~"

"Bitch."

"Moooooom, Dean called me a bitch..."

"You-"

Mary's voice reaches in from the hallway almost instantly: "Dean, language!!"

Sam sticks his tongue out, grins triumphantly, and then whispers "jerk" before running back to his room.

Freaking Sammy...

"At the risk of being the fourth to ask..."

His best friend speaks up from behind him, letting the sentence linger in the air unfinished. Dean turns around in his chair to see Cas sprawled across his bed, calmly observing him. He has a book open in front of him, but it's upside down so Dean's pretty sure he wasn't really studying.

"I do wonder the same, Dean."

"Not you too, man."

"I'm just curious."

"Look... I don't know, Cas."

Dean sighs, and finally decides to give up on studying, since his mind is too far gone.

His room is not so big, so when he stretches his leg, it actually reaches the bed. He uses this fact to his advantage, one foot pushing insistently at Castiel's thigh in a silent demand for him to move. It works, effectively making his best friend sit up and scooch over enough so that Dean can also sit down on the cushy mattress.

Even though there was more than enough space to leave a few inches between them, they end up squished right against each other. But Cas doesn't complain, so Dean lets his head drop onto his best friend's shoulder, and closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to chase away the worry bubbling inside. His brain keeps racing around, thinking about the future and how everything seems so scary and uncertain. He still feels like a kid but he has to make all these grown up decisions and move away from everyone he loves.

It doesn't really seem fair.

"Can't I just stay here forever?"

Although Cas doesn't answer, he reaches out, sensing Dean's distress. His hand finds Dean's nape, and starts stroking tenderly along Dean's spine, soothing all the muscles down its path. Dean just leans into the touch and sighs again, now a happier sound.

Cas has a way of always feeling like sunshine, peeking through even on the cloudiest days. Dean basks in the attention, and lets go of the worries for a moment, just focusing on the warmth of Castiel's hand, and the way Cas' breath ghosts against his hair. He thinks he feels Castiel kissing the top of his head, a feathery touch, barely there - but maybe he was just imagining it. After a few moments of silence, Dean finally allows himself to ask:

"What 'bout you, Cas? You never told me which university you decided on."

The soothing hand leaves Dean's back and he instantly misses the contact. Cas stares at him silently, and it's only when Dean rights himself up and looks back, raising a brow in question that Cas replies, with a mysterious finality to his tone.

"I don't know yet."

"What? Really? You don't know?"

Cas simply shrugs. He's suddenly very interested in the book in front of him - it seems he finally notices that it is upside down and his hands fumble to turn it around.

"Oh..." Dean is surprised, to say the least.

His best friend is always so sure of himself, so certain of the path that has to be taken to succeed in life. When they started highschool Cas had already picked all his classes before Dean could even decide on one. So Dean wasn't expecting an 'I don't know'. If anything, Dean was expecting a bullet list of next steps and timelines to achieve his life goals or something geeky like that.

"Ok," Dean mumbles out, slightly dazed, before turning even more interested. He can't believe he never asked:

"Huh... which universities did you apply to?"

Blue eyes snap back up, meeting his.

There's a weird sort of tension in the air until Cas finally answers.

"MIT, Caltech and KU."

"What?! Are you serious?"

Dean turns to face Cas fully, the ecstasy obvious in his eyes. He grabs Castiel's knees and squeezes.

"Those are exactly the same ones I applied to! Dudeeee, that's such a coincidence - it would be awesome if we ended up in the same one!"

Dean rambles excitedly, not noticing the calculated gaze on his best friend's eyes.

"This is the best news I've heard all year, Cas - I freaking LOVE you!"

He throws his arm around Cas, squishing him tight and kissing his cheek like crazy, forgetting that wasn't a normal thing best friends do.

"And with your big brain I'm sure you are gonna get into all of them, Cas!"

Cas huffs out a small laugh, his eyes crinkling softly at Dean's excitement. But his smile fades away when Dean's face darkens. He slowly releases his grip on Cas, and Cas knows what's coming before Dean even starts.

"Me, on the other hand... I mean... what if I don't get into any of them?"

"Dean."

Cas sounds tired beyond his years, as if he hasn't just turned 18, but instead has lived centuries watching the Earth turn on its axis.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean complies, though he's not sure why. Emboldened, Cas barrels on, confident and unwavering:

"You're one of the brightest people I have ever known."

"No, I'm not," Dean scoffs.

Cas squints, and his head tilts.

"You do realize that your GPA disagrees?"

"You're one to talk, Cas... you have 5.0 GPA! And I'm pretty sure the only reason you don't have higher is because you were afraid the teachers thought it was too good to be true."

"I like Advanced Placement classes..."

"Yeah, well. You're basically a superhuman genius or something."

"Hmm... in that case perhaps you should listen to me when I say you'll get into all of the universities you applied to."

Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas persists:

"My GPA is not the point, Dean. I'm not the one who secretly thinks I'm dumb, despite being elected Valedictorian and having the second highest GPA in our entire school, and likely one of the highest in the country for our year."

"I was only chosen as Valedictorian cus everyone knows you suck at speeches, Cas! You'd probably just get up there and give a one-liner about how 'we're all people trying their best in a world where it's easy to do your worst' and then end with a weird goat joke that no one gets."

"That was my speech in middle school."

"Exactly!"

"The joke just didn't translate well. It was funnier in the original language."

Dean roars with laughter, and then slaps Cas in the back.

"And that is why I am Valedictorian, buddy."

Cas looks slightly uncomfortable, but it just makes Dean laugh harder. He's clearly imagining a myriad of terrible speeches that some imaginary Castiel would do. When he finally comes down from his high, he wipes the corner of his eyes, and shakes his head.

"Man... I'm gonna miss you too much if we don't end up in the same uni..."

Cas awkwardly looks away.

"Why didn't you pick one yet anyway? Knowing you, I thought you already had a whole grand plan in mind," Dean pries, curious. Cas remains quiet, staring a hole into a spot on the wall. Dean can tell when his best friend is holding something back. Dean bumps his knee against him, and insists.

"What is it, Cas?"

Cas chances a look, and quickly caves in as soon as he sees the bright green eyes staring up at him.

"I'm waiting."

"Really? What for?"

Cas looks away again, cheeks slightly tinged in pink. If Dean didn't know him so well, he would say Cas was embarrassed. But Cas was never embarrassed, so he must be imagining it. When Cas seems to stall, Dean pushes again.

"What are you waiting for, buddy?"

"You didn't pick yet."

"Ok..."

Dean scrunches his nose.

"What does that have to do with it?"

Cas looks back at him, annoyed.

"What?"

"You didn't pick yet," Cas repeats slowly, as if somehow that explains everything. Dean just makes another face, even more confused.

"So what? It's not like you're planning to follow me into whatever university I-"

Cas looks at him meaningfully.

Wait. What?

Dean can feel himself turn red and redder, all the way up to his ears. No. No way. Was Cas really waiting for him to choose just so he could go to the same one???

"Yes, so..." Cas confirms his unspoken question, closing the book in front of him, "please hurry up, Dean. Your indecision is interfering with my plan."

"Your... plan?"

And that's when Cas pulls out a bullet list of his life goals - Dean was right, he does have one - and hands it over.

"I was supposed to be at step number 7 already, which is getting an apartment for us near the campus. But if you don't pick a university I can't start on that one."

"Cas."

"Yes?"

"Did you seriously put 'Marry Dean Winchester' as bullet point number 20?"

"Well, 18 is too early, and 22 seems too late. I think bullet point 20 is the perfect balance."

"Cas..."

"Yes?"

"We're not even dating yet."

"Of course not," Cas says with some exasperation, pointing at number 10 on the list, "that's only after step 8 and 9, Dean, since we will be much more emotionally mature."

Dean smiles, a silly, huge grin and shakes his head. Well, he was never one to follow grand plans and by led by other people's rules so he cradles Cas' face between his palms, leans in and kisses that stupid look off of his best friend's face.

Cas squirms under him, a delightful surprised hitch leaving his mouth, but ends up clinging to his leather jacket like there's no tomorrow. When Dean finally pulls away he marvels at his best friend's spit-slick lips, and the way that dark hair got all ruffled up, making Cas impossibly sexier.

"So," Dean chirps cheerfully, the future suddenly seeming much more exciting.

"Which university are we going to?"

Cas doesn't answer, just pulls him back in for another kiss, and then another. They only stop to come up for air, and even then they're both smiling wide, breaths ragged and hearts beating fast.

"What about th-"

Oh god,

Cas started kissing up his jaw, and somehow Dean's jacket found its way the floor.

"-C-Cas, w-wha- t-the plan?"

"Mmm," Cas mumbles between kisses, and then his tongue darts out to lick a line behind Dean's ear, making Dean shiver and fall apart with a whimper.

"Changed my mind."

"Hell yea-"

"Boys."

The voice suddenly startles them both apart, and they turn at the speed of light to find Mary Winchester at the entrance of Dean's bedroom, staring past the -very open- door. Dean can't believe he was this freaking stupid, and he can feel his heart hammer anxiously in his chest.

"Mom, it's - it's not what it looks like-"

Mary rolls her eyes.

"Oh really? 'Cus it looks like you knuckleheads finally realized you're made for each other. I could power a town with the stares you two have been throwing at each other for the last ten years."

"M-mom," Dean mumbles.

"Now, hands off each other and come help me with dinner. I think I burned the rice again..."

---

"MIT."

Dean blurs out right in the middle of dinner. All the eyes lift off of busy plates full of food, staring up at him, waiting for more explanation. Dean squeezes Cas' hand a bit tighter below the table before clearing his throat and trying again:

"We decided on MIT."

His family cheers, rushing to congratulate him. Sammy however, asks all too eagerly:

"We? Are you both going to the same one?"

Dean blushes, suddenly nervous, "y-yeah."

John groans, making Dean practically jump out of his skin, heart hammering on his chest. But then his little brother's voice raises over the sound:

"Called it," Sammy announces, and shoves an open palm in front of their father, "pay up old man!"

John reluctantly pulls out 50 dollars, just as Mary smacks both of them on the back of their heads, clearly displeased with whatever just transpired.

Dean stares at his father like he just grew an extra head but John just slowly chews at his food, and doesn't provide any additional explanation.

"I'm happy to hear that, baby," Mary says gently, looking genuinely pleased. She proceeds to elbow John, and the man finally seems to realize he should say something.

"Yeah. Good for you, son. You take good care of each other, you hear? Keep your noses outta trouble."

Dean blushes and nods furiously, the words of his father always his gospel.

Cas, in the meantime, is far too focused on scribbling all over his (now slightly crumpled) piece of paper. It seems 'Marry Dean Winchester' is now circled extra hard, and has been moved up a few steps on The Plan.

Dean ducks his head and smiles, shy and proud. Yep, it's still gonna be scary moving away from his mom and dad and he's gonna miss the hell out of his lil brother.

But he's got Cas.

Whatever happens, they're gonna be alright.

[punkclowngod]

What did Sam Winchester do (irt your DNI?) I only watched like seasons 1-5 and I'm not particularly a fan of his but I'm curious what he actually did.

Where do I start skdjksjsk

Okay so I don’t feel like re watching stuff just to make a list, this going to be off the top of my head which means I will miss a few things because it’s impossible to enumerate all he’s done just like that

Also, disclaimer: SPN is bad. It’s not well written. It’s a shit show. It’s horrible. So it’s important to keep in mind that all of the characters are kinda shitty (except Charlie), but at some point it’s also how Sam’s been received by the fandom that made me hate him so much.

Okay so here we go:

The demon blood thing. Sam happily betrays Dean for no reason just because he feels like it. ALSO important note: addiction is not a moral failure. I’m not mad at Sam for getting hooked on demon blood, I’m mad at his entire attitude before and after

His whole “I love angels, angels are so cool I wish I could meet one” and then he meets angels and they’re all like “you should stop drinking demon blood” and suddenly Sam pivots and goes “fuck angels they’re all assholes” instead of doing some soul searching and thinking that maybe he’s doing something wrong

He left Dean with their father to go to college or whatever. And yes this is more nuanced and complicated because a child is never responsible for the actions of their abusive parent(s), but Sam does not once acknowledge or try to understand the impact of his departure. It’s very clearly insinuated that John beat the shit out of Dean when Sam left and Sam does not seem to give a shit about it despite knowing their father was violent

As the point above, it’s made clear Sam does not care about Dean as a whole, only when it affects him. Which - yes it’s a common thing with a few mental illnesses and it doesn’t inherently make him a bad person. But he refuses to see or grow or leave his bubble of selfishness despite seeing how distressed Dean is constantly and that does make him shitty at the very least

Again, to keep this point going: at some point Dean dies and goes to purgatory. Sam does not once look for him despite the bizarre nature of his death which could’ve been a good reason to search for Dean. Instead he goes to be with a vet and completely forget about Dean

The only time Dean dies and Sam seems to care long-term is in the Mystery Spot episode and even then the only reason he can’t speedrun grieving and moving on is because he’s forced to relive the same day over and over again so he can’t escape it

And yeah sure you can pull out a few scenes where Sam “cares” about Dean, but is it proportional to how much Dean cares about him? And is it enough to make up for all the scenes where he actively hurts Dean? Nope.

In the later seasons, Dean has a plan to lock himself in a coffin and throw it in the ocean because he’s possessed by Micheal and can’t allow him to go free. And of course instead of realizing how desperate Dean must feel to prepare himself to do this and how violent the psychological toll this choice has to have on him, Sam makes it all about him. My guy, DEAN is the one that’s thinking the only way he can save the world is to spend eternity in a coffin at the bottom of the ocean with Micheal, this isn’t about you! (Tho to be fair pretty much everyone makes that choice about them instead of trying to help Dean with the weight of it)

Little extra that doesn’t count as something Sam did but that still irks me: I don’t like the actor. I don’t think Jared is good and his acting pulls me out of the scenes. I genuinely don’t understand how no one is talking about that

Overall, Sam just refuses to grow. Fifteen seasons and he’s still just as unhealthily selfish as before, still thinks that what he feels is always right and therefore others are always wrong. His sense of superiority doesn’t waver, he hangs on to it like it’s the only thing keeping him always while Dean is actually the one pulling him up and killing himself trying to make his life the best it can be

Okay that one is just plain bad writing bc the SPN writers are raging misogynists so it’s not actually Sam’s fault but: Sam trying to convince a stripper to go to nursing school instead? Really?? Fuck off

I have vague scenes in my head where Sam is just straight up cruel to Dean and others but i can’t recall any of them in detail and yes to be fair Dean to has his shit moments where he’s a piece of shit but Sam particularly gets under my skin, it feels more vicious and willingly mean than a desperate reaction due to an outburst like Dean often has

I know there’s more than that, I once tried keeping count of all the times Sam betrayed Dean but stopped because it got too much and I wasn’t even through season one yet and yeah I know my hatred of him is probably affected by my BPD but even when I watch through a rational and analytical perspective, he’s still a character that I despise.

The main problem I have is that he’s supported by the narrative and the fans. That goes for Dean too in a way. Those people are not good people. They do more harm than good and I wish the narrative acknowledged that instead of pushing the “broken heroes” label on them when they do not fit it at all. They kill mercilessly and without nuance, seek out monsters even when they do no harm, start more apocalypses than they can stop. The bad writing only adds to the awfulness of it all and it’s important to remember why they’re being written like this and how it impacts their characters and the world they live in.

Maybe Sam could’ve been an at least interesting character if he had been well written, but I think we’re well past that. SPN was a bad show, so bad it’s fun to watch, but still bad. It wasn’t meant to be funny like it is, and it’s an important thing to keep in mind.

Anyways I hope this made sense and I wish I had a better memory so I could go in deeper details and put more examples, but really with the brain I have my ability to do this is kinda limited rip

Still, thanks for asking, this was fun to do and I’m always happy to complain about Sam and rethink back to my SPN days

[deans-baby-momma]

The Story of Us-Chapter 20

A/N: This is a rewrite of a story my good friend @spnbaby-67 allowed me to take and rewrite. All mistakes are mine. This is canon divergent, meaning some things that happened in the show will still happen here but with my own twist to it.

Summary: She and Dean met when they were kids. Even at such a young age, she knew that he was her soulmate. Being the daughter of a hunter, Michaela (Micki) Singer knew the life he led came with a price, but she was up to the challenge.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/reader, Sam Winchester/friend!reader, John Winchester, Mary Winchester (mentioned only), Bobby Singer, and more from the Supernatural universe.

Warnings: Flashbacks are in italics, fluffy stuff, angst stuff, character death, kidnapping, depression, semi-dark themes

Singer Salvage (May 2007)

Bobby and his daughter mourned Sam for hours until there were no tears left to cry and no more stories to reminisce. They both went their separate ways to clean up before reconvening in the kitchen.

Micki opens her mouth to tell her father the news she recently discovered but there was a knock on the door that interrupted her before she could speak.

Bobby looks at her silently asking if she was expecting someone but she shakes her head. He goes to the door and opens it, Micki right behind him.  They’re astonished and confused when they see Sam standing beside his brother on the porch.

“Hey Bobby,” Sam says with a grin. 

“Sam,” Bobby says, hesitantly, “It’s good to see you…up and about.”

“Yea. Um, thanks for patching me up.” Sam pats Bobby on the shoulder as he passes and smiles at Micki. “Hey Mick.”

When Sam lets her go to walk on into the house, both Bobby and Micki turn their heads from watching his descent to look at Dean.

Dean shifts from foot to foot and then smiles. “So Sam’s better.  And we’re back in it,” he tells Bobby and then pushes past the older man and pulls Micki into his arms, kissing her passionately. A little too intense for Micki’s liking. Something is up; something ungodly.  

Micki can tell from the kiss that Dean is trying to hide something. And she is determined to find out what!

When he pulls away, Micki eyes him and watches as he looks at everything but her. Oh, yea he is hiding something. Something major. But what? 

Once the boys tell them about what the yellow-eyed demon disclosed to Sam, Bobby pulls out lore books and tomes and starts looking for answers. Sam begins reading some of the pages over the old man’s shoulder as Dean and Micki stay out of their way.

Dean still won’t look Micki in the eye, no matter how hard she tries to get his attention. Finally, when she is about to break and start asking him questions, Bobby speaks up. 

“I got some more books in the truck,” Bobby says as he pushes away from the table and stands up. “Come on Dean. Come help me. You too Micki.”

Micki is following behind Dean and her dad until they get closer to the truck when Bobby suddenly stops and turns. “You stupid asshole! What did you do?” When Dean looks away, it’s all the confirmation that Bobby needs. “He shoves Dean. “You made a deal... For Sam, didn't you? How long did they give you?”

Micki's heart begins breaking as she realizes what her boyfriend had done. That’s why he wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t meet her eyes. He felt guilty. Guilty and remorseful.

“Bobby,” Dean says but her dad cuts him off before he could say anything else. As Micki stands there and listens to Dean try to explain why he did what he did, Micki's heart breaks even more. It is completely shattered when Dean tells them how long he has left.

“One year.”

Micki breaks down in sobs as her dad and Dean’s conversation continues. “Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch,” Dean demands. “That's why I'm gonna kill him myself. I mean, I got nothing to lose now, right?”

Micki is seething through her tears as she listens to the love of her life belittle and dismiss his own life. 

“Nothing to lose. That’s what you think?” Micki says as she reigns in her tears and stalks closer to him. She gets right in his face and if she wasn’t so angry, she might have triumphed over the fact that Dean seems frightened as he pulls back from her. “You goddamned idjit! I’m pregnant, you motherfucker! So yea, you got nothing to lose. Just a lifetime of watching our child grow up! I hate you,” she screams at him before rearing back and slapping him across the face. “I hate you!”

Micki turns and stalks back toward the house as she lets the tears flow. She bypasses Sam in the den and goes straight upstairs, slamming her bedroom door before falling face first onto the bed and crying harder.

Dean had sold his soul to bring his brother back! She couldn't be mad at him for that but she was fucking pissed that he did it so willingly, without so much as a thought of how it would affect her!

Singer Cabin (Present Day 2008)

There's a soft knock on the door as Micki is putting Maren down for the night.

"Mick? Sweetie,  can I come in?" her dad's voice comes through.

"Yea dad, of course."

Micki watches her dad step into the room and turn to softly close the door so as not to wake the sleeping child in her bassinet.

He smiles at his daughter as she sits on the end of the mattress before glancing at his granddaughter.

"What's up Dad?"

"Can't I just want to spend time with you?" Bobby scoffs as he stands there, crossing his arms. "How ya doin'?"

"I'm good, Daddy."

"I know this has to have been hell for you. Dean's back but life ain't exactly the same."

Micki chuckles as she leans forward, her elbow on her knees. “No, it isn’t. So much has changed. We have a child but Dad, so much is still unchanged. It’s going to take some getting used to, him being here, but fuck if I ain’t ecstatic about it. I would change my whole life for that man.”

“I know you would sweetie,” Bobby says as he joins her on the bed. “I know you would.”

“Can I ask you something Dad?” Micki asks as she sits back up, shoulder to shoulder with her father.

“What is it?”

“When he showed up at the house….” Micki begins and then pauses, pondering on how to word her question. “did you have to force him to come here? Was he, shit….did he even ask about me?”

Bobby smiles as he wraps an arm around his only daughter, his pride and joy. 

“Girl, I couldn’t have kept that man away from coming up here if I tried.” 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @atc74​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​  @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @hoboal87​ @mogaruke​ @deanwanddamons​ @supraveng​ @deandreamernp​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @maggiegirl17​ @chriszgirl92​

[tootiredmotel]

a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.

[cooloddball]

Someone submitted something in my inbox and they wanted to remain anonymous. Since this is an extremely long essay, I will put it under the cut. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

xxx submitted: hey, i was the one who ask what do you think of Misha and Jensen's current relationship First off all thank you for your answear it means much to me cause im easy to be convice and this person who keep telling me that they are no longer friends can be so convicing, so I'm actully trying to forget what she said 😅 so I'm just writing a few. she said that since they no longer work together, they will forget about each other, and do their common things like the gay jokes, face touches ect. With other people, and neglect each other, don't talk to each other, and then meet new people who will replace the other. And and she talked about the gish thing, she said she sure they didn't talk since the end of the series, because Jensen didn't know where Misha was and Misha didn't know about the Radio Company vol 2 (but i saw people say that, they were just pretending, because Misha liked something about Radio Company Vol 2, before the gish live, so in theory he already knew then or something like that) and She said Misha wrote a poem about Darius not Jensen and now I will write down what she sent me : I saw a post about Jensen's current activities on social media, and I've come to the conclusion the only person he doesn't interact with is mish. Sadly this makes my break up theory even stronger. I feel like this is a goodbye to one of the biggest parts of my life. They've moved on from "uk what I haven't told you today? That i love u"+ from "miss my only jensen" from "i love u misha i mean it from the bottom of my heart" from "jensen has no flaws" from "misha is the funniest thing ever happened to me" from all that love and affection from everything they developed together and now they're apart leaving their lives like nothing happened and call me a dramatic but they both have the same energy now as someone has after a big break up. and Jensen comments on almost every of his friend’s post except Misha’s"+ Jenmish is genuinely the best thing that has ever happened in my entire life. I owe them literally everything. They're the reason i hold on. Unfortunately on this essay i have to start using past tense verbs for them, and i have to continue on that. I don't know for how long y'all been in spn fandom. But even if u joined one year before the show ended you'd know how close and intimate jensen and misha were. Everything about them was unmatched.+ The chemistry and how they just fit eachother. They had always been all over eachother. Like they were holding on eachother for dear life. They completed eachother and were like world's most powerful thing. They were the definition of soulmatism. No matter where, they ALWAYS kept interacting with eachother. Each possible tweet or insta post. On cons that the other wasn't there, the other one would bring up the othere's name for no absolute reason. +The looks and repeated love confessions. How invested they were both into eachother. The family they had built together cuz we know how close dee and mish are (look all the charity work they've been doing together recently). There are youtube videos to proof everything I've said so far.When i say break up, my real intention is that they've grown apart. Everything started in the the third or forth month of pandemic. Before than jensen used to interact +(comment mostly) on almost all of misha's posts. But after a while everything just stopped. At first personally didn't care that much. Bcuz I believed too much in them that I thought not even the gods above could separate them. I told myself maybe they spend long hours chatting or video calling and that's why online public interactions are gone. But as it passed it almost diminished to zero. Except some likes from jackles and eventual ones from misha there weren't anything else.+ We got absolutely no content and the show went off too. We were helpless and were sticking to everything we had Dee had a big social media shot down, so as jensen. Misha was busy with the election. We got some interviews for it with all of them. But we didn't get much.except remember both of them pulling a bff

move. and texted eachother during an online con where everyone else were dead-serious about politics? That flickered something in me. That showed me that+ they can't ever possibly let eachother go. And the times everyone else were talking and these too would just talk random things together (the one jackels had a white hat on with stacy abraham).And then Misha posted that for jensen's bday We really overlooked it. That shit was too intimate. To close. Fav march baby? U just don't go around and called ur bestie baby and when u mean it deeply. Especially not when ur friend is jensen ackles the "I suffered form internalized homophobia my whole life+ but fuck my wife's an angel and i have an angel bf too and another angel which is his wife but I'd rather die than come out cuz my asshole dad pulled a John winchester on me". It doesn't work like that. But uk how mish is. Carefree and open. I believe they got into a fight bcuz of this. He didn't even like the post. AND that was when the tiny bit of interactions we had was gone too. For a while jensen didn't even liked his posts. After a month it started again.What made me finally believe in that they had grown too+ far: I still remember the night misha posted that he and jensen were going to have a con for gish together. I remember how hard I cried. Lile the whole world was given to me. But deep down in my heart I knew that something would definitely happen. It didn't sit right with me and unfortunately my senses never lie to me. Jensen showed up at the wrong time bcuz of misunderstanding the time zones (this was HILARIOUS). That's not even my point.+ I've seen that interview 3 times so far. It always reminds me of when i saw my ex at a party and we were both so thrilled to see eachother and we still loved the other dearly, but we just couldn't work it out. Jensen and Misha's expressions were EXACTLY the same. The genuine smiles and longs pauses were they just stared at eachother. I'm so happy that it was online cuz if they actually gave that looks to eachother standing right next to the other one I would've collapsed. Misha didn't know that jensen's album+ was out. And he got so embarrassed when he found it out. He didn't know that jensen was on set and hadn't been home for 8weeks. Jensen had no idea where misha was. And this means that they hadn't talked in a long long time.When you're that close with someone for more than a decade, i mean THAT close, even if u're separated from eachother you'd at least check on the once a week, or at least once in two weeks. But it was vividly clear that they hadn't. I hate how this world works. They would always be in my heart.+ I would be thankful from them for everything. It hurts, and it won't stop and im so sure I'd be carrying this pain for a long time. They mean too much to a lot of us. Sometimes I think to myself that god i love them so much. Remember in 2019 when we used to get SO many jenmishdee interactions? That was LIT. It was THEE year for us. I hope they're doing good. I really do. I hope we don't get more proofs and I won't have to update this thread. Cuz my heart won't be taking it very+ well.Something i gotta add U may say that Jensen's busy and that's why he doesn't comment. But he comments on a lot of jared and his new costar's posts. So that's no excuse. So yeah that's it. I don't know what am I supposed to think. english isn't my native language, so sorry for the mistakes

Here is my response:

I don't know who this person who has been talking to is but I have to say they seem to be project their previous relationship experience on cockles.

I believe Jensen and Misha are okay and are together. Social media likes and comments don't mean anything. I mean it's not like Jensen or Misha used to comment on each other's posts before. Jensen didn't even wish Dee Happy Mother's Day this year, does that mean they are not together anymore? Nope. He has other best friends he has known for over 20 years like Jason Manns, Steve Carlson etc that he doesn't wish happy birthday, does that mean they are not friends anymore.

Please let's not put value on social media likes. I don't even follow my own family on sm and I don't always like or comment on my bf's or bff's posts on sm. So it doesn't mean anything.

As for the Gish Panel, I have talked about it before, the time Jensen was slotted to attend the panel, he was meant to answer fan questions. I honestly believe they decided to not do it at that time because they knew the questions would be about Destiel and not their new projects. If you watched that panel, Misha knew that Jensen's album was out as I pointed out. He was just trying to promote the album and soldier boy. He knew Jensen had also buffed out. It was all to promote Jensen. Anything else you hear is trolls and antis just being loud. Also don't forget Jensen called him "babe".

If Jensen and Misha weren't okay, he wouldn't have attended or participated all those panels Misha organized especially for Gish. Danneel also posts a lot about RA and likes Misha's posts. I am 100% Misha visited the Ackles when he went to Colorado last month.

Stop listening to trolls and/or antis or just people who are projecting and look at facts.

[flamencodiva]

A Different League 1 - Walls

Description: Y/N never experienced the life of luxury. Being the daughter of a hunter never gave her that experience. But what happens when she finds a job working for one of the most prestigious hunting companies in the world?

Word Count: 1960

Beta: @wonder-cole

Warnings: Language, Violence, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn (yes, that's a warning), Rivals to Idiots, Idiots to Lovers, Lovers to Idiots.

Main Masterlist 

Series Masterlist

<< Prologue 

Code Red! Code Red!’

The red lights and alarm sounded throughout the building.

‘Level 10 monster detected.’

Y/N Y/L/N made her way through the hall towards the locker rooms to suit up. As usual, she was part of the ground team, which did all the messy work when hunting monsters for Hunter Corp.

Marching down the hallway, she made her way to the briefing room, grabbing the folder handed to her and reading it right away.

“Think this is the one?” Benny asked, standing by her with his folder.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “don’t know. Maybe it is. But according to the data recon has gathered, not likely. If it’s a level ten, then--”

“It’s most likely an Alpha monster,” Ketch interrupted. “Y/N, darling, when are you going to take me up on that offer to wine and dine you?” he asked, trying to flirt with the huntress.

“When hell freezes over, Arthur,” she sighed, “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, my focus is on work, not my--”

“Libido,” Benny and Ketch echoed with matching smiles.

“We know, Cher,” Benny chuckled, “then again I did see you eyeing--”

“You say it, and I hog tie you and castrate you,” Y/N growled, “I lived on a ranch for a good amount of years while dad was taking care of a pack. Don’t think I won’t do it, Benjamin.”

Benny lifted his hands in surrender and chuckled, walking toward his seat on the conference table. Other squad leaders filtered in as they were ready to talk about the Level 10 monster that had appeared. This included the two sons of the CEO, the eldest of the two, Dean, taking a seat next to Y/N.

“Units 1 and 2, you will take the lead on this, “ John Winchester said as he walked into the room, taking a seat at the head of the table. “These two units will oversee operations and capture. I will repeat that,” he said, looking at each unit leader in turn, “capture the target. Our goal is to learn as much as we can before eradicating their species.”

“Do we have the special equipment that I had made for occasions like this?” Y/N asked as she flipped through the different pages, analyzing the data collected. “Do we also know what kind of Alpha we’re dealing with?”

“As of right now, we just know it’s an Alpha. I’m waiting on relay team Gamma to get back with the complete analysis,” John announced, impressed with his top hunter. “But I do want my best teams there in case something goes wrong.”

Y/N simply hummed as she let her mind process the strategy the boss set up. Her boss wasn’t wrong. Her squad, along with Snob, as she liked to call Dean, would be a formidable force. That is if he wasn’t trying to talk about his exploits on a private jet.

No matter where they were, he always had some way of interjecting how nice it is to have money and experience things. Y/N has never had the pleasure of doing. Sure she had the money to do those things now, but she never saw the big deal. It only spurred her annoyance at Snob when he would try to make conversation with her. They had nothing in common, yet he continued to try to talk to her while she ignored him.

After the meeting ended, Y/N made her way back to her room. She was the only one of the squad leaders not to have a place of her own. It was something that didn’t go unnoticed by the other leaders, especially John. Y/N would brush off the comments of her not having a place to unwind away from work. In all honesty, she didn’t know what else to do. She grew up hunting, and she figured living in the facility would give her faster reaction time to save more lives.

As she packed her things, she could feel a pair of eyes on her.

“What do you want?” she called out, never facing the person who stood at her doorway.

“I was wondering--”

“No, Dean. I will not go to whatever fancy place you want to take me to,” she sighed, moving around her room to collect what she would think she would need.

“I’m not, Ketch,” Dean grumbled, “And I know for a fact that you barely leave the compound. You don’t even have your own place.”

“Why do you care, Snob,” she hissed at him. “To someone like you, I’m just a worker. Why do you care that I live in the compound?”

“If this is about the gala, I already apologized,” Dean whined, “What more do you want from me?”

“To let me do my job,” Y/N huffed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pushing past him, “and right now, my job is to make sure we know what we are dealing with before we go in blind and kill good hunters on a hunch.”

“The recon team--”

“Has been wrong before,” she pointed out, “Your brother has been wrong before and at my expense!”

“Samuel would never-” Dean began.

“He has, and he did, Dean,” she argued. “That scar on my back was not because I thought it would be fun to ignore that there was another Rugaru.”

She glared at him, “It was because I was told by your brother that there was only one when there were, in fact, three of them.”

Dean stayed silent as she walked away from him and towards the garage. Never in his life had a woman angered and enamored him before. The minute he had laid eyes on Y/N three years ago at the gala, he could feel his heart pound in his chest. His insecurities had gotten the better of him, and he had to play the millionaire asshole. When she didn’t bow down to his charm, he was intrigued.

After a year of training, moving up the ranks, and being her partner, Dean learned that Y/N was all business. Not like any of the girls he ever dated or bedded. Y/N had a drive, but what it was, she wouldn’t say. Y/N began to distance herself more from him for every case they had, only communicating if it had to do with the hunt and to turn down his invitations.

Dean made it to his dorm with a deep sigh and began packing his things, hoping he could try to break through the walls Y/N built with this hunt.

Looking at her watch, Y/N wondered where Charlie was? Usually, Charlie would be her research partner on cases like these. Well, Charlie is always her choice as a research partner. The woman was a genius when it came to technology and making her way into security footage to search for monsters.

Y/N didn’t notice as Charlie walked up behind her. Most of Y/N’s attention was on the recon folder. She was trying to assess what the team had found.

“You know,” Charlie said as she approached Y/N, “You’re really taking this not thinking with your libido thing a bit too far.”

“I am focused on my work,” Y/N replied, never taking her eyes off the file. “I have a feeling we’re dealing with a Shifter-Alpha.”

“What gives you that idea?” Charlie asked as she sat down next to Y/N.

“It’s the fact that in every house reported, Mom and Dad are dead,” Y/N pointed out as she pushed the folder towards Charlie. “But the baby goes missing,” she pointed to the details in every story.

“Huh,” Charlie let out, tilting her head to the side as she looked over the notes, “I guess that means we’re heading out early?”

“No,” Y/N sighed, “going to talk to John first.”

“Really?” Charlie gasped, “you’re usually gung-ho about going when you have a hunch like this?”

“Okay, I’m a hunter, not suicidal,” Y/N drawled.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to point out the details in the story and voice her suspicions to John. Of course, when John agreed with her suspicions, he organized all quad leaders and put his plan in motion. Nearing the next house that Alpha would attack, Dean and Y/N placed themselves in charge of moving in to capture the monster.

‘Leader 1,’ came Dean’s voice through the walkie-talkie, ‘we have movement inside the house. I repeat, we have movement inside the house.’

“Copy that, Leader 2,” she responded before taking a breath, “Red-Recon, Red-Recon, what do we have on the video feed?”

‘Can’t I have a cooler nickname?’ Charlie whined through the intercom, ‘like Red Hawk!’

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out a chuckle before responding, “Okay, Red Hawk, can you just tell me what the video feed shows?”

‘You were right, Leader 1,’ Charlie confirmed, ‘glowing eyes in the feed. We’re dealing with a nest of shifters. We also are seeing a large nursery through the micro-cam footage.’

“Shit,” Y/N cursed, “we might need to abort and come up with--”

‘You are going to do nothing of the sort, Leader 1,’ Samuel’s voice came through, ‘we’re here to do a job. We will kill every last one of them if we have to.’

“Samuel, there are kids in there. No matter what the species, kids are kids!” Y/N argued.

‘That’s Recon-Leader to you, Leader 1,’ he barked.

‘Recon-leader,’ Dean’s voice came through, ‘I agree with Leader 1. We are only here for the Alpha. We need this to be a quick and clean operation.’

“I don’t need your help, Leader 2,” Y/N growled. “If Recon-Leader wants us to go through the paperwork explaining why the squads changed Leader Prime’s plan, he can do it himself.”

‘What are we going to do, Leaders 1 and 2?’

Y/N closed her eyes, knowing full well the consequences of her actions, “we are going to go as planned, capture the Alpha, take down as many shifters as you can.”

‘Y/N,’ Dean called over the com, ‘I think your instincts were--’

“I’ll deal with the fucking consequences,” she called back, “we move on my mark.”

To say the operation was easy was a big fat fucking lie. Just as Y/N predicted, getting to the Alpha with all the other Shifters in their way was a challenge. So much so that they had to call Squads 3 and 4 for backup. It took longer than it should have for the team to capture the Alpha, and that was after Y/N was full of bruises and deep scratches. The nursery with the children was empty when they searched it. Some Shifters made it out with the abrupt change in plans, while others were killed trying to let them escape.

Once Y/N was patched up, she prepared herself for the yelling she knew John would give her. Even if they got the Alpha, the method they used almost cost the lives of good hunters. Y/N had made sure to try and save as many hunters from death as she could.

“Y/N!” she heard as she walked out of the medical tent.

Rolling her eyes, she turned away from Dean, who was jogging towards her.

“Thanks, Jess,” she called to the doctor on staff that stitched her up.

“Damn it, Y/N. Please wait!” Dean called out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I talked to Samuel and--”

“Save it, Snob,” Y/N growled. “I am going to head to my room in the hotel and write up the report. Don’t worry about Douchebag. I will take all the heat on this.”

“Why do you do that?” Dean growled, “Why can’t you let me tell Dad about--”

“Leader Prime,” Y/N barked, “when we are on the job, you address him by his title.”

Dean let out an audible groan, “can you take the stick out of your ass for just one fucking minute!”

Y/N turned to glare at him, “what could you possibly say to me? That you’re going to use your privilege to get Daddy not to punish me because your brother was being an ass? Please spare me. I’m used to this. You and Samuel get away with everything while the rest of us have to struggle!”

“You are such a bitch, Y/L/N. No wonder people don’t want to hang around you,” Dean spat, his eyes widening at the realization of what he said. “Y/N I’m--”

“At least people don’t hang around me for my money,” she spat, “leave me alone. Why are you even talking to me, Snob? We have nothing in common, you live in an ivory tower, and I live in the mud. You stay with your people, and I’ll stay with mine.”

Dean watched her walk away, unsure what to say or how to fix what he did. He hated himself for the way things went down. Dean should have talked to Samuel about his behavior, but Samuel was just as stubborn and headstrong as their father. Dean knew he could only do one thing, and that was talking to his father about what happened, whether Y/N liked it or not.

Dean stayed silent as he contemplated how to fix things with Y/N.ht--’

“I don’t care what Samuel says. The operation could have gone smoother if he had just listened to Y/N. You can’t fire her--”

‘Calm down, son. No one is getting fired. Especially not my best hunter,’ John interrupted. ‘Now, calmly, tell me what happened.’

Dean began at the beginning, telling his father all about how there were more Shifters than just the Alpha and how Y/N wanted to re-adjust the plan to lessen any casualties. As Dean continued to recount the tale, he never noticed Samuel walking in. The younger brother crossed his arms, scowling at his older brother.

“Yes, sir,” Dean said before hanging up the phone.

“You called, Dad?” Samuel let out, making Dean jump.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, Samuel,” He scolded.

“Don’t, Dean,” Samuel huffed, “You called to tattle on me? You know as well as I do that you should be Leader 1 no matter what a stupid test said all those years ago.”

“Is that what this is about? Is that why you have this grudge against Y/N?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“She is nothing but a--”

“Don’t say it, Samuel,” Dean growled.

“A second-rate hunter with no class,” Samuel continued, towering over his older brother. “You need to forget about her, Dean, and learn to take her position from her.” he let out a huff, “besides, she dresses in nothing but second-hand clothing. Does she even know what designer clothing is? Does she even care about the clothes that she wears and how she presents herself?”

“Samuel, her choice in clothing doesn’t mean she is incapable of being a good Leader. Besides, what she wears is her business. And what good would taking the position from her by force do? How would being Leader 1 make me any more capable of running the company?” Dean crossed his arms, staring right into his brother’s eyes.

“For one, it would show Dad that you have the skills to lead,” Samuel huffed. “Y/N couldn’t even stand up to me after what I said. She could have tried harder to go over my head. She has no leadership skills.”

“No leadership skills?” Dean said, his voice rising in anger. “You call putting her life on the line to make sure no one dies, poor leadership skills?” Dean shook his head, giving his brother a disappointed look. “Do you realize that she didn’t go over your head because she feels you would use nepotism to get away with it?”

Samuel tilted his head in confusion, “what? Since when? I--”

“Dad spoils us, Samuel. You know he does, but it’s different in hunting and our lives, and Y/N doesn’t know that. She already thinks we’re pompous snobs.”

“So?” Samuel chuckled, “I love that we live a life of luxury. Someone like her is never going to understand us. Besides, why are you trying to get her approval?”

“I am not looking for her approval, but I am trying to establish a civil working relationship,” Dean said, turning away from Samuel.

“You had had eyes on her since the ball all those years ago,” Samuel chuckled, “‘if you want her that badly, woo her and leave her. Or you could take Bela Talbot on her offer.”

“Bela?” Dean shook his head in disgust, “she is nothing but a low-grade black market dealer. “

“One who has had her eyes on you for a while,” Samuel said, smiling slyly at his brother. “You don’t have to make a business deal with the woman, just bed her and be done with her. She also knows her way around good scotch. Let’s not forget that Bela also has better fashion sense than Y/N. ”

Dean contemplated the thought of having Bela in his bed. Bela had more than shown she wanted to lay with him, wanting to have Dean pleasure her in the ways he was taught. Shaking his head, Dean sat on the couch of the double room suite he shared with Samuel.

“I’d rather fuck a porcupine than Bela, Samuel,” Dean sighed, leaning back to place his hands over his face.

“Then at least go find a sweet lounge fly and bring her up to have your way with her,” Samuel said as he walked over to his bedroom, “I mean, we should put the skills Dad had us learn for a reason, right?”

Dean stayed silent as he contemplated how to fix things with Y/N.

Chapter 2

Tags in the Reblog

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

John B x reader

Summary: You end up pregnant and because John B’s life was already hard, you didn’t want to make it any worse so you keep it from him. However, after a tense night at the boneyard, everything comes slipping out. 

A/N: This is my first obx fic, I hope you guys like it!! I’ll post the rest of the obx fics/requests I have tomorrow (Thursday). 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx 

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Your eyes stare at the two pink lines. Positive. How could you and John B let this happen? You’d been careful. You used protection and you were on birth control, something your mother had you put on after she found out you were dating John B, a pogue. Your mother warned you about pregnancy and strongly urged you to use protection. Your family’s reputation would not be able to handle a pregnancy caused by a pogue. The reputation was already beginning to crack after they found out about you and him, this would completely ruin it.

Your mind then went to John B and his life. He was living alone at 18. His dad disappeared in a boating accident years ago and he was barely scrapping by. His life was already hard and to throw a baby into the mix? It would be even worse for him. You couldn’t do that to him. Especially, since your family would disown you and kick you out, leaving you to live with John B. However, this was John B’s baby and he deserved to know. He would want to know you were carrying his child. You knew he was going to be a good father, no doubt about it.   

Gathering yourself from you white tiled bathroom floor, you stood in the mirror and wiped your eyes, washing the mascara from your face and headed to the Chateau.

~

When you arrived, you let out a sigh of relief to only see John B’s van. Kie’s car or JJ’s bike no where in sight. You stepped out of your car and headed inside.

“John B?” You called out, but there was no answer. You stepped through the house, checking in the rooms, but no John B. You checked the time; he’d be home from working at the dock by now. So, where was he?

You stepped off the screen porch and looked around the yard when you heard a boat motor. As you headed down to the dock, there was John B, pulling up in HMS Pogue. He must have gone for an evening drive.

“Hey.” You gave a small smile and a wave, stepping to the end of the dock as he pulled the boat closer to the edge.

He threw you the rope to tie off the boat, “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You bent down and tied off the boat, “I needed to talk with you about something.” After tying off the boat, you stood and wiped your hands on your jeans.

As he stepped off the boat and onto the dock, you could see the weight of the world on his shoulders, “Can it wait? I’ve had a shitty day.” He sighs and sits down on the bench, running his hands through his hair.

You frowned and nodded, “What’s wrong? Do you want to want to talk about it?” You take a seat next to him and put a loving hand on his thigh.

He holds his head in his hands, “They’ve cut back my hours on the dock, which means I won’t be able make enough to pay bills, so I have to find another job.”

And that is when you knew, you couldn’t tell him about the baby.

~

It had been a few weeks, John B had yet to find a second job and you had yet to tell him about the baby. It was Kie who found out about the pregnancy first. You didn’t mean for it to happen but she’d come over to drop something off and found you sobbing in the bathroom floor. She was your best friend and you knew there was no lying to her.

“I’m pregnant, Kie.” You sobbed into your hands.

She immediately pulled you into her arms as you two sat on the bathroom floor. She let you sob for as long as you needed, “Does John B know?”

You shook your head and quickly pulled away to look at her, “He can’t know Kie. You can’t tell him. Please.”

She sadly nods, “Okay, I won’t.” It wasn’t her secret to tell.

~

You didn’t want to go to the Boneyard for a party, but John B begged you to come. He’d finally found another job and wanted to celebrate. As you and the pogues were situated around a fire, you sat next to Kie, who was telling you about her horrible date, when John B came stumbling over.

“Hey y/n.” He slurs, two cups in his hands, “Here drink up.”

You glanced at Kie and then back up at John B, “I’m okay John B. I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “You don’t ever feel like drinking. You don’t feel like doing anything anymore! All you do is sit around on your little kook ass crying about the dumbest shit!”

Your eyes sting with tears. It had been a rough couple of weeks. Your hormones were horrible and all over the place and you had terrible morning sickness lasting through out the day.

“John B.” Kie snapped, “Don’t be an ass!”

He looks at Kie then back at you, noticing the tears, “There she goes now with the damn water works.” He shakes his head and finishes off his drink with a gulp, tossing the cup in the trash.

You stand, “John B I think it’s time for you to stop. You’ve had enough..” You go to grab the other drink in his hand but he smacks your hand away.

“Don’t touch my fucking drink.”

You put your hands up defensively, Kie standing at your side as JJ and Pope make their way over seeing all the commotion.

“You sit all high and mighty in that big ass house of yours while the rest of us pogues bust our asses to put food on the table!” He points a finger at you.

‘he’s just drunk. He’s just drunk and doesn’t mean those things.’ You repeat in your head, but your hormones are already raging and another tear slips down your face. This is what sends John B into a fit.

“And there you are with those damn tears again! What do you have to cry about?! You’ve never worked a day in your life and you probably never will!”

“I’m pregnant John B. That’s why I cry all the time! That’s why I don’t drink anymore or I’m always sick!” Tears are steadily falling and Kie puts an hand on your back.

John B is taken back by this information and stumbles back a little, “P-pregnant?” He shakes his head, the alcohol making his head spin. “There isn’t no fucking way you’re pregnant.” His eyes snap to you, “We used protection. You were on the pill. That isn’t my baby.” He points to your stomach. The next thing that happens is something none of the pogues saw coming. He tosses the drink in your face, the beer splashing on your face and down the front of your clothes.

Everything else happened so fast. Suddenly, JJ was protectively in front of you, grabbing at John B and yelling at him. Kie is cussing at John B and trying to get napkins to wipe up your face.

JJ and Pope drag John B off toward the van, still cussing and yelling at him for what he did.

“Are you okay?” Kie asks, wiping the beer off your face.

You shake your head and let out a sob.

“Oh sweetie..” She wraps her arms around you in a hug, “He was just drunk, you know that he didn’t mean any of it.”

~

Kie drove you home that night and made sure you were okay before leaving. JJ and Pope took John B back to the Chateau where John B finally passed out on the couch. They didn’t leave either, they wanted to be the first to tell John B how much he fucked up after he woke up the next morning.

~

You slept in the next morning, never leaving the bed. Kie came over and hung out but never once mentioned John B. Not like you wanted to hear about him anyways. Maybe your mother was right, dating a pogue was wrong.

~

Back at the Chateau, he knew he’d fucked up. The next morning after the outburst, JJ and Pope were quick to tell him everything that happened, how he’d drank too much, snapped on you, the pregnancy announcement and the throwing of the drink.

“Oh I fucked up.” John B groans, running his hands through his hair, “I need to go see her.” He starts to walk out but Pope grabs his arm, “Kie called from her house. She doesn’t want to see you.”

He shook Pope’s arm off, “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

When he arrived at your house, Kie’s car was still in the driveway. Kie was never going to let you see him. He sighs and knocks on the door. To no surprise, Kie opens the door.

“She doesn’t want to see you John B.”

“I know Kie, I fucked up but please, I have to apologize.” He begs.

She shakes her head and goes to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot, “Kie, Please!”

You slowly make your way down the stairs, wrapped in a blanket, “Kie?”

Kie turns around, “He’s leaving, it’s okay.”

John B looks passed Kie and looks at your appearance. He can see you’ve been crying all night. Your eyes are swollen and red. And you’re wrapped in your favorite fluffy blanket, one only used when things were bad, “Y/n please… I’m sorry.” His eyes are pleading as he begs.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you as you walk behind Kie, “It’s okay, Kie…” You give a small smile at her and she nods before heading back to your room. Pushing John B out of the house you close the door behind you and sit on one of the white rocking chairs. “Well?”

He quickly takes a seat next to you, “I’m sorry about last night. I was a complete asshole.”

You laugh halfheartedly, “Asshole? That was more than being an asshole John B. You snapped on me and said mean things and you threw a drink in my face.”

His face falls, “I know. And I don’t know what got into me. I got scared when you said you were pregnant. I was already stressed and had finally found a second job then you say you’re pregnant? I can barely take care of myself, let alone another human being.”

“You don’t think I’m stressed out? I can’t take care of another human being either! You’re not the only one in this John B.”

He sighs, nodding, “I know and I should have never reacted the way I did.” He stands from the chair and steps in front of you, bending his knees so he’s eye level with you. He puts a loving hand on your knee, “I will take care of you and our baby, no matter what. Okay?”

You sniff, another round of tears filling your eyes, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His heart breaks when he sees the look in your eye. They’re filled with regret and sadness. “Hey.. I know that.” He rubs his thumb along your cheek, “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. This is on both of us, not just you. It was an accident and that’s okay. We’re going to go through this together. I’m going to be there every step of the way, alright?”

You sniffle and nod, before standing up and walking right into his open arms. He kisses the top of your head, “We’re going to be parents.” He whispers and gives you a small squeeze. Suddenly the thought of having a baby pogue, half you, half him running around made his heart swell. It was earlier than he would have hoped. He wanted to have a steady job. He wanted to marry you first and then start a family but looks like he’d have to do things another way and that was okay.

~

Few weeks went by. You were now 3 months pregnant, no baby bump yet. You’d asked Kie to accompany you to one of the appointments because John B said he had to work and couldn’t make it. You two had made a day of it, stopping for lunch and did some shopping around town. Now, you two were on your way home. You decided you’d wait at the Chateau for John B until he got off work.

“Can you take me by John B’s?” You ask, looking over at Kie.

“yeah sure.” She nods, turning off a side street and heading toward the Chateau.

~

When you arrive, his van is parked by the house along with JJ’s bike. “Thought he was at work?” She asks, turning off the car.

“Yeah I did too..” you mutter before getting out of the car. The two of you head up on the front porch; the door is open and it sounds like JJ and John B are arguing.

“That’s not the right part, JJ! It’s this one.”

“Dude, I’m not a rocket scientist.”

“This has to be perfect.”

You look at Kie, who shrugs, so the two of you walk into the house and to the office where John B’s dad kept all his treasures and research. However, the room isn’t filled with his dad’s things anymore. It was empty. The walls had been painted a light grey and there were baby animals hung around the room. In the middle of the room sat John B and JJ, half of a crib up, the rest of the parts were strewed around them.

Your eyes swelled with tears, “John B..”

His head snapped up to you, oh shit. He’d lied to you about work and now was caught right in the middle of it.

“I’m just gonna.. go outside.” JJ quickly stands and follows Kie out, leaving you and John B in the room.

He slowly stands, “I wanted it to be a surprise… this is the nursery.. for our baby.”

Your let out a small sob, admiring the room, “It’s amazing!”  

His face lights up, “Really? You like it?”

“Like it? I love it John B!” You smile, turning around to face him, frowning, “But all your dad’s stuff.”

He nods, “In the shed. I figured he wouldn’t mind his grandchild having this room..”

You look at the décor and then the crib, “How could you afford all this?”

“I had some savings set aside for something else. But I knew this was more important.” He steps over to you, “Do you like the color? I can change it if you don’t like it. It’s just the guy at the paint shop said grey was a neutral color since I didn’t know the gender.”

You quickly shook your head and smiled, “No, it’s perfect. All of it.. is perfect.” Your hand digs into your back pocket and pull out the ultrasound photo.

“New ultrasound photo?” He asks as you hand it to him.

You point to the little bean in the photo, “Size of a plum now.” You giggle a little.

He chuckles, looking over the photo, “Size of a plum..”

You nod, “Doctor said baby was healthy and growing just fine. And the mother was doing great too.” You laugh a little.  

He smiles, “Can I keep this one? I want to put it with my others” He’d kept the photos from the first ultrasound, hung on the fridge and in the van. He was proud and would show of the photo anytime someone entered in the Chateau or even the van. “We know John B, we saw the photo in the van.” The pogues would mutter.

“Sure. I have another one in the car. That’s your copy.”

His hand slips around your waist and pulls you into his side, his free hand going to your tummy, “My little family…”

OBX Tag list: @emmalvei-blog​ , @tregua-oca​ , @weirdbiwitch​ , @losers-club6​

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’: Separation

Word count: 1.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Mentions of multiple deaths, feels, fluff

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: This timestamp takes place before the first chapter of the series. I wrote it for myself, because it’s a snapshot of their lives that demanded to be fleshed out. 

The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014.

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

29th August 2014

Sam simply had to look away. He couldn’t bear to see the pictures Stacey had put in front of him.

“Why’re we doing a homicide, again?” Chase asked, face screwed up. He didn’t want to see the horrifying images either.

Stacey pursed her lips. “Sam had told me he’d like to be informed if something similar to… you know... if something like this ever pops up.”

Sam had told her that. She was only doing what she’d been asked.

“So, what’s the deal?” Sam motioned with a tilt of his head towards the photos on his desk.

“Victor Parker, 37 and Alicia Parker, 32, were found murdered at their San Jose home yesterday. They are survived by a 5 year old boy John.”

“What happened?” Chase’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Burglary gone wrong, or so the cops are saying. The resemblance of the crime scene was all too uncanny. I had to tell you.”

Stacey wasn’t wrong. The way the bodies were splayed- just like Simmons.

“Where’s the boy?” Sam’s fingers scratched against the etching on his pen. A nervous tick he had developed over the years when he started feeling the panic.

“In the hospital, fighting for his life. The assholes shot everyone. Little John got it twice. The surgeons removed the bullets, but there’s been a lot of internal bleeding.”

Sam flinched, closing his eyes.

Chase got up from the chair. “What’re we going to do about this? We’re lawyers not law enforcement or miracle workers.” He turned to the girl before him. “Stace, darling, c’mon. There’s nothing we can do for the poor boy. We work private law jobs and this is the DA’s territory.”

Stacey pushed her hair behind her ear, distressed. “Sam, you okay?”

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” He looked up, fingers sweaty against the obsidian in his hand.

She looked like something had just occurred to her. “Wait… Wasn’t your dad’s name John? Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry if I brought something up.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m okay. It’s not that.”

It wasn’t. His parent’s death had been a grave tragedy, but it affected Dean a hell lot more than it had ever affected Sam. He had always been sheltered, protected and loved by a brother who was his entire family. 

Sam let out a long breath. “Call the PD and check with them which hospital they’ve put John in, will you?”

“On it!” 

He watched Stacey hurry out of his office.

Chase gave him an apprehensive glance then walked out of the cabin, too. He wasn’t wrong about what he’d said earlier. There was nothing Sam could do. Max’s case was a one off. Ralph Simmons had been a client to Johnson’s before, so Max was by default on the firm’s radar. These murders were only a news report. Even though Sam couldn’t be legal help, he could always be monetary help. It’s why he’d asked Stacey to keep a look out. If there was anything Sam could do for little John, he would.

The glass door opened, and his secretary stepped in.

“Stace?” 

Her lower lip quivered before she put her face in her hands. “Just heard from the Hospital. He passed, Sam. That little boy didn’t make it.” 

******

“Mr. Winchester, can I offer you something? A glass of water, perhaps?” The principal asked him, casting a side eye at the other teacher.

“No, thank you,” Sam whispered. “I just want to see my son.”

“I have to tell you, this is very irregular. We usually don’t pull out kids from their classes. Is something wrong?”

He closed his eyes and said the words with deliberation. “Nothing is wrong. I’d just like to take my son home early. Will that be a problem?”

The principal gestured to the teacher, who Sam now realised was Max’s class in-charge. She shrugged. “Sure. There’s just an hour of school left for the year. You can take him home.”

When Max shuffled into view outside, through the office’s blinders, he looked small and confused, brown eyes flitting nervously. It was all Sam could do not to fall on his knees and hug him to his chest. 

Max’s eyes went round with worry as he read Sam’s. Kid just always knew.

With shaking legs, Sam made his way out and clutched Max’s shoulder. He would have picked his boy up, but the fear of collapsing kept him from doing that. 

“Come,” he said quietly, placing a hand against Max’s back.

Max followed without a question, climbing in the passenger’s seat.

Sam drove the rest of the way doing his best not to break down. His eyes kept tearing up and he rolled them up each time to stop the threatening tears from spilling.

Once home, he discarded his coat and sat Max down on the sofa. The packed suitcase, along with Max’s backpack stood right next to it. 

“Stay here, let me fix you something to eat, okay?” 

Sam’s kitchen was open, he could see Max from where he was standing in front of the stove. The eggs broke unevenly and the whisk shook in his hands. Next time that Sam’s eyes flitted to the sofa, it was empty.

“Max? Max!” He yelled.

“Right here!” Max was sitting on the kitchen island right behind, feet tucked under him.

“I told you to stay right there on the sofa!”

Max dropped his shoulders. “You’re spooking me out, you know?”

Sam was taken aback.

“Look,” Max sighed. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go, okay? It’s not that big a deal.”

Closing his eyes, Sam leaned back against the counter next to Max. “It’s not that. I… Well, I had a rough day at work.”

“What happened?”

He wasn’t sure how to put it to Max, but he sure as hell couldn’t lie to him.

“You don’t want to tell me,” Max huffed. 

“Something very sad happened today,” Sam breathed. “And I just… I couldn’t take it-” his voice broke. “I couldn’t breathe another minute without seeing you, knowing you were okay.”

Max was silent for a moment, then he spoke through pressed lips. “You look funny. Bad funny. You wanna sit down?”

Sam gulped once and pulled himself on top of the counter next to Max. 

His house wasn’t big, but it sure felt cavernous when Max went over to Jody’s for the night sometimes. One whole month. How was he supposed to live?

“Your hands are shaking,” Max said in his sweet, ringing voice. “Sam, you’re scaring me.”

First rule of parenting, don’t let your kid see you fall apart, Dean’s words came back to Sam.

He ran his hand over his face- it must’ve been white- not knowing what to say to Max.

“I’m not going to the camp,” Max announced.

“No. You should go. Your aunt Jo would butcher me with one of her fancy knives if you don’t show up now. I’ll be fine.”

The boy next to him didn’t look convinced. Max saw right through him with those sharp eyes. “You’re bluffing. And I thought you were the best lawyer in the world.”

“All kids think their parents are infallible.”

Max snorted. Sam turned to look at him.

“You’re infallible, alright, but you’re also stupid!”

“What?”

Little brown fingers grabbed Sam’s hand, stealing eyes. “It’s just a camp.”

“But you want to go, right?”

Max didn’t say anything. Sam knew he’d been dying to go to that mechanics camp his uncle Dean had suggested. It would mean cars, tools and dinners with his aunt and uncle on the weekends. Dean and Jo were looking forward to this, too. They had their own kid on the way and Jo loved Max. Much like Sam, it was second nature to her to keep looking at the roads and door and be disappointed each time when the person she was hoping to see never showed. Sam couldn’t disappoint her.

“I’ve never been away from you for more than a day since you moved in with me. I wouldn’t know what to do with my days.” Or life for that matter.

Max smirked. “Uncle Chase keeps asking you to have fun. So have fun.”

Chase’s definition of fun was very different from Max’s. Sam wasn’t interested.

“You call me everyday, you hear me?” Sam said through a thick throat. “You miss a day and I’ll haul your ass back all the way from Kansas. I won’t care if the camp counsellor says no. I can throw hands.”

Max gave him a very slow once over then snickered. “No one’s dumb enough to fight you.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself. He threw his hands around the little boy, engulfing him completely. “I’m going to miss you so damn much, son.”

“Can’t. Breathe.” Came the muffled words. Sam eased the grip.

“I’ll miss you, too, Dadda.”

Thirty-one days. Sam could do it. Monday was the orientation lecture for the new class of Stanford Law. A fresh batch. Sam was supposed to teach Civil Procedure. That would keep him plenty busy. Submissions, hypos, presentations. He could take over extra cases at work, make more trips to LA to check on the boys home. The month would be in and out and before he knew it, his kid, the light of his days, would be back to bouncing on his couch and reading on the kitchen counter.

Max yawned against Sam’s stomach.

Yeah he could survive. After all, what could possibly happen in thirty-one days.

********

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 8

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2343

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Insecure reader, talk of losing virginity, I’m sure there is some language in there, fluff, I think that’s it. I promise it picks up in the next chapter y’all!

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

To say you weren’t a morning person would be the understatement of the year. You hated getting up early, and only did it when you had to. 

Dean, on the other hand, had no problem rolling out of bed, as long as he had a cup of coffee waiting for him. 

So it was no surprise to you that when you rolled over and reached blindly for Dean, and his side of the bed was cold. 

Rolling around until you forced your eyes to open up, you sat on the side of the bed, and rubbed at your face harshly, trying to get your eyes to open, and work properly.

Last night, you and Dean  had spent most of the night locked at the lips, but he never took it any further than that, saying he wanted your first time to be something special, and memorable. 

You were secretly grateful. Losing your virginity had been something you were always nervous about. 

Not that you didn’t want to, that wasn’t it at all, and you trusted Dean enough to know he’d make it as painless, and less traumatizing as possible. 

Still you had heard all the stories. Stories about pain, blood, crying, and the uncaring assholes who just wanted to get themselves off. Needless to say, it was enough to make your anxiety hit an all time high. 

All that you could overcome, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was your own insecurities. The fact that your body wasn’t what you wanted it to be exactly. The fact that your thighs were bigger than you wanted them to be, your stomach not as flat as you wanted it to be.Your breasts still held the scars from stretch marks from when you were a teenager, and hit puberty suddenly, coupled with the fact that they weren’t as big as you’d like them to be. 

You were never  popular, or the “it girl” in school, and adulthood had proven to be much the same for you. 

In fact, Dean was the first guy you had ever seen naked in person, and that was when he was injured, so you weren’t exactly focused on what he was packing, and you were more concerned with making sure you successfully got done with whatever it was you were trying to help him do without hurting him further. 

You weren’t blind though, and you did notice enough to know that the man was well endowed, and had the body of a Greek God to boot. Needless to say, you felt like he was WAY out of your league. 

Which only heightened your own insecurities more. 

You knew Dean wasn’t shallow. Hell, if he was he would have never asked you to be his girl. Still that insecurity that you had carried with you since middle school rang louder than reason, and you nervously dreaded whatever it was Dean had in mind.

You had just dressed from your morning shower when the bedroom door opened, pulling you from you worrying.

“There you are! I was just about to come and wake you up,” he said, flopping down on the bed, already dressed, showered, and ready for the day. You did notice that the dark skinny jeans that hugged his bowed legs perfectly, coupled with the red and black flannel and black fitted undershirt did things to you that you never expected. 

His piercing green eyes missed nothing. Strutting up to you when he noticed you staring at him, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in close, kissing you deeply before letting you go, a smirk set deep in his Godlike features at the dazed look on your face when he pulled away. 

He knew what the hell he did to you, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. 

“You’re up and dressed early this morning. What’s on the agenda today Mr. Winchester?” you asked him, letting his hands fall a little lower on your waist as he swayed the two of you back and forth slowly in the middle of your bedroom to whatever rhythm he was hearing in his head. 

“Well, I had them gas up my Dad’s jet, we’re gonna take a little vacation. I need to get away for a little while. From this damn house, and all the bullshit that comes with it.” 

Your eyes widened.You didn’t have any clothes to take on Vacation.. Since you had been here, you had barely even got out of the house. 

“Dean..I don’t have anything….” 

Putting his lips to yours  in a chaste kiss to stop your worrying, Dean chucked against you. 

“Pretty girl, stop! Everything has been taken care of. Clothes, food, everything is already there waiting for us. Remember baby, I’m a Winchester. Now, get yourself ready, we fly out as soon as you get done. I’m ready to get there.” Dean said, giving you another swift kiss before he grabbed an overnight bag, and started to pack it when essentials like phone chargers, and your laptop, mumbling something about updating that when he got home. 

“Dean, where exactly are we going?” 

“Mary’s Island.” 

Confusion pressed deep into your features, and Dean chuckled as he threw his bag over his broad shoulder, waiting patiently for you to get your shoes on.

“It’s an island my dad bought for my mom when they got married.Since she passed, no one has really gone to it, but I called the caretakers, and they have everything ready for us, so you and I are going to go spend some time there for a while.” Dean said, lacing his fingers with yours as you made your way through the oddly quiet house. 

“It’s warm there, so we will be able to enjoy ourselves. It’s only a short boat ride away from the mainland as it’s  just off the coast of Hawaii, so there are a variety of restaurants and things that we can go to as well. Plenty to do to keep us busy.” 

Opening the door to the house, you look back at Dean’s car that was safely parked in the garage, and loaded yourself into the black SUV that had Garth, the driver, behind the wheel and waiting. 

“Dean, where is everyone this morning.” you asked, and Dean stiffened a little next to you as he climbed into his side of the SUV.

“Work. Life’s pretty much going back to normal, now that Samual is taken care of, and the Campbells are no longer a threat. The high table is content that you and I are together, and right now everything is going along as it should.”

Dean laced his fingers with yours as the car circled around the airport, entering the back gate, completely surpassing all the airport security, and details that normally came with flying. You vaguely wondered if this is what it felt like to fly when you were famous. 

The plan was less impressive than you had dreamed up in your head all morning. The Winchesters tended to do everything extravagantly, and you thought that their private jet would be no different, but you were actually a little relieved that it wasn’t some huge private liner. You still weren’t quite used to living the extravagant lifestyle that the Winchesters seemed accustomed to. 

Once you were boarded onto the plane, Dean grabbed one of the blankets that were stowed in the overhead compartment, and settled you both down in the seats as best as you could,wrapping his arm around you as the plan started to take off. 

It was going to be around a ten hour flight to Hawaii from New York, so you had plenty of time to nap if you wanted to. The only problem was, you were way too nervous to sleep. Your mind was turning on the upcoming events that were sure to take place once you got to the Island. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart? I can practically hear the gears turning..” Dean said, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. He’d already learned about you so quickly. It was getting harder and harder to hide things from him. 

“Nothing, just my usual worrying.” you tell him in an attempt to brush him off, but he was having none of it.

“I lie for a living Princess, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that.” Dean said, an amused smirk plastered across his perfect lips. 

Giving him a side eye, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Trying to work it out in your mind how to tell him all of the little qualms you were worrying about. 

“You know, nothing at all has to happen this weekend. We can just be here and enjoy being together. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you to sleep with me or something, I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I’m in my forties sweetheart, I’m not some little teenage boy who can’t control himself.”

Clamping your jaw shut you wonder briefly if he was secretly some sort of mind reader. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to Dean, I do, I’m just nervous, and when I say that out loud I feel stupid, because I’m twentythree fucking years old, and I’m still a virigin, and terrified of something most people do in their teens!” you tell aspirated, hiding your face in the blanket. 

Dean pulled the blanket down where he could see your face, shifting a little closer to you in his seat now that the plane was leveled out, and well en route to your destination. 

“Baby girl, look at me. Age has nothing to do with being afraid of or nervous about something. Just cause you didn’t jump in bed with the first jackass with a dick when you were teenager, does make you weak or wimpy, and I definitely don’t think any less of you. Besides, I kinda like the idea that you're going to be only mine.” 

He brushes his lips over yours before you settle into his shoulder and blush at the possessiveness that he shows. You had never seen this side of Dean before, and you couldn’t deny the way it made your heart flutter in your chest. 

There was still so much that you were going to worry yourself over until it was over, and you knew that. There was only one cure for this, and that was to do it, and you did want this with him. You wanted to be only his, you wanted that connection with someone. Wanted to feel him in a way that only could happen between the two of you. To know him, on a deeper level than you had ever known anyone before. 

The combination of Dean playing with your hair, the hum of the plane, and the warmth that came radiating off of his body constantly had miraculously lulled you to sleep, and you didn’t even know it until Dean was shaking you awake gently after you had already landed. 

Stretching your stiff muscles as you stand up and deboard the plane, you follow along behind Dean into the blinding light, and warm temperatures that were so contradictory to the weather of New York City that you had left behind. 

Looking up at the clock on the dash of the car you got into just outside the tarmac, you notice that it’s only noon. Seeing as you left New York at eight in the morning, it took you a while to understand what had happened. You had never experienced a time jump like that from traveling before, and New York was six hours ahead of Hawaii. So even though you had a full day of travel, it was only noon here. You finally think you understood the meaning of jet lag. 

“Hungry baby girl? I figured we could grab a bite to eat while we’re on the mainland. That way we can just have a lazy day when we get to the house.”

You hadn’t realized you were hungry until he mentioned it. Your stomach growled, and Dean threw his head back and laughed at your face of discontent at the hand of your stomach’s betrayal. 

“I guess sleeping for almost a solid six hours straight works up quite the appetite doesn’t it?” Dean teased you.

“Six hours?” you questioned. You had no idea you had slept that long. “Why do I feel so sluggish then?” 

“It’s a drastic time change, once you get some food in you it will help with the jet lag.” Dean said, pulling onto the main road like he knew just where he was going. You didn’t question him at all. Just enjoyed the view of him relaxing into the seat of the car as he drove down the road like he’d done it a million times in his life. 

You couldn’t contain the smile spreading over your face at the beautiful view, one of which included Dean. His fingers dancing along the steering wheel, humming along with a classic rock tune that played softly through the speakers. His freckles almost shine out on his skin in the bright sunlight filtering through the car window. 

For just a moment you forgot about all your worrying, and just enjoyed the moment. That’s something you decided you would start doing more often. Your whole life you had been nothing but stress and worrying in some form or another. Whether it was worrying over school, your job, losing your job, then all this that happened with Dean, your life turning upside down, then almost losing Dean. 

That probably taught you the most important lesson of all. 

Life is short, and can be taken away from you in a moment, especially in the life that Dean lived. So right now you weren’t going to worry about having sex with him, or your new life you were determined to adjust to. It was just the two of you, and you were going to make the most of this.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[wincestismyguiltypleasure]

Warnings: Weecest, a little angsty, jealous!Sam, bratty, emotional, and confused baby brother content, feminization, name calling, humiliation, sadist!Dean, spankings, and of course, that sweet, sweet fucked up codependency. 💋

--------------

Sam just wanted Dean's attention. He always had.

And when he didn't get it, Sam felt not only emotionally, but physically injured by his brother's "neglect." Like Dean had taken his switchblade to Sam's heart, cutting it open just a little bit to play with it. As if he was curious to what was inside. Like Dean had no clue know that every vein, artery, and nerve worked in unison for him.

And over the years, that small wound had ripped open wider and wider on it's own, even though it was no secret that Dean's life had always revolved around Sam.

Perhaps it was a product of Sam's jealousy? His resentment towards John and the unshakable devotion Dean showed him?

Sam didn't really know. But no matter the cause, what was once a dull ache in Sam's chest was now a blinding pain. The only hope of soothing it resting solely on his big brother's touch.

And the worst part about it? Dean knew. He knew Sam was desperate for something so simple as a sideways glance or a pat on the back. Sam would poke and prod and tug at the hem of Dean's shirt for just the slightest bit of recognition, like he really didn't know that he was already the very center of his big brother's entire world.

It was infuriating sometimes, and it made Dean want to be cruel just to prove a point. Besides, at the end of the day, Dean was still Sam's big brother. Ignoring him was part of Dean's job description. And maybe, just maybe, Dean got a sick sense of satisfaction out of making Sammy beg like a slut for something that was already his.

"Dean, c'mon! Pay attention!"

John had only been gone for ten minutes before Sam was shaking Dean's leg violently, trying to make his brother look up from the magazine he was reading.

"Jesus Christ, Sam. Can't you leave me alone for five fucking seconds?"

Dean doesn't have to see Sam's face to know the younger boy is pouting; the corner of his lips turning up in a twisted smirk at the thought of his little brother's pretty eyes starting to water.

There's no answer to Dean's question, just a loud huff and the sound of the bathroom door slamming, rusty screws barely keeping it on the hinges.

And if Dean didn't get such a kick out of being an asshole to his needy little brother he might have felt bad for hurting Sam's feelings. But he doesn't, mainly because this was all part of the sick, fucked up game they'd been playing since Sam had turned sixteen. This volatile give and take, back and forth, born out of Sam's misguided pain. The younger boy thinking that Dean loved John more than him and Dean's cutthroat determination to prove his little brother wrong. To show Sam that even if he isn't looking, he's still paying attention. And that he couldn't stop paying attention to Sam even if he tried.

Honestly, Dean still gets a little hot under the collar thinking about the first Sammy pushed his buttons like this. He'd been both mortified and so disgustingly turned on when he found out that his sweet baby brother knew just how to act bratty and coy to get fucked through the mattress. God, Dean was so pissed and guilty about it at the time that he'd almost thrown up afterwards.

Even now, Dean feels kinda queasy. But the feeling is so simple to ignore this go around because he's also rock hard and shaking a little from the anticipation.

Oh, and of course, Sam makes him wait. Almost two fucking hours. Tiny beads of water still dripping from the younger boy's long, dirty blonde hair when Sam finally emerges from the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of lacy blue panties and a triumphant smile.

"Seriously, Samuel?" Dean asks, trying his best to keep his voice steady as he tosses his magazine to the side and sits up.

But Sam, being the shameless little tease that he is, just grins wider and does a slow turn. Making sure to show off every sharp curve and flawless inch of sun kissed skin he had before looking over at Dean and giggling.

"Think you can ignore me now, big brother?"

Sam barely gets the words out before Dean is off the bed, marching over to him with purpose, not stopping until the two of them are only a few inches apart and his baby brother's eyes are wide with fear.

"What do you want, Sam?" The older boy asks through gritted teeth, even though the answer is so painfully obvious.

And even though it is, Sam can't say it. He's never been able to because it's Dean's job to know. Without Dean guiding the way, Sam's just a confused kid with a need so intense and overwhelming that it could swallow him whole. And it would, if it wasn't for Dean.

Dean knows what Sam wants, and Sam hates the fact that he doesn't hate his brother for making him feel this way.

But still, he can't talk and he can't explain, so instead Sam just whines. Taking a timid step forward into his brother's personal space, searching for pity with those big innocent doe eyes. And fuck, does that do the trick. Every. Single. Time.

"What, baby?" Dean asks again, this time softer, his expression lightening as he grabs Sam by the wrist to pull him closer.

"Dean."

Sam's knees feel wobbly. His heart threatening to pound out of his chest because there's nothing in the world more intoxicating and simultaneously terrifying than looking into Dean's gorgeous green eyes when they're full of rage and passion.

"You want this?" Dean's voice is rough, like cigarette smoke blown over shattered glass as he guides Sam's trembling hand between his thighs. Pressing his little brother's warm palm hard against his erection before he makes Sam squeeze just a little, the both of them letting out a breathy groan.

"Please Dean," Sam whimpers, knees nearly buckling when Dean leans forward with a filthy grin, cherry red lips ghosting lightly over Sam's. The older boy teasing him like he always did. Pretending like wasn't eventually going to give Sam everything he wanted and more.

"Say it."

Sam's stomach clenches at the command, throat going dry because he hates this part. (Or at least Sam pretends that he does.)

"I want..." Sam groans, eyes closed tight as Dean nuzzles against him, making Sam go crazy with need. "I want your cock. Please Dean."

When Sam hears Dean chuckle, a low, filthy sound that makes his insides feel unbearably hot, Sam almost starts crying again. He's so naive and inexperienced compared to Dean. And Dean knows Sam feels like an idiot when his big brother makes him talk dirty. Which is exactly why he does it. The bastard.

"I know you do, baby boy," Dean laughs as he takes a step back, and Sam swears he feels his heart detach and drop into his stomach. Long, bony fingers instinctively trying to curl around Dean's shirt but to no avail.

"Dean-"

Sam's temper tantrum is cut short when Dean sits down on the foot of the bed and raises a hand, the look on his face calm but dangerous and it makes Sam almost swallow his own tongue.

"C'mere and lay across my lap."

"Why should I?"

Sam's voice doesn't sound like his own when he challenges his brother. It's weak and breathless and honestly, Sam can't believe an apex predator like Dean didn't go for his throat right then and there.

"You've been buckin' for my attention all day, sweetheart. You got a better way to get it?"

God, Sam wishes he did because the last thing he wants is to give in so easily. But what Sam's been dying for is right here in front of him now. Ripped jeans wrapped tight around thick thighs that he'd sell his soul to be bent over and Sam isn't about to turn down an open invitation.

"Gotta hand it to you, little brother," Dean says when Sam's finally stretched out across his lap. Sam's pretty face, flushed and tear stained, hidden in the mattress as Dean starts to soflty rub circles against his ass. "Despite all that fuss, you really are an obdient little bitch."

"Fuc-"

Sam nearly gags on his insult when he feels Dean's palm, rough and warm, connect with his right ass cheek. The blow hard enough to make his whole body jerk, tears of frustration rather than pain starting to blur his vision as he squirms in Dean's lap.

"Dean, please," Sam begs, his tight panties completely soaked through as he rubs himself desperately against Dean's thigh. His cock so hard and swollen that he feels a little dizzy, pleasure and pain fighting for dominance in his mind. Every one of his nerve endings on fire as Dean continues his ruthless assault. Each gentle touch followed by a thunderous smack that Sam swears makes his teeth rattle.

"Hey, don't cry, baby boy," Dean whispers when one of his rough blows finally rips a sob from Sam's throat. "This is what you wanted right? My undivided attention?"

Sam chokes back the urge to tell Dean that he hates him. One, because he doesn't. They both know that. And two, because if Sam doesn't swallow his pride soon and play by Dean's rules, he knows he'll never get want he really wants. That's what all this is about after all. Sam's insatiable need and Dean's absolute willingness to provide.

"C'mon, Sammy. You're a smart kid, you know what your answer should be."

Sam's only response is a loud, wanton groan, his knuckles turning chalk white around the blanket beneath him when he feels the tip of Dean's finger, rough and slick with spit, tease his rim. Pressing just hard enough to make Sam's hips jerk, but not applying quite enough pressure to slip inside him.

"Yes," Sam croaks, daring to push back against his brother's finger only to be rewarded with a smack to his right ass cheek that makes him see stars. "This is what I wanted."

"I know it is, slut."

Dean's finger feels wetter this time, hotter. And Sam's not expecting his brother to push in so deep, his eyes rolling back in pleasure when Dean barely grazes his prostate, clearly torturing Sam for all the shit he'd put him through that day. An eye for an eye was most definitely the Winchester way.

"You want me to finger fuck this tight little pussy until you make a mess all over your cute panties, don't ya baby boy?"

"Yes! Fuck Dean please." Sam isn't even trying to hold back his sobs now, big salty tears rolling down his cheeks as he wiggles around in Dean's lap. Desperate for his big brother to fuck him deeper. But before he can get the leverage he needs, Sam's empty again, mouth hanging open as Dean's next blow makes his whole body rock forward involuntary, neglected cock throbbing painfully against the worn denim of his brother's jeans.

"I'll give you want you want, Sammy," Dean coos, caressing Sam's battered skin with his palm. "I always do. But first, I'm gonna teach you a lesson about acting like a brat."

Of course, Sam's been taught this lesson before and it hasn't seemed to stick. But it doesn't matter, because they both know as long as Sam craves his big brother's attention, Dean will gladly put him in his place give it to him.

[ckneal]

So, I’ve had this idea kicking around in my head for a little while now, based on this premise: What if, due to some wire crossing that Chuck never anticipated, because he never anticipated Jack, or his powers, or that Jack might use his powers to tear open a portal to one of his cast off-worlds, allowing a scrapped draft of Michael to waltz over into the main canon universe, the OG Michael experiences some side effects? Such as, perhaps, his grace syncing up with the AU’s, causing his appearance to change for seemingly no reason, unaware that it’s corresponding with the other Michael changing vessels?

And as this is going on, Michael and Adam are at different stages in processing how they view one another. Adam’s just at the tail end of digesting the fact that he might be bisexual. Sure, there might be times when he and Michael are talking, and Michael says something, or—god forbid—laughs, and Adam feels this warm rush of affection, but that could just be something that happens when you’re part of a friendship that’s gotten this close. And, so what if he occasionally thinks about what might happen if they kissed, doesn’t everyone have that thought from time to time? That’s probably normal. And anyway, Michael looks just like him. Maybe he’s just getting vain.

But then, right in the middle of a conversation one day, Michael’s grace suddenly goes haywire. There’s this blinding flash, and Michael’s human form changes to that of the AU Michael’s apocalypse vessel. Dark hair, long coat, delicious beard, and neither of them have any idea why.

And this change is jarring for Adam. But it’s even more so for Michael, because, firstly, why did this happen? But also because, when he separated himself from Adam in the cage, for the sake of “privacy,” which Adam had made a big to-do about, Michael might have glossed over the fact that he couldn’t actually separate their minds completely. And, to a certain degree, a large part of maintaining their agreement, unbeknownst to Adam, involves Michael pretending that he doesn’t hear the odd fragment of a thought trickle over from Adam’s head. So, when Michael looks down at himself, at his hands and his new clothes, and then asks Adam what he looks like, he hears:

Holy shit—gorgeous—fucking hell—take me now. . .

“. . .Different.”

And with time moving more slowly in Hell than it does on earth, even though AU Michael only briefly wore this vessel after he crossed over, this new look sticks around for a little while for OG Michael and Adam. Which initially changes their dynamic a bit. Michael begins to wonder if he should tell Adam that his thoughts are not as infallibly private as Adam had been led to believe. However, there’s only so much entertainment in the cage, and there is something unspeakably gratifying about the fact that now, when he and Adam get into a debate, and Adam has a really solid argument going, Michael can stretch his neck like he’s trying to work out a kink, and hear Adam’s train of thought come to a screeching halt as he helplessly imagines what it would feel like to nuzzle into the expose skin. The thought generally only lasts a second or so, but inevitably costs Adam his footing the conversation every time, as it’s usually followed by Adam chastising himself for upwards of twenty minutes.

On one occasion, while discussing something called Kohlberg’s stages of morality, Michael evidently said Adam’s name in such a way that made him excuse himself to the far side of the cage, where Michael knew for a fact Adam spent the entire time scowling at the ceiling and thinking:

Creep—Stop staring at him—Not his fault he looks—sexy—gorgeous—fucking get it together. . .

Michael is aware that he has no business finding the whole situation as amusing as he does. After all, if Adam were to ever act on his errant thoughts, Michael would have to tell him that, as an angel of the Lord, entertaining any kind of relationship with a human would be utterly inappropriate. Angels simply didn’t do that sort of thing. . .

That said, a week or so later, Michael can hear Adam telling himself not to look at the dip in the V created by Michael’s new button-down shirt (it had arrived with the top two buttons undone, and Michael had refrained from altering it). Michael is getting ready to throw Adam off his game, again, when his grace flares. When the light subsides, Michael looks down at himself and sees that his human form has changed again. He looks up at Adam to ask what he looks like now, and Adam says. . .

Like an asshole.

“You look like Dean now. What happened?”

“I don’t know. . .”

Sadly, this change lasts significantly longer than the last one, and the awkward shift it causes in their dynamic is a lot less fun (for Michael). The second Michael’s face changes, Adam’s inner turmoil shifts from untoward appreciation, to a running loop of reminders that he’s looking at his brother’s face, which does not have nice eyes, and even if it did have nice eyes, the person looking out of them is a divine being with no interest in—in anything, and that the whole train of thought was sick, and redundant, and Michael didn’t mean to listen in, but he was already in the habit by this point.

Nor could Michael contradict Adam’s inner monologue, because of course Adam was right. Michael certainly wasn’t interested in—well, if anything, Michael was relieved that temptation had been taken out of Adam’s path. If Michael excused himself at one point to quietly explore the possibility of snapping himself back to the mysterious form from before, it was purely out of curiosity about the strange glitch in his powers, not for any other reason.

And, finding that, having never possessed or even seen the body in question, his attempts to revert to past vessels only brought up John Winchester’s form, Michael certainly didn’t feel disappointed. Nor did he spend the better part of an hour contemplating whether Adam’s father’s face would be an improvement over his brother’s, before remembering that he is not supposed to know or care about whether Adam is repulsed by his appearance.

Their rapport recovers, but nonetheless, they are both secretly relieved when Michael’s grace flares of its own volition once again. This time Michael is standing when the change happens, and the first thing he notices after is his height. This vessel was taller than Adam, or so it initially seemed, until Michael realized it was equipped with footwear that bolstered its natural height by a few inches. It was wearing fewer layers, and accessories securing its hair and dangling from its ears. Michael studied them with his hands.

“You look great,” Adam says before Michael has a chance to ask.

Obviously, Michael doesn’t care. By this point, Adam’s rush of lustful imaginings has become a relatively distant memory. Which made it all the more surprising when Michael was teaching Adam to speak Enochian sometime after the newest change. Michael was leaning forward, speaking slowly to show Adam precisely how he moved his lips and tongue around the syllables, but Adam’s accent was abysmal and distorted one word so badly that it threw off the entire sentence he was trying to say, and Michael briefly forgot himself to the point of actually laughing out loud—at which point, he heard the word Beautiful resonate through Adam’s mind.

Adam seemed to like this face. Words like “regal” and “stunning” crossed over from time to time, but, more significantly, Michael feels a surge of warmth come from him whenever Michael smiles—sometimes so intensely that the affection takes up residence in Adam’s eyes while they’re talking, and Michael can’t seem to look away.

After experiencing that, feeling his grace billow out of his control once again filled him with dread. Michael struggles to resist the change this time, but the flash of light comes nonetheless. Running his hands over his jaw afterward, and noting the familiar set of his legs, Michael knows before Adam says anything that he has changed into Dean Winchester again.

Adam chuckled when he saw Michael’s face. “You almost look disappointed.”

“Of course I’m not. I. . .I just wish I knew what was causing this.”

Once again, Dean’s face stays longer than it had any right to. To himself, Michael carefully thinks back over what he had been doing at the time of each change, wondering if he could possibly trigger another randomization. He had been talking each time—could it have been a key word or phrase, perhaps even a gesture or. . .thought?

Adam humors every experiment that Michael suggests, always with the same amused expression on his face. After the fourth or fifth failure, he says, gently, “You know, Dean’s face kind of suits you. Is it that bad?”

Michael retorts that this was not about vanity.

After all, Dean’s face is a reminder of their abandonment in the cage, and precisely what turn of events had led to Adam’s residency in particular. Michael would not force Adam to live with it peaceably when he should be capable of less offputting alternatives.

He’s overjoyed when the the now familiar surge of power finally courses through him again, and Adam has to bite his lip to stop his grin when Michael immediately begins running his hands over his new face. This vessel is the shortest to date; even with heels, Michael only stands as tall as Adam’s shoulder. This one also came with the most elaborate accessories. One of Michael’s new rings catches in the pins restraining his hair, necessitating the removal of both, and releasing a mane of shining red curls.

Adam helps him with the hair pins. And promptly grins when Michael’s thanks comes out in the cadence of a lilting Scottish accent.

Adam’s reaction to this one is easily the loudest since the first change. However, the words that Michael overhears run the gambit of Spitfire, Adorable, and Spritely—words that Michael is not accustomed to hearing in relation to himself, and not certain if he approves. He finally takes offense at the term pixie, and in the midst of a conversation about Purgatory, detours into a tangent about how angels and pixies are in no way similar to one another, regardless of humanity’s affinity for portraying the two specifies as humanoid beings with wings.

During this spiel, Michael fails to notice Adam raising an eyebrow at the abrupt segeway. He spends a minute, leaning against the side of the cage, half listening to Michael, while also trying to deduce how pixies came into the conversation. Then suddenly realization hits, and the fact that he is able to keep his face completely neutral is nothing short of a miracle.

Adam’s rather proud of the fact that he’s managed to get himself under control since coming to terms with his attraction toward Michael. Being around Michael after the first body swap had been difficult, and then confusing, after the second change put Michael in the shape of a blood relative, and not exactly a fondly remembered one at that. Self-control had become a matter of sanity for Adam, and, once he’d acknowledged his feelings to himself, vital for maintaining their friendship as it was. He hadn’t imagined making out with Michael against the side of the cage in ages. But now, with Michael’s tangent, with his fussing after each vessel change in mind, he had a hypothesis to test.

Michael was still talking when Adam’s fantasy hit him: Adam pushing away from the wall, three steps to close the distance between them, and then tilting Michael’s pixie-esque face upward to kiss him breathless. It was. . .very vivid. Michael could almost feel Adam’s arm slip around his waist, and the ghost-like caress of his tongue along his lips, requesting admittance. The fantasy cut short before request could be answered.

Adam bit back a grin watching Michael trip over his consonants. Even before he walked over, he could see the blush spreading out on Michael’s face. Michael doesn’t move back as Adam approaches him, coming in closer than he would normal go. Instead, Michael seems to lean into the closeness, tilting his own head back as his lips parted, eyes on Adam’s face. Adam’s tempted to run a hand along Michael’s jaw. 

Then. . .

“.. .I’m sorry, I got distracted thinking about something. Can you repeat that last part?”

“W—Yes, of course.” Michael practically flies three steps back. “As I was saying—”

“Wait, Michael. . .”

“Yes?” When Michael, flustered, finally looks at Adam again, Adam is giving him a look that normally means a joke has gone over his head—though what the joke could be is beyond him. Michael tries to listen into Adam’s mind, but all he can detect is vague confusion.

Meanwhile, Adam is not sure whether he’s being rejected, or if Michael had honestly just missed the part where Adam caught him listening in on his thoughts red handed, and maybe caught him in something else too. Judging by the look on Michael’s face though, Adam was going to have to ask the question outright. . .

“You know, I think we got off topic. Let’s take it back to Purgatory.”

. . .But he cops out.

Shortly after the pixie incident, Michael experiences the opposite of the power surge that marks the onset of a change. His grace seems to short circuit for a moment, and when the riotous flickering subsides, he’s reverted to Adam’s form. What this means, neither of them know. They carry on, neither of them saying it, but both secretly braced for the next change. Instead, the next time Michael senses an unexplainable rush of power, the cage door swings open, and the two of them sit there gaping at their freedom for an embarrassingly long amount of time before either moves to step outside.

When they do, Michael is wary. He doesn’t know of many beings that could simply open the cage, and he can’t dismiss the thought that this might be a trap of some sort. He pulls the two of them back into one being and ventures out cautiously. He knows where the doorway to earth is, and can get there as easily on foot as by wing. . .but then they happen to pass by the new queen of Hell, seemingly out on some kind of procession. Which is unusual enough for Hell, since festivities are not typically done there, but more importantly, Michael gets caught on the queen’s appearance.

“Michael? Why are we stopping?”

“That woman.”

“Yes?”

“Doesn’t she look familiar?”

“Um. . .I don’t know? Why, is she some important bible-y character?”

“First, we are not characters, Adam, but also—” Michael struggles to articulate his thoughts. He’d seen that woman in Adam’s fantasy! She was attired differently, in red and gold, with her hair arranged in waves woven through with braids, but it was her. He knew for a fact that Adam had once gazed at her in amazement that he could find anyone so unreservedly endearing while they were in a “mood,” as Adam had put it, yet now he hardly seemed to notice her. To think that Adam could be so offhanded with his affections was disconcerting.

Michael sets it aside, but the thought cycles back when he and Adam are at the diner later.

“You really didn’t recognize that redhead?”

“Jeez, Michael, did you?” Adam shoots him a look as he takes a bite of his pizza. It’s the one that usually meant there was something humorous going on that Michael didn’t see.

One thing that had slipped Michael’s mind when he bound Adam and himself back together in Hell, was that their proximity would make Adam’s thoughts significantly easier to overhear. As Adam chews, Michael distinctly hears:

Go on, say it—You’re not going to say it—Say it, I dare you. . .

“What’s with the frown?” Adam says after swallowing and wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

“I’m still figuring that out.”

Adam chuckles as he picks a french fry off the plate of his first entrée. . . .Yeah, you’ll get there. . .

[samsexualdeancurious]

Rediscover (NSFW)

Pairing: Sam x Dean x Reader

Words: 2,627

Summary: Sam and Dean reunite with someone they never thought they would see again.

Warnings: heavily implied Wincest, threesome, oral sex (male and female receiving)

A/N: Written for Meghan's May 2020 prompt.

Betaed by @manawhaat

---

When the blindfold is removed and Sam opens his eyes, the last thing he expects to see is Y/N’s smiling face.

“Hiya, Sammy,” she says cheerfully as she saws through the ropes binding him to the chair. “Long time, no see.”

“Y/N?” He stares at her in disbelief, shakes his head, and squeezes his eyes shut because there’s no way she can really be standing here. “What? H-how?”

“I’ll do the tests for you,” she assures him as the last of the ropes fall away. “Let’s go find your brother first, though, so I only have to do them once.”

Sam can’t find the words to respond so he just follows behind her through the witch’s compound. They find Dean a few doors down in an almost identical position to the one Sam was just in, though Dean has made a little more progress in escaping his ropes.

“Dean,” Sam says, forgetting about Y/N for a moment as he crouches beside his brother and yanks the blindfold from his eyes.

“Thank god. Get me out of he- holy shit. Y/N?!?”

“Hey, big boy,” she says with a grin and a little wave. Like their long-gone lover being back from the dead is just another walk in the park. Though, if Sam’s going to be honest with himself, he shouldn’t be that surprised when loved ones come back from the dead anymore. It seems to be all the rage as of late.

“Sam, is that-”

“Haven’t done the tests yet,” Sam says softly, lifting his head to meet Dean’s hopeful gaze. He doesn’t want to get either of their hopes up but he can’t help the lump in his throat. It’s been so long…

“Let’s get out of here and you two boy toys can do whatever you want to me.” Y/N shoots them a wink and holds out a hand to tug Dean to his feet. “Where’d you park the car? Mine’s a few blocks east of here.”

“South,” Dean answers, eyes locked on her face. “Is the witch…?”

“I took care of her for you,” Y/N assures him. “We should probably get rid of the body. Your trunk is bigger. Which one of you wants to go get the Impala?”

Dean and Sam exchange a look and then Dean pats his pockets. “Witch took my keys,” he grumbles.

“They’re probably with your weapons. I think I saw those on my way in.”

Sure enough, the keys to the Impala are piled with their weapons, phones, and wallets in the same room where the witch lies dead on the floor. Sam checks that she’s actually dead - she is - and then Dean strides off on his own to get the car.

Sam’s alone with a Y/N, again, and as he eyes her a shiver runs up his spine. He’s still not sure Y/N even is Y/N. At least he’s armed now.

“It’s been a while,” she says, leaning against the wall to the side of the doorframe. “I half expected you guys to come looking for me years ago.”

She shoots him a smirk like she’s teasing him but Sam’s too busy puzzling through what she’s just said to catch onto her playful tone. Look for her? “Y/N,” Sam says slowly, struggling to find words through his confusion and the emotions knotted up in his chest. “John- dad told us you died.”

Her eyes go wide and she straightens up, fists curled tight. “That dick! I know faking my death was part of the whole plan but I didn’t think he’d lie to you guys, too.”

“Faking your death?”

She grimaces. “It’s a long story, and one I don’t really want to tell more than once. How have you guys been doing? I saw you died - again - a few years ago...”

“That’s also a long story.” Sam runs a hand through his hair. “We’ve died a few times, actually.”

“A few times?”

Sam chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It, uh, didn’t stick?”

She stares at him, incredulous, for a moment before laughing. “I guess if anyone was going to come back from the dead repeatedly, it would be you Winchesters.”

--

Dean returns with the Impala a few minutes later. As soon as he pops the trunk, he pulls out a silver knife and hands it to Y/N. She makes a small cut on her forearm before taking the flask Dean’s holding out. She takes a big swig and swallows, grimacing.

“What the hell is that?” she grumbles, handing the flask back.

“Salted holy water.”

Dean smirks at her reaction, screwing the cap back on, but he doesn’t look at her, though. He can’t. He’s focusing his attention on straightening things in the trunk that definitely don’t need to be straightened. Sam, though, Sam can’t keep his eyes off of her as she plucks a bandana from the trunk and wraps it around her arm.

“Y/N,” he manages, voice breaking with every emotion he’s been pushing down since she first took off his blindfold.

He reaches for her and she comes easily, fitting into his arms just as perfectly as she always has. It may be fifteen years since he last touched her, last held her, last cradled her head in one palm and pressed their lips together, but it still feels as right as it did way back then. Even more so when Y/N loops her arms around his neck and happily returns the kiss, fingers sliding into his hair.

“Little Sammy Winchester grew up,” she teases when they pause for air. One hand comes around to cradle his cheek, her thumb rubbing softly against his skin. “Look at you. So handsome. Still with that hair, though.”

“I missed you,” he mumbles, eyes stinging as his view of her blurs with tears.

She wipes under his eye, catching the single tear that escapes when he blinks. “I’m right here, baby. You don’t have to miss me anymore.”

Sam nods, grinning a little stupidly, and she kisses him again. When she pulls away, she turns to find Dean watching them.

“C’mere, big guy,” she says, stepping away from Sam but not out of his arms, holding one hand out to the older Winchester.

Dean breaks then, falling forward into her embrace with a little choked sound that lands in her hair. She holds him close, hands rubbing over his broad shoulders as his arms wrap around her waist and hold on like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he lets go.

“Dad told us you were gone,” Dean manages, voice muffled against her shoulder. “You were gone and we weren’t even there, we didn’t even get to go to your funeral.”

“Hey.” She gives him a squeeze and turns her head to kiss him softly, one hand sliding around to cup his jaw. “I’m sorry, Dean. I thought he would have told you guys the truth. If I’d known he lied to you, too-”

“What happened?” Dean interrupts, turning his face away while he wipes his eyes.

“Some asshole hunter was after me. Only God knows why, but he was relentless so John helped me fake my death and found me a place to hide away until it was safe,” you explain, your hand still on his face. Like you can’t bear to stop touching him. “I didn’t learn until recently that Gordon was killed just a few years later.”

Gordon. Sam grits his teeth, old anger stirring in his chest. That fucking asshole. “I killed him,” he bites out without thinking. “About three years after you... ‘died’,” Sam air quotes. “He was turned into a vampire and I killed him.”

“Took his head off with barbed wire,” Dean adds. His eyes are red but he’s pulled himself together enough to don a slightly proud smirk.

Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up. “Damn, Sammy. That’s intense.”

Sam shrugs. “I was locked in a room with him. I had to improvise. It’s not my proudest moment, but it was me or him.”

“Hey.” She loops one arm around his waist, the other still around Dean’s. “Gordon was an ass. If he was after you, vampire or not, you had the right to defend yourself.”

Sam nods, leaning his cheek against her head at the same time Dean presses his nose and then his lips to her temple. “We’ve missed you,” Sam murmurs, his free arm settling around his brother. Dean imitates him, completing their little circle. “All those years, we thought you were gone…”

The brothers lock eyes and it’s there, clear as day - that spark she saw way back when the three of them first fell into bed together. She glances between them, one eyebrow quirked.

“And you guys?” she asks softly, not wanting to imply anything or offend if she’s wrong.

“Yeah,” Dean says with enough emotion in his voice that she knows how much they needed each other. His thumb rubs softly against the sliver of Sam’s skin where his shirt has ridden up. “We’re all each other has. I mean, things weren’t the same without you but we made it work. We leaned on each other.”

“Good.” She gives them both a squeeze. “I never wanted you guys to have to be alone.”

“Doesn’t mean we didn’t still spend every night wishing you were with us,” Sam murmurs, ducking his head down to nip at her earlobe. “Between us…”

Y/N shivers and squirms a little at the want in his voice. “Do you guys, uh - do you have a motel room?”

“One king at the Scope Motel on the west side of town,” Dean tells her, dipping his own head down to kiss at the side of her neck before pulling away. “But we’ve got a dead body to take care of first.”

Y/N groans.

--

Y/N decides to drive her own car - a yellow 1969 Chevy Nova SS two-door that Dean immediately starts cooing over. She bats him away from peeking under the hood, insisting that if he wants to pick up where they left off any time soon then they better get to work. Dean pouts but backs off and the trio pile into their respective vehicles to go find a safe, discrete place to burn and bury the body. Sam finds himself glancing in the rearview mirror over and over, just to make sure Y/N is still following. He can’t shake the fear that if he takes his eyes off her for too long, she’ll vanish.

When they find a good spot, she grabs her own shovel and lends a hand in digging. Dean grumbles the whole time and she gives him shit about his old man back and everything just feels so right that Sam can’t stop the second round of tears that well up in his eyes.

“Oh, Sammy,” she murmurs when she sees his face in the light of the burning body. She reaches up to brush his hair back. “I’m right here, baby. C’mon, let’s finish this up and head to your motel room.”

Sam nods, turning his face into her palm, and draws a deep breath. She smells like dirt and sweat and something sweet, familiar, that stirs heat in his belly.

Suddenly, they can’t get back to the motel fast enough.

--

The motel isn’t anything special but it is nicer than where the boys would usually stay. They’d decided to splurge a little this time around and Sam’s grateful for that fact. He doesn’t want to take Y/N back to a shitty motel with two queens.

As soon as the door has closed and been locked behind them, Y/N turns to face the brothers. She grins and spreads her arms, taking a few backward steps towards the bed.

“Well?” she asks. “You gonna stand there all night?”

Dean moves first this time, shedding his jacket and button-up as he crosses the room to sweep Y/N into his arms and drop her onto the bed. She shrieks, grabbing at his shoulders as they tumble back onto the mattress. Sam laughs at the sight, toeing off his boots and tossing his own top layers in the general direction of their duffel bags. When he reaches the bed, he tugs off Dean’s boots and then Y/N’s. She peeks over Dean’s shoulder at him and crooks one finger in an unmistakable “come hither” gesture.

Sam strips off his jeans and boxers in one move before climbing up onto the bed. He wriggles his hands between their bodies to find and undo Dean’s belt.

“Too many clothes,” he teases as he gets the belt open and moves on to the button and zipper.

“I agree,” Y/N says, squirming out from under Dean so she can sit up and start taking off her own shirts.

Both men freeze at that sight, eyes locked on her as she tosses her flannel aside and peels her t-shirt over her head.

“Wow,” Dean sighs, one hand reaching out to settle on the bare skin of her waist.

She shoots him a wink, teasing her fingertips along the top edge of her lacy bra cups. “Like what you see?”

Sam nods for both of them, reaching for her with lust-darkened eyes. She rises up onto her knees, allowing him to pull her into his lap. The bed rocks suddenly and they both turn to see Dean flopping like a fish out of water, trying to get rid of all his remaining layers at once.

“Some things never change,” Y/N says with a fond smile, twisting to grab Dean’s t-shirt and free him from it.

Dean pouts even as his hard cock finally bounces free of his boxers to smack against his belly. Sam unhooks Y/N’s bra and she throws it aside as she leans over to put her mouth on the head of Dean’s cock.

“Oh, my god,” he gasps, head slamming back against the mattress and hands flying to her hair. “Y/N.”

Sam’s own cock throbs at the sight and he shifts around so Y/N can kneel more comfortably on the bed with Sam behind her instead of beneath her. He blankets her back with his body, laying a line of kisses across her shoulders and down her spine.

“Sam,” she whines, grinding her ass back against his cock. “Don’t tease.”

He smirks against her skin and reaches around to find the button of her jeans. While she leaves kitten licks down the side of Dean’s cock, Sam helps her out of her jeans and panties. She arches her back and spreads her thighs with a playful little wiggle of her ass, giving Sam a perfect view of her glistening pussy. He groans and can’t resist. It’s been so long. He has to get a taste.

Y/N whines and presses back against his mouth, silently begging for more. Sam is happy to oblige, laying down on his back to get a better angle. He guides Y/N to straddle his face with hands on her hips.

“Someone’s been practicing,” Y/N says breathlessly. “Goddamn.”

Sam grins against her clit and then delves his tongue between her folds. She tastes even better than he remembered, that perfect blend of sweet and salt and musk he just can’t get enough of.

In the morning, they’ll get her stuff from her motel. She’ll take them with her to get her things from her storage unit in Idaho. Then she’ll follow them back to the bunker and the Winchesters will help her make a space of her own.

Tonight? Sam digs his fingers into her thighs, Dean sits up to pull her into a kiss, and they get to work rediscovering her body.

---

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward @emoryhemsworth

[67impalaandwhisky]

Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing)

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Grieving Over Dead OMC, Drinking, Swearing, Flirting

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic ever! I’ve been writing for a while and have adored Supernatural since the beginning so I’m really excited for this series and I hope everyone enjoys it!

Chapter 2.

"Good morning!" Dean yells out as he unlocks the motel room door. 

To his surprise, neither his brother nor you were there to greet him. 

He furrows his eyebrows before looking at what should be his bed to see the sheets wrinkled and messed up. He was happy that you slept in his bed and not in Sam's like you've done throughout all these years.

He knows you would never get intimate with his brother, but he can't help the heart wrenching curiosity of it all. He shouldn't have slept with that girl last night, but he did to ease his pain. 

You both handle your grief differently and yet, it's the same.

He finds women to distract him, he makes offensive jokes to cover his cowardly self. He does all the things an asshole would do to stop the pain from spreading through his limbs and to his heart.

You barrel your anger towards anything and anyone. You completely shield yourself from the world like everything will hurt you, because it does. You drink the pain away until you're numb with relief. 

Two ways of dealing. Both disappointing to one another.

He lays down on the bed, grabbing the pillow and pressing it to his face as he sighs.

The smell of lavender and oak invade his senses. It was so you. It was home. 

He lets out a groan before flipping on his back and staring up at the water stained ceiling. 

You pretend to never love anything. Never give a fuck about a single thing. But, one thing you did love was Marsh. And, you weren't afraid to show it.

You would baby him and hold him like he tethered you to the planet because he probably did. 

He turned you all into a closer family then you were before. He made things domestic in the bunker. 

He made Dean feel like he finally had a chance. You felt like his wife, someone who he would bicker with and laugh with. Someone who discussed their son's attitude and his problems.

You were like his life partner. Until that fateful day.

"Good job, baby." You say sweetly as Marsh puts the gun down on the table.

Dean steps over, inspecting the shooting range sheet. 

"Hey dad?" The puberty cracking the young boy's voice makes his adopted father smirk as he pulls the sheet off of it's holder.

"Yeah bud?" He asks as he walks back over. 

His eyes catch a glimpse of the woman he's known for years as she combs her fingers through the soft brunette locks of the young boy in their care. 

She loved him so dearly. Finally having someone to care for. 

"Uncle Sammy said he found an easy job and I wanna help...Can I come with you, mom and Uncle Sammy?" He looks over at you and there's an unspoken conversation just with your eyes.

He's getting older and he wants to do this. He wants this life. He wants to prove himself. Dean can see his willpower and his need to grow up. 

When his father was younger, John treated him and Sam like recruits rather than his children. Dean chose to take it a different way, letting Marsh decide when he was ready and he says he's ready now.

They have to respect this.

"Sure you can, baby." You whisper before kissing his forehead and smiling at him.

"Hello Dean." The voice rips him from his memories and he sits up quickly with his hand over his heart.

"Goddammit! What do you want, Cas?" He barks out as he lays back down on the bed.

He hugs the pillow tightly to his body as the angel sits down on Sam's bed.

"I would like you to fall in love with Y/N." Cas says as he puts his hands on his knees calmly.

He lets out a sharp laugh before throwing the pillow at Castiel.

"Not this again!" He says as Cas gently places the pillow on his lap.

"You must do this Dean. You must make a child with her. It's your destiny." Dean sits up quickly, frustration starting to seep into his bones as he points at his friend.

"You don't get to sit there and tell me about destiny. You hear me? You telling me that I'm supposed to fall in love with her makes me hate the fucking idea. That we're supposed to get pregnant and have a kid? For what? So they-they could be a vessel just in case something wants to come crawling back and inhabit my kid? No thanks!" His voice is sharp and agitated as he walks over to the small fridge and grabs a beer.

It's five o'clock somewhere.

"I know this is...difficult for you to understand but-"

"God-fucking-dammit Castiel. It's not difficult at all to understand! I've known Y/N since I'm fifteen years old. I've loved her from the moment I saw her. I raised a kid with her. And you know what I can't do?! I can't show her how much I love her or be with her because of this stupid destiny crap." He says before chugging his beer and slamming the bottle down on the table.

There's silence in the motel room for a while. Closing his eyes, he knows Cas is still there. He didn't hear wings flutter and he can practically feel his gaze burning through his skin to his heart.

"Yes. I understand." Cas says quietly.

"No. You don't." Dean says simply before putting his hands over his face and sighing.

"You might see how I feel. You might be able to get a glimpse of it in my mind but you don't know a damn thing about what goes through my head. I thought I had something good. Was working up to something great with her. And then Marsh died and she's right back to how she was when we first met. When we were fifteen. You don't know how destroyed I am." He says finitely, waving his hand as if to tell his friend to just stop talking.

Dean opens his eyes to the empty room before scoffing loudly. The tip of his tongue laps over his bottom lip as he leans back against the counter. 

You are his everything and his nothing all at once. 

Picking up the beer bottle, he flings it across the room only to watch the brown glass shatter into small pieces.

"Hi, I'm Agent Simmons and this is Agent Thayer we're with the FBI." You say, holding up the badge to the coroner.

"Great, thanks for coming KISS but I already told everything to the sheriff. If you didn't read the report." The older man says as he gives a short glance to your badges.

"Right. No of course, but we're looking into it because the case is so odd. So if you could just tell us what you told the sheriff. We would appreciate it." Sam says as you walk along the corridor. 

"Well you got that right, kid. Odd isn't even the word. Try freaky." He says as he pulls open one of the smaller doors that line the wall.

You can smell bleach along with the underlying scent of decay. Grimacing you focus on the covered body as it rolls out of the wall unit. 

This was never the most fun job but it beats waiting at the motel for Sam to get back, or worse. Dean.

You couldn't help but be bitter that he didn't show back up last night. Too deep into the pussy that he got last night to even think of you.

Even though there's no reason why he should think of you.

You weren't together. You've never been together.

He made that clear when you both were seventeen. He could see how comfortable you were with him. Flirting and giggling all the while as you helped his father out with jobs.

John encouraged canoodling between you two, honestly. And you think it put Dean off. Or maybe it was just you in your entirety that he was putting off.

He would only flirt and tease playfully when he was drunk. And, as you got older and went out to bars you noticed that he did it with everyone. But, you were comforted when he laid it on thicker with them. Almost like he could just be himself around you.

"So what are we looking at here?" Sam mumbles as he grimaces.

You put your hand over your mouth, happy for the distraction even though this is so fucked up, as the sheet is taken off her body.

"We had to vacuum out her insides. It was all mush. But her kidneys were intact which was odd. And this." Spreading the girls legs, you can see black, thick goo shining like oil on her thighs.

"Haven't gotten the test results back yet on what exactly this stuff is." Swallowing uncomfortably, you look away before shivering.

"Got it." Sam whispers and you can practically hear the gag in his voice.

"I hope you catch the son of a bitch. Or at least make out heads or tails of what's going on." The coroner says covering up the body.

"Jesus." You whisper before closing your eyes.

"Thank you. We'll see ourselves out." He says before putting his hand on the small of your back and walking you out of the room.

"Absolutely disgusting." You say to him as he undoes his tie, weaving through people in the hallway before ending up back next to you.

"What is going on? I've never seen that before." He says dumbfounded. 

"What ghost has the mojo to do that? Ectoplasm cum? That's just insane." You say as you both shove the doors open.

"Hey Y/N...do you wanna talk?" Sam asks as he makes his way towards your car.

You stop in your tracks before tilting your head.

"What Dean did last night… It wasn't right of him. And, I know you must be feeli-"

"Keep it to yourself kid. I'm as fresh as a daisy." You cut him off as you unlock your car.

"Yeah… Okay… Right. I just-- I'm here to talk to you always, you're my best friend y'know?" Sam says gently as he climbs into the car with you.

"I know Sammy." You mumble as the engine purrs to life.

Too bad there's nothing to talk about.

Ending up back at the motel. You shove the door open to Dean and some random chick as she sits on his lap.

Your jaw clicks and you throw his bag of food beside him before walking over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

"Hey Y/N. This is Candy." You scoff in disbelief and your heart clenches as you press the bottle cap lid above the corner of the table. 

Slamming your hand down, the cap pops off easily and you give a fake, terse smirk to the girl as she waves.

There was a time when Dean called you 'Candy girl' for a completely different reason. It was a pet name you cherished but now you think it's sickening.

"Candy girl!" Dean calls to you as you put your rifle back together. 

You look up, one eye squinting from the blazing sun as he holds out a chocolate bar.

"Oh man! I love Twix." You say grabbing it from his hand. 

"I know. That's why I got it for you." He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"This is why you call me Candy girl?" You ask lightheartedly as you rip open the packaging.

He pushes the hood of Baby up before turning his head slowly to you.

"No. I call you Candy girl because you're the sweetest woman in my life. God. You moron." He mutters before burying himself inside the front of his car.

"Get out." You tell her as Sam enters the room.

His eyes go wide and he looks at you quickly before swallowing thickly.

"Oh Y/N. Come on…" Dean whispers at the fierceness of your voice.

You look at him expectantly before chugging your beer and wiping at your mouth with your thumb. 

"Dean Abel." You mutter as you grab another beer.

"Okay, sweetheart. You heard the boss. No fun for me today." He says as he runs his hands over her arms. 

You are so grateful he has never uttered the word sweetheart to you.

It makes you feel as if you're a smidgeon different then all the other women he's ever known.

You don't watch as she leaves but you can hear her heels clicking and you can see Sam move out of the way out of the corner of your eye.

You take in the broken glass by the bathroom before shaking your head slightly.

"Why don't you do some fucking work or something?" You ask him as the door gets swung shut.

"I was doing work. Apparently our dead girl was a prostitute that worked with Candy." You hum to him before leaning back against the counter.

"So that's what you do now? You pay for it? Last night you seemed to like getting it for free." You mumble as you grab another beer. 

Sam flinches while Dean raises his eyebrows towards the heavens.

"Got something to say to me, Candy girl?" Dean asks with a laugh.

That's it.

"Y/N!" Sam screams as you charge at his brother. 

The bottle of beer smashes onto the floor, your feet stepping into the puddle of hops and suds as you ball up your fist.

"Bring it on." The oldest whispers as he clenches his jaw.

"STOP IT!" Sam bellows as he wraps his arms around you.

You struggle against his vice grip, your tongue running over your teeth as you smile at your best friend. 

"Can't you see how horrible you're being to each other? Beating each other up and taking your guilt about Marsh's death out on one another?!" The younger brother asks as he throws you down onto the bed.

"Sam. Don't." The authority in Dean's voice makes you swallow nervously.

"I miss him too, Dean. We all miss him. But you can't keep beating yourselves up like this. You can't keep treating each other like shit when it's not your fault he died. He wanted to go with us!" His voice cracks as he puts his hands down to his sides dejectedly.

"I said don't!" His brother barks out before looking at you.

You didn't even realize you were crying until now. You press your fingers to your cheek, gathering a tear as it falls before scoffing and wiping your face.

"Fuck this." You whisper as you stand up.

"Where are you going?!" You hear the oldest call to you as you walk to the door.

"Away from you." You mumble as you tug the door open harshly.

Dean sits in complete silence. 

He's been this way for an hour. He usually cleans guns when he thinks, or drinks. But, he can't bring himself to do anything. He just wants to crawl into a hole and stay there for all eternity.

You're so closed off. So gated from this reality now. It's breaking his goddamn heart. 

God knows what you were up to. 

Fights between you both is always bad. But there's never an underlying tone of hate. 

He could hear the venom rolling off your tongue like it was nothing.

He could feel the angst that was vibrating throughout your body so clearly. 

And, he just goaded you on. Because, that's what he's always done. But he shouldn't have. 

"Dean?" It's a mere whisper in the dark room.

"Yeah." He whispers back, a choked voice echoing throughout the room.

"Aren't you going after her?" Sam asks quietly as he lays down in bed.

"No Sammy. She doesn't want me to." He looks down at his calloused hands before biting his bottom lip and lowering his head.

"Yes she does. You know that. She doesn't even know that she wants you to. But you do." His younger brother replies.

"I can't go to her Sam. I can't let myself fall into this trap. Her hating me is better than nothing. Then she can't love me." 

"You're an idiot. She loves you regardless. Whether she's going to admit it to herself or not. This whole destiny thing is bullshit. So what if you guys have a kid? Doesn't mean it has to say yes to being a vessel." Dean clicks his teeth at his brother's words before carding his fingers through his hair.

"For now you have to go make sure she's okay. You have to take care of her. She's hurting so deeply." 

He mulls it over for a minute or two.

He's worried sick already. He just has to go. Even if it's wrong to give in, it's right to take care of her. Always.

Standing up, he grabs his jacket and his car keys.

"She'll be somewhere fancy since she wants to get rid of you." His brother says as he walks towards the door.

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam mutters as he rolls over in his bed.

"Just put down the fucking bottle." You mutter to the bartender.

"Ma'am this is a two hundred dollar bottle of whisky." The bartender says as he looks over your appearance.

"Did I stutter?" You ask annoyed, handing him the money.

As he sets down the bottle, you put your hand under your chin before huffing out.

This whole thing with Dean. This whole battling each other with mean words and fisticuffs is so exhausting.

When Marsh was around you never really fought. You had tiffs and even those ended with light hearted slaps. These fights, they're big. And, they take an even bigger toll on your mental health.

Yes, you're pushing away the one man who makes you happy.

Yes, you're closing yourself off again just like when you were a teenager.

Yes, you're completely ignoring reason for the hatred you feel in your gut.

But of course, you couldn't hate Dean Winchester. Quite the opposite.

And, that's what makes your stomach churn at night.

That's what makes everything a bitch.

He started it first. A few days after Marsh's death-- the whole push Y/N away until she wants to claw her own eyes out task.

And, he is doing a great job at it.

You're not letting him in and he's pushing you to the edge of not even wanting to get back to a place you're comfortable with him.

But, why?

Why is he pushing you to the edge like this? Why do you even fucking care?

"Can I get an extra glass over here, sweetheart?" You hear a deep voice ask and you let out a low whine as you cover your eyes with your hand.

Great. Just fucking fantastic.

A chair scrapes loudly across the linoleum flooring before you feel his big, rough hand on your bare thigh beneath your ripped jeans.

You shiver at his touch before turning your head to him and peeking through your fingers.

"I know you better than you know yourself." He says before winking at the girl as she sets down the glass.

You watch her blush and you grimace at the interaction before slinging back the shot.

"You bought the whole bottle, Mel Gibson?" He asks as he pours himself a shot.

"Go away. Please." You whisper before putting your hand below your chin again.

"Nah. I'll help you finish it. Come on. Let's go to the booth." He says, jabbing his finger to the other side of the bar.

"Why? What's the point? Hey, Carrie. Wanna distract this guy for me?" You ask the bartender and she perks up at the thought.

Typical.

"No thanks. I'm with my wife." He says before grabbing the bottle and your wrist.

You snort at his comment before whining as you get dragged off to the booth like he asked.

"You shouldn't lie to women like that Mr. Winchester. They might think you're not chivalrous." You jeer as you slide into the booth.

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious. Shut up." He deadpans as he squeezes in beside you.

He was so close you could smell him again. You could smell home.

You push yourself away from him before grabbing your glass and shaking it asking for more.

Looking up at him, you find his deep green eyes staring at you and it makes you feel like a deer in headlights for once. They were so riddled with emotion. Emotion so far beyond anything you've seen for quite some time now.

He pours you some whisky before leaning back in the booth and sighing heavily.

You just stare at each other for a while. Both of you drink one another in, but you break the line of sight first.

You take a large gulp of the alcohol before cringing. The burn is soothing to the flaming fires in your gut.

"I'm sorry. I've been pushing you when you don't deserve it. I've been angry at the whole world." He says finally.

His voice is laced with sorrow and your heart pangs.

"I don't need your sorry." You retort before pouring yourself some more whisky.

"Hey… Hey-" He whispers softly as he holds his hands up, "-I'm not trying to fight with you. I'm not trying to create a rift between us. I'm opening up." 

You grumble gently. You wish he just fucking wouldn't. It's always such a blessing and a curse to see him like this.

He pours his heart out and you have the overwhelming emotion to do the same.

"I'm sorry too." You whisper back before finishing off the glass.

"We both handle things so wrong when we're upset. Sam says it's because we're almost like the same person and I think I'm starting to believe it." He says before chuckling.

You begin to count the freckles on his face again, like you once did many moons ago.

He's so perfectly not yours.

So perfectly Dean.

The silence this time is easier. It's almost welcome. 

"I shouldn't have slept with that girl last night. That's on me." He mutters above the lip of his glass.

You tilt your head before snorting, "We aren't together. You don't have to apologize to me. We've never been together."

"No! I know!-" He says quickly, "-But still that doesn't mean it was right. I just wish...I just wish things could be like before. When Marsh was around...there was no sorrow or no anger." 

You sigh before putting your hands over your face.

"Yeah. I know. But he isn't here anymore and we all deal with it in our own way." You pour some more alcohol.

"Yeah we do...But, I want you to lean on me more. I want you to trust me with your thoughts like you used to. Like when you cried when you killed your first wraith." 

You begin to smile at the memory before rolling your eyes.

"I was crying because I literally felt like I was going insane." You deadpan earning a chuckle from him.

This is easy too. Falling back into routine.

The cage you've locked yourself away in these past weeks is slowly opening again and it's a terrifying notion.

"Or the time when you got abducted by the djinn and you told me to leave you there. Because you loved your dream so much." He says and you smirk in response.

"Nothing like a djinn twisting my mind into having four babies with you and you being my husband." You say raising your glass before downing it all.

He swallows thickly and looks away before clearing his throat.

"We almost had that. Hurts that we can't have that." He mumbles before pouring a tall glass for himself.

"We aren't meant to be. You know that. You fucking told me that." You say as you throw your boots over his lap.

He looks down at your boots and you can't quite read the emotion in his eyes as he begins to play with your laces.

He lets out a small laugh before shutting his eyes and nodding.

"Would you? If we were meant to be? Would you be with me?" He asks before looking back up at you.

He's never asked you that before. You stammer on syllables before putting your hands through your hair.

"I don't… I don't know." You say truthfully and you see him nod rapidly before swallowing.

"What if it was our destiny to be together? What if we were made for one another?" His voice is feeble now. 

You click your teeth before slumping down in the booth.

"I can't tell you an answer because it's not true." You say finitely. 

He hums in agreement before looking away.

"Yeah… You're right." 

"Come on you lazy drunk." Dean groans out as he pulls you out of the car.

You stagger on your feet as you fall into his chest.

"Dean Abel." You slur out as he closes the door with his foot.

"Yeah. Yeah. I got you, princess." He murmurs as he scoops you up into his arms.

"I bought a room. Five." You say holding out the key with a large smile.

He shakes his head with a smirk as he walks down the strip of concrete of the motel.

"Why'd you do that?" He asks as he takes it, pulling the key loop onto his finger.

"To get away from you." You reply as you bury your face into his neck.

"Oh...Joy." He mumbles as he approaches the room. 

Opening the door, he makes quick steps to the bed before gently laying you down.

"Okay. He-Here I am, Dean. One of your sweethearts. Strip me!" You whisper as you hold your arms up. 

He smirks as he shakes his head before rolling his eyes.

"You're a fucking psycho." He mutters before helping you out of your jacket.

He takes in your slightly parted lips, your cheeks that are tinged pink from the alcohol that pumps through your veins.

He sighs gently as he takes off your shirt.

His eyes drift anywhere but your body as he discards your shirt elsewhere.

"Take your pants off." He instructs as he takes off his jacket.

"No. You take 'em off." You mumble as you close your eyes.

Grumbling to himself, he rolls his eyes before pulling your pants off of your legs in one quick swipe.

"Now go to bed and don't throw up." He says as he tosses your pants onto the couch.

Your head as heavy as it is still lifts off of the pillow as you look at him, seeing double but two Dean's are better than none.

"Sleep with me." You whine patting the spot behind you.

He hums to you, an unsure noise before sighing and taking off his shirt.

Your eyes rake over his toned chest and stomach, defined just enough to see small abs beneath his soft looking skin. You can see the freckles that fleck and dot his chest and shoulders as he walks over to the bed.

"I ain't takin' my pants off. You pervert. Go to bed." He mumbles as he lays down beside you.

You smirk before pressing your head into the pillow. 

"I think I would…" You find yourself saying as you close your eyes.

"You would take my pants off?" He asks loudly, his voice riddled with surprise as he wraps his arm around your body.

"If it was destiny and we were meant to be I think I would be with you." You say as he presses his chest to your back.

"Shut up and go to sleep." He murmurs as his forehead connects to the back of your neck.

"You don't know what you're asking for." He whispers as he closes his eyes.

Forever Dean Tags: @akshi8278​

[captcas]

Screwed (A Destiel AU)

Screwed by capthamm (Part 1 of 2)

Dean inherits the old family inn and has to move home to fix it up for selling. When the work proves to be too much, he enlists in the town's only contractor's help– his neighbor, Castiel. Dean is short on time, stuck in a hometown riddled with old flames, and falling for the man who lives next door. He's screwed.

notes: I'm halfway through season 7 and missing Mr. Castiel on my screen so this poured out. I'm almost finished but here is part one. My first ever attempt in the Supernatural fan fiction world... please be kind. Thank to my lovely beta, Luke <3 (@bawley_bug) read on ao3

At this point, Dean’s left thumb had been hit by the hammer more than any of the nails and he was regretting every single choice he ever made that led him to this exact moment.

Why the fuck did he think he was cut out for restoring an inn? Not just any inn– the inn. The one John ran before he got too old and retired, eventually– well let’s just say Dean isn’t here out of any sort of living guilt.

Dean’s not sure why he’s here.

If he breaks it down, it’s because he received a letter in the mail exactly two months after the passing of his father detailing how Lawrence would have no choice but to tear down the old inn unless someone from his family claimed it.

Sam’s not going to leave his law practice and the life he built for Jess and the twins, out in California.

Dean’s the only one left.

So, taking things extremely literally, he’s here because a bunch of lawyers told him he needed to be.

Another slam into his thumb jolts his train of thought off its tracks and convinces him to pack it up for the night. He snaps the tools back into his massive toolkit and stands back to look at the old built-in shelves he decided would probably be the easiest to tackle on his own. Nodding at the good-enough outcome, he turns to scan the rest of the main floor.

Maybe the built-ins are the only thing he’s going to be able to do alone.

Dean doesn’t like the thought of teamwork– especially not with the grumpy prick who lives next door. His neighbor stopped by the day Dean arrived because apparently it was John’s dying wish that their neighbor offer his services when his estranged son eventually showed up to fix the inn. (Leave it to his father to leave Dean feeling inadequate from the great beyond.)

“No, thank you.” “Excuse me?” “You offered, I’m declining. Debt, paid.”   "As you wish, Winchester.”   Even wrapped in the neighbor’s deep lumbering voice, Dean winces at his last name– it feels just as constricting as it did when he thought he’d be stuck in this town forever, “Dean.” “Whatever.”

Dean thought that’d be the last he’d see of the guy until he marched away and slammed the door just across the small garden. That house used to be for whatever innkeeper his parents had hired, but when the inn closed they rented it out to whichever soul felt like a one bedroom one bathroom home was enough to live in.

Apparently that was this asshole.

They’ve seen each other three more times since then, but never long enough to even exchange names. Dean isn’t sure why he’s keeping track– each time just as unpleasant as the first. Sure, Dean could’ve been friendlier, but warning bells rattled through him every time the neighbor’s stormy eyes met his. Dean may have sworn off unnecessary human interaction for the foreseeable future, but he’s not blind and his neighbor isn’t hard to look at.

But his life has no room for attractive neighbors with an attitude problem.

Convincing himself there must be someone else in this town who knows their way around a fixer upper, Dean heads to the Roadhouse for dinner and hopefully the name of someone else to help him get the inn fixed up enough to sell.

Walking through the front door of the restaurant-meets-dive-bar, the familiar smell hits him like a breath of fresh air. He can’t believe he held out for almost a week before eating here. The Roadhouse is one of the few places left in the town left untouched by rotten memories and painful nostalgia. Nothing but good ever happens once he crosses this threshold and it’s that fact that allows him to relax for the first time since moving back to Lawrence.

He starts to order his usual and Jo winks signaling she remembers even after all these years– Dean can’t believe she runs this on her own now. Jo always swore she’d get out of this town, break the chains of her mother’s legacy, but nevertheless here she is– here they both are.

Jo looks happy, maybe even at home– Dean? Not so much.

The plate drops in front of him and Dean catches his old friend lingering a bit. He looks up and says thank you and that was all it took to spark some small town gossip from Jo. While he didn’t come back to rekindle any old relationships– friendly or otherwise– Dean doesn’t mind her company and before he knows it he’s laughing and taking his last bite of burger. The conversation starts to die and Dean remembers why he came to town in the first place, “Oh! Jo, I meant to ask. I’m fixing up the old inn and I need help. Do you have the number of someone who–”

“Of course, Dean! Chuck retired, but Castiel took over, after Gabriel ran off to Thailand.” Dean raises his eyebrow and Jo laughs, “ That’s a story for another meal. Here,” she hands over a napkin with a number scrawled across it, “Castiel is the best in town and will fix up that inn in no time.”

Castiel.  

Dean racks his brain for any recollection of someone named Castiel from their childhood but the name doesn’t ring a bell— and a name like that definitely would ring a bell. He supposes people must move to Lawrence, just like any town, and resigns it to someone new since he left.

He can’t expect everything to stay the same while he spent the last 15 years trying to change in every way imaginable.

Thanking his friend for the help, Dean pays and heads home for the night. Finally having the name of someone to help has lifted a huge weight off his chest. He sighs as he crawls onto the old mattress in the first floor suite, thankful it’s dark enough that he can’t nitpick all that needs to be done. The sooner he can get the inn fixed up, the sooner he can sell it and go back to Sioux Falls and the life he chose rather than the one his parents forced on him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the Roadhouse or the knowledge that this process will move twice as fast with a little help, but Dean sleeps better that night than he has in years. When he wakes with the sun, he feels energized and ready to continue his work on his family’s property.

He decides to start with disassembling the kitchen cabinets and it doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm in his work— four screws and a trip to the pile, four screws, trip to the pile. Lost in the easy monotony, Dean forgets his decision to call for help until late into the morning. Hoping to catch the contractor before lunch, he brushes the dust from his hands and digs in his pocket for the napkin Jo had written on last night.

He’s not sure why he feels so anxious as he waits for the man on the other end of the line to pick up, but he supposes it rests on the fact that this man only knows Dean by the reputation he left town with— John’s other son.

Sam was always the golden child— pretty blonde cheerleaders and a full-ride to Stanford are not even an exaggeration when it comes to his younger brother.

Dean, on the other hand, was always rough around the edges, emotional, and different — let’s just say he’d go for the cheerleader or the quarterback.

As soon as Dean was shoved out of the closet— his dad walking in on him and Benny not leaving very much up for debate— John shut him out completely. Dean brushed it off as his dad’s way of fighting every piece of homophobia he was raised with, but the fact is: it was more likely he was disgusted by his own son.

But that was ages ago and, from what Sam’s told him, John died swearing his love for both his boys.

Not that Sam would tell Dean otherwise.

“Hello?” A gruff voice breaks him out of his daze and he’s startled back to the present day.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, uh, is this Castiel?” It’s the first time Dean’s said the name aloud and he can’t help but notice how easily it rolls off his tongue.  

“This is. How can I help you?” The man is all business, clearly not as affected by Dean’s use of his name as Dean was.

“Oh yeah, uh, I got your name from Jo at the Roadhouse? My name is Dean Winchester and I’m fixing up the old Winchester Inn and I’m realizing the job may be too massive to handle on my own.” Dean winces at his blatant request for help, never one to ask outright for assistance, but as he looks at the pile of kitchen cabinets which need to be sanded, painted, and rehung, he knows he can’t do this alone. He realizes the man on the other end of the line hasn’t said anything when he continues, “Uh, that is if you have the bandwidth for that…”

Another pause before the man, Castiel, speaks again, “I can be right over.”

Dean didn’t really know how to respond, he was expecting to bargain for payment or at least for a delay in starting the project. He’s not used to this immediate willingness to help a complete stranger. He’s about to stumble through a response when he realizes Castiel is no longer on the other end of the phone. He shrugs, and sets it on the counter as there’s a knock on the door.

Shit. The only way Castiel could’ve gotten here that fast is if he’s...  

Dean opens the door to the man he’s now seen a mere four times despite his permanent residence on Dean’s property. His neighbor— Castiel— looks different today. The usual softness that accompanies the man overtaken by strong arms, an AC/DC t-shirt, and a tool belt placed perfectly on his hips.

Whoa, Dean.  

“Uh, hi?” Dean isn’t sure how one goes about re-introducing themselves to apparently the only help in town after being an ass before. But he’s here and Dean introduced himself on the phone and he still came.

“Hello.” The man– Castiel– greets Dean so matter of factly as he glances around Dean quizzically, presumably taking in the whole of the inn. Dean is a little taken aback by this whole interaction and the way it’s entirely different than any they’ve shared previously. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and Dean can’t help but notice a hint of playfulness before Castiel speaks again, “So you do need help?”

Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel laughs sending a shockwave through Dean he hasn’t felt in ages. He promptly ignores it before motioning towards the foyer and inviting his new contractor inside. They don’t exchange any pleasantries, but rather head right to work. Castiel asks questions about everything from the crown molding and stair railing to Dean’s plan for the half shattered French doors.

The man is thorough and he knows his stuff.

Maybe teamwork with him won’t be so bad.

They finish their walk through and Dean is relieved to hear that Castiel agrees the upstairs mostly needs some fresh paint. John left some money to fix up the inn, but not enough for a total overhaul. After working through the budget, they decide it’ll be more cost effective if it retains its original charm.

“Well, Dean, I like what we’ve got here and I think we can make something out of this.” Castiel slouches into one of the bar stools near the kitchen island as he surveys the room one more time. Dean does his best not to notice the sweat slowly making its way down Castiel’s collar bone and beneath the collar of his t-shirt, and the way he says Dean, and his implication that this is theirs . Dean hasn’t shared anything for most of his adult life– mostly because he hasn’t had anyone worth sharing something with.

But this inn feels like it’s meant to be shared, and Dean can’t seem to find any reason not to do so with Castiel.

“I’m glad you think so. I suppose we should discuss payment…” Dean trails off as Castiel’s gaze becomes confused.

“I don’t intend on charging you a dime, Dean.” Castiel’s matter of fact smile returns and Dean can’t ignore the way his gut flutters.

He’s not a nun, Dean’s been attracted to people for as long as he can remember being alive. From Lucy Jones in kindergarten to a myriad of characters in his adult life, he’s always been a people person loaded with an innate attraction for the kind of itches you scratch and forget ever existed.

Castiel is beginning to feel like an itch he’d like to scratch.

But that’d ruin everything, especially Dean’s plan to sell the inn for as much as humanly possible and then get the hell outta dodge.

“I appreciate that, but I have to give you something…” Castiel waves Dean off and he realizes arguing would be useless. “Thanks.”

Castiel nods before taking time to study Dean until it almost feels awkward. Dean is typically the one doing the studying, and he feels naked under this man’s gaze. They remain in a silence delicately balanced between comfortable and awkward until Castiel speaks again, “Well, best I get back to my place. I will see you tomorrow morning, Dean.”

As Castiel stands, he adjusts the toolbelt around his waist and Dean forces himself to look away, not willing to tempt himself with the flash of skin exposed during the adjustment. The contractor must notice because he smirks slightly before nodding his head in goodbye. If he didn’t know better, Dean would swear Castiel walks a bit closer to him than is necessary. He shakes it off before heading to the bathroom to shower off the grime of the day before checking in with Sam, Jess, and the kids.

. . .

They work surprisingly well together.

His new partner is a quiet but sturdy presence throughout the day– rarely chatting about more than the weather or whatever task needs to be done– but on occasion Dean will learn a bit more about him. He’s started to compile a list of Cas’s likes and dislikes– for example, Cas likes that Dean gave him a nickname.

“Hey, Cas, can you hand me the socket wrench?”   "Cas?” “Uh, yeah, short for Castiel. You got too many syllables, man.”

Cas nodded and moved on with the task, but Dean can’t help but notice the small smirk everytime he has to call Cas by name. Cas also smiles whenever a screw goes in without a fight and when the first raindrop of an impending storm hits his forehead.

Dean likes it when Cas smiles. (Apparently Dean’s compiled a list for that, too.)

He’s tried to largely ignore the growing attraction for the man he’s working with for more than eight hours a day, but it gets more difficult with each glance to make sure the other is still in one piece and every accidental touch of hands when they pass off a tool.

At least Dean tells himself it’s accidental.

He hadn’t gotten enough out of Cas to even know if he “plays for that team,” as Sam likes to say. Dean is almost positive John wouldn’t have encouraged the two work together if Cas is gay, but there are moments that give him more hope that he deserves.

“Dean!” Cas’s steady voice startles him from the monotony of painting kitchen cabinets and his overflowing thoughts.

He puts down the paintbrush and walks over to the fireplace where Cas is supposed to be sanding down the mantle, “Yeah, Cas, what is it?” There’s that smile– sometimes Dean wonders if he uses his nickname for Cas just to get a glimpse of it.

“I’m hungry and I’m out of sand paper.” Cas looks up from the stool he’s been sitting on for hours with a hint of puppy dog eyes. Dean isn’t exactly paying Cas so he could definitely come and go as he pleases, but they tend to stick to a similar schedule everyday. Checking his watch, Dean sees it is lunchtime and agrees to head into town for a sandwich.

“I should probably get cleaned up a bit…” Cas trails off as he surveys his dusty jeans and sweat drenched t-shirt. Without trying to, Dean gets lost in the unfairly attractive mess of it all for a moment too long. He looks up to speak again and Cas is smirking almost knowingly.

Shit.

“Yeah, sure. You can use the shower here if you want but no promise there’s any hot water.” Dean scratches behind his ear nervously. This wasn’t any sort of purposeful invitation, but he can’t help but feel a wad of want fall into his stomach. Cas simply nods his thanks before heading into the main floor bathroom with a change of clothes he brought “just in case”. Dean laughed when Cas told him that he’s always that prepared and cited the fact that Cas only lives thirty steps away from the inn. He simply shrugged and said “You never know” and that was the end of that. Dean supposes Cas was right and the change of clothes had come in handy.

Though, not exactly how Dean thought they would.

As he hears the shower turn on, Dean goes back to painting kitchen cabinets in hopes of distracting himself from the very attractive, very naked man that is showering in the next room. It works for a while but eventually the knowledge feels stifling and Dean decides to clean up quickly and wait for Cas on the porch.

“What’re you waiting out here for?” Cas walks outside, resting his arm on the doorframe to only accentuate his bicep muscles. Dean knows if he looks at what is probably disheveled and wet hair from the shower it’ll take every piece of willpower he has not to jump the guy right then and there.

“Let’s go.” He leads Cas to his car without looking in his direction or answering his question. As Dean walks around the back of the impala he sees Cas smirk again.

Bastard.

They take the short drive into town before stopping at the hardware store. Dean needs to pick up some new screws so he can finish the cabinets and Cas needs some more sand paper so they decide to split up and grab what they need. Cas cuts right, beelining for the aisle like he lives here– now that Dean thinks about it, Cas probably does come here a lot– and Dean wanders to the left looking for the screw aisle.

He ends up finding them along with a confused pre-teen boy comparing screw sizes to an outlet cover. Dean laughs to himself before offering his help, “Anything I can help with?”

The boy turns to Dean, startled at first, but then relaxing when he doesn’t sense any immediate threat, “Yeah, that’d be great. My mom sent me in here twenty minutes ago, but I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

Dean laughs, “Well, your Dad should’ve taught you screw shopping at the very least.”

“How could he do that when he doesn’t know I exist?” The kid says it so matter of factly, Dean isn’t even sure he heard him correctly. He scans him for signs of distress, but whatever therapy he’s getting must’ve worked because the kid goes back to comparing screws without missing a beat.

“Fair enough. Here, you’ll want these ones,” Dean grabs a four pack of the screws the kid is looking for and hands it to him. “Then you’ll have extras in case you need to replace another one.”  

“Awesome, thanks! My names–”

“Ben? What’s taking you–” Dean winces, he’d know that voice anywhere and the fact she paused means… “Dean?! What are you doing talking to… what’s going on here?”

“Mom!”

“Lisa…”

Ben (apparently) and Dean speak at the same time, both turning towards the woman Dean hasn’t thought about in years. They were something– more than something– for about a year, but John’s pressure pushed Dean out of town and Lisa refused to leave Lawrence... so now they're here, awkwardly looking at each other in a hardware store.

“Lisa, look, I can explain–”

“Dean, I found the sandpaper and I also grabbed some extra paint for that wall in the living–” Dean’s cut off as Cas rounds the corner looking down at the sandpaper packaging and clearly missing all the fun in aisle nine, “Oh. Hi!”

Then Cas waves , an adorable wave that if Dean wasn’t so goddamn turned around probably would’ve sent him spiraling. Dean facepalms to hide his smile and proceeds to rub his calloused hands through his hair trying to decide what to say next. But Ben must be oblivious to the absolute shit storm happening a foot above his current height because he chooses this moment to chime in, “I was confused about which screws to get and Dean offered to help, Mom. That’s all. And look,” Ben holds up the package Dean handed him what feels like an eternity ago, “Got ‘em!”

That kid just saved Dean’s ass.

Lisa still looks a little stunned to see Dean– his return had seemingly not reached the far ends of the town gossip chain quite yet– but then she glances back towards Cas… and then back to Dean.

He’s about to correct her when she surprises him with a hug.

They didn’t exactly end on bad terms, but he probably could’ve been nicer when he told her he was leaving.

Hence why the hug catches him off guard, as does what she quietly whispers in his ear, “I’m glad you found someone that makes you smile like that again.”

Dean can't even formulate a correction before Lisa’s telling Ben to thank Dean for his help and the pair is heading down the other end of the aisle. He turns towards Cas who is staring intensely at a speck on the floor by his feet, but seems to be smiling all the same.

Maybe Dean isn’t wrong about him.

They check out and head back to the Impala in silence. It isn’t until they get home after swinging through the drive thru that Dean even realizes he forgot to grab the screws.

[fanfic-corner]

John Being An Asshole

When The World Screams by K_K_Tibal on AO3. (31,354 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Deaf Castiel, EMT Castiel, Guitarist Dean, Aftermath of a car accident, Mild Gore, Past Abuse, Panic Attacks, Mind Reading Through Touch, Ableism, Slow Burn, Love Confessions, John Winchester Being an Asshole.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: The one thing that Castiel Novak can’t do is hear. He excels in his job as an EMT despite the fact that he’s deaf and has never let anything hold him back from being at the top of his game. That is, until he meets a certain man in the aftermath of a car accident. The one thing Dean Winchester can’t do is touch. Communication should be simple with the easy way that people can read each other’s thoughts through skin contact, but Dean outright refuses anything of the sort and much prefers the gentle caress of fingers on guitar strings. That is, until his dreams of being a professional guitarist are shattered in the accident. Even with the unfortunate circumstances of their meeting, a friendship grows and there is one thing they realize they can do for each other very well: Listen.

Notes: I was very confused until I figured out the mind reading thing, but once I did, I loved it!

Sleepless in Lawrence, Kansas by PrinceMalice on AO3. (50,162 words).

Tags: Radio Show AU, Self Help, Long Distance Pining, Sleepless in Seattle, John Winchester is Terrible, Slow Build, Some Angst.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: “Um, yes, hi. My name is Sam and I’m calling from Lawrence, Kansas.” A new voice... Castiel loved new voices. They always had new stories to tell. “Kansas… well, it’s not really midnight down there, is it? What keeps you up?” he asked. “I’m worried about my brother, Dean.”

Notes: Actually so cute, even though I’ve never seen the movie! I’m never quite sure whether I ship Sam and Ruby, especially in this, but Ruby was an icon in it.

Just Like You by imherecauseimnotallthere98 on AO3. (35,717 words).

Tags: Homophobia, Homophobic John, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Protective Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Angry John, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Awesome Bobby, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Scared Dean, John Being an Asshole, Swearing, Bisexual Dean, Pansexual Castiel, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Outing, Death Threats, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John shows up at their door in the middle of the night, the Winchesters and Cas start looking into who or what could have brought him back. Meanwhile, Dean struggles to keep his relationship with Cas a secret from his father, with some help from Sam. The tension rises between the Winchesters as Dean shows John that he is no longer the obedient little soldier he once was, and tries to establish himself as an equal with his dad.

Notes: I asked for John being an asshole, and this fic delivered. There are many fics where he is horrible or does horrible things, but this one is definitely the crowning champion. Bobby and Sam are incredible in it, though.

999 Days From Now by RebelSpaceOddity on AO3. (35,537 words).

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Alternate Universe, Past Drug Addiction, Romance, Slow Burn, Copious Amounts of Angst, Asshole John Winchester, Diner Owner Dean.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: An AU in which a recovered alcoholic Dean owns a diner, Sam is in law school and is clueless about the way Jess looks at him, and Cas? Well, Cas turns Dean’s world upside down and maybe, just maybe, gives him a reason to have a little faith.The love of a lifetime told in a heartbeat.

Notes: This fic got me. I have a terrible, risky habit of not reading the tags/warnings, so imagine my horror when I got halfway through this fic before I realised my mistake! It was excellent, though.

Father Knows Best by DarkHeartInTheSky on AO3. (81,034 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence from Season 8, Castiel Whump, Hurt Castiel, Worried Dean, Kidnapping, John Winchester Being an Asshole.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John wakes up alone in a field after spending years in Hell, he thinks he's been given a second a chance. A chance to do right by his boys for once. A chance to protect them like he should have. So protect them he will--even from the horrific creature that's weaseled its way into their lives that calls itself an angel of the Lord.

Notes: I know he means well, but Jesus H Christ, John is really desperate to win that Worst Father of the Year Award in this (He wins. That’s all I’m saying).

Collapsed Rainbows by suckerfordeansfreckles on AO3. (6,125 words).

Tags: Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hospitals, Nurse Castiel, Blood and Injury, Falling in Love, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, Dean has a lot of Selfworth Issues, Blood, Bruises, Broken Bones, First Kiss.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Dean wakes up on his 18th birthday, giddy and a little scared, and rips his blanket off of himself to start searching his hands for the soulmark that is supposed to appear somewhere on his body today. Nothing. His arms. Nothing. Shoulders, upper body, legs. Nothing. It’s okay, he tells himself, don’t panic yet. But then he rushes to the bathroom and braces himself on the edge of the sink to look up into the mirror, and it’s right there. Black streaks and blotches along the edge of his jaw, dark like ink. Marks like the imprints of knuckles meeting Dean’s chin. It takes him a little while to fully realizes what this means. That his soulmark is there, for everyone to see, right on his face, impossible to hide.

That his soulmate’s first touch will be a punch to Dean’s face.

Notes: Super cute but slightly frustrating and the plot is a tad thin.

Your Love is Strong by tale_to_tell on AO3. (6,562 words).

Tags: Hurt Dean Winchester, Worried Castiel, Worried Sam Winchester, Protective Castiel, Sam Winchester Knows, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean, Sam Winchester is So Done, Brotherly Love, Major Character Injury, Ghosts, Canon Universe, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Sam knew. Honesty, it was impossible not to know. Dean and Cas were always brushing shoulders and sharing sickeningly sweet smiles. There was also so much eye-fucking. God, it was disgusting how in love they were. At first, Sam wondered when they were going to figure it out for themselves, but now he just wondered if they would figure it out at all. It had been years. God, Dean was so stupid sometimes. A "Profound bond," could you be anymore obvious than that? Dean was either super oblivious or just an idiot. Probably both. Definitely both. What Sam didn't know, however, was that Dean and Cas were already aware of their feelings for one another and in a relationship. They were just trying to figure out how to tell him. Apparently, a terrible injury on a hunt is what would ultimately reveal their relationship to Sam, just not in the way any of them would have wanted.

Notes: Sam is such an unbelievable mood in this.

Sins of the Father by allthebeautifulthings9828 on AO3. (2,458 words).

Tags: Post Episode s08e23 Sacrifice, Fallen Castiel, Human Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Abusive John Winchester, Love, First Date, Protective Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Angst.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Having had enough of Dean hiding his relationship with Castiel, Sam takes matters into his own hands. He won't let Dean deny that he's in love with the former angel, but nothing prepared him for his big brother's confession about the last time he was with a male. Can Sam undo yet more of John Winchester's damage before Dean runs from his feelings again?

Notes: Quite short but cute, and I live for Sam being supportive.

Athazagoraphobia by Mickey_Todoroki on AO3 and Wattpad. (20,347 words).

Tags: Established Castiel/Dean, Established Gabriel/Sam, Protective Rowena, Hurt Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Abused Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Athazagoraphobia, Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Past Non-con, Attempted Murder, Alternate Ending.

My Rating: 2 stars.

Description: After some thinking, Amara decides that Dean needs both his parents. Only, she didn't know his past. And what John did to Dean growing up. And now that he's back, Dean might regress back to his 22-year-old scared self.

Notes: I know that some people like them, and there certainly are a lot of them, but this reads like an angsty, emotionally repressed fic usually reserved to the depths of Wattpad, which you find at 3am and wonder whether the author is okay. It was fine, but only just.

So, there you have it. (Probably) everyone’s least favourite Winchester, being a complete dick. You’re welcome.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

It's 2007 and somehow, miraculously, Supernatural survives yet another rocky (?) season of mediocre ratings to come back for a third season, or at least, half season, but that season starts out with a real bang! Like, just a real solid trio of an opener for season three. It reminds me of all the things I love about SPN and also it reminds us of all the things that frustrate the hell out of me on SPN. So where did we leave things off?

First up, there’s Dean, who sold his soul to the devil in order to bring Sam back from the dead. Sam, you’ll remember, was part of some overly complicated ponzi scheme to find the perfect vessel to open a door - yep, open a door - and lost to Aldous Hodge who just straight up murders Sam in the season finale. So Dean get’s Sammy back, but in exchange, he’s only got one year left before he permanently moves down south. Oh! And even though they got Sam back and Sam kills Aldous Hodge (RIP pal), they neglected to keep the door from opening. The door to Hell, that is, and now they’ve allowed a shiz ton of demons out to freely roam the earth. Way to go, boys, you lost again! They are two for two on these season finales guys!

OH but they DO kill the Yellow Eyed Demon, so that’s a plus, but not before he plants the most perfect seed of doubt in Dean’s mind - “How do you know what you brought back is all Sammy?” Like, ugh, UGH, ugh!!!! What a way to drive the knife in deeper! What a way to make the heart of this show slowly start to crumble! C’est Magnifique!! *chef's kissy fingers*

So with all that emotional baggage weighing us down, how do we start season 3? How else - with a threesome of course! And also some technicolor grading, it’s wild guys.

Oh boy guys, let’s talk about this opener for a hot sec. I got into it a little bit last season, but as much as I love Dean, you HAVE to admit that that boy is gross. Just like...he’s a little gross. I’m also old enough now to see exactly how many red flags he’s raising through the last 45 episodes. Like, sorry Little Me, but he is not boyfriend material. Not to mention that all this debauchery is 1,000% him distracting himself from the consequences of his own actions, but we’ll get into that later.

Meanwhile, Sam is doing something constructive and trying to figure out how to reverse the curse and save Dean’s soul. And here we have the culmination of two seasons worth of character development - faced with the imminent demise of Dean Samuel Winchester, Sam tries to step up and take care of his brother for once in his life; Dean parties like it’s 1999. There were two things I thought of during this episode - 1) isn’t this not unlike the sort of behavior you see in suicidal people who have finally decided to take their own life? Which is just, like, further held up by the fact that Dean’s big monologue at the end literally has the line “Truth is I’m tired, Sam. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” and like...dude, you are NOT ok! Why isn't??? ANYONE??? ADDRESSING THIS????? And 2) Dean is sharing a lot of similarities with the demons in this episode.

Because MEANwhile, there’s demons! So many demons! Specifically, the Seven Deadly Sins ones, but also, spoiler alert, Ruby, who is gettin’ reeeeealll into that ketchup.

All these baddies just really taking advantage of their time topside cuz Hell is, as they so artfully put it, it’s like Hell, so they’re just livin’ it up while they still can ~almost like foreshadowing or something~?!?!?

Real talk though, it being a real long time since I’ve watched this season, it’s these kinds of details that I’m impressed with this time around. There is so much character work that goes into this show and it’s something I definitely connected with the first time around, but not on conscious level. Now I can look at it through time and experience and articulate what I’m seeing, which makes this re-watch infinitely more enjoyable.

Episode 1 of this season continues what they started in season 2 and just keeps building out that Hunter Community. Like, there really is a whole Community out there that keeps in contact and works together and makes sure everyone’s up to date on the latest hot goss, and it all makes John Winchester come off like a real creepy splinter cell lone gunman type. And that in turn makes the Winchester sons look like total, unprofessional boneheads who managed to open a portal to Hell. “UGH Great Jorb Guys, but can we blame them? They’re John’s kids,” is a conversation between hunters that I am headcannoning, but also 100% support.

Honestly, I love the idea of the Winchesters being just these real, like, b-grade, Walmart Brand Hunters that other Hunters are just SO done with. We kind of see a little bit of that with Isaac and Tamara, but by the end of the episode, the Winchesters prove that they’re...better Hunters? I hope somewhere in the next 12 seasons I get an episode that is told from another Hunter’s POV who is legitimately better/more emotionally balanced than the Winchesters and the whole episode is them just, like, cleaning up a bunch of Winchester messes like, SONuvabitch, these two ASSholes. I think we see a fair amount of episodes from the POV of people who are less qualified than the Winchesters who end up being mentored by them, but I’d be stoked for them to run into just a group of people who hate them for totally legitimate, professional vs amature reasons.

Bobby does not count because Bobby signed up to be their Dad and so he agreed to take care of their messes when he took that job.

And then we get to “The Kids Are Alright” which showcases one of my fav changes for this season - BRIGHTLY! LIT! HIGH! SATURATION!!!! And of course, by fav, I mean, Most Hilarious.

I do walk a fine line on this one truth be told. Like, season 1 was definitely going for A Look. It’s super gritty and high contrasty and stylized. Now, I got what they were going for but I wasn’t always crazy about it, mostly because the quality on the DVD’s was terrible. Quick tip for everyone: in order to get 2+ hours worth of content on a DVD, you have to compress the final edit of the program to a pretty small bitrate. When we drop videos onto DVD’s at my work (it isn’t often, thank goodness), the discs themselves only hold, like, 2GB worth of content and that is NOT A LOT when it comes to video files. The more compressed a video file is, the less detail you’re gonna get in the visuals. Watching episodes on Netflix (where everything’s probably at a higher bitrate and therefore is a better quality visual), it’s not bad, but on my DVDs, the compression is so heavy that we get SUPER hot highlights and SUPER crunchy shadows - what a lot of people would called “crushed blacks” because you’ve lost all the detail in the shadows and you’re left with a grainy, noisy, black hole on the screen. Like I lost so much detail in the pilot episode guys, I could not make out this guy’s face.

A rough approximation of my DVD quality. Still recommend it over Netflix for the Accurate Soundtrack tho.

Season 2 SPN toned that Look down a lot, like, a lot a lot. Enough that you still got the general vibe they were going for but not enough that you couldn’t make out faces anymore. But through this whole process, the CW execs kept pushing for the show to look lighter, more colorful, less film noir more...well, CW. And in season 3 it finally happened!!!

I get what those execs were going for, but also, I feel like the colorists on these first few episodes just REALLY went wild out of spite. Lookit this shot from “Magnificent Seven” right before Envy causes some rando innocent bystander to beat a girl to death for her shoes -

GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN!!!! I WONDER WHICH SIN THIS GUY IS????

Then in “The Kids Are Alright” the birthday party looks like everything is coated in day-glow neon.

The Winchester Bros look like they just got back from 3 weeks in Aruba - LOOK at the saturation levels in these skin tones! LOOK AT THEM!!

My screencap ability aside, only in SPN can a cemetery at night have brighter lighting than a diner in the middle of the afternoon.

This is definitely a thing I will be tracking the rest of the season because I have a distinct memory of a future episode where the brothers have been magically gifted completely different lives where they were never Hunters, they know nothing of Hunting, and they’re completely normal until the end when everything gets snapped back and the episode literally changes colors. V. Excited to see just how saturated this season stays through the end.

But maybe more importantly in “The Kids Are Alright” we learn that Dean does NOT, in fact, have a son. Not that he would be a good father...well...maybe? I mean, this Dean, this season 3, definitely-suicidal, completely-reckless, can’t-keep-it-together Dean, is not good Dad material. Later seasons Dean? Probably fine? Earlier seasons Dean might ALSO be fine? And if he’d found out that Ben was his legitimate kid, it could have made a WORLD of difference, who knows. I know he ultimately does become father-like to Ben and that gives me a lot of feelings. But this Dean is not in a good place to take care of anyone, including himself and really, someone ought to do something about that.

I gotta say, this is an actual bummer. I can’t remember if, in the later seasons, they do any clarifying on this or not, but I am legitimately bummed that Ben is not Dean’s kid and that as far as we know, Dean has no natural children floating around out there with surly attitudes and soft hearts. Dean’s motivation from Day 1 has always been family and despite what comments he may make in early seasons, Dean’s secret desire is to have the wife and the kids and the dog and the white picket fence. And honestly, we’re only 3 seasons in and I just want Dean to have nice things!!

And then guys, we come to “Bad Day at Black Rock,” and I just...WHAT a masterpiece. I had almost NO memory of ever watching this episode before and I don't understand why. What a glorious masterpiece this episode is. Let’s make a list -

More Hunters™, who should be really annoying but were actually kinda charming in a Marx Brothers kind of way

Gordon’s in jail, where he belongs, but also is masterminding a coup against the Winchesters which is A+ spooky stuff

Slapstick comedy that I didn’t know I was missing from my life

Bela F*cking Talbot

Guys, I think this is my fav episode so far purely because I felt, while watching it, that the last 10 years of my life were not in vain and that I had in fact grown as a human person. I remembered hating Bela Talbot. Like, I DID. NOT. LIKE. HER. To the point that I questioned if her British accent was even real. It is, her mother is from the UK and she lived there for a time, but like, honestly, the audacity of Little Me.

This time around? Oh she’s defs my new fav. Just everything about her is like, A+, Great Job, Why-Did-We-Cancel-Her??? Like, oh yeah, probably because somewhere in here they try to shoehorn a romantic side plot with Dean. I don’t actually mind rioting over shoehorned romance, but also, if they’d let this play out for a season or two and then got the two of them to bone? I’m on board. I’m 100% on board.

Maybe it’s just that she is unapologetically out for herself, maybe it’s the fact that she is definitely a match for the Winchesters in a non-murdery way, probably it is both of those things. She's smart, she’s crooked, she has impeccable taste, she’s honestly a helluva lot of fun and I am so excited to see more of her and so BUMMED that she will not make it past this season.

Despite the fact that I absolutely adore all three of these episodes, they also bring up the problem that I was starting to see in season 2 - WHO is this show about? Isn’t it supposed to be about the Brothers as a whole? But the majority of these first three lean pretty heavily on Dean’s emotional arc. Granted, it makes sense. I mean, of COURSE Dean’s demon deal is gonna be the BIG thing in a season where he is literally staring down the barrel, but knowing that there’s a side plot about Is Sam Evil?? seems like...something we should really explore more? I believe it comes up in season 4, or at least, Sam’s demon-blood powers become a bigger deal in season 4, but I would have enjoyed seeing Sam have a more active stake in this season. I can see planting some weird new ticks being planted for Alive-Again Sam that just get weirder and darker and then a mid-season finale or a run up episode to the end of the season where Dean (finally) decides he needs to stop his demon deal because he needs to stick around so he can keep Sam from going completely off the rails. As much as I love Dean 5ever, I do think the show works best when the emotional weight of the season is distributed equally is all. And to be fair to the writers this season, there could have been a bigger plan for something like that but they ran out of time - their season was cut by about a third due to the Writer’s Strike.

Still, all in all, a solid opening to the third season. I want to say that these episodes feel like Classic SPN, but then I remember that this is season three out of fifteen. These ARE Classic SPN. Mostly self contained with enough emotional drama to remind us of the overarching plot. Maybe a little heavy on the emotional drama, but Dean’s only got a year to live and the show’s only got 16 episodes to resolve that crisis, so it’s fine.