#also SORRY I DIDNT ANSWER THIS SOONER i wanted to give this a serious response but these past couple days i was feeling too silly

[foster-the-moths]

(Content warning for self harm, body dysphoria, depressive themes)

There are days when it hurts.

Days when the words are born, boiling, in my stomach

And crawl up like burning bile until they can’t be contained in my mouth anymore

Spewing onto the paper like a slash to the artery

Days when I feel sick just existing in this body

A discomfort, bugs crawling under my skin, just out of reach

But the clawing and ripping only makes it worse

There are days when the wallpaper is torn from the walls

Screams exhausting my lungs and cracking my throat

When I’m laughing and sobbing and raging and bleeding and everything, the fabric of my existence, is coming out of my different parts all at once

There are days when I’m alive

But today isn’t one of those days

Today I am tired

Today the words begin in my head

They drip from pen to paper lazily as blood from a shallow wound

Calmly as a knife across the thighs

This body feels wrong, and that’s it

I’m so far away from it, from any body, that it doesn’t make me squirm

I feel nothing but the vague stinging of the blanket rubbing against my wounds

Is it better to feel anything, anything at all?

The lack of feeling is alienating

But the lack of pain is aspirational

The confusion just gets lost in the mist of my mind, but it’s no matter

Nothing is

Today I’ll just lie here in these dry sheets, unpleasantly gritty with blood and paint stains

And I’ll sleep

Until either life or death comes.

—Poem anon.

HELLO POEM ANON!! god you are. just so good at imagery. the description of words on paper like blood from an artery, bugs under the skin, and the desperation of trying to escape it all as a familiar feeling. the numbness and a vague feeling of discomfort. idk i just really like your works they feel familiar. sometimes its like looking in a mirror and sometimes its like looking at a photo of your younger self and i think thats really cool. i feel like i never have the words to describe how cool your poetry is and sometimes i feel like i'm doing it a disservice but i hope you understand that i really do love each of these

[dreamin-of-somewhere-else]

The Secret [2]

Part 1

I got numerous requests to write a part 2 for this (which made me really happy), specifically for some Dean angst, and who am I to turn that down?

Characters: Winchester Brothers x sister!reader

Words: 2900 (I may have gotten a bit carried away, oops.)

[Angst, A bit of blood, Guilt] - But nothing too bad, I wouldn’t say.

Tags: @daughters-and-winsisters, @evyiione

A/N: Also, I just finished this, which might be a bit rushed, so sorry about any misspellings that I failed to notice. I just really wanted to get this up right now!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

Dean always knew Sam had a more complex way of seeing the world of monsters and supernatural creatures. Himself, Dean had adopted John’s more black and white way of thinking. It was just easier that way, because although he admired Sam for that sometimes, he could get annoyed too. It was just harder doing what they do if you chose to let the shades of grey in.

But, this situation was different. Because now it was personal. It was family. And that was the reason for Dean not doing anything about it. He was angry at himself for it, but he didn’t know what to do.

The door to the bunker opened with a creak, and then a heavy slam echoed through the building as it closed. The noise brought Dean out of his thoughts, and he instantly got off his bed to greet Sam, who was the only person it could be.

Even though Dean really liked the bunker, it had some disadvantages. One of them was that he couldn’t keep track of Sam as well as he used to. He had noticed that Sam was gone, but never when he left. Let’s just say it was a big change from the motel rooms.

Dean and Sam had moved into the bunker only days after they parted with you. And even though they moved, traces of you were everywhere. Your old pair of worn and dirty converse stood parked by the door, still, even though you never took them off there. Other stuff of yours — like books, sketch blocks, clothes, your old mp3 player — it was all left in a room you’d never been in. You never left it there. Sam and Dean brought them. Even though it had been over a month — they couldn’t cut you out of their lives. Not permanently. Not yet.

”Hey,” Dean acknowledged Sam as the younger walked down the stairs to the main, living room.

”Hi.”

That was a little stiff, maybe.

”So, what were you doing?” The blond Winchester then questioned, wondering what his little brother had been up to.

”Just… Just in town, checking it out.” Sam shrugged, walking past Dean through the large hall.

Dean did not believe that.

”Oh, come on, Sam. Where were you, really?”

”Why do you need to know?” Sam called out in response, while Dean started following him through the building.

”Why do you need to keep things from me?” Dean retorted, not giving in. He could sense when Sam wasn’t telling the whole truth after over two decades, closer to three, with the kid.

Sam didn’t answer.

”Is this about—” Dean had a hunch, and he decided to venture asking. ”—her? It is about (Y/N), isn’t it?”

Sam groaned as he came to a stop. Dean watched his shoulders rise and then lower down again, until Sam spun around to face his older brother.

”Might be.”

Dean groaned too now. ”Sam, she lied to us.” He still felt unbelievably betrayed, the single thought about it physically pained him.

”Yeah, and I understand her.” Sam spat, rocking an expression that screamed ’I’m freakin’ tired with your shit.’ The tired, disbelieving little smile shared similarities with the ’bitch face’, but this look was far more serious. ”You need to cut her some slack. It’s not her fault she isn’t like us.”

”But she pretended like nothing was wrong for years. She could’ve just told us from the beginning!” Dean defended himself, eyes round and accusingly staring at Sam.

”Sure, but what’s done is done. She’s the one who’s out there, alone!” Sam argued, his arms spreading out wide as he spoke, frustration with the situation showing through his body language.

”Sam, she’s a kitsune. We’re supposed to hunt those.” Dean tried to justify his actions, even though he wasn’t entirely happy with the way he had handled the situation.

”How long will it take for you to realize? Yes, she’s not human. Yes, she’s a supernatural creature. But Dean, for god’s sake, get over it!”

Dean blinked.

”Dean, we are hunters. Hunters are taught to hunt supernatural things, right?” He didn’t give his brother time to answer, because Dean already knew. ”Well, that means others are going to hunt her down sooner or later.”

Dean was taken back. He surely hadn’t thought of that. He had considered you being a danger, but not in danger.

”I’ve been out trying to find her, okay?” Sam continued. ”And I suggest you make up your mind if you want to see her again, before someone finds her and kills her. Because you know very well that it can happen.”

The oldest struggled to process the new piece of knowledge as guilt started to wash over him, even more than before. He shook his head to himself, running his hands through his hair. For you to get slaughtered by hunters was not what he wanted.

”Dean, it’s still her.” Sam now spoke in a softer voice. Dean already understood. ”The girl we know, the girl who lived with us, the girl in your memories. Since she didn’t tell us for years and she’s been a kitsune all that time — it proves that it doesn’t matter. She’s still herself, the same as she’s always been — we just know more about her. And you know how bad it’s out there. If we can hunt kitsunes without a problem, so can others.”

A moment of silence passed.

”I’ve screwed things up haven’t I?” Dean then muttered, both to Sam and to himself. ”I’ve just made it much worse that it has to be.”

”I understand, I felt betrayed too. Who would have thought (Y/N) was a supernatural creature. (Y/N), of all people.” Sam let out a humorless laugh. ”But, the world is complicated. There’s shades of grey everywhere. I know you see things the way Dad taught you, I do too at times, but we need to believe in what we see, not what he said. Supernatural doesn’t equal bad.”

Dean nodded. ”We need to fix this, Sam. I mean, I don’t know if we ever can fix things between us… B-but, we should keep her safe, at least. You’re right, and I’m with you.”

Dean hurried after the silhouette in front of him. It was one month later, and Dean could have sworn it was you. He and Sam had searched, what it felt like, every inch, and then you just appear out of nowhere. Well, if it was you, Dean wasn’t completely sure. But, he wasn’t letting go until he was.

The young woman in front of him shot a look over her shoulder, and Dean quickly hid himself against the closest wall, invisible in the darkness of the alley.

Then, she looked forward again and hurried on, and Dean followed. He knew now. It was you, he could tell by the hair, the clothes, the silhouette and the facial structure all together. It was just scraps and pieces, he couldn’t see well through the darkness of the alley. But, it was enough.

So, he picked up the tempo, to catch you before you exited the alley, disappearing around the corner, possibly gone forever. This might be Dean’s only shot and he wasn’t going to mess it up. Not like he messed it up the last time you saw each other.

Dean’s steps got louder, heavier, and you noticed it. You walked faster. Dean was running. You weren’t — you were too tired. Dean caught up with you, and placed his hand on your shoulder and spun you around.

He was in for a rollercoaster of emotions.

First he was felt indescribable relief. It was actually you, his hand was on your shoulder. At last, after days where Dean didn’t even think of anything else than that he might never see you again.

The next emotion was uneasiness, once he saw your eyes that stared back at him, open wide. They were still the same, beautiful color, but the pupils were different. They were outstretched, like a cat’s — or a fox’s. A lump formed in Dean’s stomach and it took everything he had not to flinch.

The uneasiness intensified and transformed into worry once he saw your hands. They were covered in dark crimson. Drying blood — everywhere. Dean found himself wishing badly that you hadn’t hurt anyone. Although it didn’t seem like you, Dean didn’t know for sure, this was new territory for him.

But the worry transformed into fear, after he intuitionally lifted your jacket — to reveal a huge bloodstain on your shirt. He immediately grabbed your upper arms with both hands, as if he was scared you would collapse any moment.

”(Y/N)?” He asked, voice trembling and his eyes pooling with concern. His eyes wandered off the bloodied shirt, and came to a stop by the gaping whole in the fabric over your chest. Underneath a nasty wound showed itself, digging deep into your ribcage.  

”Dean?” Your voice was filled with disbelief. You were more focused on Dean being back than your own state.

”You bet.” Dean smiled just a little but it reached nowhere near his eyes. ”(Y/N), you’re hurt, I—”

”I-I know. It was a… close call.” You interrupted, panting. ”If it wasn’t for the fighting skills you taught me… I p-probably wouldn’t be standing here. So thanks for that.” Your voice wasn’t angry but it wasn’t happy either. It was lacking most traces of emotion.

”Can I do something—”

”No, it’ll heal… Just hurts right now.” You interrupted once again.

”Was… Was it hunters?” Dean was scared to ask. He hoped with all his heart that it wasn’t. That Sam wasn’t right about you being in constant, serious, danger.

”Three of them.” You spoke, looking at Dean with a blank expression.

Dean shook his head to himself, anger and guilt welling up inside. He felt a burning desire to find those sons of bitches and make them pay for this.

An awkward silence fell over you two, and you raised your eyebrows at how Dean still seemed unsure and uneasy. His glance was wobbly and hands slightly trembling.

”What?”

”Your eyes…” Dean murmured.

You instantly took your gaze away from him and stared down at the asphalt. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes, probably because the pain in your chest overtook everything.

”Why are you here?” You then asked. By the way he had acted the last time you saw each other, that night on the hunt, you had expected to never see him again.

He had told you that he killed those like you, and now, here he was wondering about the bloodstains on your shirt that those like him had caused.

”I’m so sorry.” He blurted out, his voice cracking. You lifted your gaze to look at him, and saw the pain radiating from his eyes. ”I’m so, so, sorry.”

Too surprised to speak, you remained quiet.

”I messed everything up.” Dean drew an unsteady breath. ”You’re our family. And it shouldn’t have taken me 2 months and Sam yelling at me to realize that.”

You nodded, lost for words, still.

”W-what you are… We can work around it. You’re still you. A-and I don’t want you out on your own, where hunters can get to you.”

You let out a weak, humorless laugh. ”Me neither.”

”I’m so sorry. I-I wish I could take it back, what I said.”

You nodded. It was quiet for a moment before you spoke up.

”You and Sam— You kinda… are my only family.” You fumbled with your words. ”Well — I don’t have any real family, but…”

”No, (Y/N), Sam and I are your real family. If you still want us to be.” Dean offered tentatively, although his eyes pleadingly screamed for you to please let them be your family.

You nodded. ”Yeah… I-I would like that.” The corners of your lips curled into a small smile.

”Thank you.”

”You don’t have to thank me.” You objected, slightly frowning.

”I do.” Dean assured you. ”This is all my fault, and I don’t deserve—”

”Hey, Dean!” You stopped him. ”Don’t guilt yourself to death, okay?”

Dean closed his mouth and nodded.

”I forgive you.”

”You do?” He asked in disbelief.

”I do. Now, where’s Sam?” You then questioned, changing the topic.

As on queue, Dean’s cellphone rang.

”Speaking of the devil.” He declared, with the trace of a smirk on his face. You felt a some of the weight on your shoulders lift when you saw it — it made Dean looked more like his usual self — something you didn’t even know you wanted to see. ”Hiya, Sammy.” Dean answered the phone.

You were quiet while Dean talked to Sam. You had good hearing, better than both of them knew, but you didn’t bother listening in on the conversation. Instead you just took in the moment.

It had gotten considerably darker since Dean found you, the last of the sunlight had settled below the horizon. It was pretty quiet, although you could hear a car somewhere in the distance. A couple talking as they walked down the street the alley you stood in eventually opened up to. You kept your eyes on the opening between the tall buildings as you waited for the two to walk into your view as you heard their voices growing louder. But instead — someone else stepped into the opening of the alley. Someone far better.

”Sam,” you whispered as your eyes met with his hazel ones. Meanwhile, he lowered the phone and hung up.

”(Y/N)!” He exclaimed as relief filled his eyes, although concern soon fought it off.

He started running towards you.

”Are you hurt?” Sam’s voice was stressed, trembling, as he stared at the blood.

”I’m going to be fine.” You smiled. You were so happy to see him — to see them both. The resentment you felt towards Dean when he showed up had melted off you. You were tired of being angry. Instead, you let the euphoria overtake you.

The relief returned to Sam’s eyes, and he became the representation of how you were feeling. He let out a laugh as he threw his arms around you, and clutched you tightly against his chest. You held in a groan as your wounds still hurt a bit, but you didn’t want him to let you go — not for the world.

Dean watched with admiration in his eyes. His brother and his sister, reunited. Two of the people Dean kept closest to his heart.

”I’m so sorry.” Sam spoke, and you felt his voice rumble through his chest. ”Oh god, I thought for sure someone had gotten to you…”

”Sam, it’s okay.” You reassured him. ”I forgive you, and even if someone tried — I can assure you that I’m not easy to kill. Promise.”

”Okay,” Sam nodded, and let out a deep breath. You felt his heartbeat slow down to a more normal, calm, rate. ”I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Then he let you go, and you looked over at Dean, who was watching over you with round, soulful green eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself, before you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his upper body.

After hugging him for a moment, you stepped back. ”I’m sorry I lied for years.”

”We’re sorry for what we said and leaving you.” Sam countered.

”What about we just forget it?” Dean offered, and both you and Sam nodded. ”Let’s go home, instead.”

You rose your eyebrows, the way Dean said home got you curious, as if there was something you had missed.

”We have something to show you.” Dean explained, anticipation in his eyes, and you smiled.

What could it be?

Arriving at the bunker, you felt the excitement grow inside of you. An actual home. Dean and Sam watched your reaction with smiles on their faces.

Now, you would have walked around and explored the building — if you weren’t exhausted. It had been a long day — heck, months — and the run in with the hunters that came after you had taken a toll on you. Sure, you were a kitsune, more powerful than any human, but your body had used up most of its energy healing itself. And now, you were ready to turn in for the night.

Sam and Dean saw this, and understood. So, Dean looped his arm through yours and began leading you towards his room. You would soon get your own room, of course, the bunker had a lot of space, but for now his and Sam’s were the only ones with made beds, so for the night, it would have to do.

Entering the room, you immediately crashed down onto the bed, and Dean gently pulled the covers  over you. You flipped over to your stomach and instinctively pulled the blankets over you head, snuggling into the bedding, just like you always did.

Just as Dean thought you were out, you spoke up. ”I love you, Dean.”

Dean felt how your words tugged at his heartstrings. ”I love you too, (Y/N).”

He smiled and ran a hand over your hair.

You shifted a bit, and snuggled in further under the covers. ”Tell Sammy I love him too.” You added, mumbling. Then, you nodded off into sleep.

Of course Dean would tell Sam that, because just like Dean, Sam probably needed to hear it again.

And even though Dean still kind of felt like he didn’t deserve it, he was beyond happy to hear you say it; that you loved him. Because, he loved you too.