#it’s always wrong until sam and dean do it

[districtsleepsalonetonight]

Was reading a headcanon post earlier about Dean and consent while rewatching the kiss scene in Caged Heat and something occurred to me about Dean’s awareness of Cas’s consent to things.

When he sees Meg kiss Cas, we see Dean’s reaction behind them.

He frowns, glances at Sam, looking annoyed, opens his mouth as though to say something, and then actually makes a move to step towards them-you can see he’s moving forward just after Meg breaks away from Cas.

Bear in mind the last time Dean saw Cas in any potential sexual/romantic situation, it was the brothel and it was blatantly obvious that Cas wasn’t comfortable.

Then when Cas takes hold of Meg and initiates a kiss himself, we see Dean’s reaction differs. He still looks flustered, mildly annoyed (pointing at the wall to remind them silently of the approaching dogs) and then shrugs. He doesn’t have the same irritated reaction and doesn’t make any move towards them.

Then when Cas breaks away, Dean looks at him questioningly. Could both be a “What the hell are you doing right now?” questioning look and also a “What did you think?” questioning look.

It’s only when Cas says “I learnt that from the Pizza Man” that Dean seems to fully stand down from the “ready to move in if anything’s wrong” stance.

On another note, when Dean realises that Cas is fine- it’s pretty interesting to see what his face does.

There’s a sort of bewildered expression as he looks away from Cas, as though he’s still trying to compute what he’s just seen and his eyes actually widen as he looks down at the end of the shot. In fact, the shot actually focuses on Dean specifically in that moment, not any of the others-it’s Dean’s reaction to the kiss that’s important.

It makes more sense when you remember Dean has never seen Cas acting consensually in any romantic situation before-in fact, I think Jensen mentioned later on (as to why Dean was so surprised by Cas’s love confession) that he wasn’t even sure angels could feel those things. Up until now, Dean’s teasing Cas with flirty remarks has mostly seemed to go over Cas’s head. Even earlier in the episode, when Cas is watching porn, he didn’t seem to properly understand what was going on.

Now, Dean’s suddenly having this realisation that-oh. Cas does get some stuff about sex. Cas does kiss. Oh. That’s a whole new side to Cas. (It actually looks quite similar to the expression he does in Changing Channels when Gabe calls Cas “pretty”. There’s an expression then that’s sort of “Wait-is he?” as though he’s always been somewhat aware of it but this is the first time it’s been acknowledged out loud.)

It allows him to acknowledge Cas in a whole new way he didn’t before. Because previously Cas seemed to totally lack interest in sex, so in many ways, it would have been safe to flirt with him and tease him, because it feels off-limits.

Now, though? He’s seeing Cas make out with someone right there, in front of him. It’s impossible to ignore this whole new side to Cas. So maybe Cas can get Dean’s references and jokes. Maybe Cas does get more of the personal space thing than he lets on. Cas can want at least kissing, and what does that mean?

It, in a way, gives Dean permission to let himself see Cas that way properly-as a being that can want sex-for the very first time. And that seems to simultaneously intrigue him and almost scare him. Because having permission to see Cas in that way lets him acknowledge things that he didn’t have to acknowledge before.

But digressing…

Dean’s annoyance in the scene didn’t just originate from Cas kissing someone-it originated from him not being sure if Cas was OK with what was going on. He’s seen Cas be deeply unsure/uncomfortable in the brothel (which, funny as it was, wasn’t Dean’s best moment overall), doesn’t know how he’s going to react and actually makes a move towards them as though he’s going to try to stop Meg kissing him or make sure Cas is OK.

Once he realises Cas is onboard, he stops moving forward-he actually moves back a little-and even slightly holds his hands up in a shrug. While he still looks uncomfortable and flustered, he’s no longer angry.

Dean wanted to be sure that Cas was all right with what was going on, was prepared to step in if Cas was uncomfortable, and backed off when he realised Cas was OK. Not only is this Dean showing a good awareness of consent, it’s also a nice bit of character development from the brothel episode the previous season, where Cas was pretty uncomfortable and Dean did-as well as he meant it-keep pushing him.

Then, Dean was keen on giving Cas more human experiences. Now, Dean’s more conscious of letting Cas go at his own pace and he’s prepared to step in if others aren’t letting that happen too. As well as Cas becoming more accepting of human behaviour, Dean is also making adjustments for Cas.

And Cas seems aware of this. Check out where he looks when he realises Meg has taken his angel blade:

He realises it’s gone and must know immediately who’s taken it-but he looks straight at Dean, almost in a way that’s a little annoyed. As though he almost wants to ask Dean why he didn’t intervene to stop Meg taking the blade (not necessarily the kiss).

And he looks at Dean instinctively. Instinctively, he’s come to know that Dean will step in to help him in (particularly human) situations where he’s out of his depth. It’s an instinctive glance before he turns back to glare at Meg.

So it’s not just that Dean’s adjusting for Cas-Cas is aware of that adjustment and it just deepens his attachment to Dean.

And yeah-for the first time in this scene, Dean has to acknowledge that he can think of Cas as not being some off-limits angel-but as someone who could actually want sex and intimacy. Which makes anything he himself may feel more possible and more terrifying.

[pamwritessometimes]

What he doesn’t know

Sam Winchester x witch!reader

Summary: You’re hiding two dangerous secrets from Sam. Little did you know, he’s just uncovered one—but it’s not the one you think.

Warnings: none?

✧༺☽ 𓆩⚔️𓆪 ☾༻✧

The night was heavy, the air thick with anticipation. You sat at the edge of the motel bed, fingers nervously twisting an emerald green ring on your hand. It had been months now, months of this dance with Sam Winchester.

You met him and his older brother while they tried to take down a vengeful spirit in the library you were working at the time. Once they found out you were more than aware of the supernatural—what’s more, a hunter of evil yourself— they decided to invite you to join them on occasional hunts. What they didn’t know was that you weren’t just a regular hunter, but something else—something they and you should be hunting.

It was over a week ago when Sam called you for help on a certain ghoul hunt. When you arrived at the motel you agreed to meeting at, you were surprised to see the classic Impala of the Winchester’s nowhere in sight. It was unusual. You had went on numerous hunting trips with the boys; the Impala, Dean’s Baby was always a pivotal part of the journey. When you knocked on the door of the room Sam said he’d rented, you were surprised to see Sam—and Sam only—in the room. Turns out Dean ditched this one time.

Doing a hunt with Sam was hard. The stolen glances, the lingering touches. It was driving you insane, not knowing what he thought, not knowing how long your secret could stay hidden. You weren’t just another hunter passing through his life. You were a witch. A born-hunter, but life played the cruelest joke on you possible. It was a secret you’d kept buried since the moment you met him. It was a dangerous game, falling for someone who, by all rights, would probably see you as the enemy if he ever found out. But you couldn’t help it. Sam was different—kind, strong, thoughtful in a way that made your chest tighten every time he was near.

Tonight, though, something felt off. The hunt was over and you two decided to stay just one more night to take a well-deserved rest. He had been watching you all day, his brow furrowed like he was trying to piece something together. Every time you caught his eye, your stomach twisted with dread. What if he knew?

You heard the door creak open, and Sam stepped inside, his tall frame filling the room. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, eyes locked on you like he could see right through your skin.

“Sam” you started, your voice unsteady. He seemed so tense and so confused, you wondered what could’ve Dean told him when he went out to inform him about the success of the ghoul story. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he crossed the room slowly, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor until he was standing right in front of you. His gaze was piercing, making your heart race in your chest. “You’ve been acting different lately.”

Your pulse quickened. You tried to keep your expression calm, but panic clawed at you. Had he found out? Had he somehow figured out the magic that simmered just beneath the surface?

“I—” You struggled for words, anything that might explain away the tension between you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, so close now you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His voice dropped to a low, husky murmur. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Your breath hitched, the panic bubbling up. This was it. He knew. And there was no going back. “Sam, I…”

But he didn’t let you finish. His hand came up, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek, and the touch made your heart skip a beat. His eyes were softer now, but still filled with that intensity that always left you breathless.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was something raw in his tone, something that made you ache.

You blinked, your mind racing. Did he already know? Was he waiting for you to confess? You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the fear. “I… I didn’t know how.”

His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to read your soul. “You didn’t have to be scared” he said softly, his thumb now tracing the line of your jaw.

Your chest tightened painfully. He was still touching you, still standing so close, and it made your head spin. Why was he being so gentle? Why wasn’t he angry? “Sam, I—”

“I already know” he said, cutting you off again, his eyes locked on yours.

Your heart plummeted. He knew. How long had he known? Weeks? Months? And he still stood here, looking at you like—

Wait. He wasn’t looking at you with anger or betrayal. He was looking at you with something else entirely. Something… softer.

Your stomach flipped. “You know?”

Sam nodded, his hand still cupping your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “Dean told me.”

You blinked, confusion clouding your thoughts. “Wait… what are we talking about?” you asked. You are certain you would remember if you had told Dean that you were a witch. But you kept this secret from everyone around you, especially the Winchesters.

Now it was Sam’s turn to look confused. “You’re in love with me, right?” he asked sheepishly, now contemplating whether Dean fucked him up or not.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Your mouth fell open slightly as the realization hit you. He didn’t know you were a witch. He thought you were hiding something else entirely.

“I—what?” You stammered, your mind scrambling to keep up. And then you remembered. It all came back in a blur. Sam, Dean and you were celebrating a successful hunt a couple of weeks ago at a rundown bar. You decided to clear the rum supply as a celebratory activity and in a blurry, dizzy moment of yours you managed to spill your feelings towards Sam to Dean.

Sam pulled back slightly, a cautious, almost embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, I wasn’t sure at first… but you’ve been acting so different. And Dean told me that you— I thought maybe you were avoiding me because of… you know, how you feel.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. He thought the secret you were hiding was your feelings for him. The irony of it almost made you laugh. But instead, you just stood there, frozen, unsure of what to say.

“I—Sam, it’s not…” You started, but your voice faltered under the weight of his gaze. There was hope in his eyes, a kind of vulnerability that you’d never seen from him before.

He took a deep breath, stepping closer again, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest gently on your waist. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way” he said softly, though you could hear the disappointment in his voice,“I just… I needed you to know that I—”

Your mind was spinning, torn between the truth you had been hiding and the one Sam thought he had discovered. You opened your mouth to tell him the truth—the other truth—but the words wouldn’t come.

You let out a shaky breath. “Sam…”

His eyes flickered with hope again, and this time, you didn’t stop yourself. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was soft at first, hesitant. But the moment Sam responded, pulling you closer, it deepened, and all the tension, all the fear melted away.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing hard. You felt his hand tighten gently around your waist, keeping you close.

“You do feel the same” he murmured, a genuine smile almost audible in his voice.

You nodded, closing your eyes, not ready to speak the whole truth just yet. For now, it didn’t matter. For now, the only truth that mattered was the one that made your heart grow fonder.

✧༺☽ 𓆩⚔️𓆪 ☾༻✧

Thanks for reading. 🤍

Sorry for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

[ahsokasforce]

supernatural writers really hate women because why is when mary screws up is “why don’t you just try to be a mom for once” and when john literally abuses sam and dean for over 20 years it’s “well it’s okay dad we know you did your best” like… HE DID NOT? STAND UP!! they made dean trauma dump on mary and list all the shit that happen to them when it’s was over john’s watch because she was dead? and that “i hate you but i love you” moment? WTF??😭😭😭 they were never this harsh on john but all it took was one single season to be enough to hate her… anyways thank you supernatural for bringing her back so people could say she’s on the same bad parenting level as john and killing her off for male trauma 😻🎉 girl power girls get it done etc etc

[zepskies]

Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back

Hey lovely!

So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."

But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.

When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."

But the spark. That spark is instant.

He feels it with you.

Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.

It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.

But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.

Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")

You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.

Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.

Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.

But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.

And Dean...he likes you. A lot.

More than he's ever willingly expressed.

But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.

Until he can't help himself.

It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.

But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.

It's just a fucking cake.

Does it really matter that much to you?

But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."

It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.

"Sure," Sam laughs.

What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.

He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.

That smile tells him something.

"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.

At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.

"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.

"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.

"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.

A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.

You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"

Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.

"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"

You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."

Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.

"Close your eyes for me," you request.

"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"

"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"

He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.

For a moment, he freezes.

He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.

Relief floods in its wake.

A smile reaches his face.

But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.

He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.

It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.

You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.

Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"

Your smile is beaming bright.

"Yeah, that works."

Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.

And he answers you again.

AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉

Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”

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[ohsc]

Maybe something with the reader being shaken-up about a case?

hi lovely! tysm for the ask <3 | sam winchester x fem!reader, 1.2k, hurt/comfort, implied trauma, brief implied gore, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of vomit, sam being so soft and gentle, mostly comfort

She didn’t realise that she was crying until she couldn’t see.

It was like she was looking through an obscure glass window. The bunker’s kitchen blurred out of view, lost behind the film of tears that was quickly leaking.

It was almost funny. She was only eating a sandwich, nothing more. Nothing had been said, nothing had happened. She wasn’t even thinking, not really. Her thoughts had sounded fuzzy and distorted since the case they’d worked two days ago.

She blinked, the film of tears broke and dripped down her cheeks, and the bite of sandwich in her mouth suddenly felt like chewing cotton, like it wouldn’t melt down. She had to swallow it in two lumps, by which point she couldn’t see again, the tears were building too rapidly.

With her impaired vision, the only reason she was able to tell that Sam had also realised she was crying, was when she felt his warm palm against her face.

“Hey,” his voice was so soft it made her chest hurt. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She blinked rapidly to repair her vision, eyelashes tickled with the tears that dropped from them, and when she looked up at him all she could do was nod. She was scared of the sound that'd come out of her if she tried to talk. The pressure in her chest was building like a mentos and coke experiment. If she opened the lid, she’d burst.

Sam thumbed her tears away, delicate as always, and crouched in front of her. He looked so worried. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his sadness.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he squeezed her knee, and rubbed at her thigh with his free hand. “Do you want some water?”

He didn’t wait for her nod to get up and retrieve it. The glass was cold when it was pushed into her hands, and it took four sips before it felt like the lump in her throat had dissolved only slightly. But it was helping.

Sam didn’t push her to talk. He sat beside her on the bench of the table and rubbed his palm along her spine as she sipped from the cool relief. He was so nice it made her want to cry more. How could someone be so loving? How did he fit all of the gentleness inside of him? His ribs must’ve been straining with the pressure.

“Sorry,” her voice felt too small, too weak. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Sam rubbed the heel of his palm between her shoulder blades. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmured in that gentle tone of his. “Do you think it could be… I mean, is it the case? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I’m…” her breath wavered on her inhale. “I don’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam took one of her hands with his free one, laced their fingers until all of their knuckles were kissing. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

The lump in her throat bobbed, and she had to sip the water again.

The case they’d worked that past Wednesday was the first case that had made her physically throw up. The grass has been damp beneath her knees, dew from the green soaked into the denim of her jeans as she hunched over and emptied her stomach, the side panel of the Impala cold beneath her palm where she steadied herself. Sam’s hand had been warm against the back of her neck. Dean’s jacket had been a little heavy over her shoulders. The scene that played in her mind of what they had seen inside that house like a broken film reel had been disgusting. It had been downright evil.

It was the first case that she’d had to step back from and let the boys do their job. The first case she’d sat in the backseat of the Impala for whilst the boys buried what was left of the body.

It was the first case that had numbed her mind a little on the drive back home.

And it was the first case she’d cried about two days after.

The obscure glass was back in the role of contact lenses. Her hand squeezed Sam’s until hers shook, but he didn’t mind. He leaned over her until she was tucked against his side completely, like he’d held her on the drive home from the case.

“I don’t like our job sometimes.” Her voice broke, muffled by his collar. She inhaled deeply, tried to ground herself with his scent.

“I know.”

“I wish we’d never gone there.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“She was already dead-” the words came out warped around a hiccup and she put her glass down to hug him instead, arms wrapped around his waist like she couldn’t bare to be any further from him.

Sam’s hand came up and stroked through her hair, something that he knew soothed her. Deft fingers pushed through the strands of her hair, nails scratched at her scalp so so lightly, until some of the tension had left her body, left her drained against him.

Her chest still ached.

“You know what I think about, after cases that we don’t win? Cases like that?” Sam’s voice was soft, she heard it through his chest, a deep rumble that had as much of an affect on her as a cat purring in her lap.

“Hm?”

“It’s cheesy, I know, but I think about all the people we’ve saved,” his fingers continued their ministrations as her tears soaked into his shirt. “And we’ve saved so many — you’ve saved so many.”

“But not her.” Her voice broke.

Sam took a breath. “No, not her,” he murmured. “Nobody said this life was easy. But if we wanted the easy life, think about how many people wouldn’t be here because we hadn’t saved them.”

It was a nice thought. That there were people around, living and loving and breathing because of them. But that girl…

“It’ll hurt for a while,” Sam murmured. “It’ll hurt for longer than a while. I can't say anything that’ll ease it. I wish I could, sweetheart,” he kissed her temple. “But… we do a lot of good, you know. You do.”

She nodded, but didn’t respond. She breathed through the rest of her tears in Sam’s arms, and only when the ache in her ribs had lessened did she lean back and looked up at him.

He smiled so softly that made her wonder how he was so perfect for her. It made her wonder how many lives they’d lived together before this one.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Sam murmured as he lifted a hand and delicately wiped at her eyes, before he just held her jaw like he was holding light. “A bath? A nap? D’you wanna go for a drive?”

Her head rested in his palm like it was crafted for that purpose alone. “A nap sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” Sam smiled a little more, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. She wanted to cry again. “Then we’ll nap.”

Her eyes watered again when she murmured, “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Hey, ‘course,” Sam wiped at her tears once more, like he was trying to brush water from the pages of a book. Delicate, not wanting to ruin what was underneath. “I love you, okay?” He kissed her forehead once more. “We’ll get through this.”

We’ll. Maybe they would, if she had him.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: BIG SMUT - fingering, PinV, essentially just a chapter of p*rn

Chapter Word Count: 2997

—-MDNI—-

A/N: basically just a whole chapter of smut. Hope it doesn’t suck ass as it’s 2am an I’ve been trying to proof read for half an hour but fuck knows what I’ve just written. But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 pt. 1

Chapter 8 pt. 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep failing to whisk me away. I tossed and turned for several hours; kicking the covers off in frustration before pulling them up to my chin, then kicking them off again before pulling them back up - repeating this horrid cycle until two in the morning. Thoughts kept racing through my mind and I couldn’t get the image of Dean looking at me with those dark lustful eyes out of my head. The way he watched me move around Sam, witnessing how I caressed his younger brother and made him squirm where he sat. I could only dream of what was going through his mind in that moment - of what I hoped he was thinking. Heat prickled my skin and bubbled in the pit of my stomach as I remembered my daydream from earlier; Dean fucking me into his mattress as he held my hips and sought nothing but his own pleasure. A groan left my lips as I threw my covers off and sat up, rubbing my temples in a weak attempt to dismiss my attraction to the obnoxious man wreaking havoc in my mind. I placed my feet on the cold floor and stood up, deciding a glass of cold water was the best remedy for whatever it was that I was feeling. I rubbed my eyes as I padded towards my bedroom door, tugging on the old T-shirt that barely covered my behind. I grasped the handle and opened the door, jumping in surprise at the sight of Dean leaving his room. A startled noise left my lips as I placed a hand on my chest, not expecting to see him standing there.

“Shit, Dean, you scared the crap out of me.” In response Dean mumbled a half hearted apology, taking a step closer to me.

“What are you doing up? It’s late, you should be in bed.”

“What are you, my dad?” I scoffed, not sure how to feel about the reprimanding. He held his hands up in defence, only bowing his head slightly, not saying anything else. I sighed.

“I just can’t sleep; I’ve been tossing and turning for hours but no luck. I was just on my way to get a glass of water.”

“You didn’t think to put any more clothes on?” He asked, and it looked like he was trying desperately not to look me up and down as his eyes wouldn’t leave mine.

“I’m sorry - how many people do you run into at TWO AM? I wasn’t expecting company,” I tugged more on the bottom of my T-shirt, trying harder to cover up what little dignity I had left in front of Dean Winchester. All of a sudden we were stood in total silence, neither of us knowing what to say as we now avoided eye contact and I played with the hem on my shirt. We stayed like this for a few awkward moments before I opened my mouth to say something right as Dean decided to speak.

“I can’t get you out of my head, (Y/n).”

My eyes snapped up to meet his, and there was an almost pained look about his face that was hard to place in the dim lighting. My mouth opened and closed a few times, not knowing what words to pick. Luckily for me, Dean kept talking.

“That shit you pulled earlier - the way you… danced… for Sam - made me genuinely jealous of my own brother. I mean come on, we’ve already done the deed, why didn’t you pick me?”

“Because how would you have known how good I was if you couldn’t see everything?”

He thought for a second before tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in agreement.

“You’ve got me there.”

“I know what I’m doing, Winchester.”

“You sure do sweetheart,” Dean stepped closer to me, closing the already short distance between us with those forest-green eyes not leaving mine. Our chests were almost touching as his gaze started flicking between my eyes and my lips. I watched as his own lips parted and he chewed on his bottom lip as if deep in thought, his eyes growing darker by the second. My heart started to race and the atmosphere turned thick. What was he thinking about? Why did he have to look at me the way he did - like he wanted to devour me - the intensity of his gaze increasing by the second and making me warm both inside and out. Not another thought ran through my mind when my back thumped against my bedroom door and Deans lips descended on my own - hot and hurried. His large arms circled my waist, rough palms caressing every inch of my back, waist and ass like he was searching for the best place to grip onto - to dig his fingers into my soft skin. I pulled on his hair, bringing his face and body closer to mine, wanting to feel every muscled inch of him press against me.

I released one hand from his hair and reached back, fumbling around the door looking for the handle, soon finding it and twisting. The door swung open and we stumbled in, too wrapped up in every fibre of each other to pay much attention to anything else. Dean kicked the door closed, reluctant to release me from his grasp and his lips still on mine as he hastily backed me towards my bed; my knees hitting the mattress and I tumbled down onto my back, pulling him with me. He gripped me with one strong arm and lifted me further up the bed so I was in a more comfortable position - my head now resting on the pillow and my hair fanning around me. His lips were so soft on mine, his stubble occasionally scratching my chin when his lips parted further and his tongue hesitantly skimmed mine. The action was slow, as if he was testing the waters. I couldn’t stop the moan from leaving my lips at the feeling of him in my mouth and the sheer intimacy of the action, wrapping my arms over his shoulders and surrendering my mouth to him. I subconsciously pulled him closer, my knees parting without a second thought and his hips dipped down, allowing me to feel every well-sculpted muscle in his abdomen and thighs - including the hardness growing in those loose pyjama pants. The ever so familiar sensation of my own arousal began brewing like a storm; twisting in the pit of my stomach with excitement and anticipation. Electric jolts shot through me every time he pressed into my most sensitive area, making my legs twitch involuntarily as breathy gasps escaped me. His mouth quickly left mine and trailed down my throat before he sat up, pulling himself from my grasp. His evergreen eyes, black with desire that pierced into mine with white hot lust held my gaze, and I fought to stop my eyes rolling into the back of my head from the way he looked at me. Without missing a beat he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor, holding himself above me as I let myself admire him - trailing my gaze over every inch of exposed skin, lingering on his tattoo. I reached up and traced my fingers over it, feeling him shiver and groan at my gentle touch, his head dropping into the crook of my neck. With one hand he reached down, those rough fingers delicately slipping into my underwear and circling that sensitive button, making my legs twitch even more than before. He went around and around, tauntingly avoiding contact with it before a desperate whimper slipped from my lips. He smirked like the Devil himself before he finally indulged me, pressing his fingertips expertly to the tender mound, undoing me in a way that I’ve never been undone before. He leaned down as his ministrations continued, pressing soft kisses to my moaning lips. My head tilted back into my pillow as that recognisable feeling in the pit of my stomach began to twist tighter and tighter, my nails digging into Deans shoulders, leaving behind little crescent moon-shaped indents in his skin. My breathing increased and I was right on the edge of bliss when out of nowhere he stopped, the pleasure disappearing in an instant. However before I even had a chance to complain he’d slid two thick fingers inside me with ease, drawing a gasp from my chest. He pumped in and out a few times, teasingly pressing on the hidden cushion of over-sensitive flesh that was hidden deep inside, making me writhe underneath him. It wasn’t hidden to Dean though, no, he knew EXACTLY what he was looking for. Once again this pleasure was short lived as he pulled his fingers out, leaving me cold and empty on the inside. On the outside however I was red hot as I watched the older Winchester stick his fingers in his mouth, circling his tongue around them as he sucked my essence from his digits, not missing a single drop. My heart flipped when he spoke in a low, husky voice.

“Delicious - just like last time.”

Heat spread like wildfire over my cheeks as I blushed furiously, not knowing how to deal with the sexual expertise of this incredibly objectionable man. He placed his hands on my thighs, my knees almost gripping his hips in anticipation.

“Are you ready princess?” He asked, his voice smooth and frustratingly calm, except for his chest rising and falling rapidly with supposedly eager breaths.

“Yes- Dean please-”

In a single beat he pulled himself out of his pants and slid inside me with ease, stretching me as he made every inch disappear. My eyes rolled and my mouth was agape, a pornstar-grade moan unintentionally leaving my lips and making Dean quiver.

“Fuck- (Y/n) don’t squeeze me like that darlin or I won’t last long…” he breathed out, all calmness from his voice now gone.

“I-I’m not doing anything- I swear,” I almost squeak out as he lowers himself over me again, one hand dropping next to my head to support himself as the other gripped my thigh pulling it around him. It was his turn for his eyes to roll.

“Lord have mercy…” he muttered out under his breath, slowly moving his hips, thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over and over again. He was ever so gentle at first, but that soon changed when his own pleasure was there to be chased and gentle thrusting turned to mind-melting pounding. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his mouth occasionally pressing into the curve of my neck as my lips rested near his ear, my soft moans going straight to his brain. I started to feel sweat pepper his skin, his breathing heavy as his motions became even more rapid and uneven. He was right - he wouldn’t last long. I unwound my arms and placed my palms on his chest and pushed, taking him by surprise. He stopped his pounding and I could feel him flex inside me, bringing a gasp from my lips before I could get my words out. I refocused, his attention on me unwavering.

“Get on your back.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice as he flipped over with ease, pulling out of me for a second and taking my spot on the bed. I flung my leg over him and lowered myself down on him with zero hesitation, hating the cold feeling of emptiness. Deans hands worked on their own as they grabbed the soft flesh on my thighs, his fingers digging in as he groaned in pleasure. His head went back in the pillow, his eyes shut and jaw slack as I started to move, rocking back and forth, his hands softly guiding me. My fingers pushed into his chest as I steadied myself, and he seemed unphased by my weight in his state of ecstasy. I moaned, unable to stop myself from chasing my own pleasure as I looked down at him, loving that I was the one making him lose his mind in bliss. He opened his eyes, lids still hooded as he gazed up, watching me ride him like there was no tomorrow. For a moment his hands left my thighs, reaching up and tugging on the old T-shirt I was wearing.

“Take this shit off,” he growled, helping me discard the item. I lifted it over my head and tossed it to the floor with his garment, dishevelling my hair in the process.

“Better?” I asked, now completely bare to his burning gaze.

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, hands sliding up my stomach to caress the underside of my breasts, sliding a thumb over the silky smooth skin as his palms rested on my ribs. I rocked against him harder, feeling my own wetness on my thighs and mixing with my sweat. In this position it was like his cock was in my throat - he felt so deep, so engulfed by me I felt I could never let him go. I’d never felt so full in my life, it was borderline uncomfortable but I couldn’t get enough - it was intoxicating. HE was intoxicating. The smell of leather and gunpowder on his skin, the taste of beer on his lips and the silky smooth scars that dotted his otherwise perfect body was a drug in itself. I don’t even know if I truly hated him. Especially when he was here giving me the best sex of my life. I’d fuck this mans brains out everyday if I could. If he’d let me.

It didn’t take long for my impending climax to appear on the horizon. It bubbled, almost boiling as I rocked harder, faster, more desperately than before, making the bed creak and the headboard knock against the wall. Deans grip on my ass was assisting my motions as I started to lose control over the sounds tumbling from my lips - the name.

Dean.

I could see the desperation seeping into him as his rhythm started faltering, throwing me off for a split second before we found unison again. My nails dug into his chest once more, Dean totally unphased and too overwhelmed with pleasure to even care. My own pleasure turned to Earth shattering ecstasy as the buildup dropped and the cord snapped - wave, after wave, after wave of euphoria crashed around me, making my eyes roll and toes curl; legs trembling either side of Dean as I moaned his name - temporarily forgetting all other words. Clenching around Dean, it sent shockwaves through him that brought him to his own release, his grip painful on my delicate skin as he came undone with my name on his lips. I instantly felt warmth seep down the inside of my thigh, and the thought of being completely filled to the brim by him made my heart flutter. Dean trembled beneath me, both of us slowing down as we came down from our synchronised highs. After a few quiet moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he was the first to speak up.

“Ahh fuck, (Y/n)…. What the fuck was that?” He ran a hand through his hair.

I tilted my head in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“THAT,” he said pausing to catch his breath, looking up at me with eyes as black as coal, “was one of the most intense moments of my life,” he propped himself up onto his elbows so we were now almost eye to eye. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I hope that’s a good thing?”

“Damn right.”

We stared at each other, clarity returning through the sexual fog, and strangely, regret was nowhere to be found. Deans tongue darted out and wet his lips, and I gnawed on my bottom lip almost nervously. He was still here. Unmoving. Why didn’t he leave?

Why didn’t I WANT him to leave?

We sat in peaceful silence as I stayed on his lap, Dean making no effort to move even though he had started to soften inside me, letting the mess leak out and drip down my thighs and over his hips. I’d have to change the bedsheets before sleeping. Deans eyes were returning to their usual mossy green, his gaze gentle on my figure for the first time since we’d met.

“I should probably get off - let you get back to your room,” I said, my eyes not leaving his, my tone lacking.

“Yeah… I should really let you sleep…” Deans voice was the same as mine. We looked at each other for a few more minutes before we both leaned forwards, Deans fingers threading ever so gently through my hair and I placed my hands on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum beneath my fingertips. His lips were as soft as silk as they pressed on mine - a great contrast to the bruising make out session earlier. He kissed me with a tenderness I didn’t know he could muster, and it made my heart flutter something crazy. His mouth moved on mine, as soft and warm as a summers breeze and I didn’t want it to end. Eventually he pulled away, a smile on his lips.

“Sweetheart you really need to sleep,” his voice held a kindness I’m sure wasn’t for me.

“I…umm…” I paused and looked away, fighting with myself about whether I should even say what’s in my mind. I decided to be bold, fighting the blush rising from deep within.

“Dean, I don’t want you to go…”

He stared at me, and for the first time ever a pink glow adorned his masculine features. He was still. Very still, and I was starting to scold myself for being weird and out of character. It didn’t take much longer for him to reply.

“Well let's get you cleaned up and head to my room - we can sort your sheets out in the morning.”

——————————————————————

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[sammybeann]

Okay but 16 year old Sammy and 20 year old Dean both on an anonymous gay dating site. 

None of them know the other is into men, and none of them know that they ended up matching with one another. 

They don't post their faces and go by screen names only, but quickly hit it off, texting back and forth for hours a day, bonding over their shitty lives. 

It doesn't take long for their chats to turn naughty, Dean describing the nasty things he'd like to do to Sam's pretty pink hole, Sam responding with enthusiasm before describing in full detail the things he'd do to Dean's cock with his mouth, and it would more often than not end up with them jerking off to their conversations, their vivid imaginations running wild with the image of sweaty bodies, tongues and hair pulling and choking and bliss. 

With those chats inevitably came explicit pictures always from the waist down. Sam bending over, spreading each one of his cheeks to reveal his pretty pink hole already fingered open and gaping for his nameless suitor to marvel at, Dean returning a photo of his thick cock against his belly, thick ropes of come splattered along his torso. 

It wasn't until a few months into their anonymous relationship that Sam had sent Dean a photo of his hard cock, long fingers wrapped around the base that Dean made the connection. 

The watch around the man's wrist looked an awful lot like the one Sam wore, and what was worse was the background of the photo was the exact same as the bathroom of the shitty motel room they were staying at, the one Sam was currently in, the ugly yellow ceramic tub visible just behind Sam's erection. 

Dean immediately deleted the app so fucking fast after the realization hit him, the color draining from his face when Sam exited the bathroom, staring down at his phone with a frown not understanding what he did wrong, why his online lover suddenly disappeared. 

Dean never went on the app again, and he sure as hell didn't tell Sam, who continued to check the app every day in hopes his partner would return.

[winchester-24]

Imagine calling Dean for help

The werewolf was a lot harder to deal with than you thought. While solo hunting wasn’t the best thing a hunter could do, you’ve managed to get by with minimal damage until now. The werewolf was dead but left a nasty gash on your side. Silent tears fell as the pain pulsated from your side. With shaky hands, you reached for your phone in your back pocket, praying it still worked. You whimper as you adjust to get the phone from your pocket. Pulling it out, you see the screen flash with a picture of you and another hunter. More tears fall as you dial what could be your last call.

You just needed to hear his voice.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The gruff voice came from the other side of the phone. By the sound of it, you woke him up.

“Dean.” You manage to whimper out, your voice a little shaky. Whatever sleep Dean still had is now gone.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Fully alert, you can hear him gathering clothes to put on and Sam asking what was wrong in the background.

“You remember that hunt I told you I was going on?” The blood from your side is pooling around you; you stay looking at the sky for a sense of ignorance that you might come out of this alive.

“Yeah, the werewolf, the one I told you not to go on alone. What happened?” Dean replied quickly while also yelling at Sam to hurry up for something.

“I got ‘em, baby.” You said, tears streaming down your face. “He got me too though.” You finally let out a sob. You continue.

“I’m sure you know where I am, you always do. If you don’t make it here to save me, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Don’t you dare say that, Y/N; I will be there in time, and your ass is never going hunting alone again.” You smile through the tears.

“You’ve always been my knight in leather armor.” You sigh.

“Dean, I'm getting tired.” You admit wanting hard to fight, but the feeling quickly overwhelms you.

“Do not fucking fall asleep, you hear me? Stay talking to me, baby, about anything.” You hear the worry in his voice and the roar of the Impala going faster.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” You ask softly.

“Of course, I remember, sweetheart; if I had known Bobby was having other hunters come around, especially you, I would have visited him more often.” You smile and remember how your parents knew Bobby; you kept in touch with him after they died. You needed help on a case and went to him after you tried researching everything. To Bobby's surprise, the brothers happened to be showing up that day, and you and the older Winchester had a flirty fling for a while until he finally found the courage and made you two officially a couple.

“You were something else, Dean Winchester.”

“Are, baby. You're not going anywhere to need to use past tense.” You hear the Impala stop. Dean speaks again. “Okay, baby. We are parked right by your car. Where are you?” Your head was fogging, and you felt numb. It was hard to concentrate.

“Sweetheart, I need you to tell me,” Dean says frantically.

“Go straight in the direction my car is pointing, and you’ll start to see tree limbs falling as he was running around. I’m somewhere around there.” You whisper, barely able to keep your eyes open. You see lights going back and forth, like flashlights. “I think I see you, Dean; go straight.” You saw the lights stay constantly straight towards you,

And then, blackness.

The beeping sound was annoying. You tried to drift back off, but it was too constant. You groaned and fluttered your eyes open. You were in a hospital room. You didn’t feel any pain, meaning the medicine they gave you must work great. You see Sam sleeping on a chair in the corner of the room and Dean right beside you, head on your bed but holding your hand, hunched over from his chair. You smile softly at the boys—your heroes. You squeeze Dean’s hand enough for him to wake up, shooting straight up in the bed to look at you.

He took in your face, your eyes, the color back in your cheeks, and how he initially found you two days ago—lifeless, limp, and bleeding. Yelling at Sam to speed faster to the hospital, screaming at the doctors to save his girlfriend, yelling at the nurses when they wouldn’t give him an update, and while not yelling, sternly talking to your sleeping figure about how going on that hunting solo was dumb. He should have followed you even though you told him no. You will never go on a solo hunt again, and he doesn’t care how mad it makes you, how he cannot lose you because you are now the only constant thing in his messed-up world other than Sam.

“Hey, baby.” That is all you manage to get out. Voice hoarse from no liquid. Dean reaches to the side table and hands you a cup of water. You take it and sip from it, appreciating the fluid running down your throat. He watches you, so glad you’re awake, moving, just alive. You give him back the cup. He places it down and then stands up to lean to you over the bed. He kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. It was the softest kiss you have felt in a while from the older brother. It felt like those kisses that you might break if he pressed any harder. He leans away and sits back down in his chair. He looks at you, relieved, but you can still see the worry in his eyes.

“You are never going to hunt alone again.” He speaks. You smile at your boyfriend, squeezing his hand once more.

“I know.”

[theconstantsidekick]

Lit Cigarettes (Part 1)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader, Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore x Sister!Reader (mentioned) Genre: Angsty Fluff

Summary: Y/n decides that Dean Winchester really needs to know how she feels about him.

(Set after the events of Supernatural season 4 and yes, Y/n is technically a Salvatore. I love the adopted sibling trope, can you tell?)

a/n: I have another part in mind if this does well.

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids.

Part 2 is here

He used to light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking. That’s what love is. According to her, that is the truest, most genuine form of love. The idea might sound quite contradictory, somehow. But it would make sense to smokers all around the world. 

The thought that somebody would just pluck the cigarette out of your hand, light it, take a little puff to keep the light aflame and just place it back between your index and middle finger. That’s somehow so painfully selfless that it can’t be classified as anything other than the most romantic act known to mankind. 

Now, the tragedy of it all was that that was the only showing of love she ever got from him. All she ever got was a lit cigarette handed off to her while she was too invested in spewing absolutely random bullshit about the sensors on automatic doors at some blackwater motel in an unnamed town. He’d do it quietly. He wasn’t quiet but there was always a quietness about him. Not quiet in the truest definition of the word. He was quiet in a different way, he talked. He was always charming, never not charming. He smiled and charmed everyone further still, but it felt like a very well rehearsed performance. His words, his charm, his smile seemed rehearsed, practiced relentlessly. A stark contrast to how they talked, when he talked to her and just her. Or well, so she thought until she found out that he could talk with a genuine smile to just about anyone unless there was a room full of people. Until the day she found that out, she felt quite special about it.

She felt important to him, enough for him to talk around her more, smoke around her more and light her cigarettes when she was too busy talking.

He never smoked around anyone else, hid the bad habit from his brother, but never her. It made her feel like there was a precarious unspoken bond between the two of them that could break at the mere mention of it. Could it?

She’s going to find out.

“Dean,” she calls out in no urgency, with a quiet calm. They are packing up their things, leaving the small motel room behind for another one in another town. Sam’s out at the reception, settling the bill. He’ll be back soon, she needs to wrap this up before he comes back. 

“Yeah?” Dean answers, never looking up from the duffle bag he’s aggressively shoving his clothes into.

“I love you.”

Dean’s motion halted at once. He doesn’t move, she thinks maybe he can’t move.

“Dean?”

The man in front of her gulps, audibly. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” It feels important to reiterate in this case. 

“I—” Words seem to be straining him. “I heard you the first time.”

“Good,” she tells him and then resumes packing her shit. But there’s a few more things to add, “I know we don’t talk about it, I know we aren’t supposed to. I know you’ve always known that I loved you and we still never talk about it, which means you don’t feel the same way, which again, I know. I am not trying to change your mind, I’m not trying to get into your pants. I’m certainly not asking you to love me back. I am not asking for anything actually, so you can quit looking so fucking terrified. I just needed to tell you because you up and died and it felt like my life stopped, like I couldn’t fucking breathe anymore. I felt hollow and broken and it felt wrong to be alive…” He looks at her then. Her voice is so thick with emotions, even though she is trying to keep them at bay, he must have felt compelled to look at her, she muses.

Shaking her head, she exhales audibly. “But you’re back now and I just needed to say it. I’ve loved you since I first saw you when I was 13. I don’t know how to not be in love with you, trust me, I’ve tried. So, I've learnt to make peace with it. I definitely don’t need you to say something, I just needed you to know that I love you, always have, most probably I always will. I need you to know that you are loved.”

There is silence then, no words, just the sound of her footsteps as she goes around the room picking up things she wants to shove into her bag.

“I…” Dean tries. But the words fade away just as quickly as the thoughts strike him. She looks at him for a second but the silence that proceeded makes her look away. She has just dropped a huge bomb, not that it was some revelatory information but it was something they had avoided talking about for literally ever, so it was fair that he needed some time to come up with a response. She is more than happy to give it to him.

But then Sam walks back into the room. “I’m pretty sure the dude at the reception thinks we’re a freaking thruple.” He walks to the washroom to collect his toiletry pouch and begins packing as well. “I mean, I’m not sure I can blame him? But I want to?” He shrugs. “Dean and I really don’t look all that alike, maybe that’s it? But this is like, the seventh motel in a row that’s given me really weird looks, you know? I don’t know whether to be flattered or plain disgusted—” His words drop off, as he finally notices the atmosphere in the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks looking from his brother to his best friend.

“Yes,” Dean replies at the same time as she says, “No.”

“NO?!” Dean balks at her.

“Can you guys drop me off at the bus stop? I gotta head to Mystic Falls,” she says, zipping up her bag and exiting the room.

Dean follows her instantly. “Mystic Falls? I thought you weren’t talking to your brothers?” Running up to catch up with her, he races even further ahead to open the trunk of his car for her. 

“Yeah, but that was last week,” she tells him as if that was enough explanation. She places her bag in the trunk.

“They kicked you out!” Dean seems on edge. She can’t completely understand why. 

She looks at him. “It’s Stef’s birthday.”

“He’s had a couple hundred of those,” Dean argues.

She smiles, “I hope he has a couple hundred more, and I’ll try to attend them all.”

“Damon forgot yours!” 

She shrugs. “I’ll pretend to forget his. But this is Stefan. And besides, Caroline invited me. You want me to bail and piss her off?”

He slams the trunk shut. “Fine!” He acquiesces, albeit very aggressively. “But I’m dropping you to the Boarding House, not a fucking bus stop.”

Meanwhile, Sam comes out, carrying his own luggage as well as Dean's—who had apparently completely forgotten about it. He opens the trunk again, eyeing Dean and her very suspiciously.

She moves to open the back door of the Impala. “You’re going to Ohio, it’s like a three hour detour.”

“It’s two hours with me behind the wheel. Get in,” he commands, leaving no room for any argument. 

“I was doing that anyway,” she says almost to herself, getting in the back. 

Dean stops her. “Get in the front. Sam’ll sit in the back.”

“I will?” Sam questions, lost.

Dean doesn’t care. He just gets in the driver seat, not waiting on either of the two. A look passes between Sam and her. He raises a brow in question, she just smiles and shrugs again in response and gets in.

Later, when Sam’s already asleep in the backseat, Dean clears his throat.

“So.”

She doesn’t turn around to look at him, she isn’t sure she was supposed to, and it’s drizzling, she doesn’t want to turn away from the window, not yet. “So.”

She can feel him shift uncomfortably next to her. “You gonna say anything?” He asks.

She thinks for a second. “I don’t think I have anything left to say, really. I said everything I had to say.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean yells out.

She has to look at him then, with ire in her eyes. “SHhhh!! He’s sleeping!” She whisper-yells at him, pointing to Sam in the back seat. 

Trying to compose himself once again, Dean whisper-yells back at her, “What do you mean you’ve said everything you had to?”

“I said it, in the motel,” She explains.

“And that was it? The end of the conversation?” Dean questions, seeming very agitated.

“I mean, yeah! What else am I supposed to do?” She throws back, his agitation is quite contagious. It always has been. 

“You really think that was a reasonable end to that conversation?!” Dean bites.

She’s getting annoyed now. “What do you want? You want me to elaborate? Write a thesis paper on it? Or—or would you like to read my diary where I scribbled ‘Y/n Winchester’ a million times? What exactly is the resolution you’re looking for here?”

“You wrote ‘Y/n Winchester’ in your diary a million times…?” He asks, almost as if he cannot comprehend the idea of it. 

From anyone else she would’ve taken that as an insult. Had it been anyone else they might have actually been making fun of her. But it’s not anyone else. It’s Dean. So she’s compelled to look at him.

“Yeah, Dean. And it was just as embarrassing then as it is right now. But I was the nerdy teenager and you were the hot jock who the cheerleaders at Mystic Falls High were dying to date.” Just the thought of those days makes her morose. “I don’t like to think about those days.”

Then there is silence again.

Until Dean clears his throat, slowly he says, “But I never drove any of them home.” And damn it all to hell, it makes her smile. And damn it all to hell, her smile apparently makes him more confident in his approach. “I didn’t wait for them outside their place, blaring AC/DC at the crack of dawn, all to get milkshakes before school… It was you. I wanted to hang out with you.”

But that’s somehow the wrong thing to say, “Never at school.”

“What?” Dean asks, thrown off.

“You didn’t talk to me at school.” Admitting it, it breaks something in her all over again. It’s like she’s in highschool again. She hates it.

“That’s not true! We had lunch together everyday!” He defends.

“Nope,” she tells him. “You had lunch with the cheer squad while I sat on the table next to you silently eating really bad beans.”

“But I was there,” He tries.

“You were,” she concedes. “You were there but you weren’t there.”

Silence falls once again.

“I don’t blame you,” she is the one that breaks it. “For high school.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely more hurt at the fact that she doesn’t blame him than the fact that she accused him of ignoring her.

“It’s a weird time for everyone, and I think Mystic Falls High was the first time you got to actually enjoy it. You stayed there long enough to stop being the new kid and I think it was also the first time you felt like you fit in. I didn’t, and that was never your fault… or your problem for that matter,” she explains, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“That’s not fair,” Dean opposes.

“What?”

“Your problems are my problems.”

And the finality of his statement gives her a weird sort of confidence to say, “Sheesh. Wonder why I ended up falling in love with you.” 

The car skids a little.

She can’t help it, she laughs.

“YOU CAN’T JUST SAY SHIT LIKE THAT!” Dean argues.

She’s still laughing, “I’m sorry. But… Come on! It was kinda funny.” 

“I did not find that funny! Not even a little bit! What’s so funny about being—” He cuts himself off.

She laughs a little harder. “That’s what’s funny! You can’t even say it! You wanna know what’s so funny about being in love with you? I can’t stop it. It’s…” She sits up to position her back towards the window and moves herself to face Dean better. “It’s like breathing. I have tried, time and time again, to stop, and for a while I can. I can try to hold my breath when I’m being mindful of it. I can remember not to breathe when I’m focused on not breathing but the moment my brain gets engaged anywhere else, I’m screwed. The moment I look away, the moment I burn my toast, or start reading a book or watch a film, the moment I’m in a rush to meet Bonnie, the moment my mind becomes occupied with anything other than the conscious thought reminding me not to breathe—BAM! I’m falling in love with you again. It’s so fucking easy, it’s so fucking comfortable. Loving you is the my most cherished accomplishment because I’ve done it so fucking well for so freaking long.” She smiles. “I feel like I deserve a prize.”

Dean stays silent.

Her smile fades.

She shakes her head, she knew what he felt. She’s always known how he feels. A long silence shouldn’t be the thing that aches her heart. Not after having been in love with this man for this long.

“Did you—” He cuts himself short. She turns to him again, eager for him to continue. And her silent pleas are heard loudly. Continue he does, “Did you decide to tell me… about this today cause we met 15 years ago today?”

“No,” she brushes him off. “I just needed to get this off my—” Suddenly his words strike her like a thunderbolt. “What do you mean 15 years ago today?”

He shrugs, eyes on the road. “A day before Stefan’s birthday, that’s when we met for the first time.”

“You… You remember the day we met?” She asks, dumbfounded.

Dean doesn’t answer, instead the car comes to a stop. He’s pulled into the parking lot of a 7Eleven. “I’ll be right back.”

Only when she watches Dean get out of the car and walk into the store does she realise that it’s the 7Eleven in Mystic Falls. They are only a few minutes away from the Salvatore Boarding house, barely 12 minutes away from her brothers’ place. 

She can’t believe she feels this way but a part of her feels like she’s running out of time. But running out of time for what? It’s Dean! He’ll be there to pick her up two days later. He’ll be there to light her cigarettes in a crowd—and not mean absolutely anything by it—in two days time. It’s not that long. They’ve dropped her off to live with her brothers’ for weeks even. Two days is nothing. It’s barely a visit. Then why in God’s name does she feel like there’s a clock right above her head counting down. And counting down to what??

“Here you go,” Dean says, as he gets in and throws something in her lap. 

She catches out of reflex. “Cigarettes?” It’s two packs of menthols, her current favorite.

“What about ‘em? You like these right?” He pulls out of the parking lot. “You quit Marlboro Reds a month ago, and switched to these so I thought they’d be a safer bet. Was I wrong?” 

It’s natural though. The most natural thing in the world. Dean buys her cigarettes. He always buys her cigarettes.

The thing about smoking that most people don’t understand is that it opens a whole new world. It’s bad obviously and no one should do it. But when you do it, when you smoke, there are a few things, a few rules that might not mean anything to a non-smoker but mean everything to a smoker. 

Take for instance, ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’. 

For any random person, the intricacies of ‘Puff-Puff-Pass’ exists to the extent of its name. But only a smoker knows that in an intimate setting, between two friends, the rule doesn’t apply. It’s rude not to follow the rule in a social gathering amongst semi-strangers, but among the two of them, it never applied.

Similarly, buying someone cigarettes is the purest gesture of care. 

Having a pack ready for consumption whenever she came back from a visit to the Salvatore Boarding House? To her that always felt like the loudest way that Dean could tell her that he cared for her. 

And he did these things often. Even when he quit smoking, he’d light her cigarettes for her. For as long as Dean has known she smokes, she has never lit a cigarette for herself. These gestures of… call it love, call it self-destruction, they have never not been there. So him buying her cigarettes is the most natural thing in the world but it throws her off still.

“Y/n?”

“What?” She suddenly remembers there was a question there, in his words before. “Oh yeah. Menthols… I smoke menthols now, yes. Good guess.”

He noticed me change my cigarettes? She asks herself, feeling something very close to giddy. Before she has to scream at herself inside, cause Dean has always done this and it has never meant anything. It’s just his small way of adhering to his duty of care.

“Thanks,” she tells him belatedly. She doesn’t fail to notice how the words make his nose scrunch up—the way it usually does when he dislikes something.

“You said you’ve tried not loving me,” Dean states and that’s all it is—a statement, an observation.

But she feels compelled to explain herself, “It’s not easy,” she tells him. “You’re… You’re you. You’re charming and hot and…” she’s spilled most of her guts, what harm can a little bit of spilling her heart do now? “You’re beautiful. You’ve got a different girl to take home every other night. It kills me inside, I won’t lie. It’s torture seeing you laughing with someone else. It really is. But it’s not your fault. And, I know you don’t feel the same way, and for a long time I didn’t mind this one sided affair cause, it was mine, you know? This love I had for you, it was all mine. I didn’t care if you loved me back… But then you…”

“Died,” he finishes the sentence for her.

She nods lamely. “It felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I don’t remember what I did when you weren’t around. I don’t remember how I survived because to me breathing was being in love with you. It’ll always be that. I just knew if I ever saw you again, I needed you to know how I felt. I’d been too selfish with my love for you. I… I don’t know. It sounds stupid now. I just needed you to know and I felt like I should tell you today so I did.”

And then the car stops again. 

She looks up and she’s standing in front of the boarding house. 

Clock’s run out.

Dean tries to say something but she doesn’t know if she has the courage to hear a placated, softly-worded rejection so she just gets out of the car. 

He follows suit.

He rushes to open the trunk and pulls out her luggage.

She takes it for him, and then begins walking to the door.

“Y/n!”

It feels like a gust of wind. 

The way he calls for her feels like the gust of wind that blows right before the lighting strikes.

She turns without hesitance. 

Their eyes lock.

He’s standing next to the driver side, the door to the impala is still open. The only thing lighting his face is a street light a couple paces behind him. Bathed in yellow, he looks like a wild field of sunflowers, with his messy blond hair and painfully green eyes. He’s absolutely breathtaking.

For all her talk of her love for Dean Winchester being like breathing, in this moment, at the sight of this man looking absolutely divine, she doesn’t think she remembers how to breathe at all.

So with bated breath, she waits for him to speak.

“Y/n…” He says again, before something changes and his eyes stop shining, his posture hardens, his hand grips the Impala’s door a little harder and his face loses color. Then he says, “We’ll pick you up Tuesday.” With that he gets back in the car and drives off. 

It’s only when they’ve crossed the Mystic Falls border does the silence in the Impala break.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him. 

Find Part 2 here.

[lunajay33]

Guardian🩶

Summary: You’re Sam and Deans little sister and they always looked out for you, so when you feel like you disappoint your dad, they all remember how fragile you are

Pairing: Big brother Deah Winchester x little sister f!reader, big brother Sam x little sister reader, Father John x daughter reader

•Masterlist•

Growing up as the youngest in the family of hunters was rough but being a girl was even harder, you always tried your best to live up to your fathers expectations and be as strong as your brothers but in some way you felt like you always fell short

Now you were all older, Dean was 26, Sam was 22 and you were 19, Sam finally came back from College after his girlfriend died but now it was just the three of you on the road since John had left to go on his own hunting

Sitting in the back of the impala on the way to another case you were unusually quiet and the guys noticed

“You okay back there?” Dean asked looking at you from the rear view mirror

“We have bigger things to worry about” you mumble not wanting to add to the bigger case here

“Hey you’re out baby sister you matter more than some case, so what’s going on?” Sam asks as he turns in the front seat to look at you

“I…….i miss dad, i feel lost without him” you don’t mean to but the tears drip down your face something you rarely did which shocked them, seeing the panic on their faces you wiped your tears and balled up in the back seat

“He’s been gone months you’ve seemed fine” Dean states you knew they missed him too but your relationship with your father was different you are his little girl even if you didn’t always make him proud

“It’s nothing”

“Come on Angel”

“I just don’t wanna lose anyone else, I love you both more than you could know and I love our time together, but I want dad too”

“We’re here” Dean said pulling up to the motel, you all settled in tired from a long drive

“I’m gonna go see Meg I’ll bring food on the way back” Sam said after he hung up the phone probably talking to this Meg chick

Now it was just Dean and you sat across from each other on opposite beds

“Dean can I ask you something” you ask biting your lip anxiously, after your father left you felt the weight of disappointment crushing you

“What is it kid, you’re so glum today”

“Do you think…..do you think dads proud of me?” His eyes widened but you could see the hurt

“The hell are you talking about, he loves you, you’re probably his favourite”

“I think he left because of me, because of the way things happened on the last case with just me you and dad, I made a mistake and I disappointed him and he left, I didn’t mean to”

“Baby girl you did nothing wrong, he just had a case he needed to work on alone, said it was too dangerous for us to go” he said sitting next to you in the bed wrapping his around your shoulders

“Maybe I should leave, I always held you guys back anyways”

“Hey don’t talk like that you’re family you’re not going anywhere you hear me?” He grunts out

You sigh mentally and physically exhausted

“I think I’m gonna turn in early” you say crawling up the bed and pulling the covers up, you slept through the night not even waking up for dinner when Sam got back

The case went on and you all did some digging, you were looking through a book when you found that symbol again, it was used for ancient spirits that someone could use to their will, Sam had found Meg’s hide out and so you all drove down there

“Y/n you’re sitting this one out” Dean says as you all get out of the car that’s blocked a street away from Meg’s building

“What why I can help”

They loaded up on weapons like usual

“Because kid you’re not in your right mind right now, it ain’t your fault but I just want you to take it easy for this one, just stay in the car we will be back in no time” you wanted to fight Dean on this but the look he gave you shut you up, you didn’t wanna disappoint him too

“Okay just be safe”

You sat in the car waiting and waiting until you saw them in the rearview mirror running across the street running in the direction of our hide out, you got out running behind them but they were farther ahead than you, when you got to the hideout room you heard screaming, you bust into the room seeing shadows slashing at Dean Sam and……and John, you run infront of your father taking the harsh slashes from the spirits, you can feel you stomach being shredded, claws run down your face then you felt 4 long claws go straight through your back, gasping for air that you couldn’t inhale, you drop to the floor the pain unimaginable

Sam sets off a flare destroying the spirits, someone dragged you out into the hallway as you came back into focus seeing the three of them watching over you

“Daddy I’m sorry, I just…..*gasp* wanted to make you proud” then everything fades quickly leaving nothing but black

John, Dean and Sam brought you to the hospital, waiting for your diagnosing the nurses helped patch them up, they waited in your room sitting around your hospital bed praying you’d wake up

“How is she doc?” Dean asks as the doctor walks in to check your progress

“This was one angry bear, slashing is one thing but to stab its claws through her is strange behaviour” they boys looked at each other hoping the doctor believed the lie

“But we’ve done all we could, she lost a lot of blood we just have to wait for her to wake up, sometimes talking to patients who are unconscious helps bring them back, might wanna try it�� he said before he left the room

Sam held you hand as he pushed back stray hairs that stuck to your face

“Please pull through, you’re the glue that holds us together, the person who brightens our hellish lives, we need you” he sighs resting his head against your intertwined hands, John and Dean had a war going on inside their heads, Sam always had a different relationship with you than Dean, Dean was crazy protective and still saw you like you were the baby he first held, Sam saw you like his twin, his confidant and the only one in the family who understood him, and those last words you said played over and over again in Johns head

They stayed there for hours just waiting for any sign that you’d wake up until eventually they all passed out from exhaustion, you woke up late in the night, the only thing that lit the room was a lamp on a near by table

You try to sit up but let out a little scream when you feel the wounds that littered your body, waking the others up, they stood by your bed , John at your right Sam next to him and Dean on your left

“Sweetheart you’re up, you’re one tough cookie” John says resting his hand against your cheek

“Are you guys okay?”

“We’re not the ones who are in the hospital bed Angel” Dean smiles squeezing your hand

“I just wanted to help, wanted to protect you daddy” when you called him that it struck right through his heart, remembering how you’re really just his little girl the one who’d stay up late into the night at the end of the motel beds waiting for him to come back, squealing when he’d walk through the door jumping into his arms

“I’m sorry baby girl, Dean told me what’s been going on and you have to know, even though I can be a hard ass sometimes I love you more than anything, I remember when your mother first had you and I held you in my arms I knew I’d do anything to make you happy and safe and I know your brothers felt the same, I’m sorry I left and made you feel like I was disappointed in you, you’re the strongest young lady I know, especially to have to deal with these two all day everyday, I love you sweetheart, my hope” by the time he was done you were a blubbering mess finally letting out all this pent up emotions

“I love you too, please don’t leave me, I need you dad”

“I’ll stay angel, I’ll stay”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Make Him Better Looking｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Truth serum plus hidden feelings and a major amount of lust for your best friend is bound to end well

Warnings: truth serum, reader is hornee, implied smut, size kink, Sam is taller than the reader, explicit thoughts, mutual pining, mentions of a hunt

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Falling in love with Sam had been easy- not only was he stupidly handsome with those big hazel puppy dog eyes and a killer body, but he was kind and he was smart. He loved with his whole soul and would do anything for anyone, even after all the shit he had been through. 

What hadn’t been easy, however, was just how horny you got every time you even thought of the giant hunter let alone be around him. If he was tracing lines in a book to keep his place, you thought about what his fingers would feel like inside of you. If he was working out, you wondered if he would make those same noises in bed. And worst of all was when he was talking animatedly about something, his entire body came alive with passion and excitement. His eyes sparkled and his smile was always huge. And yet all you could think about was having his face between your thick thighs, talking into your cunt as he feasted. 

Needless to say, you had absolutely destroyed your scant collection of toys and taken more cold showers than warm. Eventually, you had to reach your breaking point.

It had been a witch hunt in Arkansas that went slightly wrong. People all around town were suddenly compelled to tell everyone around them their darkest secrets, ruining their lives in the process. It was a pretty simple cut and dry witch who had some vendetta against liars so she was forcing everyone to tell the truth. You and Jody picked up the hunt as some kind of demented girl’s trip and it mostly went off without a hitch. At least until the witch got you with a truth spell right before the sheriff dropped her.

You had arrived back home with your mouth practically sewn shut in an attempt to keep yourself from telling the boys your innermost thoughts until the spell wore off (which Jody assured you that it would be a couple days at most). Claire and Alex already had their fun asking you questions that you could no longer lie in response to, leading to them learning why there’s a bottle of deluded bleach and air freshener in the back of the Impala and the ‘no tequila after midnight’ rule. 

Dean quickly discovered your ailment after you bluntly told him that his new orange flannel and grown out hair made him look like an oversized carrot, and he was determined to break you. But unfortunately for him, you were a hell of a lot smarter than him and could find ways to easily distract him.

You and Dean sat across from each other at the library table, eyes locked to each other as you both desperately tried not to blink. A game born out of desperation not to reveal your darkest secrets and childish rivalry but with a month’s worth of laundry on the line, the game was a matter of life or death. Your eyes burned as you struggled to keep them open but you refused to back down now, especially when Dean’s face had begun to turn red with the strain, you knew he was close to breaking.

Then, disaster struck. Right as his eyelids began to twitch with the need to blink, Sam walked into the library wearing a tight white shirt and grey sweatpants and obviously not wearing briefs. Immediately your mouth went dry as your concentration was broken. You didn’t even hear Dean cheer that he won, you just kept looking at his  brother who was now browsing the many shelves for something to read.

Dean rubbed at his eyes while glancing at his younger brother before sarcastically remarking. “Looking good Sammy.” Sam responded with a scoff, returning to his search and letting you get a glimpse of his perky backside.

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, spilling out of your dirty mind like an unstoppable river. “Goddamn, how about you bring that perfect ass over here and I’ll tell you how I can make you look even better.” Everyone froze, including you, and then you opened your mouth again. “You’d look hotter with me sitting on your face.”

Silence settled over the bunker, your veins filled with dread. “Oh god please ignore that I said that- well actually, I don’t want you to ignore it. I really do want to sit on your face but right now I really want to throw myself off a cliff. So I think I’m gonna go do that. Have a nice life boys.” You went to slip from your chair but suddenly your wide hips were pinned to the edge of the table but two huge hands.

Sam loomed over you, his eyes dark with lust as he smirked down at you. “Now why would you go and do that when we could test your little theory.” Your breath caught in your throat. He dipped down, bringing his face to yours until you were close enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“I-“ You stammered. Wetness pooled between your thighs as he stepped even closer, pressing his hardening cock to your soft body. 

“Oh what is it baby? Can’t speak anymore? Don’t worry, you won’t be able to stop making sounds when my mouth is on your cunt.” He growled into your ear.

Neither you nor Sam noticed when Dean sprung to his feet and ran off into the depths of the bunker to escape the very obvious tension on the brink of exploding between you. Your fingers tentatively curled into his shirt, making his smile grow. “That’s a good girl, now how about you go to my room and get undressed. I wanna see if you get even more beautiful when you’re on top of me.” 

——————

Sam had always found you incredibly intoxicating but even more so now. You were dead asleep on his chest, your breaths even as you slumbered on. Sam took pride in your exhaustion considering he was the cause. He gently stroked the soft skin of your hip, tracing over the texture of your stretch marks delicately as to not wake you. 

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling closer to his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head and with a great amount of care, slipped from your hold. You stirred only for a moment before settling once more. He dressed quietly and slipped out of his room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen drawing him in like a siren. “Morning.” He muttered as he wandered in, shooting his brother a glance. Dean nodded at him from his place at the small table, drinking his coffee silently.

As Sam poured two mugs of the bitter drink, he spoke again. “She was right, you know.” Dean hummed and looked up at him curiously. “I do look better when she sits on my face.”

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[winchester-girl67]

Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort

Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon. 

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 902 

Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff 

A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy. 

_____

“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!” 

Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door. 

You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed. 

The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse. 

You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again. 

You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt. 

First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home. 

Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest. 

It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture. 

Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.

You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left. 

Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow. 

Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been. 

"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features. 

His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled." 

"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door." 

You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you. 

He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to. 

You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax. 

"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little. 

You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest. 

"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours. 

Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon. 

There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy. 

Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark. 

He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together. 

And maybe you could both finally get some sleep. 

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

[chiisana-sukima]

What's your opinion on the take that Sam is always running away?

The short answer is I think spn's ethics are insane.

The longer answer is that if you did a rewatch and counted up all the times that Sam objectively "runs away" from a problem/his family/etc and all the times Dean "runs away" from the same, I'm not sure who would actually win. But I do think the narrative frames Sam as the one who runs, and that, over the long term, it treats "running away" as his cardinal sin.

For example, when Dean runs away from his mistakes in Road Trip, the narrative does frame that as immature and self-destructive, and punishes him with the Mark of Cain. But by s11, this is reframed briefly as a "we" problem in s11a (Sam: "if we don't change, right now, all of our crap is just gonna keep repeating itself") and then never held against Dean personally thereafter. Whereas Sam's equivalent attempt at running away--the s4 demon blood arc--continues to be held against him by the narrative until at least 13x21 (Cas: we let Lucifer out of the Cage.)

Even more interestingly, at least to me, with the exception of Stanford, the narrative also tends to treat Dean's episodes of running away from Sam as "abandoning" him, but Sam's episodes of running away from Dean as "betraying" Dean.

This is Dean abandoning Sam to his fate as Lucifer's vessel. The narrative punishment is extreme, but not only does Dean get a do over in the same episode and it never comes up again, but the quote is remembered by fandom primarily as a quote about how close they are. And I do think that's borne out by the narrative. If Dean abandons Sam, the world will literally end.

Meanwhile though:

When Sam screws up with Dean, he's betraying him. The problem isn't just that Sam is an addict or that he ran away from Dean's attempt to forcibly detox him for his own somewhat questionable "good", but that he did so with a demon whore. It's portrayed as a personal betrayal in a way that Dean abandoning Sam to Lucifer is not.

In some ways, Sam is even the more steadfast brother. He may physically leave Dean at times but he never stops believing in Dean's capacity for good. When it's his turn to lock Dean in the panic room because Dean gives up and runs to destruction at the hands of Michael, he doesn't do it. And in the Mark of Cain arc, he affirms that even if Dean kills him, he accepts it as necessary and still believes Dean is a good man.

Which brings me to spn's ethics and fandom's response.

If there's one single thing that spn is entirely, completely, one hundred percent consistent on, it's that tumblr is wrong. You can't just walk out; leaving is always wrong and will usually end the world. It's wrong if it's temporarily for the evening because you'd like to have Thanksgiving dinner and your family doesn't do that, or for four years because you want to go to college, or for forever because all your remaining loved ones have been killed before your eyes, or if it's only a partial withdrawal because you want better boundaries in the face of years of violence and autonomy violations. (To be clear, spn thinks the violence and autonomy violations are wrong too; it's just especially adamant that the only appropriate response is self-sacrifice.) The only reason Sam is finally allowed to temporarily leave in the finale is because he so obviously no longer wants to.

And all of this, to be completely blunt, is batshit fucking crazy. And I mean that in the clinical technical sense of the word. As a system of ethics it's an enormous mess, as a behavioral guide it's guaranteed to result in inappropriate assignment of blame and unnecessary suffering, and it's hard to interpret it all for me personally as anything but a response to trauma.

I do think that on an emotional level there's something wildly compelling about it though, and it's fiction, after all, so there's nothing wrong with it as a fantasy. The idea that if only you could prove your loyalty strongly enough your family would finally accept you, flaws and all, is an impossible wish many of us have spent a lot of our real lives trying to actualize. And seeing it happen on screen when it can't happen irl can be cathartic, much like revenge stories can be cathartic even though irl revenge is a terrible idea. The vibes are, in short, without flaw.

The thing that's hard for me though is remembering that everyone irl grows at their own speed. Not everyone is in a position to cleanly separate their emotional enjoyment of a plotline or theme from their intellectual calculus about whether or not it makes any fucking sense--especially when those plotlines or themes are about violence, betrayal, abandonment, and abuse. And it's hard for me to remember sometimes that huge swathes of meta aren't actually the result of [insert negative judgement here] but are just reflective of a different series of experiences than the ones I happen to have had.

Honestly I find it frustrating. I wish people would be better about separating out what the story is saying from what they think of that message themselves. I feel like the format of fandom meta is often kind of a disaster. It adopts an authoritative, academic tone, but is usually actually used to express personal feelings and wishes without acknowledging that it's doing that.

It's not that I think people should have to disclose their personal experiences to write meta--on the contrary, sometimes that's helpful but sometimes it just makes it worse. Rather, I wish people would get in the habit of using more "I" statements and acknowledging their subjectivity more overtly. Back in the days when dinos roamed the earth and I was an undergrad, I learned that the use of the third person passive voice in academic writing is a political choice. It grants the illusion of more authority and objectivity than actually exists. I wish fandom would take up my professor's call to abandon it to some extent and say "I feel hurt that Sam left Dean alone with John to go to college" rather than "Sam is always running away".

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.

Words: ~900

A/N: So this is SPN fic number two. The idea of Dean being such a pie fiend that he would steal someone else's pie from the fridge and deny it afterwards, really amused me. I obviously didn't get the desire to kiss him out of my system after the first SPN fic I wrote so here's another one 😂 It's not smut but there is mild adult themes which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is as generic as I can make but I have referenced as female. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I value your feedback and comments 💖

Warnings: kissing, mild violence, bad language as standard. Dean is an asshole. Reader is a bit of an asshole too. They're probably made for each other.

*** Minors do not read or interact ***

Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His arrogance, his smug superiority, the way he always acts like he’s untouchable… his goddamn pretty mouth.  Ugh!  Asshole!

You didn’t always hate him – you had known him for years, one hunter to another – but, since you had been forced to stay with both he and Sam in the bunker these last couple of months, he had really grated on your nerves. 

After your hunt of a large nest of vampires had gone wrong, you had become the hunted.  Your home decimated, your family too precious to put at risk by you staying with them; you had needed help.

Sam had insisted, so you agreed to stay with them until your vamp problem could be solved.  Only the nest turned out to be much bigger and far wider spread than you had first thought, and it was taking time for even the infamous Winchester brothers to put an end to.

The light in the refrigerator is stark as you stare inside.  It’s gone.  You slam the door, raging internally.  Why can you not have anything to yourself in this goddamn place?

“DEAN!”  You shout angrily at the top of your lungs, knowing he can hear you from his room down the hall, even with his music playing.

He won’t respond to you.  He never does.  Why should he?  You’re just some girl he’s got to put up with for a while.  Some girl he made a pass at that first week you were here, but you shut him down and he’s been an asshole to you ever since.

You storm up to his door and bray your fist against the wood as hard as you can.  “I know you’re in there!  Get your ass out here now!”  You shout and hammer your fist against the door until you hear him moving inside.

The door clunks as he unlocks it, and it swings open to reveal him stood in the doorway in a navy blue robe and slippers.  The light from his lamp is dim but warm, his music a moderate volume for the late hour.  He looks irritated that you’ve disturbed him, that quizzical frown and pout are a dead giveaway.  Good.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”  He smirks at you.

“You!”  You push past him, and he doesn’t try to block you.

“What now?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this argument and it probably won’t be the last.  Whenever Sam isn’t around, Dean always does something to piss you off, like he’s trying to bait you.

“You ate my pie!  AGAIN!”

His expression is schooled into that self-righteous assuredness it always is when you confront him.  His hands go to his hips – which looks ridiculous because of the robe – and he shifts his weight onto his other foot.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”  He says with a frown, and it’s entirely plausible that you’ve made a mistake, except it’s just the two of you here and you didn’t eat the damn pie.  “I haven’t seen any damn pie.”

“Oh yeah?!”  You square up to him, looking up into his eyes, unblinking, unphased.

“Yeah!”  He doubles down, firmly meeting your stare, leaning closer as if you would be intimidated by that.

It’s a short distance you need to cover and he is unprepared.  You expect him to push you away but he flounders, arms flailing and uncoordinated when you grip the lapels of his robe and pull him towards you.

When your lips meet he puckers up and blinks in shock, but you don’t give him time to realise what’s happening.  You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tight as you slip your tongue between his lips, plundering his mouth.

It takes a beat, but he responds by gripping your hips and holding you against him, moaning into your mouth as he opens up to you.  The heat of his response takes you by surprise, but it shouldn’t have, really.  He’d wanted this since the first few days you were here.  Wanted you.

You ravage his mouth, your hands in his hair, making it messy as you practically melt into his arms.  His tongue plays perfectly with yours, his lips soft and yielding.  Dean Winchester is an exceptional kisser.  This fact makes you hate him even more.

As you pull back, breathless, Dean grins at you.  He looks happy and care-free, like the cat that got the cream.  Your face, however, holds a scowl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?”  His expression changes to concern.

You lick your lips and it’s just as you thought, the sweet buttery goodness of pie crust and the pleasant tartness of sour cherry.  You slap him across the face – not hard but just enough to get his attention – and stride to the door leaving him confused.

“What the hell?!”  He rounds on you, his arousal tenting his robe.

“Don’t you dare eat my pie again.”

You leave your warning hanging in the air along with his frustration.  A smirk playing on your lips at the sight you had just left behind you; Dean Winchester with kiss-swollen lips and a hard-on for you.  It isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen but you still hate him, even if there’s now something else there along side it. 

[zepskies]

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

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[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Picking Sides

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Cas & Winchester sister, Jody & Winchester sister, Mary & Winchester sister (all obviously platonic)

Synopsis: you get in a fight with Mary, and when Sam and Dean take sides you go to find someone to be on your side.

Warnings: feelings of abandonment, angst with a happy ending

You were hiding again. These days, it felt like you were always hiding. The bunker used to feel like home, but that home got smaller and smaller until the only place that truly felt like a sanctuary was your bedroom.

It didn’t feel fair to think that the arrival of your brothers’ mom took away your home, but that’s how you felt nonetheless. You wanted to be happy for them more than anything—your big brothers were everything to you, and they got back someone they had lost, someone they loved.

But that someone just so happened to look at you and see only the result of her husband with another woman. You knew it had to hurt—from her memory, it must feel like she’d last seen John only months ago, even though it had been over twenty years. So seeing his daughter—the one he had with another woman—being treated like family by her boys…that had to hurt. You understood that hurt, and you felt sorry for Mary because of it. But what you didn’t understand was why she had to make you hurt with her. Maybe she didn’t mean to—you couldn’t believe the worst about Sam and Dean’s mom, you just couldn’t—but it felt like she never wanted you there. And that disdain was starting to affect Sam and Dean. They could tell when their mom wasn’t happy, and it put them on edge. Because of that, tensions just kept rising until finally you decided that hiding out away from the common areas was best for everyone when Mary was around.

This strategy worked out well back when Mary wasn’t around much, but she’d been hanging around the bunker a lot more now, and it just wasn’t working. You couldn’t be in your room all the time, but any time you bumped into Mary the two of you seemed to get into a fight about something. Today was no different.

You only ventured out to get some food from the kitchen—but of course Mary had to be there.

“Where have you been?” She questioned, though she kept her voice low.

“Just my room,” you mumbled as you started to assemble a sandwich.

“The boys could’ve used your help, you know. They’re doing a lot of research.”

“I’ve got a laptop, I’m doing my own research.” You tried not to sound too snarky, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it came out that way…just a little.

“Well it would make things a lot easier if you’d join the group,” Mary chided. At this, you scoffed—you couldn’t help it.

“Like you even want me as part of the family,” you challenged.

“I said group, not family. You’re not family,” she insisted, her tone still neutral and her voice still low. Something about her trying to keep this horrible conversation nice and quiet just made you want to scream it all the louder. Unfortunately, you did it at the wrong moment.

“Says the one who hasn’t been here for twenty years! Don’t pretend you’re more of a family to Sam and Dean than I am!”

“Hey now!” Dean’s voice snapped you out of your anger for a split second, and turned it to shock—you didn’t know he was so nearby. “That’s enough!” He directed his anger towards you—of course he hadn’t heard Mary’s words.

“But I was just—“ you began, but Dean didn’t let you get far.

“I don’t care what you were doing, I heard enough! Now I think you should go to your room.”

You took a deep breath, desperate to tell your side.

“But you didn’t hear—“

“I heard enough!” Dean was yelling now, and his sudden rise in anger had you taking a surprised step back. “Now go to your room! You’ve done enough damage.”

“B-but De—“

“I said go! And don’t you come out. I’ll come get you when I think you’ve had enough time to think about what kind of consequence your words have. Go!”

It wasn’t often that Dean looked so tall—he was always the “short one” compared to Sam. But now—looming over you like the shadow of a mountain, nothing but anger written on his features—no one had ever looked bigger, and you had never felt smaller. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more pathetic, you felt tears start to prick behind your eyes. You twisted around and ran for your room before Dean could see them.

You made sure you were well behind your door with the lock in place before you felt safe enough to let the tears fall.

…

Mary was silent as she watched you run. There was a cacophony of thoughts banging around in her head, and it was so distracting that it took a moment for her to hear Dean talking to her.

“Mom? Mom?” Dean was right in front of her when she finally snapped out of it. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s been going on with her lately, but she shouldn’t have said that to you. I’ll talk to her.”

But Mary didn’t want that. In fact, she felt sick to her stomach. Ever since she had learned about your existence, she had felt almost in competition with you. Somehow, you being the result of John’s relationship with another woman made Mary feel as though you were somehow responsible for it, or complacent with it. Deep down she knew that that was wrong, but she couldn’t help the feelings. So instead, she had been justifying them, and using those feelings as an excuse for how she was trying to win the boys’ affection over you.

But just now, she had seen you for what you really were—not competition for her sons’ affections, not some sick reminder of John’s love being given to someone else taunting her; no. She had seen a scared little girl being rejected and reprimanded by her big brother and father figure, and it had been Mary’s fault.

“No, Dean…” Mary sighed. “I wish you hadn’t done that. She didn’t deserve it.”

Dean was confused. “But she—“

“I said some things to her that…well, let’s just say I deserved what she said. I mean it Dean, I screwed up, not her.”

Dean looked torn for a moment—after all, the only part he had heard were some awful words on your part—but then the scene replayed in his mind, and he saw you; your hands were shaking, your lip was quivering, and Dean had just kept on yelling.

“Oh man,” Dean sighed. “I need to talk to her.”

…

You didn’t let the tears fall long before you made a decision; you couldn’t stay here. You could deal with Mary not wanting you here, but you couldn’t deal with your brothers choosing her over you. That was the last straw.

You had a bag packed far too quickly, and you found yourself lingering in your room, trying to find an excuse not to go. This was your home—you didn’t want to leave.

Then an image of Dean screaming at you flashed in your mind—

“I said go! And don’t you come out.”

This wouldn’t be a one-time thing—it couldn’t. Dean had picked Mary over you, and it would only get worse. You had to go.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and went straight for the door.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice broke your stride for a moment, but you didn’t stop. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Out for a walk,” you huffed.

“I thought Dean told you to stay in your room,” Sam challenged. You froze for a moment.

“You heard?” You asked, hope sparking in the back of your mind. Maybe Sam would be on your side!

“Not everything,” Sam admitted. “But enough. I think you should stay in your room.”

Disappointment didn’t begin to cover what hit you then—Sam, taking Mary’s side too, without even knowing the whole story!

“And I think you should mind your own business,” you grumbled, going out and slamming the door behind you.

…

There was a cab waiting for you—you’d called one while you were packing—so you were already being carried away from the bunker by the time Sam followed you out the door.

The cab took you as far as the bus station, and from there you got on the first bus that would take you to Sioux Falls—to Jody.

You’d been praying to Cas since you’d left, but he must’ve been busy in heaven or something, because he hadn’t come. So Jody’s it was.

…

“I was wondering if you were going to show up.” Jody’s greeting when you arrived on her doorstep was less than conventional.

“What?” You questioned as she let you into the living room.

“Your brothers have been calling me every ten minutes for the past two hours, hoping you’d find your way over here. They’re worried about you.”

“I don’t know why,” you muttered under your breath, but Jody caught it.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Those boys worry over you like mother hens, they always have.”

“Not lately,” came your dull response. “Lately Mary’s more important.”

“Hey, now that isn’t fair,” Jody argued. “They just got her back from the dead. Just because their attention is a little divided—“

“It’s not that.” You huffed. “She doesn’t want me around. And they’re starting to take her side. They used to treat me like their sister, and now they…” you cleared your throat, blinking fast suddenly. “And now they treat me like…just John’s illegitimate kid. And I know that’s what I am, I just…I never felt it before.”

“Wait, kid…” Jody sighed, her hands coming up to hold onto your shoulders. “Kid, that is not who you are. You are so much more than that, and I’m sure if we talk to Sam and Dean, they’ll—“

“No,” you insisted, starting to panic. “I don’t want to talk to them right now, I just can’t. Please, you can’t tell them I’m here.”

“They’re gonna call again,” Jody said.

“You can’t—“

“Y/N.” You were interrupted by a flutter of wings and the deep voice of your favorite angel. “I heard you, what’s wrong?”

“Cas.” Your panic ebbed as you lurched forwards and wrapped your arms around Castiel. He held you close, quick to ask again—

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“She ran away,” Jody spoke up. “Problems with Mary.”

“Oh, little one…” Cas sighed. “You—“

“Don’t tell me to go back!” You said as you pulled away from Cas. “You haven’t been here, you don’t know what it’s been like!”

“They’re your brothers,” Cas argued.

“But they don’t want to be. They want their legitimate family, and I’m not gonna get in the way anymore.”

“Hey.” Cas bent down to better look at you. “What makes you say that?”

“They just took her side.” You found it suddenly hard to speak around the lump in your throat. “De just-just took her side without even asking me what happened. He screamed at me, I’ve never-I’ve never seen him so angry before. He wanted me to go away, so-so I went. And Sammy didn’t even know what happened either, but he took her side too!”

“What did happen?” Cas asked gently.

You shook your head, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Cas reached down and hooked his fingers under your chin, tilting your downturned head up to look at him.

“It matters to me.”

Your lip was quivering and your hands were shaking by the time the first tears fell.

“She said that I’m not family. I mean I-I always knew she didn’t want me around, but…” you swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to stifle your tears. “But she’s never been this mean before. She said I’m not family, Cas. And Sam and Dean took her side.”

“They agreed with her?” Cas’s face was scrunched slightly in confusion.

“N-no,” you admitted. “But when I tried to argue with her, Dean yelled at me.”

“You should talk to them,” Cas suggested. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant.”

“I don’t want to talk to them. Cas, please,” you pleaded.

“Alright, alright,” Cas relented. He was going to make you talk it out with your brothers…later. Right now you were too angry, too hurt. You just needed someone you could trust, and Cas would be that for you for as long as you needed before he could fix your relationship with your brothers.

“They’re going to keep calling,” Jody spoke up.

“Don’t answer, please,” you begged.

“Then they’ll just come here,” Jody said.

“I’ll talk to them if you don’t want to,” Cas said. “Please let me talk to them. I know we can fix this.”

You were silent for a moment, letting yourself process before you spoke.

“I don’t want to see them right now.”

“Then you won’t,” Cas promised. “Just let me talk to them.”

“Ok,” you sighed after another long moment. “But…Cas? Can you…will you…please just don’t take their side,” you pleaded. “Maybe it’s not fair to ask, I just…I just need someone on my side.”

“I’m on your side,” Cas assured you. “Always.”

…

“They’re here.” Jody’s announcement had you more nervous than you thought you’d be. The fear that Dean might yell at you again—this time for running away and disobeying him—was suddenly very real.

It was weird to be afraid of your big brother; it was unnatural for you. But you couldn’t get the image of him screaming at you out of your head, neither could you get the feelings it gave you to go away.

“Y/N?” You snapped out of your thoughts to see Cas standing in front of you. “I’m going to go talk to them, alright?”

You glanced out the window, hoping the sight of your big brothers might somehow give you a different—better—memory to focus on. Instead, you saw a third figure exiting the Impala with the boys; Mary.

“They brought Mary.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper, but still Cas heard and turned to look out the window.

“I’m going to talk to them,” he repeated, only this time his tone was devoid of comfort and filled with rage.

…

“You should wait in the car.” Cas directed his order at Mary, who looked taken aback.

“I came to—“

“If you value your immediate safety, do what I said.”

Mary retreated to the Impala without another word.

“What was that?” Dean demanded. He hadn’t heard Cas talk like that in long time—unless it was to a demon.

“Don’t question me,” Castiel barked. “Not after what you did. And especially not after you brought her—“ Castiel gestured towards the impala, where Mary was waiting— “here. Do you know what she said to your little sister?”

“I don’t—“ Dean began, but Castiel interrupted him.

“No, you don’t, because you didn’t ask. You didn’t get her side, you just yelled at her.”

“And I’m trying to fix it,” Dean said.

“Well she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Castiel crossed his arms in front of him, all but blocking the doorway. “You did that, Dean. Your own little sister is too scared to talk to you, because she thinks you’ll yell at her again. She thinks you’ll pick Mary over her—again.”

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean pleaded. “I want to tell her I’m sorry. Just let me talk to her.”

“I already told you—she doesn’t want to.” Cas left no room for argument.

“Look,” Dean sighed. “Just tell her I need to talk to her. Tell her—“

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Both Dean and Cas turned at the sound of Mary’s voice as she stepped out of the Impala. “Please Castiel. Tell her I was wrong, and that I’m sorry.”

Cas stared at Mary long and hard before seemingly coming to a decision.

“Come with me.” Cas led them into Jody’s house, but stopped them firmly in the living room. “Stay right here. I’m going to go talk to her.”

Cas’s departure brought silence into the house for several long seconds.

“Do you mean it?” Dean’s sudden question threw Mary for a moment.

“What?”

“The apology. Do you mean it? Because on the off chance that she actually lets us in there, and you get to say that apology, you’ve gotta mean it, because she’s going to know.”

Mary was silent for a moment.

“I do mean it. Look, things have been…hard for me. I know to you guys, your father had years to mourn me before your little sister happened. But for me—it feels like I just woke up, and suddenly I find out my husband had a child with another woman. It feels so wrong; but I know that it isn’t Y/N’s fault, and I know that I was wrong to blame her for it. And I see how close the two of you boys are to her—and how close she is to you; that’s going to have to be enough for me. So yes, I do mean my apology—I truly was wrong.”

“Ok.” Your voice startled mother and son, who both whirled to face you.

“Ok?” Mary asked tentatively.

“Well, no,” you amended. “It’s not ok. But I do forgive you.”

“Understood,” Mary said, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “And thank you.”

“Things can’t stay the same,” you continued. “I can’t be treated like an outsider in my own family anymore.”

“I understand that too,” Mary promised. “Things will change—I will change them—I promise.”

“Ok then.” You sighed, your eyes flickering over to Dean. The silence went from contemplative to awkward very quickly.

“I’m going to go wait in the car,” Mary said quietly, slipping out the front door to give you and Dean some private time.

“That went well,” Dean said awkwardly.

“Don’t make jokes,” you commanded.

“I’m sorry.”

“You hurt me.” You forced your gaze not to waver as you confronted your big brother. “Not just because you yelled at me; because you picked her side without even listening to me. It was like I didn’t even matter.”

“Y/N—“

“No. It’s my turn now. It’s not just Mary that has to make things better at the bunker. I-I can’t live with being walked over or ignored because you guys choose her. I know she’s your mom, and I would never, ever ask you to choose me over her. But she would, and she has. And you’ve picked her. And that hurts, De.” The tears in your eyes were threatening to fall, but you refused to let that stop you. “It really, really hurts.”

“Sweetheart…” you were in Dean’s arms before you could even think about protesting—not that you wanted to. It felt like it had been forever since his arms had been around you—since you had felt so truly at home. “N/N I’m so, so sorry. I’m not gonna let that happen again, ever. Even if Mary goes back on her promise, and she doesn’t change things, I will. I’m not gonna let anybody walk over you again. You’re important to me—I’m never going to let anyone tell me to choose someone over you, never. I know that doesn’t take back what I did—what I said to you—but…but can you forgive me anyway?”

Your grip tightened on Dean, and he didn’t try to pull away.

“Of course I forgive you.”

“So…” you let Dean pull away from you, but he kept hold of your hands. “So you’ll come home? Sammy’s waiting with some ice cream and another apology for you.”

You giggled, wiping the remaining tears off of your cheeks.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll come home.”

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