#Monster Vengeful Spirit
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my-supernatural-rewatch · 5 months ago
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Episode Five: Bloody Mary
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Dean Winchester in the Supernatural episode Bloody Mary
Never one of my favorites but on this rewatch I realized it's actually pretty damn scary.
A child's game of Bloody Mary unleashes the vengeful spirit of a woman who travels through mirrors and seeks revenge on those with guilty secrets.
This one will probably not be that long either.
Right out the gate, we get concerned Dean who wants to talk about Sam and all the bad dreams he's having. Sam isn't very forthcoming. Big surprise.
I know we get a lot of "no chick flick moments" and all from Dean in the dialogue. But we also get Dean consistently saying to Sam basically "LET'S TALK ABOU THIS" so the narrative that Dean doens't like to talk about his or anyone else's feelings is already dispelled within the first five episodes of the first season yet it stuck to Dean for the entire series.
Make it make sense.
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Right here is where I'm going to remind anyone who might come across this and decide to read it that I am not writing full synposes of the episodes so if you haven't actually seen the episodes there's a good chance you will be lost reading these posts if you're looking for any semblance of a plotline. This is definitely one of those posts that will completely confuse you if you don't know the episode. Sorry/not sorry.
I'm wondering if this is the only episode where we see the brothers bribe someone? It probalby isn't but at least it's the first. Sam bribes the coroner's assistant with money Dean won in a poker game.
Which gives us more of Sam trying to take the moral highground when Dean complains that it's HIS money by dismissing it becuase Dean won it playing poker. As if that isn't working for the money.
Christ, Sam.
Also on Sam: Yet another episode where he changes his voice when talking to the family of the victim so he sounds more sympathetic. How did ai never notice this before?
Cute brothers moment in the bathroom when they're both standing in front of the mirror talking about Bloody Mary and both refuse to say the words.
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Okay, an important plot point: Bloody Mary only kills people with a terrible secret that they're absorbed with guilt over. Spoiler: Sam feels guility because he had dreams of Jessica on the ceiling burning for days before she died and he not only didn't warn her but he also took the fuck off with his brother to find their missing father who isn't really fucking missing. (Hey, does this mean we can pin Jessica's death on John?)
Another Dean myth dispelled in this episode is his intelligence. I mean they already pretty much have shown us Dean's no dunce, but in this ep he spends a LOT of time doing research, absorbing the material, and explaining things. And in one scene, he decides to do a national search for dead women fitting Bloody Mary's profile, against Sam's judgement...and THAT is how they figure out who she is.
Check out the big brain on Dean, motherfuckers!
They drive from Toledo, Ohio to Ft. Wayne, Indiana, and back to interview someone, and my geography knowledge is so limited that I had to Google how long that would take. In one of what I would guess is one of their shorter trips, it's only about 3 hours round-trip. (THESE are the things I'm thinking about while watching the show?)
The name of this week's damsel in distress is...Charlie. I get there were over 300 episodes of this show but it drives me nuts how often they re-use names. (Amelia anyone?) Anyway...
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Using his patented compassion and soft looks Dean's the one who gets Charlie to admit the thing she's guilty about (a troubled boyfriend who threatend to kill himself if she left him and then who DID kill himself after she responded "Go ahead").
In the Impala, the brothers are discussing how to call out the spirit and Sam says he has the guilt so he'll do the summoning. Dean has had enough of his emo, fatalistic bullshit so he stops the car and tells Sam to fess up his secret for fuck's sake.
Dean's concerns are that the spirit will kill Sam, and he reminds Sam that it isn't his fault that Jessica died. Someone should tell Dean we've decided it's John's fault because what does Dean say?
"Why don't you take a swing at ME? I'm the one who dragged you away from her in the first place."
Setting up a decades-long argument among SPN fans who think Sam made his own decision because he wanted to go back to hunting and those who blame Dean for goddamn everything.
To be fair to Sam, his response is, "I don't blame you."
Thanks for that, Sammy. (That's from me, not Dean.)
Dean really doesn't want Sam to call out the spirit but Sam is damned and determined to. It feels less like he's doing it to save poor first Charlie and more like he's doing it because he feels like he shoudl be punished for what he did (or really in this case didn't) do.
And thus begins the storyline of emo Sam feels guilty about everything that isn't his fault for the next two seasons culminating in Dean going to hell...
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Inside the antique shop where Mary's mirror is supposed to be, Sam is trying to call her out while Dean goes outside to talk to the cops who have shown up since someone is mucking about in the shop. When he can't convince the cops that he is the adopted son of Mr. Yamashiro, Dean knocks both cops out.
How often has Dean (or Sam) done this? I feel like not often.
We're also on a steady stream of slowly showing how well Dean can handle himself in a fight and I'm here for it.
Hey back to smart Dean (and skipping over pretty much the rest of the story): He breaks the first mirror that Mary appears in when she seems to have Sam in his trance and it gets Sam out of his trance, but it doesn't kill her. She shows up again and Dean...not Sam, Dean, gets the idea to hold another mirror up to her...and she kills herself when she looks in it.
Dean is a smarty. Stop telling me he isn't.
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But not that smart...this time he only gets a handshake from the woman he saved...not even a kiss on the cheek. Oh well, Dean. Better luck next time.
We end the episode with Dean asking Sam what it is he feels guilty about...what his secret is, and Sam says this:
"Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself."
Two things: Sam telling Dean he'd die for him is kind of huge. Up until now, he's been acting like Dean is an inconvenience. So I loved hearing that. But, again, we get Sam not opening up to Dean about his secret...and yet fandom lore is that Dean is the one who always refuses to open up.
Some notes for posterity:
The significant music from this episode comes from Def Leppard -Rock of Ages (the first but not the last time we hear this one!), Fall Out Boy - Sugar, We're Goin Down, and The Rolling Stones - Laugh, I Nearly Died.
The brothers pose as medical students from Ohio State but don’t give out their names. When they introduce themselves to the first victim's family, they give their first names and say they worked with the victim. When Dean is talking with the police he tells them he's the adopted son of Mr. Yamashiro.
This hunt takes place in Toledo, Ohio, and they take a trip to Fort Wayne, Indiana.
Dean wears John’s jacket in this episode.
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yugiohcardsdaily · 28 days ago
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Vengeful Bog Spirit
"Monsters cannot attack the turn they are Summoned."
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briefbestiary · 2 years ago
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A muddy yokai that solely persists on its own emotions, restless until it sees that the land it once toiled tirelessly over is in good hands once more.
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spookcataloger · 5 months ago
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Valley of the Kings
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emacrow · 3 months ago
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Danny glared at Scarecrow man from the corner of his play table in the living room pt 3 by emacrow/creator
Stabbing his orange colored playdoh shaped scarecrow with his plastic fork as he stared hard at the sweating bullet Johnathan Crane, who was sitting in the dark purple couch with Lilith making drinks in the kitchen behind.
He could feel the dark energy radicating off this little toddler with the glowing eyes, teeth looking a bit too sharp as the kid stabbed the playdoh repeatedly.
"My mommy." Growled the possibility of a long lost distant related demon brat Robin.
Meeting the demonic toddler once more after 2 months after the wedding with his legs barely able to walk like a goddamm baby lamb toward the kitchen while Lilith looking more refreshed, moving easily the he was.
"You leave like the rest of them after I'm through with you, in the dirt."
That child is a dangerous little monster under an angelic face that can trick Lilith with how this kid attempted to have him killed on multiple occasions.
"She not your mommy."
Don't even get him started on the forever frozen icicles in the shower that almost killed him, fucking tiny plastic sword trap the kid's closet that was sharpen to almost stabbed him in the gut when he opened it to put away the brat's toys or the fake tantrum to scream so loud that his eardrums nearly went deaf.
"You don't deserve mummy."
Kid had a vendetta over him, just even being 3 feet close to Lilith without him death glaring him like a vengeful spirit.
The staring contest only lasted for a few seconds when Lilith came out of the kitchen with her favorite medieval mug of tea, a cup full of coffee with three drops of honey for him, and planet designed sippy cup full of hot chocolate and side of marshmallows for Danny.
That brat's evil face suddenly switched like a god damn switch, eyes sparkling with that gaping tooth smile staring at Lilith like she brought the moon itself to him, kissing her cheek with a soft giggle.
"Thank you, mummy." He said, sipping his sippy cup, his little feet swinging back and forth.
Lilith doesn't realize she was fooled by that demon in disguised.
Well, at least he got one thing on his side, which was the dark massive horse that lived in the backyard of Lilith home in the stable house. Nightmare was her name, and she was obsessed with him and scarecrow masks, probably due to the fear toxin residue.
Lilith had a stern talking to that stalker horse after he almost freaked out, seeing that horse somehow in his part of the closet trying to steak his ninth spare scarecrow outfit again to hoard in the stable right when he tried to get ready for the meeting, dragging Jonathan back to Lilith's house by his jacket.
He has evil plans to do goddammit!
Previous pt 2 link here<-
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spring-heeledjack · 2 years ago
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those creepypasta girlies were so right and anyone who thinks theyre cringe or stupid should explode immediately. yes all of these people are sadistic serial killers/supernatural beasts/vengeful spirits of dead children and yes they all live in a big mansion together in the woods where they bicker like siblings and yes the faceless suit-wearing tentacle monster is the resident father figure. what are you gonna do about it.
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wormed-woman · 4 months ago
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Some long mouthwashing thoughts, long but please read <3
blsky
When I was younger, I played with this idea of ghosts just floating in space after the ship or planet they were on got destroyed. I wondered if the place they were haunting got demolished to that point, would they just disappear or float in the emptiness forever.
I wanted to add a drabble but I don't think i have the skills to really do it, but I had this idea of like, Anya's ghost. This was really inspired by that Curiosity killed my Beia-comic by Hana Chatani and Jaunt by Stephen King.
On Curly's pov, maybe he sees Anya's ghost. Maybe it is a supernatural entity, or maybe he just lost it and it's a hallucination. Is she a vengeful spirit, haunting him because she hates him? Maybe he feels even guilty for thinking about her that way. She never wanted to hurt anyone, why would his mind warp her into this monster? Or is she a guardian angel type, even in her death, watching over her captain to make sure that nobody can harm him anymore.
If it is indeed Anya's spirit, what is she thinking? Is she resentful? Maybe, but she still wants to make sure he's safe. Do no harm, after all. Does she wonder if Curly can see her? If he's awake in there, further unable to communicate? She wonders about the rumors that in the cryostasis, you're not fully unconscious and he's still alert in there. Living for the next 20 years.
It's an eternity for them.
It was also inspired by the kind of like, somewhat mischaracterization of the fandom i've seen of Anya, or like wish fulfillment, where she tortures Curly in this state, and I find that to be ooc. She doesn't even feel good about giving him the pills because of how hurt he sounds.
Curly failed her, but i don't think she thinks this is a fate he deserves
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my-supernatural-rewatch · 4 months ago
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Episode 13: Route 666
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Dean Winchester in the Supernatural episode Route 666
Hey, look! It's the racist truck episode!
Listen, I'm going to be honest here, as a white person the first time I saw this episode I thought "Cool, they killed the racist white dude." But the more times I watch this episode I can't help thinking that this is what happens when white people try to write about black people without actually talking with black people first.
SO this entry is going to be a little different because I'm not up for going through this whole thing.
If you've seen the show, you know the synopsis. Dean's ex calls him when her father is killed in a car accident and she thinks it's due to supernatural causes. More people die suspiciously and we eventually find out it's the ghost of the guy his girlfriend's father and friends killed and buried in his truck coming after the black people (and one white savior dude) who killed him in the first place.
It is...not good.
More under the cut.
The only good thing about this episode, IMO, is Cassie, Dean's ex. SO all I'm really going to write about here is Dean, Cassie, and that relationship and how it affects Dean.
We find out that while John and Dean were working a job in Ohio and Cassie was going to college, the two met and, in Dean's words, "went out for a couple of weeks."
Sam is PISSED because if she's calling Dean for help it means he told her the 'secret' (Sam's word) about what they do. Here's Sam's rant:
"You told her. You told her, the secret! Our big family rule number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a couple of times and you tell her everything?"
Now part of me thinks Sam is right to at least QUESTION why Dean told Cassie. Especially given the whole 'couple of weeks/times' thing. But in this scene Sam is seriously pissed...and of course he brings it back to Jessica. Which had literally nothing to do with Dean. He could have told Jessica anything he wanted because, remember Sam, he wasn't a hunter anymore.
But actually none of Sam's rant will matter in a few minutes when he pretty much tells Dean, after meeting Cassie, that it's no big deal that he told her.
JFC
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Anyway.
When Cassie and Dean reunite, Sam is in the background smirking at how obviously taken Dean still is with her. I had to keep reminding myself in this episode that currently Sam is only 22 years-old and college boy or not he still has the brain of an idiot 10-year-old when it comes to certain things...like being a spoiled brat or Dean liking a girl.
But at least Sam is savvy enough to pick up on cues, like Cassie and Dean not being able to look at each other at the same time, and he deduces that, at the very least, back then Dean was in love with Cassie.
At this point Dean only admits to being "a little bit more involved" with Cassie than he initially told Sam. And without words he confirmed that Cassie was the one who did the dumping, not him.
(Which I find fascinating...what was Dean's plan had Cassie not freaked out and dumped him? Was he going to just go visit her every so often? Was he going to bring her with him? Would he have considered quitting hunting for her? We'll never know; and I kind of hate that.)
So a couple of interesting tidbits about Cassie and Dean....he's so comfortable with her, even now, that not only did he tell her what he actually did for work, but here and now, when they discussed how they broke things off, he admits to her face that she hurt him.
WHEN DOES DEAN EVER DO THAT? NEVER. THAT'S WHEN.
Also worth noting that when he admits her breaking up with him hurt him, she apologizes and ten seconds later we get a fairly steamy (for the CW anyway) sex scene. Just be vulnerable, fellas, and someone will schtup you.
I want to point out one other thing before I forget. Dean has a reputation for hooking up with women who the writers want us to think are loose bimbos without brains. But his first true love is a college-educated woman who isn't easily led by bad pickup lines and who had enough self-confidence to dump the boyfriend she thought was either batshit crazy or on his way to breaking up with her.
Which is to say, Dean appreciates women with brains as well as beauty and I hate how the writers often forget that.
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SO we get the sex scene which leads to pillow talk about why they broke up resulting in Cassie saying that if you want them to, things usually work out. Sounds like she's back on the Dean train...but then Dean responds:
"You know, I'm still really involved. With my dad's work."
And I want to give him such a pinch. What the hell, Dean? Even if it's true, maybe don't bring up your dad while you're in bed with a woman who is willing to take you as you are, huh?
John is forever an albatross around Dean's neck, man.
One quick random note: When Dean and Cassie have sex, Dean is shirtless but is still wearing the Samulet. Jensen Ackles has said on many occasions that the Samulet was super heavy and I can't imagine it was very comfortable for Dean OR Jensen in that moment.
SO when Sam realized Dean and Cassie got down, what does he do? Does he say, "Good for you? An actual relationship with a good woman?" No. He teases him about it. Because Sam can't read a room.
Another odd thing I noticed. In this episode there are three, THREE scenes where someone brings someone else a cup of tea. Cassie brings Dean and Sam tea when they first sit down to talk. Then she brings Dean a cup when they are at the paper and then Sam brings Cassie's mother a cup when she's about to tell her story.
It doesn't mean anything...I just thought it was interesting and kind of obvious. But that could be because I was ignoring the plot of the show.
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Okay I'll say one thing about the plot. When Cassie's mother shares the story of how Cyrus was so jealous of her being with a black man that he started kidnapping black men, then burned down a church with black children in it...and then tells them that her husband killed Cyrus after he tried to kill him...Dean wants to know why they didn't call the cops.
Now, first off, Dean never calls the cops, but that's a different story. Secondly, it really does show the disconnect between the kid raised by the white guy from Kansas and the mixed raced girlfriend of his. I'd like to say that it also served as a reminder to the viewers that in the 1960s things were very different than they are now but it doesn't always feel like they're that different these days.
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Before they go try to kill the ghost truck, Sam decides to tell Dean he knows Dean is still in love with Cassie.
Dean's response is: Can we focus?
One little thing about Sam...he figures out how to get rid of the truck (having it go over hallowed ground...okay, whatever)...but tells Dean he thought MAYBE it would work. (It did, but Sam didn't actually know it would.)
When Dean upsettedly asks him what if he was wrong, Sam's answer is a smarmy:
"Honestly that thought hadn't occurred to me."
I mean, what IF he was wrong? Not only would the racist, killer truck still be out there but his brother would be dead. JFC Sam. When are you going to make me like you?
Dean and Cassie have their goodbye which Dean hopes will be "a little less permanent" and once again it's Cassie who has to make the call.
"You know what? I'm a realist. I don't see much hope for us Dean."
Dean says he's seen stranger things happen, they kiss, stare at each other, and Dean and Sam drive off into the sunset. And Cassie?
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We never see her or hear about her again.
Which is doubly annoying when the episode ends with Sam asking Dean:
"You meet someone like her, doesn't it makes you wonder if it's worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?"
And Dean just smiling, putting on a pair of shades, and settling in for a nap.
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Is this the first and/or only time we see Dean in shades?
HOW DO YOU GO FROM A BRILLIANT EPISODE LIKE FAITH TO THIS? THAT'S ALL I WANT TO KNOW.
Some notes for posterity:
Significant music in this episode: She Brings Me Love by Bad Company and Can't Find My Way Home by Blind Faith.
Cassie basically tells everyone their real names in this episode but when they question the friend of one of the deceased, Dean tells him they're from All Natural Mutual insurance company
Sam drives the Impala in this episode more than once. He's driving it at the end of the episode while Dean is eager to take a nap.
Dean wears John's jacket
They light bones on fire but we don't see with what. They pour the gas, but whether by lighter or matches is anyone's guess
This hunt takes place in  Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Recognizable Guest Stars: Kathleen Noone as Audrey
According to the Hollywood Reporter this episode is the highest rated of all the Supernatural episodes for same-day viewing. 5.82 million people watched this one when it aired (compared to the 5.69 who watched the pilot episode)
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vintagecandy · 9 months ago
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Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao
As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.
Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!
So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.
To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.
For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.
As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.
Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.
But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.
Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.
As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.
What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.
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sacr1ficialang3l · 7 days ago
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The darker the fruit, the sweeter.𖤐
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DEAN WINCHESTER X GOTH!READER (meet her)
SUMMARY: The brothers and reader are investigating a new case when they makes a new furry friend. Dean is not a big fan of him at first, but they both soon find out that they are more alike than they expected. 5.3k
WARNINGS: fem!reader. this is all pretty fluffy and cute. finally getting together.
NOTES: goth!reader is back! I genuinely love writing for her so much. I had a more complex plot for this idea but it was way too long as it is. Maybe one day I will expand it and post it in ao3 instead. Let me know if you'd be interested in that! As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3
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You hated hunts when you didn’t know what you were dealing with, but they were usually also the most “fun”, as fun as hunting monsters that can kill you can get. 
Because yes, vengeful spirits and vamp nests and werewolves were always easy to recognize, and more or less an easy gig. But when the creature was unknown, it was dangerous. Not knowing what you were dealing with could make the difference between life and death, but the research was just so much fun. 
Reading books and articles of lore about creatures all around the world, Sam and you hunched over his laptop for hours talking about Telkhines, or maybe an unicorn? And What the hell is a selkie?
It was like a big game of Clue where you had to put together who, where, and with what. Just that in this game, you could be the next victim, or Sam, or Dean. 
Anyway, the important thing was, you didn’t know how to feel right now. 
People had been disappearing without any explanation, not a trace of them anywhere. There was no connection or similarities between the victims, all different ages and different genders. It had to be your kind of thing, because the people would disappear from their home, usually at night, but there was never any sign of break-in, and it was very improbable that so many people from the same town had just decided to ditch for no reason. 
That is why, after a long day of talking to victims’ families and going over every police report and lore book available, Sam, Dean, and you return to the motel room with exhausted expressions and slumped shoulders.
The night was cold, and you couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and finally get some sleep, your feet aching from the platform boots you refused to stop wearing and your eyeliner smudged after you accidentally rubbed your eyes three hours into researching. 
When you had checked into the motel room that morning, you were told that there was only one room available. This was something that happened every once in a while, and if you had to be honest, it didn’t really bother you. Yes, three grown adults in one shitty motel room was a little cramped, but you had spent so much time alone, it felt nice to be around people, especially people you trusted as much as you trusted the Winchester brothers. This was also why you never minded sharing a bed. It was… warmer, less lonely. 
So every time this happened, you would swap who you share with. 
Sharing a bed with Sam was fine. He was huge and would eventually push you to the edge of the mattress, but it was fine. 
Sharing with Dean, on the other hand, was an ordeal. 
He would usually try to take the couch, except when the motel was shitty enough to not have a couch or for it to be more akin to a huge rock than a comfortable place to lay down. Those times, you forced Dean to sleep in the same bed with you. 
“It’s not big deal, Dean. Come on, stop throwing a tantrum. It is cold, get into bed.”
That would usually do the trick. You would lay awkwardly next to each other, both of you on your back and facing the ceiling. But then, when the only thing around you was the darkness and silence of the night, you would get more comfortable. Turning around in the bed, facing each other, knees brushing or arms touching. You would listen to the other breath, and your eyes would sometimes meet under the barely-there moonlight filtering through the window, both of you frozen, but feeling more at peace than you ever had. One night, when Dean had an especially bad case of insomnia, you ended up running your hand up and down his back until he fell asleep.
But you were friends, of course.
This time it was Dean’s turn to share, and you were equally excited and terrified. 
It all leaves your mind when you find a huge, majestic doberman sitting down in front of your motel room. The sight of the dog immediately makes all exhaustion fly away from your body, but before you can say or do anything, Dean is taking a step towards it.
“Excuse me, dude.” He murmurs, trying to get around the dog. 
The doberman immediately snarls, snapping his sharp teeth towards Dean. You watch as Dean jumps back, and in a reaction that you know is pure instinct from fighting monsters for years, he gets ready to fight. He doesn’t hurt the dog, doesn’t even try to. But his shoulders tighten in that way they do when he is expecting something to jump him, and he is thinking what the best way to knock it down is. 
Before anything else can happen, you grab Dean’s arm and pull him back.
“Don’t.” You command firmly, quickly dropping to your knees in front of the animal, who was still baring his teeth. You ignore Dean’s warning and you simply make yourself small while quickly taking all of the rings in your right hand off, sliding them into your jacket pocket before slowly, very carefully offering your hand to the dog.
Dean says your name urgently again. “I don’t think you should-”
“Shhh.” 
The doberman, who was almost taller than you as you kneeled on the floor, was still baring his teeth and tense, but he wasn’t snarling anymore. You slowly move your hand closer, palm down, and he growls when you get a little too close. Both Sam and Dean call your name this time.
“It’s okay.” You murmur gently, for both the brothers and the dog. “It’s okay, pretty boy. I won’t hurt you, okay?” 
Your sweet, soft voice seems to calm down the animal, and he moves his snout closer, smelling your hand from a distance. He is careful at first, hesitant, but a second later he is knocking the palm of your hand with the top of his head. 
“There you go, see? It’s okay.” You pet the top of his head, movements soft and slow. When the doberman stops baring his teeth, you scoot closer. “You’re not dangerous.You’re just scared, right?”
By now both your hands are petting the dog, cradling his little (or not so little) face, rubbing up and down his neck, scratching behind his ears. 
“See?” You ask again, but this time you do turn to look at Sam and Dean, who are looking down at you in disbelief. “There was no need to fight, he’s a sweetheart.”
“He looked ready to bite my head off.” Dean grumbles, and you are about to retort when the cold nose of the doberman hits your neck and he starts to sniffle you, from the collar of your jacket to the apple of your cheek. He ends up licking your face and it makes you giggle, leaning your face away and turning back to the giant animal.
“He was just scared, weren’t you, boy?” You ask in your best puppy voice. “The world has been cruel to you, and you learned to bite first.” You whisper as you notice how cold the dog was, how there was no collar around his neck, and the long scar across his right eye. Not to mention the fact that his ears and tail were cropped. “But all you need is a little love, isn’t that right? A little kindness and it all melts away.”
The dog’s nose nuzzles against your chest again and you almost melt from the inside out. You keep gently petting him as you turn back to Dean, who was now looking down at you with dark, unreadable eyes. It leaves you breathless for a moment, and you don’t know what even prompted that reaction. 
You open your mouth to say… honestly, you don't even know what you were going to say, but thankfully Sam, who looks like all the exhaustion has also banished from his body and is now smirking, walks past you and opens the door to the motel room.
You quickly get up from the floor, the doberman following your lead. You walk up to the door, both Dean and the dog behind you. 
“Come on in, boy.” You point towards the inside of the room when the dog– you would give him a name, but then you’d get too attached– stopped right before walking into the room.
“No way.” Dean interjects, arms crossed, and frowning. 
“Dean, it is freezing out here. We can’t let him sleep outside.” 
“I refuse to sleep with dog smell all over the room.” He insisted, and was that a pout?
“I’m team ‘he stays’” Sam announces, still grinning, before making his way into the bathroom. 
You cross your arms too, turning to look at Dean with a challenging look on your face.
“That’s two against one. And if I have to choose between you and the doggy, then good luck sleeping in the Impala.” 
You hold Dean’s eyes for a long moment, not faltering for a second. He looks at you in disbelief before he seems to notice that there’s no arguing with you in this one. You were incredibly stubborn sometimes, like when you refused to leave the cemetery that first night you met.
But that was the reason why you were here right now, so maybe you were right about the dog. He would never admit it, though.
He simply sighs in defeat, shoulders dropping, and a pleased grin quickly takes over your face. You do a little jump, and Dean once again feels impressed by how well you move in those high boots. 
“Yes!” You giggle with that sweet smile on your face, your lipstick faded from the long day out but still somehow that smooth wine color that made Dean weak in the knees. “Now come in, pretty boy.”
The dog, who had just been looking up at you during the conversation, seems to finally be convinced to walk inside the motel room. He still turns around to check that you’re walking inside too, sitting right by your side as you take off your jacket and boots.
It was adorable.
It had been a few hours since you had gotten to the motel. Right now, Sam was doing some more research while Dean called up Bobby to see if he could find anything. You had walked to the nearby grocery store to buy some dog food and some plastic containers. You served the food and some water on them when you and the dog returned from the store, since he refused to leave your side. 
You had to be honest, walking alone at night never felt safer with a huge black doberman walking alongside you. For just one second, you could live out your goth princess dreams. 
Now, the pup was eating his food. The poor thing was probably starving out there in the street. You wonder who could have abandoned such a beautiful animal, and leave him to freeze on the street. The dog was friendly enough, sometimes sniffing at Sam’s shoes but hiding behind your legs when he tried to pet him. He was clearly still scared, and you feel a sense of pride fill your chest at the knowledge that the dog decided to trust you.
You change into your pajamas and lay on the bed, groaning as your tense muscles finally relax against the almost comfortable surface of the shitty mattress. You hear the sound of paws hitting the floor and you turn your head to look down the edge of the bed, where the doberman was staring up at you with– there was no other way to describe it than puppy eyes.
You chuckle, and get more comfortable on the bed before patting the spot next to you once, and that was enough for the dog to jump. 
“Oh, come on! I gotta sleep on that bed.” Dean complains, but you ignore it in order to laugh when instead of the big space next to you, the dog decides to climb on top of you, laying his head on your chest and making you groan at the weight on your stomach.
“Seriously, dude?” You ask the dog, who only licks your cheek once and seems to get even heavier. 
You lay there on the bed, a giant puppy on top of you with no way of moving and no heart to push him away. 
You hear Sam laugh and you try to look at the brothers past the big fur ball resting right in front of your face. You catch sight of the younger one’s smirk and Dean’s unimpressed face. He looked almost offended, and it was hilarious. You laugh, and it causes the doberman to tilt his head and look at you curiously. Your heart aches, and you remind yourself not to get attached.
You sigh, starting to pet the dog gently. You distantly hear Sam and Dean chat and bicker about something, but you focus on the puppy on your chest. You scratch behind his ears and boop his nose with yours, murmuring sweet nothings under your breath. 
Humans were complicated. You had realized from a young age that not many people felt as much as you did, not everyone had so many emotions that they threatened to spill out every time they opened their mouth. Your heart was too big for your body, your mother used to say when you were a kid. But she didn’t say it as a good thing, because it made you too vulnerable, too weak, too much like her. So when you were confronted with the cruelty of this world, when you discovered how awful people could be, you learned to keep that part of yourself hidden, locked away in a little box on your chest that only opened up when you were writing poetry or when it was time for your monthly crying session. 
Or when you were in the presence of animals. Animals were pure creatures, sweet and loving and unjudging. When you found a stray cat in a cemetery, or when you encountered some critter while foraging, or when little moths landed next to you in the abandoned house you used to spend your time in, that little box opened up and you let all the words stuck in the back of your throat come out. Because animals were the only creatures that deserved them. Or that’s what you thought, until some green-eyed hunter, who at first looked at you with the same seemingly angry but actually scared eyes as the doberman had, had made his way into your heart and was now threatening to break the lock that kept the box closed.
You brush your thumb over the long scar across the dog’s eye. It is healed, but it also looks recent. 
“You’re so beautiful.” You murmur to the pup, giggling when he pushes his head up into your hand for more ear scratches.
“Aw, thank you.” Dean places a hand on his chest, as if he was actually touched by the compliment. He was now standing on the side of the bed, looking down at you with a teasing grin. But there was something in his eyes, an edge that you couldn’t recognize. “I knew you wouldn’t resist my charms.”
You laugh at that, shaking your head. Noticing that your attention wasn’t on him anymore, the doberman turns his head towards Dean, and he snarls again. 
“Hey, nuh-uh.” You scold the pup firmly, tapping his snout softly twice. It stops the snarling, but the dog is still baring his teeth. “Dean is a friend, okay? He is amiable, even if he doesn’t look like it.” You can’t help but tease Dean, making him roll his eyes.
The doberman’s eyes stay wearily on Dean, but he doesn’t make a move to attack. You try to sit up on the bed, but the dog seems to somehow push you down into the mattress. You laugh, accepting your fate and extending your hand towards Dean instead.
“Give me your hand.” Dean looks at you with wide eyes for a second, but then he places his hand on yours. You ignore the feeling of his rough skin on yours, how warm he is in comparison with how cold you always are, how his silver ring feels against your palm, how much you wanted to intertwine your fingers with his. 
Instead, you move both your hands closer to the dog’s nose, slowly.
“If the mutt bites me, I’m gonna kill you.” Dean warns, but he sounds a little out of breath. 
The pup lets out a low growl, and you move your other hand to scratch behind his ear. 
“It’s okay, I promise. He’s a friend.” Your reassuring tone seems to calm him down a bit, and he slowly leans in to sniff at your joined hands. You slowly move your hand until it is holding Dean’s wrist instead of his palm, letting the dog smell only Dean. He apparently deems the human acceptable, because he stops baring his teeth and leans the tiniest bit forward. You guide Dean’s hand to the top of the doberman’s head, letting it rest there softly for the hunter to pet him. “See, puppy?” you whisper towards the dog, but your eyes move up to meet Dean’s. “He may be a little rough around the edges, but he’s actually harmless.”
That makes Dean snort, eyes darting down to the dog still laying on your chest while he scratches his head, and you think his cheeks flush a little. 
“There are several creatures, both human and non-human, that might disagree with that.” He jokes, but his voice is softer and low. It is your time to snort.
“Well, I was never known for agreeing with the general public.” Dean meets your eyes again, and something passes in between you two. Your breath hitches at the rawness in his gaze, and then your fingers bump where you were both petting the dog. “I always had a soft spot for what others consider scary.”
A long moment of silence, your fingers brush against his again, Dean opens his mouth.
And then the doberman is licking your cheek and almost all the way up to your forehead. You let out a surprised shriek and you turn your face further to the side, laughing and trying to get away from the dog’s wet kisses.
“Hey! Stop, boy. Sto– ah!” You are trying to push the pup off of you, but there is no way of pushing him away. You try to turn his face away with your hand but instead he gives you a little bite. 
It is playful, a barely-there nip with his front teeth. You look at him with an offended look in your eyes, and you can almost swear the pup is grinning. Dean starts laughing at the scene, and you pout, turning to Sam for help. The younger Winchester is useless, simply giving you a shrug and going back to his research. You stare at the ceiling and start to question your life choices.
“How did I end up trapped in a motel room with three insufferable boys?”
Dean ends up not letting the dog sleep in the bed. You somehow manage to move him from on top of you and lay down a couple of blankets and some of your clothes on the floor next to the bed for the pup to sleep in. 
It was late into the night already, and you were half asleep already, lulled by Dean’s warmth. Because you gave one of the blankets to the doberman, now Dean and you had to share the other one. He complains about it for like an hour, and you had to admit the night was cold enough for one blanket to not be enough. But once you threaten him with letting the dog on the bed and sending him to the floor, Dean accepts sharing the blanket.
It turned out to be as much of a bad idea as it was a good one. Not only did it force you to be even closer to each other to fit in, but it also gave place for a lot more physical contact. Now when your knee brushes his thigh, it is skin on skin instead of over the covers, when his fingers brush your lower back, it is right where your Type O Negative shirt has lifted up. It was a magical kind of torture. 
At some point when you are more asleep than awake, you feel a new weight on the mattress. You are too tired to even register what it is or what it could mean. You just scoot to the side, giving the creature more space and pressing closer to the figure next to you. You would think that by this point, your hunter’s instincts would be more developed, but you weren’t very smart when you were sleepy. 
You quickly fall back into unconsciousness completely when the heat radiating from both your sides now envelopes you. You were cold almost all the time. Even in the summer, somehow your hands managed to find a way to stay icy. On low temperature nights like this, it was worse. You didn’t mind it, you enjoyed the cold, but the boys constantly complained when you touched them with your freezing hands. But right now, with two extra-hot bodies pressed against either side of you, you sleep through the night like you haven't in years.
The next time you wake up, it takes you a few seconds to understand where you are. The bed feels smaller than it did when you went to sleep, and there is a new weight on your waist. It isn’t until you hear two different snores that you finally open your eyes, confused. In front of you, curled up in the little nook created by your torso and bended knees, is the doberman sleeping peacefully. He somehow got into the bed at some point in the night, you register, and now he is taking up half of the bed. One of the snores is coming from him, but the other one comes from behind you, as well as the pressure on your middle.
A little panicked, you turn your head around slowly. As you feared, Dean has an arm around you, his chest pressed against your back. He too was fast asleep, mouth slightly open and his grip on you firm. You turn to look at the other bed, but you find it empty. Sam had probably gone out for his morning run, and you let yourself panic for a second. 
The little grunt that Dean lets out when you try to move and the way his arm tightens on your waist make you feel a little dizzy. You slowly, very slowly, slide down the bed. It is a miracle that Dean doesn't wake up, he must be really exhausted for his instincts not to alert him of the movement. The puppy also stays asleep, and you quietly scurry to the bathroom. You wash your face with cold water when you notice how flushed your cheeks are. You aren’t a high schooler, you can handle a little cuddling with a close friend.
But Dean was more than that, wasn’t him?
You brush your teeth, cursing yourself for forgetting to bring a clean set of clothes so you could shower. You mentally prepare to walk outside for them, repeating to yourself that Dean was asleep the whole time, he probably didn’t even notice what happened. It was fine, you were fine. 
(It had been years since someone had held you like that, it wasn’t fine.)
You step out of the bathroom in the hope that Dean would still be asleep, but you’re not that lucky. Instead, you are met with two sleepy boys staring at you from the bed. Both the doberman and Dean were now sitting on the mattress, Dean with messy hair and half-lidded eyes, the dog with a strikingly similar drowsy demeanor. They turn to you when they hear the sound of the bathroom door opening, and at the exact same time, they tilt their heads to the side in confusion. 
You stand there, staring at the big bad dog and big bad hunter in front of you, who are now soft and sleepy and pouty (at least Dean was) while they stare back with questioning looks. Almost as if wondering why’d you leave the bed, but that was probably wishful thinking. Like this, the resemblance between them was uncanny. 
“Good morning?” You ask tentatively when Dean doesn’t say anything.
The pup seems to finally snap out of it at the sound of your voice, and he jumps off the bed to say hi to you. He wags his tail and presses his head to your hand until you give him a good deal of head scratches before he is moving to where the food and water bowls are on the floor. 
You turn to Dean after that, and he looks a little more awake at least. His eyes are squinting and his eyebrows are furrowed, as if he is trying to remember something.
“Did the dog sleep with us in the bed?” You ignore the way his voice was even deeper after waking up.
You giggle, nodding. “Yeah, he got up at some point in the night. I don’t know how we managed to all fit.”
Dean chuckles at that while he rubs a hand over his face, and you beg that he doesn’t remember anything else. 
“Did he sleep next to me? I swear I could feel something pressing against me through the night, but then I woke up and he was laying down pretty far away from me.”
That makes you freeze for a second, but you just shake your head nonchalantly.
“Nah, he slept right when you found him all night. Maybe it was a Succubus” You joke casually while you move to grab a clean set of clothes. You had never been happier to see Sam than when he walks into the motel room right at that moment. Your eyes meet for a second, and you take in his post-running state at the same time he notices the clothes and the toiletry bag in your arms before the two of you both rush towards the bathroom.
“Not fair! I am all gross and sweaty.” Sam complains when you get there first.
You giggle, closing and locking the door behind you without saying anything.
“I could swear I was hugging something.”
You had finally solved the case two days later. As it turned out, the creature that was kidnapping people in town was a skinwalker. The reason why you hadn’t figured it out yet is because this one, instead of feeding on people’s hearts and leaving the bodies there for you to find, was actually dragging people from their homes and “storing” them in some abandoned house outside of town. You are able to discover all of this because your new friend, as you discovered that same day, was actually the pet of one of the people kidnapped. The scar over his eye had been made by the skinwalker the night it attacked his owner, and the puppy was able to track the scent of it once Sam, Dean, and you had found some fur in the house of one of the victims. 
Once you entered the abandoned house, you had found most of the victims still alive, all tied up in chains and waiting to have their hearts eaten out. Apparently, as the skinwalker told you and the brothers in his best attempt at a villain monologue, he had been exiled from his pack and forced to become an outcast. Having lived all his life in a pack, he could barely fend for himself alone. He had gone hungry, almost starving to death. That was why now, in an almost feral state, he was making sure to have enough food stashed. 
As weird as this was, it was good news. You were able to kill the skinwalker and free all of the survivors. It was always nice when you were able to save more people than you had expected. In between the freed people there was the doberman’s owner– some guy in his forties with long, wavy black hair and a whole tattoo sleeve. Yeah, it fits. You watch as the guy and the dog meet again, how it was so clear that they loved each other, and even if you’re happy for them, you can’t help the way your heart aches at the knowledge that you would have to say goodbye to the pup.
The doberman runs towards you after he finishes saying hello to his owner, and Sam quickly explains to the guy the dog’s stay with you while you kneel in front of the doberman and whisper your farewell. The puppy licks your cheek again and it almost makes your eyes water. The owner thanks you for taking care of Billie Joe –of course the dude named the dog after Green Day– and they both leave.
You stare at their figures as they walk away in silence for a moment, not being able to help the pout that forms in your face. Sam goes to talk with some more of the surviving victims, while Dean stays by your side. 
“You know, maybe dogs aren’t that bad. Even if that one could barely stand me.”
You chuckle softly, It’s subtle –Dean wouldn’t make it obvious– but you know he’s trying to lift your spirits. You shake your head, turning to look into his eyes. 
It always shocked you how beautiful Dean could look even after a hunt, when he was covered in dirt and all bloody.
Then again, you always had a thing for hot guys covered in blood.
“I think you two were just too much alike.” You tease, bumping his shoulder with yours. 
He laughs, but it’s softer than usual– quieter, less guarded. His usual edge is missing, replaced by something warmer, more open.
“Maybe.” He shrugs, looking at the ground before his gaze returns to you, taking in the way your smudged eyeliner made your eyes pop out, the way your black hair looked almost blue under the street lights, how gentle your smile was even with your sharp teeth and spiky jewelry. “You seemed to like him, though. A lot.”
A long silence follows the comment as you two stare at each other. The tension, simmering under the surface for weeks now, threatens to boil over. The memory of Dean’s arm around you while sleeping comes back to your mind, and you decide that if there was anyone you could trust with the key to the box in your chest, it was him.
“Yeah, I did.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper. “I never could resist a good train wreck.”
The next thing you register is the feeling of Dean’s lips over yours, and for a moment you wonder if this is why poets write. Because the sensations that travel all through your body as you wrap your arms around Dean’s neck and his hands wrap around your waist, the taste of his tongue, and the smell that clings to him are all so otherworldly and hauntingly magical that you feel compelled to delve into the entire English language to find the perfect words to describe it, but you just know that nothing will ever be able to convey what it was like to be held in Dean Winchester’s arms.
“Does this mean I can convince you of adopting a dog now?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“What about a cat?”
“No. And there is no amount of kissing that can change my mind.”
“What about a raven? Or a spider!”
“God, what did I get myself into.”
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NOTES: I am not completely satisfied with this so I might revisit it some day. Still, I hope you enjoyed it.
TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera<3
If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!
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wolvietxt · 3 months ago
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ᰔ open arms !
↳ sam winchester x reader
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it wasn’t that you didn’t feel things - you did. you just had years of practice keeping everything under control. life as a hunter didn’t exactly leave much room for emotional outbursts. when monsters were tearing through towns and lives were on the line, feelings had to take a back seat. the job came first, always.
sam had noticed it about you from the moment you joined him and dean. you were quiet, methodical, and calm in a way that bordered on eerie. even when you got hurt - a gash on your arm, a dislocated shoulder, or a nasty bruise - your reaction was always the same: a small wince followed by a flat, almost dismissive ouch before you patched yourself up and moved on. it wasn’t that you were unfriendly, just… hard to read. sam wasn’t used to people who didn’t wear their emotions on their sleeve, especially after spending his whole life with dean.
but that didn’t stop him from caring about you. in fact, it made him care more. he wanted to understand you, to know what went on behind your exterior. he could tell there was more to you, even if you didn’t let it show.
this week, though, sam could see the cracks starting to form. it had been a string of bad hunts, one after another, with barely enough time to breathe in between. you’d been thrown into a wall during the first one, narrowly avoiding a worse injury. then there was the nest of vamps that almost got the drop on you before sam stepped in. the worst, though, had been the spirit - a vengeful one that got under your skin in ways none of the others had. it had dragged up something personal, something you hadn’t shared with anyone. sam didn’t know what it was, but he’d seen the haunted look in your eyes when it taunted you, and it hadn’t gone away since.
“you okay?” sam asked for what felt like the tenth time that week. he was standing in the doorway to your room in the bunker, watching as you packed up your gear for the next hunt.
“i’m fine,” you said, your tone as flat as ever.
sam frowned. he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “you sure? you’ve been kind of quiet lately. more than usual, i mean.”
you paused for a fraction of a second before zipping your duffel shut. “i said i’m fine, sam.”
he didn’t push, but he didn’t leave, either. “all right,” he said finally, his voice soft. “but if you ever want to talk… you know i’m here, right?”
you didn’t answer, just slung your bag over your shoulder and walked past him.
it all came to a head three days later. the hunt had gone sideways, as they so often did. the werewolf you’d been tracking turned out to have a partner, and things had gotten messy. dean had taken a nasty hit to the ribs, and you’d ended up pinned under the second werewolf before sam managed to kill it. by the time you made it back to the bunker, everyone was bruised, battered, and dead on their feet.
sam was the first to notice something was wrong. while dean grumbled his way to the kitchen for a beer, you stood frozen in the middle of the war room, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. sam’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his voice gentle.
“hey. you okay?”
that was all it took. the question, so simple and so sincere, broke something inside you. your shoulders sagged, and before you could stop them, tears started streaming down your face. you turned away, trying to hide it, but sam was already there, his hand resting lightly on your arm.
“y/n,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “what’s wrong?”
“i’m fine,” you said automatically, but the words cracked and faltered as more tears fell. you shook your head, biting your lip to try and keep yourself together, but it was no use.
sam didn’t say anything, just guided you to the couch and sat you down. he crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees as he looked up at you, his hazel eyes warm and steady.
“it’s okay,” he said quietly. “whatever it is, it’s okay. you don’t have to hold it all in.”
that was when it all came spilling out. the frustration, the exhaustion, the guilt - everything you’d been bottling up for weeks, maybe months. you told him about how the hunts were starting to weigh on you, how you felt like you were always one step away from failing, from losing someone you cared about. you told him about the spirit and the things it had said, how it had dredged up memories you’d spent years trying to bury.
sam listened to it all without interrupting, his expression soft and understanding. when you finally ran out of words, he reached up and gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
“you’ve been carrying all of that by yourself?” he asked, his voice filled with quiet disbelief.
you shrugged, looking down at your hands. “it’s my job. it’s what we do.”
“you don’t have to do it alone,” sam said firmly. “you’ve got me. you’ve got dean. we’re a team, y/n. you don’t have to keep everything bottled up.”
his words hit you harder than you expected, and fresh tears welled up in your eyes. before you could stop yourself, you reached out, gripping the front of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. sam didn’t hesitate. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, comforting hug. his chin rested lightly on top of your head, and he murmured soothing words into your hair.
“you’re not alone, sweetheart,” he said again, his voice steady and reassuring. “i’ve got you.”
for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe it. you let yourself sink into sam’s embrace, his warmth and strength a balm to your frayed nerves. his hands moved in slow, comforting patterns across your back, and you felt the tension in your body start to ease, bit by bit.
“thanks, sam,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.
“anytime,” he replied, holding you a little tighter. “i mean it, y/n. anytime you need me, i’ll be here.”
and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that, too.
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ᰔ sam winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing
taglist form linked in pinned post :3
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crimsoncandy04 · 3 months ago
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Good day! Tomorrow or later I should say because it's already 10:41 pm, it's my birthday! Dec 29, can you please make Scaramouche is obsessed with us? Like OBSESSED OBSESSED, make this as my birthday gift please! 🥹
As you wish. (I can't say no. I'm now bound by birthday law. When the special boy or girl makes a birthday request, one simply MUST comply. This is what the ancient texts state. Otherwise the stars will declare thee an absolute asshole for at least a year.)
Happy birthday! I hope this is to your liking ;) and may you see many more yearly returns after this!
(I really tried. Usually I take a while to write because my inspiration is slow to come and quick to leave. But I really wanted to give you something. I hope this doesn't read as rushed.)
TW: Paimon abuse.
❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜
Recently a bunch of strange things had been happening to you and Traveler. First a bunch of your supplies had been discovered missing one morning (Traveler had blamed themselves and believed they had probably just neglected to notice some stuff falling out of their backpack while fighting), but a few hours later, both of you were swore you were being followed too (Traveler could recognize human footsteps but every time they tried to turn around and go scout the area for thieves, there was no one around), after that a few days later, you would discover that your favorite sweater had vanished from your tent, Traveler had their tent knocked over completely one night, and even woke up with their clothing sewn into the floor of it the next day.
If you didn't know any better, you'd have guessed a vengeful spirit was stalking you both. And that these cruel and disturbing pranks were its way of exacting revenge.
But that couldn't be possible right?
Thankfully the activity had ceased for a few days after the last misfortune had befallen Traveler, and both of you had hoped that you could rest easy before finally heading to explore the nation of geo for the first time ever!
It was an exciting idea. However, the night before you two were supposed to set off, something happened again and this time it was serious.
Paimon had been hurt.
It wasn't serious thankfully.
But someone had been cruel enough to think that chucking a rock at her head would be funny and after picking up a bleeding and weeping Paimon from the grass, Traveler had had enough and grabbed their sword and said they were going to catch this monster once and for all. They then left Paimon in your care as they left the campsite and headed into the trees. A look of pure unbridled hatred and silent fury in their golden eyes.
And so after that, you spent a little while sitting next to the tiny sleeping fairy inside Traveler's tent and watching over her.
You hadn't been expecting to suddenly hear footsteps outside of your own empty tent across the small clearing sometime later after nightfall.
You became eerily still.
Something didn't feel right.
It was too quiet.
Why was Traveler just hanging around outside?
You slowly got up and headed for the opening in the tent to see if your friend was okay, but just as you were about to pull back the fabric and look out, something in your very spirit made you stop dead.
Call it intuition.
Or a gut feeling.
But something in you was telling you to stay quiet and not let whoever was out there hear you.
So was this a thief?
You instinctively reached for your dagger in the pocket of your coat. You weren't the fighter here. This was true. You were the healer to Traveler's warrior but that's what kept you guys compatible on the battlefield and friends everywhere else.
However that didn't mean you didn't know how to stab someone in self defense if you needed to.
A strange soft yet sinister voice suddenly caught your attention from outside.
"Your friend has gone to play hero again. Leaving you to care for that...thing."
That voice was familiar. But where had you heard it before?
You clutched your weapon tighter.
"They're foolish. Leaving someone like you to care for the injured. Someone who... can't even manage to grasp their weapon properly."
You barely had time to scream before you realized that the voice was in the tent with you. Strong hands moving to cover your mouth and wrap around your waist as you feel someone's cool breath against your ear.
"Don't fight me. I'd hate to start off on the wrong foot by stunning you." The voice cooed in your ear. You had been trying to turn your head and kick. But your attacker sensed your intention and easily knocked you unconscious with one swift strike to your head.
You woke up later laying in a strange bedroom. The scent of incense and a strange perfume filling the air.
You try to sit up but something prevents you. You feel with your hands and discover that you are quite literally chained to the bedframe behind you. A thick metal collar and chain leash secure you in place. You can roll over but that's about it.
"Sleep well?" The same voice from earlier asks. You look around the dim candle-lit bedroom and see a barely illuminated figure standing at the foot of the bed.
"Why did you bring me here? Who even are you?" You ask cautiously. Afraid of accidentally angering your kidnapper in your defenseless state.
"You caught my interest. So I decided to keep you."
"Are you serious? You can't do that! What about my friend? He'll wonder if I'm dead!"
The figure was on you in the blink of an eye. It was then that you finally see him clearly.
A beautiful young man with thick indigo hair and eyes framed by elegant maroon colored eyeliner. He was breathtaking.
And suddenly you almost didn't care that he was sitting on your stomach and pinning your hands on either side of your head.
"Don't talk about those insignificant beings. Never again. from now on only talk about me okay?" You didn't know if this was jealousy or ego from the way he said it but you really didn't wanna push your luck. However, he seemed to misunderstand.
"I wasn't insinuating anything. Traveler is like my sibling-gah!" Suddenly the pale man's hand wrapped around your throat.
"of course it's them. That annoying pest is always ruining things for me. Listen closely starlight, because I'm only going to warn you once..." He leans down and whispers in your ear.
"I better not ever hear that name leave your mouth after today. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I need to. Don't push me." He then loosens his hold but doesn't pull away entirely.
Instead shifting in his position and laying on top of you before kissing you deeply. You moan a little as you feel him shove his tongue in your mouth and move to spread your legs so he can be between them. His hardness already catching your attention as you feel him grind against you almost roughly.
"relax. Don't be nervous. I promise I'll make this hurt in all the right ways only~" the man teased as he broke the kiss and began to leave small kisses on your chest and stomach.
Why did this feel good? This was a bad man. You didn't even know his name!
You feel him tugging your underwear aside and giving your clit a gentle lick.
It was enough to make you audibly gasp.
"look at you, making just the most disgustingly cute noises~" he gives your clit more attention. Holding your thighs apart as he sucked and licked at your precious nub even as you started shaking.
"ah~ suck harder ~ please mister!" You feel him hum against your cunt as he hears your wanton plea.
"it's Scaramouche sweetheart. Use it." He then continued to tease your pussy with his lips and tongue as you started to feel your insides flutter.
"Scaramouche~ don't stop! Fuck this is amazing...!" You try to squeeze your thighs but scara keeps them forced apart still. You're stuck as you feel him suddenly shove his tongue deep into your pussy. Tasting your soft and moist inner walls as you suddenly cry out. This sensation pushes you over the edge completely and you end up climaxing harder than you ever had in your entire life.
Scaramouche licks the side of his mouth and grins mischievously at you from between your legs. Mumbling something about how adorable you look when at his mercy.
He isn't finished though.
You watch as Scaramouche begins to remove a few layers of his clothes until he gets to his shorts. Easily tugging them down and freeing his cock afterwards. Your eyes widen.
There was definitely a reason he tried to get you excited first.
Scaramouche was huge.
It felt like a threat on your life actually.
Especially when he teased his tip at your entrance and then finally began to slide more of his enormous shaft into you.
You try to say something but he quickly covers your mouth with his hand.
"shh...you can handle it. Relax."
You wince a little as you feel your body struggling to accommodate Scara's dick. Yet once it's finally in, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable. He gives you a few seconds to adjust before pulling nearly all the way back out and then suddenly slamming into you.
It takes him kissing you again to keep you from screaming as both pleasure and pain overwhelmed every inch of your body.
Why? You were so confused right now. This shouldn't feel good yet...
"scara you're too big! Ah~" he doesn't let you finish before thrusting against your sweet spot. HARD.
He has a smug look on his face.
"I knew you could take it. Fuck. You feel better than I imagined~" he groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and began to pound deeper into your aching cunt. Making you practically mewl as you clung to him as well.
"I waited for so long, for just the right moment...and finally after making that bastard leave...I could have you ~" he grunted as he placed another messy kiss on your lips.
You felt both good and bad shivers run down your spine at his words.
It had been him?
Scaramouche had been the one tormenting you and Traveler for the past week? Why?
He seemed to read your mind.
"because you caught my attention. You... interested me. And I decided to keep you. You're not leaving. Don't ever try." He emphasized his words with an almost painful thrust against your cervix.
You moaned uncontrollably as he then did it again and again.
"This body is mine. I'll use it how I please. I'll breed this pretty cunt every day if I want~"
You feel yourself getting close again.
Why were his words turning you on so much?
Fuck you wanted him to ruin you.
He quickened his pace after a few minutes and you knew he was getting close as well.
His possessive gaze fell on your flushed face and bouncing tits and for a second you swore you saw something reminiscent of affection in his eyes. Yet it was quickly replaced by coldness again and lust.
So that was why...?
Scaramouche loved you...
Maybe that was why this was bearable to you.
Did you perhaps feel a little attracted to him as well? You looked at him through watery eyes and felt your heart race upon seeing his piercing gaze meet yours.
Yes. You did like him. At least a little.
Scaramouche finished inside you not long after this realization of yours. You ended up cumming together and after that he went to actually lay beside you for a bit. Pulling you against his chest as he played with your hair and just seemed to get lost in the feeling of you on his arm.
This wasn't so bad.
The bedroom you were locked in was rather spacious and extravagant looking. You were laying upon soft silken sheets and the perfume from earlier made you feel relaxed and comfortable where you lay.
He could have locked you in a basement.
Clearly it wasn't that bad here.
And Scaramouche wasn't bad either.
You hugged him tightly and fell asleep in his arms.
This psychotic stalker may have gone about his feelings the wrong way. But he seemed to not be a danger to you.
And so for now, you reasoned...
That you could love him too.
❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜🖤❤️💜
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sereneabyyss · 1 year ago
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Ouija Board At Bat Gas (Dead On Main)
Bat Gas was an unfortunate little, dingy, abandoned gas station situated just outside of Crime Alley in an area where it couldn't be said to be part of The Alley, but was close enough that anyone not from there would never dare to fill up their tanks there in fear of getting mugged and none of the residents of Crime Alley ever bothered filling their tanks, if the car they were using ran out, most just simply jumped at the opportunity to steal another. Safe to say, the gas station hadn't lasted long in the business world.
Thus, it sat there, vines overgrowing the concrete flooring and winding up the empty fuel pumps. Like all abandoned things in Gotham, stories of ghosts haunting and wails of grief filled any conversation about Bat Gas. Many of the street kids liked to make dares out of venturing into the den and going so far as to touch one of the pumps. Risks of rubber bound vipers striking out, possessed by a vengeful spirit, only seemed to fill them with determination to complete the dares of their friends.
Perhaps those stories were what brought Jason Todd out at bat gas on December 25th, a Ouija Board in hand. The original plans to spend the holidays at the Wayne Manor had been scrapped with the raging of pits and glow of green eyes leaving every other member of his family walking on tip toes around him. Normally that would mean ditching Jason Todd for the comfort of Red Hood, except there were no issues in Crime Alley for Hood to take care of. Every bastard seemed to have scampered into hiding in time for the New Year. So, he was left as he was, a lost Jason Todd just looking for some way to ignore the mess of his life on Christmas Day.
So. He was going to use a Ouija Board to see if Bat Gas was actually haunted. What could he lose? His dignity if anyone stumbled upon him? He forsook that years ago.
Walking onto the cracked concrete, it was like an icy wave of contentment washed over him. Any lingering Pit Rage simmered beneath the surface before mellowing out completely. The knots in his chest unwrapped themselves and all that seemed left within him was a feeling of light-weightiness. Like the feeling when he was grappling between buildings and he was falling falling falling until the hook's line tightened and he was flying back up. He wasn't sure he had felt this way since the day he awoke half alive half monster.
(There was definitely something dead here. It was just so familiar. He would never be able to explain the feeling, but it was as if he was bathing in less angry Lazarus Pits.)
Danny perked up as the presence of a halfa (liminal? halfa? he couldn't tell exactly, something seemed off with both descriptions, but halfa was definitely the closest between them) entered the neat little gas station he had decided to make his temporary haunt.
He had decided to haunt the abandoned Bat Gas he had heard others talking about during Christmas, not wanting to deal with questions on why he didn't celebrate. (Seriously, after all the arguments every year and that one time with the possessed candy cane, he had given up any sort of Christmas Spirit he may have had before.) After visiting Mars last year on Christmas Day, he family had given up all hope of trying to get in contact with him for the entire day. So, he knew he would be free to haunt the cool looking gas station with no one hunting him down and trying to stick him in front of a tree with too many blinking lights and gaudy paper wrapping unnecessary trinkets he'll lose between his ribs after like three days.
But! There was a halfa entering his new haunt! And they were maybe ill! He had to see what that was about!
Peeking over the roof he was situated on, he watched as someone continued walking, something weird and rectangular looking in their arms. Tilting his head to the side, he slowly floated down, staying invisible as he took a peak at the stranger.
His eyes narrowed in on the rectangle object in the halfas arms. They placed it on the concrete, giving Danny room to finally look and- ohmygodwasthataouijaboard?! HE WAS GETTING OUIJA BOARDED! HE WAS SO GOING TO SHOVE THIS IN SKULKER'S FACE THE NEXT TIME THEY FOUGHT! THIS WAS EONS WORTH OF BRAGGING RIGHTS! HE WAS GETTING OUIJA BOARDED!
Silently clearing his throat, he sat in front of the halfa, allowing him to get a good look and... fuck, he was hot. Like, thighs that could absolutely crush a watermelon hot. Hair wind swept back with a little white etched into the front hot. A boyish, smugish, hottish face that just screamed danger hot. Hot enough this man could probably melt his ghost ice hot. Did Danny mention he was hot?
Maybe if his Christmases were always spent getting Ouija boarded by incredibly hot maybe halfas he'd have more Christmas Spirit. Santa, he knows you're real, send him this halfa again next Christmas and maybe he'll actually respect you.
The new halfa furrowed his eyebrows as he concentrated setting up the Ouija board properly and Danny almost fainted from how hot he was. Patting his cheeks sharply, he concentrated on the fact that he was getting to do his first Ouija Board! He had to look cool! He had to be smooth! This halfa was hot and Danny couldn't blow it!
"Oh Ghost who haunts this gas station, can you hear my voice?" The halfa called out and Danny had to hold himself together from freaking out over the man's voice. It was just perfect. It wasn't too harsh nor did it have the silken smooth feeling most liars had. It was gruff but in an experienced shit way. Oh my Ancients he could absolutely die once more and be the happiest ghost!
He giddily grabbed the little wood whatever-it-was-called in the halfas hand and slid it towards the YES option.
Jason blinked in shock as the planchette in his hand began moving without him forcing it. He had known something not quite alive was here in the gas station, but he hadn't expected it to actually be able to communicate. "I'm Jason, do you have a name?" Slowly, it began moving once more, spelling out P-H-A-N-T-O-M. Which, he wasn't necessarily expecting such a cheesy name, but it could have been worse... probably. "Nice to meet you Phantom. Why are you haunting Bat Gas? I don't recall there being any deaths here."
I-M B-O-R-E-D.
Yeah that was actually a fair enough reason in his books.
"Is there a reason you haven't passed on? Is something tethering you here?"
A-V-O-I-D-I-N-G P-A-P-E-R-W-O-R-K
Shit? There was paperwork in the afterlife? Maybe that was why he decided to come crawling back after getting dumped in the pits. Unfortunate that being a crime lord actually had more paperwork than being a Robin ever did.
Danny was vibrating so fast it looked like that time he ate lithium batteries (it was for science!). The halfa was still talking to him! He was keeping up an interesting conversation! Ouija boarding was so much fun!
"Can you turn visible? Or is that just something movies make up?" He wanted to see Danny! He was interested in what Danny looked like! Dropping his invisibility, Jason visibly startled taking in the sudden appearance before him.
"Hello! I'm Phantom!"
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ozzgin · 1 year ago
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Omg can we hear what the "there's only one bed" trope would be like with your yokai harem pleaseeee
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Featuring your (not yet) monster boyfriends, and the classic case of having to share one bed due to unforeseen circumstances. You've been chasing a vengeful spirit back into the modern world, and the only inn - as you're in the middle of nowhere presently - has a single remaining room. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, fluff with mild NSFW
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Murasaki
"Where are you going?" you manage to blurt out, hurrying after the dark-haired yokai. "You may take the bed. I don't need sleep", he explains curtly as he places a hand over his sword. "I'll be keeping watch outside." Murasaki is stubborn, and you already know that no amount of arguing will convince him. As it's already late and you're quite exhausted, you do hesitantly crawl under the sheets while he positions himself next to the door. When you wake up for a bathroom break, you notice him breathing softly in a peaceful slumber. You might have to be creative with your tactics: You return to your room, pull on your clothing a little bit, and let out a frantic shout. The horned man scrambles up and barges inside, wildly confused. "I had a terrible nightmare, and thus, lamentably, I will be requiring your presence for the remaining hours of the night", you narrate theatrically, patting the empty half of the bed next to you. He clicks his tongue and furrows his brows in annoyance. As he approaches, you can discern a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "You can't be serious right now", he bemoans, removing the swords from his sash. "Pathetic." He begrudgingly shoves himself next to you and turns around. His ears are a deep shade of red. "Now shut up and go back to sleep."
Kiritsubo
"Does that mean we can share the bed?" Kiritsubo is beaming with enthusiasm as he waddles behind you towards the room. "I suppose so", you nod reassuringly, somewhat confused by his reaction. You've been sleeping next to each other from the very beginning, or at least ever since you've been awakened by one of his night terrors and offered to keep him company. "It's nothing new, though, is it?" "Well, this time it's in your world, you know?" he confesses, now a little embarrassed by his obvious excitement. He scratches his cheek awkwardly. "I s-suppose it's not that different, huh?" You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. There's one technical detail you've omitted in your generous offer: Kiritsubo is massive and terribly clingy. His muscular arms are wrapped tightly around you, and you can feel his hot breath in your ear. You try to free yourself by lifting your leg and shoving him with your knee, but he doesn't budge. Not only that, but you might've unintentionally aroused him in his sleep. It'll be a long night, you think as you try to ignore the boner pressing into your side.
Suma
"Well, at least we know who's taking the bed", the yokai jokes as the inn worker bows apologetically. "We're terribly sorry, sir, there's nothing...there's nothing here that could possibly..." their words trail off, gazing at Suma's enormous stature. Indeed, the human sized furniture looks ridiculous next to him. You wave your hand and dismiss the baffled employee. You can't blame them; you too were speechless during your first encounter with the demon. "What will you do?" you ask, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I can sleep on the floor just fine!" He flashes you a smile and stretches his limbs. "If you get bored of that", he continues, pointing at the bed, "you can always join me". He pats his chest with a cheeky grin, chuckling at the sight of your now blushing face. Perhaps it's not such a bad offer. Then again, how comfortable is it to sleep on toned muscles? You sit up and decide to test it out yourself.
Yuugiri
"Oh my, what a pity. Well, it's only natural that you have priority." Yuugiri steps aside and gestures for you to come closer towards the bed. "We don't want our precious little human to be uncomfortable, hmm?" You want to protest, but he quickly places a pale, slender finger over your lips. "Unless..." he adds, this time in a deeper voice. He lowers himself painfully close to your face. "Unless you want us to sleep together. Although I can't promise to keep my hands to myself." You stutter awkwardly, and you can feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment. The yokai laughs at your flustered state, delighted by your reaction. "You always tease me", you finally manage to say, brushing past him and climbing under the sheets with an irritated huff. "Can you really blame me? You're always so cute~" After a moment of silence, you can feel a shuffle coming from behind you. "Jokes aside, do scooch over. I'm not going to sleep on the floor like an animal."
Sekiya
Sekiya stares at the bed and shivers. He dares not look in your direction. The thought of sharing a bed with a demon like him must've made you uncomfortable. Why else would you be so quiet? You're probably trying to come up with a polite way to retrieve your privacy. He won't let you struggle for a way out. He opens his mouth to excuse himself, but he's interrupted by your exhausted yawn. "Guess we'll sleep together, huh?" you remark, casually, as you unbutton your shirt. The lack of response prompts you to turn and search for the yokai, who is now visibly red and feverish, erratically fidgeting and twiddling his fingers. "W-what are you even saying..." he blurts out. Are you mocking him? You must know he's very much attracted to you. To think he'd be this close to your body...he shakes his head vehemently. Unimaginable! Then again, chances like these don't come all the time...
Sakaki
“We can share the bed if you’d like”, you suggest to the masked yokai. "No need to concern yourself with me. My nights are tormented, devoid of any rest. I will not be requiring a bed", he states melancholically, but with factual confidence. You don't think you can sleep with his shadow looming over at all times, so you insist that he at least attempts to lay down regardless of the outcome. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. Hmm. There's a certain warmth emanating from your body. He unconsciously drags himself closer, head now resting next to yours. The heat brings him comfort, and his muscles begin to relax. He'd even dare to say it's a pleasant experience. You jolt awake upon feeling a pair of arms wrapping around you, and you turn back in confusion. Sakaki swiftly hides his flustered face in the crook of your back. "Perhaps this isn't so bad, after all..." he mumbles quietly. "Don't mind me."
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[Main Story] | [Character Guide]
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sammybeann · 7 months ago
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So there's been a lil interest in me continuing this lil guy, so I've decided to make it a whole ass fic. So enjoy the filler chapter for now, as I have COVID and have lost my will to live. I promise it'll get more delicious, though, and we'll dial creep!Dean up to 100.
So what if Sam gets injured on a hunt, tossed around like a ragdoll by an angry vengeful spirit and smacks his pretty little head hard against a concrete wall?
Dean ends up finishing the spirit out, but Sammy is out fucking cold so he has little choice but to take him to the hospital. 
Finally, Sam wakes up and Dean's relief is immediate and immense, and that was until Sam made eye contact, glossy, confused hazel eyes meeting Dean's before asking "who the hell are you? Where am I?!"
The doctor comes in before Dean can answer, shooing the older Winchester out of the room so he can assess Sam's condition. 
Minutes felt like hours before the doctor emerged from the room, his brows furrowed as he explained to Dean that it appeared Sam was suffering from a pretty bad case of amnesia, only remembering certain events in his life, but had no recollection of people, unable to name off any family members or friends. And though his physical injuries would heal and he'd be okay, he wasn't sure Sam would ever recover his memories. 
When Dean re-emerged into Sam's room, he was met once again with an apprehensive look from the baby brother who once looked up at him with stars in his eyes instead of caution. 
After some prying, Dean had come to learn Sam knew his own name, remembered Stanford but nobody there, and mentioned memories of creatures and monsters, but still had no idea who the rough looking man in a dirty leather jacket with blood from Sam's head wound still on his hands was. 
"So, who are you, anyway?" He asked for the second time. 
Before he could really think about it, fight with the devil and angel on his shoulder on whether or not he should betray Sam's trust like this, cross a line he'd never be able to come back from, the words already left his mouth. 
"I'm your husband," he told Sam, who's eyebrows shot up comically high. "I...uh... we've been together since we were teenagers. Got married last year, the whole nine. We...we don't wear rings 'cause those monsters you talked about - they're real. We kill 'em."
Sam went white as a ghost. It wasn't as if this man was unattractive, and sure, he had been curious about the other sex growing up but he never thought he'd actually settle down with a whole ass man. There was also the news of the supernatural, sending a shock to his already overwhelmed system. 
"I...I don't...monsters, really? How the fuck am I supposed to kill monsters?! How am I married?! Oh, God. What am I supposed to do?!" An exasperated Sam exclaimed, big, watery doe eyes staring up at Dean, looking at him like he was his lifeline now, like Dean was his God that could fill in all the gaps for him. 
Guilt bubbled up inside Dean's chest, ugly and festering, but damn if that look from Sam didn't make it all worth it. He had his baby brother on a hook now, dependent and reliant on the only person he had. 
Dean bent down and ran a hand through Sam's mop of hair, leaning in to press a firm kiss against his forehead. 
"Hey, s'okay, baby. I'm here. I'll take care of you," he mumbled against Sam's clammy skin. "I got you."
Yeah, there was no was Dean wasn't going to hell for this, especially when Sam reached out to grab Dean's wrist, pulling his hand down to rest his cheek against Dean's callused palm. 
"Okay," Sam whispered brokenly. "I trust you."
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spngirlpolls · 2 years ago
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pick a fun lighthearted episode that we deserved to see
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